by Lyn Denison
“And we talked. It started to rain again and Bailey drove me home. That’s it.”
Petra nodded. “And then Bailey drove you home?”
“Yes. John was going to but his editor rang from New York. So Bailey did the honors.” Fliss had another spoonful of cereal. “Drat those calls from New York.”
Fliss frowned an inquiry.
“If he hadn’t had the phone call John would have driven you home. You’d have been alone with him in the car. In the rain. Very Gothic. Very romantic.”
“Petra! Stop!”
“Well, he’s a pretty gorgeous guy, even for an old bloke.”
Fliss groaned inwardly. First Marcus and now Petra trying to match her up with John Macrae. “For your information, Miss Read-Too-Many-Romances, you’ve got it all wrong. One. Yes, John is a nice looking man. Two. He’s not that old. And, most importantly, three. I’m not romantically interested in John Macrae and he’s not interested in me. There you are. You’ve got it straight from the horse’s mouth, in case anyone asks you.”
“I know you aren’t. Interested in him, I mean. I was just teasing. When I said he was gorgeous I was just making a casual observation so don’t protest too much, Fliss, or I’ll start to misconstrue.”
“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” Fliss muttered around a mouthful of cereal and Petra chuckled.
“You are so easy to get a rise out of,” she said with glee.
Fliss pulled a face and they concentrated on their breakfast for a few moments.
“But it was good of Bailey to drive you home though, wasn’t it?” Petra remarked.
“Mmm,” Fliss replied vaguely.
“She’s even more attractive in real life than she is on TV, isn’t she?”
Fliss nodded, studiously munching her cereal. “That’s the general consensus.”
“She’s really natural,” Petra continued. “I mean, she sat and talked to us as though she was an ordinary person. And she listened to what we said.”
Fliss murmured noncommittally.
“So. My question was, what was going on last night? Between you and her?”
“Nothing was going on. I just—I find it a little disconcerting talking to a famous television personality. Don’t you?”
“Rubbish.” Petra waved her spoon in the air. “Actually, I was mostly referring to what wasn’t being said.”
“Petra!”
“I should have known when I looked at that photo.”
Fliss tensed. “You should have known not to go messing around in my room.”
“I was just a kid then. I’m not now. Remember?”
“I thought we’d established that.”
“And now that I’m older,” Petra continued, “I know about more stuff. But I think I always knew that photo was special to you. Last night I could see just how special it was.”
“It was just a photo taken when Bailey and I, well, when we were joking around out on the headland.”
Petra put a spoonful of pawpaw into her mouth, chewing reflectively. “When I thought about it, it all fell into place. The way you changed after she left.”
“Mum got sick. Of course I changed. We all did.”
“I know but it was before that. I’m your sister, remember? Your favorite sister.”
“You’re my only sister,” Fliss put in.
“And I knew something was going on with you back then.”
“I was a teenager. That’s what was going on with me. You’re always telling me how difficult it is being a teenager.”
“It is. But even allowing for that, you changed. You weren’t—” She screwed up her face trying to explain. “You didn’t laugh as much as you used to.”
“You were imagining it,” Fliss said. “And I’m going to be late for work.”
Petra looked at her watch. “You’ve got plenty of time. As I was saying, you really did change after Bailey left the island. You didn’t have as much fun. You drifted off. You still do sometimes.”
“I had a lot on my mind, Petra. You know that. You know how dad was after mum died, how worried we were about him. And I worried about you. And the gallery.”
Petra nodded and sighed. “I remember. We’ve all had a bad few years. And I do know the gallery doesn’t run itself. You work hard at it. And that’s sort of part of my point. About having fun. I can’t remember the last time you went out on a date. It must be—” She frowned across at Fliss. “Have you ever been out on a date?”
“What is all this sudden interest in my love life? Inappropriate interest, too. First Marcus, then Chrissie and now you. Well, for your information I’m supposed to go out with Paul’s cousin next week.”
