“You didn’t. You were gorgeous. Are you going to do more programmes? You’d be perfect as a judge.”
Cole was always very polite and charming to their customers, but he genuinely seemed to fawn over Tessa.
“Thank you,” Tessa said. “It’s nice to do sometimes, but I try to focus on my businesses though.”
He disappeared into the kitchen to organise the tea.
“I’m all done,” Bebe said, making a few further notes. “Sit down and we can discuss a few ideas.”
“Fantastic. Michelle said your designs were stunning so I’m sure whatever you come up with will be perfect.” Tessa flicked back her chocolate-coloured hair as she sat and they discussed preferred colours and options.
Cole’s hand shook when he handed Tessa the tea. Was he worried he would be judged?
“This is lovely, thank you. It smells gorgeous.”
Cole gave a satisfied smile and asked for a selfie with Tessa, as Bebe made a few notes.
“I didn’t know you were such a fan,” Bebe said, after Tessa had finished her tea and left.
“She’s brilliant. I love the way she will cut down those nasty contestants.
“And she loved your tea.”
Cole waved his hand. “Who doesn’t? Now, what are you going to do for her? She’s given you free rein. She’s so sexy you could really vamp it up.”
She could. “It’s her engagement party. She’ll look back on photos forever. I’m thinking more of a classic.”
Cole brought his fingers to his lips. “Not boring though.”
Bebe agreed. The balance was difficult. Tessa could pull off anything, but she also wanted to respect the timelessness of the occasion.
“Better get on it.” Cole removed the empty teacup from the coffee table. “The party isn’t far away, and I don’t want you up all night on this one.”
She stretched out her arms. Neither did she. She needed her sleep at the moment. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll be on it. I’m off for the day.”
Cole clasped his hands together. “Want to get a drink?”
“I hope to do something with my mother tonight. I’ve barely seen her since we’ve arrived.”
“Sounds good.”
Good. Yes, it would be good but it would also allow her more opportunity to find out more information about Arne, and maybe once and for all put this notion about her family to rest.
Chapter 11
When Michelle had gone on dates with Ashton, she’d carefully considered everything. What perfume to spray on her wrists. What clothes to wear. What lipstick shade to choose. Everything had been tailored to make an impression. Little wonder she didn’t have the cash for her university textbooks—everything her parents sent or she made from working on the slopes or in the bar had been carefully funnelled towards impressing him.
She entered the bathroom at home, flung her work clothes on the floor, and stepped into the shower. It had been fun dating someone like Ashton, but it had been exhausting. The parties. The eyeing off other girls, jealously in case one of them tried to steal him. The fear he was ‘slumming it’ with her and would come to his senses and dump her.
And then, of course, he did.
She let the water cascade over her, familiar feelings of pain and rejection coursing through her body. Tears rolled down her face, mixing with the water, she slammed the taps off and dried herself.
How many tears was she going to cry over him?
Her hair blow-dried and carefully straightened, she threw on a pair of jeans, ankle boots, and a black top. She looked down. She’d put no effort into her outfit. But upon winding the cute scarf from Bebe around her neck, she was impressed with how it had all come together. She added the last touches to her make-up and the jangly bracelet she’d bought in Canada, and moved out into the kitchen where Mum was making a cup of tea.
“Where’s Dad? I need to ask him about the windscreen wiper on my car.” She looked around. Usually, at this time of night, he’d settled in to watch television or read. She stretched her head around the corner to his chair, which contained a Dad-shaped imprint, yet no father. “I thought you two liked to watch that home renovation show together?”
“I’m recording it for us to watch tomorrow night. He’s the footy club tonight. It’s the first home game of the season so they are doing some sponsor night or something.”
“You didn’t want to go?” The football club had been a big part of the Fitzgerald social scene for many years for both her parents.
“Goodness no.” She scoffed. “I’m relieved no one plays there anymore. Do you know how many football jumpers I washed over the years for that club?”
“Thousands?” Michelle had heard this lament before.
