by Liz Byrski
Now that he was there, Shaun realised he had no idea where to begin. What did he want from her – ideas, advice, direction?
‘Thanks for doing this,’ he said awkwardly once they’d ordered. ‘I don’t really know where to start.’
Rosa raised her glass and clinked it against his. ‘To frank and open discussion,’ she said, taking a sip, ‘presumably about your future.’
‘How did you know that?’
She grinned. ‘I didn’t. But, irrespective of what you wanted, I planned to raise the subject. Looks like we’re on the same wavelength. So, d’you want a job?’
Shaun was taken aback. ‘I’ve . . . I’ve got a job,’ he said. ‘A job I like. A boss I like, and if we win the election, which seems likely, Heather will get a ministry and I’ll be –’
‘She won’t,’ Rosa cut in.
‘Sorry?’
‘Heather will not be a minister.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Shaun said.
‘Yes I do. Of course I do. I work with these people all the time. They talk.’
‘Gossip.’
‘Some of it, yes, but not this. Heather’s not stupid, she knows it. She’s been there for fifteen years. If she was going to get a ministry it would have happened by now, but it won’t.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Shaun said, wanting to defend Heather. ‘She’s a terrific local member.’
‘Exactly. She’s a terrific local member but she’s not ministerial material. She doesn’t have the authority, and she doesn’t have the support in the party. And really, Shaun, while you and I and many others respect the work she’s done, she’s not going to make it into the cabinet.’
‘But I admire her and –’
‘That’s not the point. Look, you know all this, and you just don’t want to face it. Whether or not the party stays in government, you’ll still be working for a good solid backbencher. Time you got out and tried something new.’
Shaun remembered the night, a week or so after the shooting, when Charlene had told him to leave the job. He’d felt the same stab of anxiety, the same emotional shutdown then as he felt now. But this was different. Charlene had been talking about safety. She had understood nothing of his job or his politics. Rosa knew both, inside out and back to front.
‘You’re wasted in that job,’ she said now, helping herself to some garlic bread. ‘You do it extraordinarily well, and that’s been noticed, but people wonder about your attachment to Heather. They reckon it’s lack of judgment or lack of ambition, and as they think your political judgment is pretty good, they assume it must be the latter.’
An uncomfortable prickly sweat broke out on the back of Shaun’s neck. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Not to me, Shaun, not in the least. But in the long run, it might well matter to you. Your loyalty to Heather is admirable, but how old are you? Thirty, perhaps? Do you really want to spend the next five or ten years nursing Heather’s political career?’
It stung. The job did involve a certain amount of looking after Heather, making sure she had what was needed to do her job. He didn’t think she made any special demands on him, but perhaps, because she was single, he had assumed some of the support role that a partner might have played. It made him feel comfortable, needed.
‘I suppose eight years as an electorate officer is quite a long time for . . . well, for . . .’
‘Come on,’ Rosa said, ‘say it. For someone your age.’
‘For someone my age.’
‘It is, and that’s why you and I are here now. Not because you thought I’d offer you a job, but because you needed to talk about it. And once you start talking, of course, you can’t go back, you can’t unthink it. This is the last meal of the condemned man, Shaun. You’ve blown open your comfort zone and are thinking about change. The question is, what change will you make?’
By the time he got back from his leave, Shaun was even more distracted and uneasy than when he’d left. Gathering the mail from his box he let himself into the house and dumped his stuff in the hall. Only later, when he had turned on the hot water system, checked some new plants in the garden and made himself a sandwich, did he get around to looking at the mail.
As he sorted the junk from the rest and tossed it in the bin, he noticed an envelope addressed in Charlene’s handwriting and his stomach lurched. The last time he’d seen her she was screaming abuse at him as she climbed into a taxi. He was relieved for both Charlene and Diane that the move seemed to have been a good one. He wanted her to be safe and happy, but he’d put that whole episode, the good and bad, into the past and he certainly didn’t need a letter. As he stared anxiously at Charlene’s envelope, he wondered what new level of confusion it was going to bring to his already addled state. He put off opening it that night, and when he remembered it the next morning, he put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and took it with him to the office.