“And talking about Marcus O’Leary, you don’t even bat an eyelid when Marcus turns his charm on you. He’s been doing it ever since he came to the island. I mean, Fliss, even you have to admit how absolutely gorgeous he is with those blond curls and come-to-bed eyes. Even I’ve noticed and I’m madly in love with Liam.”
“I see. So I have to fall for every pretty face that comes along?”
“Once in a while might have been fun for you. Marcus would be really good fun I should imagine.” Petra raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“Marcus and I are good friends, Pet. It would be complicated if it was any more than that.”
“Mmm.” Petra nodded. “You’re probably right. Never mix business with pleasure.”
Fliss stood up, rinsed her cereal bowl and put it in the dishwasher. She peered out the kitchen window. “Damn. It’s still raining. I’ll have to take a change of clothes to work again.”
“I can ring Liam to come over earlier and he can drive you in to the gallery if you like.”
“Thanks, but it’s okay. A bit of rain won’t hurt me.” Fliss was pleased to move away from her sister’s probing conversation. “I’d better go and get organized.”
“What time did Bailey leave this morning?”
Fliss paused. “Pretty early. She has to take John to the ferry. She wouldn’t stay for breakfast,” she said carefully.
“Fliss. About Bailey—” Petra moved some fruit around on her plate. “I saw the way you looked at her. Last night, when you thought no one was watching.”
Fliss had just started to relax, thinking Petra had forgotten the earlier thread of her conversation. She hesitated, wondering what to say to her sister, how much to tell her. Petra looked up, held Fliss’s gaze and Fliss took a deep breath.
“Okay,” she said as lightly as she could. “My big secret had to come out. I had a schoolgirl crush on Bailey all those years ago. It happens to a lot of girls. That’s what the photo was all about, why I didn’t really want anyone looking at it.”
Petra nodded. “Mmm. I really liked my art teacher for a while.”
“Right,” Fliss said thankfully. “All part of growing up.”
“Yes, but I meant I saw the way you looked at Bailey last night, when you thought no one was watching.” Petra’s expression softened. “It’s the way I look at Liam. And the way Annabel looks at Dad. Do you have a history with her, Fliss?” she asked gently. “Did you have an affair with her when she was here on the island before?”
“Petra, she’s one of the most recognized women on Australian television. And she’s married to one of television’s most popular sports presenters,” Fliss began.
“You were in love with her, weren’t you?”
Chapter Seven
Fliss shook her head and walked into the living room. She picked up the bed linen Bailey had folded and took it into the laundry. When she turned from the laundry basket Petra was standing in the doorway, a shoulder against the doorjamb, arms folded lightly over her chest.
“And I think you’re still in love with her,” she said gently.
How long they stood looking at each other Fliss couldn’t have told. A few seconds. An hour. A myriad emotions flitted about inside her. The wonder of first love. The heartache. The pain. The terrifying need to hide what she was. And the al
most overwhelming urge to simply tell the world and to hell with it.
But this wasn’t the world, she told herself. This was her only sister. Her so-much-younger sister. It seemed like only yesterday this attractive, vivacious, talented young woman was climbing on Fliss’s knee begging her to read her a story. Fliss had helped their mother feed and bathe her, had changed her nappies, rocked her to sleep. She’d taught her to ride her bicycle. And, after their mother died, Fliss had stepped into that role for Petra
Now Petra was all grown up. She was Fliss’s flesh and blood and if she told her the truth would she lose her too? Fliss couldn’t bear the thought. She’d lost too much.
“Fliss, I’m your sister,” Petra appealed softly, breaking into the tortured possibilities of Fliss’s thoughts. “Can’t you be honest with me?”
Fliss sank back against the washing machine, her shoulders sagging. She was so tired. What could she say? “Pet, can’t we just leave this?” she pleaded thickly.
“I love you, Fliss. There’s nothing you could tell me that would ever change that. Nothing.”
Tears welled, overflowed to trickle down Fliss’s cheeks and then Petra’s arms were around her and she let herself silently cry. “Oh, Pet, I’m—I wish it wasn’t—Why is it so difficult?”