“Thousands.” Her mother echoed. She brought her cup of tea to her lips. “I like your scarf.” She peered at it with interest. “That’s very nice actually.” She sounded surprised, as if she wasn’t used to Michelle looking so presentable. “Are you going out?”
“I’m meeting someone for a drink.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Actually, you might do.” Michelle paused.
“Really?” The excited tone in her mother’s voice meant she needed to provide some details at least.
“Leon Marek.”
Wide eyes stared back at her. “Little Leon Marek? From primary school?”
“Yes, though he’s not so little anymore.”
“Oh.” Her mother’s voice softened. “Poor little Leon. I hope you were nice to him. He had a rough time, I think.”
“I’m always nice.” Did her mother think she lacked social skills or basic decency?
“What does he look like now?” Curiosity filled her mother’s voice.
Hot. “Good.”
“Well, there we go. You know, I see his mother sometimes at the fruit shop. Not the one I go to—the other one that sells the fruit that’s always mushy. I don’t know how they get away with it. Remember that time I bought those raspberries and they—”
“Fell apart when you were washing them under the tap,” Michelle finished.
“You’ll never catch me buying anything from there.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later,” Michelle said, scooping up her handbag and escaping to the back door before she heard about the time her mother purchased the disappointing mangoes and tasteless watermelon from the same establishment, and then threatened to call Consumer Affairs.
While she wasn’t sure if she was ready to start dating again, at least Leon had thrown a lifeline to her social life and a chance to escape the confines of the Fitzgerald compound.
Chapter 12
Bebe arrived home from work to find her mother slipping on a jacket in the hall. “Where are you going? I thought maybe we could have something to eat together.”
“I’m sorry, I have plans.” Her mother peered into her small, silver compact.
“Plans?”
“Dinner with an old friend.”
“Here?” Bebe didn’t know her mother had any friends living nearby. She let her handbag fall to the floor.
“A former assistant of mine. Henrietta.”
Bebe couldn’t remember Henrietta. The name sounded familiar, but her mother, as a freelancer, had worked with so many people. Names were a blur. “When was she your assistant?”
“When you were little and we were in London. She operates a private gallery now in Melbourne, and I thought it would be nice to have a drink with her.” She frowned. “I’m sorry. We can do something another night.”
“That would be nice, or … maybe I could come with you?”
Her mother froze, before snapping her compact closed. “Another time, my darling, perhaps after the opening. I’ll see you later.” She kissed Bebe on the cheek, twice. Tucking her bag under her arm, she closed the apartment door behind her.
Bebe stood, open-mouthed as her mind raced. Before she could talk herself out of her snap decision, she picked up her bag and threw it back over her shoulder and followed her mothe
r out, carefully locking the door behind her and taking each step lightly as not to make a sound.
She watched from the stairwell as her mother crossed the lobby floor of the building and went outside, where she stood and hailed a taxi.
Bebe flagged down the next cab she saw and instructed the driver to follow the car containing her mother. Something didn’t sit right with the abruptness of her mother’s departure, and her unwillingness to allow her to tag along.
As a child, Bebe had often been dragged along to catch-ups with her mother’s friends. It had rarely been a problem. When she was smaller, she’d read or sketch in a little notepad. When she was older, she’d join in the conversation or just listen to her witty and informed mother discuss art or current events, or literature with her equally as intelligent and worldly friends.
Bebe tapped her foot against the floor as the cab in front drove towards the city, her driver faithfully following his instructions.
Rain splashed against the windscreen, and the brake lights from the car containing her mother blurred through the watery glass. After a couple of turns, the cab pulled up in front of a large hotel, the driveway flanked by large marble statues and heavy pot plants overflowing with white orchids.
A uniformed attendant opened the taxi door and held an umbrella over her mother’s head as she stepped out and walked into the foyer. Bebe pushed some cash over to the driver and opened the door as the attendant appeared again with his umbrella.
“Thank you,” she told him. “The woman who got out of the cab in front of me—did you see where she went?”