‘Mr Scolaro with the planning problem is coming in at nine to see you,’ Diane said as he walked in. ‘He sounded demented on the phone. He wants Heather to get the Minister to overrule the planning committee. He said if he doesn’t get this through, then he’ll shoot the chair of the committee and every councillor who voted against it. I pointed out that this wasn’t a very smart comment in view of recent events, but I fear it went over his head. I tried to defuse him but it’s you he wants. He says you understand his situation and he’ll sit in this office until you fix it, because you are a man of action.’
Shaun raised his eyebrows. ‘I wonder where he got that idea.’
‘Who knows, but he’ll be here in fifteen minutes.’
Shaun picked up the Scolaro file and walked to his office, hesitating at the door. ‘Thanks, Diane,’ he said. ‘Have I told you how good you are at this job?’
‘Three times the day before you went on leave, and once when you called in. You must be going soft. Fifteen minutes, get on with it. I’ll go and get us some coffee.’
Shaun put the file on his desk and stared at it. Then he took out Charlene’s envelope, laid it alongside the file and stared at them both. Finally he decided that the letter was the lesser of the two evils and slit open the envelope.
Hi Shaun
Bet you weren’t keen to open this letter! I hope you’re okay and enjoying life, although I know that’s a tough one for you (ha ha)!!! Anyway I’m just letting you know that I’m having a great time up here. Denise is a doll, the job’s brilliant, and I love working at the resort. I’ve moved into a unit with two other girls who work there and it’s good. Nothing nasty in the dressing table drawer!!!! Thanks for sorting this out for me. I know I let you down, and I just want to say I’m sorry I messed up. Sorry you got the worst of it, you didn’t deserve it. BUT you do deserve something, you’re mega-smart, really cool and a very good person, so when are you going to get a life?
Take care, talk soon.
Love and xxxxxxxxxs
Charlene
FOURTEEN
‘Why can’t we both go?’ Adam asked, twisting a tea towel in his hands. ‘We could go together, to that place we stayed at before, near Batemans Bay.’
Jill let the water out of the sink and shook her head. ‘I need to be on my own,’ she said.
‘You’re not –’
‘I’m not leaving you. I just need a break, silence, solitude, some headspace. Surely you can understand, that’s what you do when you disappear and play your cello for hours on end.’
Adam flushed. ‘But I don’t go away.’
She turned to him, dried her hands on the end of the tea towel. ‘You don’t go out of the house but you do go away. You go away for ages, and recently you’ve done it more than ever, day after day. And your presence in that room, the sound of those Bach suites, hangs over the house.’ She reached out and gripped his hand. ‘I need a break. I need to get out from under the shadow of whatever it is that you’re dealing with. And I think you need a break from the feeling that I’m waiting all the time for you to talk to me.’
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br /> He looked at her hard, hesitated and then grasped her hand in both of his. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I see that, it makes sense. If you’re really not –’
‘I’m not leaving.’ She looked around the kitchen at Daisy’s paintings on the fridge, school timetables, family photographs, the litter of Toby’s maths homework on the table, a pile of ironing on a chair and, in one corner, a stack of old newspapers and a bag of cans and bottles waiting to be taken out to the recycling bins. ‘How could I leave all this? I do love you, Adam, but I need to look after myself for a while. I’m trying to hold myself, us, all of us, and all of this, together, but I’m struggling.’
He nodded, pulling her towards him. ‘Okay then, if that’s what you need to do,’ he said, and she was surprised by the energy in his voice. ‘Take a couple of weeks off. I’ll look after things here.’
‘You will?’
‘Of course. It’s a good time for it – fairly quiet, nothing big coming up. Are two weeks enough? Three?’
She’d expected a battle, an emotional tug-of-war. ‘Two would be great.’