“It doesn’t have to be. Not with me,” Petra said gently.
They held each other tightly and then Petra drew back. “Why don’t you go into the living room and I’ll make another cup of tea. We definitely need tea. Remember, Mum’s cure-all was a nice cup of tea. So I’ll make some and we’ll talk.”
“But the gallery—” Fliss began to protest.
“I’ll ring Marcus. He can cover for you for a while.”
Her mind numb Fliss sat dejectedly on the living room sofa, the one Bailey had slept on last night. Then Petra was beside her, handing her a cup of tea, solicitously making sure she had hold of the floral mug that had been their mother’s.
Fliss grimaced. “I hope Mum’s not watching us just at the minute.”
“What, they don’t have artists’ easels and paints in heaven? Because that’s what Mum would be doing.” Petra sat down beside Fliss. “And why would it be a problem if she was watching?”
Fliss shifted on the sofa. It was a well-ingrained habit, protecting her family from the fact that she was a lesbian. “I don’t know what Mum’s views would have been on the subject,” she said quietly.
“Didn’t you even sound her out, speaking in general terms?”
Fliss shook her head and Petra tsked.
“Mum was pretty liberal I would have said. At least that’s how I remember her.”
But Petra had been little more than a child when their mother died. And Fliss had never had the courage to talk to their mother about it. The one opportunity she’d had she’d let slip by.
“Well, this is the here and now.” Petra drew Fliss back from the past. “So, are we going to talk about it? I really think we should. You need to let it out, Fliss. You’ve bottled it up inside too long.”
“We don’t really have time for this.” Fliss looked up at the mantel clock. “I do have to get to work.”
“No, you don’t. I rang Marcus while the jug was boiling and he’s going to open the gallery and look after it till you get there. So we have plenty of time.”
Fliss sipped her tea, twisted the bone china mug in her hands, studied the intricate pattern of interwoven violets that decorated it.
“Was she just a schoolgirl crush?” Petra probed and Fliss slowly shook her head.
“No. She wasn’t just a crush. I could almost wish she was.”
Petra was silent for a moment. “Was it just Bailey Macrae or do you think you’re really a lesbian?”
Fliss shifted uncomfortably on the sofa again. Why was it so difficult to admit? To say I am a lesbian? It was part of her make-up, the very essence of her and it would never change. She took a deep breath. “Yes. To both questions. I was in love with Bailey Macrae and I am a lesbian.”
She’d said the words aloud, it was out in the open. Fliss fancied she felt a huge weight lift off her chest.
“There you are then,” Petra remarked matter-of-factly. “And the sky hasn’t fallen in.”
Fliss smiled wryly. “Someone else once said that to me.”
Petra frowned. “Does everyone know but me?” she asked in a hurt voice.
“No, of course not,” Fliss reassured her. “I haven’t told anyone in the family. I’ve only told one other person. She was there once, when I was feeling particularly down, and,” Fliss shrugged, “she was sympathetic. I’ve only told her.”
“Who was it?”
Fliss paused, reluctant to out Mayla.
“Was it Chrissie?”
Fliss turned to her sister in surprise. “No. It wasn’t Chrissie.”
“I thought it might have been, because she’s your best friend and everything.” Petra paused, deep in thought. “Then it must have been Mayla Dunne. Am I right?”
“What makes you think it was Mayla?” Fliss asked, playing for time while she sorted out how much she should confide in her younger sister.
Petra made a big thing of rolling her eyes. “Mainly because she’s a lesbian. You get on well with her. She’d be sympathetic.”
Fliss laughed. “You’re incredible, do you know that?”
“Oh, yes, I do know that. I should have been a detective.” Petra sobered. “I’m such a good detective I didn’t know my sister was a lesbian.” She frowned. “But now that I look back the signs were there so I should have known. It just didn’t occur to me. Maybe I was just selfishly involved with my own life, with being with Liam.”