‘Okay,’ he nodded. ‘Book it then, somewhere nice. Have you told Renée?’
‘Yes, she’s fine about it. I’ve got plenty of leave.’
‘Well, then . . .’
Jill thought there was something different in his face – relief, perhaps? Was he actually glad to get rid of her for a while? She felt a prick of victim-like hurt, but wasn’t that just what she wanted too? To get rid of him, all of them, the children, the house, work, and yes, mostly Adam, just for a while, not to be needed, not to be responsible, not to have to respond to everyone else all the time. She put her hands on Adam’s shoulders, and kissed him lightly.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’ll work for you too.’
He nodded, and hung the tea towel neatly on the rail, smoothing out the damp folds. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Jill.’
‘It’s not just you,’ she said. ‘It’s both of us, and work, and our age, and . . .’ She shrugged and went through to the computer to search for a place to stay.
They were all out on the day, a week later, when she closed the door behind her, tossed her suitcase on the back seat of the car, started the engine and reversed out of the drive. She headed south and west, dropping down to Homebush and onto the motorway, driving as fast as she dared, feeling relief with every kilometre that she put between herself and home. She had always loved the Blue Mountains and as the road started to climb, she stopped and got out. The air was sweet, even the smoky scent of a recent fire seemed delicious, and she stretched her arms above her head, trying to feel her body, to shake off the tension and guilt of leaving them all behind. The guilt she now realised was far more about Adam than the children. They would be fine, probably even enjoy the change, but Adam?
Clouds swept across the face of the sun and the first drops of rain began to fall. Back in the car again she drove on through breathtaking stands of gums, past her destination, taking side roads to places she’d never visited. Steep and rugged natural sandstone walls lined the roadside, leading her to narrow unmade tracks densely bordered by low brush and trees. At a break in the rain she stopped and got out near a fall of smooth flat rocks dotted with moss and tree ferns, where the water rushed into sparkling pools so transparent she could see through the depths to the multicoloured beds of rock and stones. The clear, moist air was filled with the smell of bracken and wet leaves, and light spilled through the trees transforming the falling water into dazzling prisms of colour. Jill sat on a jutting rock and ate her sandwich until the fine, silent rain began again and she turned back to the car, feeling the beauty and tranquillity of the landscape had somehow entered into her and driven out the tension.
‘So your husband’s joining you later?’ asked the woman at the desk when Jill checked in at the hotel. She had introduced herself as Marcia and was obviously determined to be sociable with the clients.
Jill shook her head. ‘No, it’s just me.’
Marcia raised her carefully pencilled eyebrows. ‘Oh well, I suppose you have friends in the area.’
‘No, I’m on my own. Just having a bit of a break.’
‘We don’t get a lot of single people here, mostly couples. I hope you won’t be lonely. There’s plenty to do of course, lovely walks, the Skyway’s not far away, the waterfalls, and the Rhododendron Festival is magnificent, you must make sure you see that.’ She handed Jill a leaflet. ‘And you’ll find our lounge and bar very friendly, I’m sure you’ll find some people to keep you company.’
Jill took off her glasses and pushed the registration form back across the desk. ‘I’m not looking for company,’ she said, feeling the need to make a point. ‘I won’t be lonely. I’m here because I want to be alone.’
Marcia’s eyebrows shot up again; they seemed to be extremely mobile. ‘Alone? Miss Garbo, I presume,’ she said with an arch smile.
There was something smug and judgmental about Marcia that made Jill want to shock her. ‘I’m here to get away from my husband, my children and my job,’ she said, ‘to get a break from people talking to me and expecting me to do things for them.’
‘Really?’ Marcia looked affronted. ‘Well, I hope you enjoy it. I’ve been married for forty-one years, had four children and I’m very happy to spend every day of my life with my husband. Perhaps if you –’
‘Is there a problem, Marcia?’ a tall man in a checked shirt and jeans asked as he emerged from an office behind the reception desk.
‘Oh no, Stuart,’ Marcia said, picking up Jill’s form. ‘Mrs Delaney’s just checking in. She’s on her own and I was just telling her –’
‘I expect she’ll want to get to her room,’ he said. He glanced at the form and took a key from its pigeonhole. ‘Hi, I’m Stuart McCabe, the owner. Let me take your bag.’ And he walked around the desk, picked up Jill’s suitcase and gestured towards the staircase. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said as they made their way up the stairs. ‘Marcia doesn’t always know when to stop.’
Jill smiled. ‘It’s okay, I’m sure she meant well. I was just a bit . . .’
‘Worried she might spend the next two weeks talking to you and trying to organise your life?’
‘Exactly.’
‘She won’t,’ Stuart McCabe said, setting Jill’s bag down outside a door and unlocking it. ‘She’s not a member of our usual staff, only comes in occasionally when we’re . . . actually, when we’re desperate. She’s got a very good heart but she does go on a bit. We’ve had a couple of staff sick, but they’ll be here tomorrow and we’ll be back to normal.’ He pushed the door open and stood aside to let Jill pass.
‘Oh! It’s glorious,’ she said, catching her breath in delight as she crossed the room towards French doors that opened onto a small balcony and sweeping views across a wooded valley to smoky, mauve-smudged peaks beyond. ‘Absolutely glorious. This is the view I saw on your website – it’s what made me choose this place.’
‘Good,’ he said, setting her suitcase on the luggage stand. ‘We like it. Well, I hope you’ll be comfortable. You’ve got the television and DVD and we’ve got a reasonable selection of movies down at reception. Breakfast is in the dining room from six thirty until ten, unless you prefer it in your room. Marcia’s right, there is plenty to do around here and you really should see the rhododendrons, but we’ll leave you to yourself. Just let us know if there’s anything you need.’
Jill turned back to the balcony. With the exception of Marcia, the place was just as she’d hoped; a beautiful Victorian building, restored in keeping with the period but with every modern comfort. She felt she could happily spend the rest of her life here where no one knew her, and where lifting a phone could bring her anything she needed. She had come equipped for relaxing and walking and had packed the minimum, wanting to be free of the sense of having things to look after. Her extravagance was half a dozen books bought the previous day in anticipation of time and solitude in which to read without interruption.
Hanging her clothes in the wardrobe, she stacked the books by the bed and pulled on her walking boots. There were still a couple of hours of daylight left, plenty of time for a walk.
‘You’d better take this map,’ Marcia said, catching sight of her heading for the door. ‘Do you think you need some water?’
‘I think I’ll be fine, thank you, Marcia,’ Jill said, taking the map and realising how easy it was to be polite now she knew the woman wouldn’t be around for long. ‘Absolutely fine.’
Absolutely, perfectly fine, she told herself as she strode out up the steep, tree-lined track at the side of the hotel, enjoying the pull of the climb on her leg muscles and the peaty smell of the damp early evening air. She walked on briskly, noting her turns on the map, hearing the occasional rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth, the warning calls of birds and the sweeping flutter of their wings at her approach. Further up the path a roo hopped into a clearing and froze, staring at her, before disappearing back into the bush. Finally, her lungs burning with exertion and a fine sweat coating her skin, she stopped at a fork in the path and looked back to where the hotel nestled, the building with its neat lawns and garden like a small oasis in the rugged grandeur of the surrounding landscape.
She sat down on a fallen tree trunk and listened to the perfect silence, broken only by the sounds of nature. It was almost seven. Adam and the children would be eating at the big kitchen table, Daisy deciding which bit of her meal she was going to reject and Toby, forced to unplug himself from the iPod, trying to make deals about how much TV he could watch. And Adam – his goodness had prevailed and he’d made it easier for her. When she’d handed over the list of all the things he needed to remember, the school run roster, washing and ironing school shirts, Daisy’s dancing class, Toby’s dental appointment, the phone and electricity bills, he’d taken it from her as she tried to go through it with him.