“What signs?” Fliss asked as her sister paused to draw breath. “The signs.” Petra waved her hand airily. “Oh, not the pants and shirt, short hair sort of signs. I mean, you aren’t very lesbian-looking, Fliss, but you show absolutely zilch interest in men.” Petra frowned again. “That’s where we’re different. I think I need a guy around. I can’t imagine not having Liam. And Annabel, she admits she isn’t happy without a man. But you are different, Fliss. You’re self-possessed. You don’t need anyone. You give the impression you’re perfectly happy on your own.”
Fliss could almost laugh at that. What if she told Petra she’d wanted Bailey with every waking breath, that part of her would always be empty without her?
“Have you always known you were a lesbian?”
Fliss dragged her mind from the unsettling thoughts that were filling her with a sudden confusion. Did she still need Bailey Macrae to make her whole?
Petra touched her arm. “Well, did you?”
“I don’t know. Probably not until I was in my teens. Actually, not consciously until I met Bailey.”
“But before that you went out with guys. What about then? I remember you dated a couple of Paul’s friends because I asked Mum if you were going to have a baby.”
Fliss looked at her sister. “A baby? Why on earth would you ask Mum that?”
“I was only eight or nine at the time and I’d heard someone in Gayton’s store saying that a girl who runs around with a boy only ended up with one thing. A baby. You were going out with a boy so I was quite excited for a while thinking we were going to have a new baby in the family.”
Fliss laughed despite herself. “Mum must have been a little taken aback by that logic.”
Petra bit off a giggle. “Poor Mum. I can still remember the look on her face. We had a really interesting talk after that. She set me right, told me you weren’t going to have a baby and declared she was going to talk to you about it too. I thought at the time you mightn’t have had the story straight either.”
They both dissolved into laughter. “I remember that. I was about to go swimming with Chrissie and Paul and some friends and Mum took me aside for a refresher course in the birds and the bees. I was totally horrified. I couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone, especially with any of Paul’s dorky friends.” Fliss pulled a face at her sister
. “So that embarrassing pep talk was your fault?”
“I’m afraid so.” Petra bit off a giggle. “Little did Mum know you didn’t need her to tell you not to sleep with boys. You didn’t want to anyway.” Petra frowned again. “What about Chrissie? She was your best friend. Did you have a crush on her?”
“No, of course not. It doesn’t work like that. And Pet, about what we’ve been talking about, well, keep it to yourself. Okay? I mean, I don’t want Dad finding out just yet. If anyone should tell him it should be me.”
Petra nodded. “All right. But I’ve never kept secrets from Liam.”
Fliss ran a hand through her hair. She knew Liam Gale was unlikely to start rumors. He could be described as the strong, silent type, but Fliss couldn’t allow herself to depend on Liam running true to form. “Just keep it to yourself for a while, until I, well . . . for a while.”
“Okay.” Petra reluctantly agreed. “But you know things are a lot different these days. People are more liberal.”
“Some people. I just would rather—”
“Stay in the closet.”
Fliss stood up, paced across the living room. “Not exactly.”
Petra stood up, too. “Look, Fliss, it’s your call. No one will hear it from me.”
Fliss nodded. “Thanks. For that and for, well, being so accepting.”
“I told you before, Fliss, I love you. For who you are, not for what you do in bed.”
Fliss blanched. “Now I’m starting to feel a tad uncomfortable.” Petra went to say something and Fliss held up her hand. “And no, I definitely don’t want to talk about that.”
“About what?” Petra asked innocently. “How do you know what I was going to say?”
“You have a very expressive face. And I know you.”
Petra laughed. “I guess you do. So I’ll look it up in the library.”
“You won’t find much information there, I assure you. I looked years ago.”
“You might be surprised, Fliss. The new librarian has revitalized the place.” Petra put her finger to her cheek, feigning deep thought. “Actually, she looks a bit suss. She’s about thirty, nice figure, wears slacks a lot, has short hair. Very un-librarian-looking, maybe you should check her out.”