“Through to the bar.”
Bebe thanked him, and paused in the doorway, surveying the room. She felt wrongly dressed, as if she needed a trench coat, dark glasses and a scarf like a spy in a cold war drama.
But she didn’t have anything like that, so she needed to sight her mother without being spotted herself. There was no way she could explain following her.
The bar was crowded with people after work, and it appeared some sort of conference was taking place, as many patrons wore lanyards with their names and departments printed boldly on a name-tag.
The noisy crowd made it easier to blend in behind Dave from Accounting and Emma from Marketing as they drained company-paid house red wine, but harder to spot her mother, and her mother’s companion.
She moved closer to the bar, where she hoped she could get a better view of the seating on the other side while still maintaining a discreet distance. Her eyes skimmed through the crowds.
Zach from Human Resources offered to buy her a drink. She politely declined and continued to scan the room until she spotted her mother’s shiny, silky bob and her elegant black jacket with a trademark Chanel brooch glistening in the light of the elegant chandeliers that spotted the bar.
A man stood in front of her, his back to Bebe, but he appeared to be talking to her mother. She could see her mother nodding and talking happily in return.
Bebe swallowed. Who was the man? Was it Greg? It certainly wasn’t Henrietta. While she felt somewhat vindicated of her suspicions, the confirmation that her mother could have lied to her was confronting.
Craning her neck to the side, she tried to see the man’s face, but as he moved, she saw it wasn’t Greg and that her eyes had been playing tricks with the distance. The stranger wasn’t speaking to her mother but to another person: a shorter woman who had been obscured by the crowd. As they both walked away, she saw her mother talking to a woman, a woman familiar to Bebe.
Henrietta.
She did remember her now. A tall, elegant woman with long hair wound around her head in small plaits. Even though twenty years must have passed, she looked exactly the same as she had the last time Bebe had seen her.
Realising now that being spotted would be even more difficult to explain, Bebe rushed back to the foyer and into a waiting taxi. This was ridiculous. Her mother hadn’t been meeting Michelle’s father or anyone other than simply her former assistant—as she’d said.
A wave of nausea hit Bebe’s stomach. If she’d been telling the truth about her father? Was it possible the coincidences and mementos that had caused her so many sleepless nights were simply nothing?
Chapter 13
Fairy lights wound around trees and awnings of restaurants greeted Michelle as she looked for Leon at Pacific Place. A noisy sports bar was located at the far end with a raucous crowd gathered to watch a football match in the beer garden.
She spotted him and waved, her stomach flipped when she saw him. He looked good in a pair of jeans and a white shirt.
“You really haven’t changed,” he told her as they sat down in an Italian restaurant and ordered a large pizza to share and two glasses of wine.
“Not at all?” She remembered the home haircuts her mum used to give her—wonky fringes and blunt edges that gave her head a triangular appearance. A couple of dodgy teeth had also since been capped and securely held in by slim braces in her teens giving her a less rabbit-like look, or so her brothers had teased.
“Well, maybe a little,” he conceded.
Little had changed at Pacific Place since she was a kid. It was like being in a time warp, yet something of that teenage fizz of being on a date with someone cute hadn’t changed.
“You said you were studying in Canada. Are you still studying?” he asked.
It wasn’t the time to go into all that now. He’d think she was a loser. She placed her glass carefully on the table. “No, I’m not studying at the moment. I’m working at the café full-time.”
“It’s a great café. How did you find the job there?”
She nodded. “My sister-in-law, Clare—”
He frowned. “Hang on, which one is she married to?”
“Pete.”
“Aha.” He nodded. “I sometimes get confused.”
Easy to do. “Let me know if you need a chart to keep my family straight. We’re pretty confusing. Granny Fitzgerald used to refer to me as ‘the baby’ until I was about eight. I think she used to have trouble keeping track of us.”
He smiled. “My family’s big too.”
“Anyway, Clare does some public relations work for Tessa, who owns that café and another one. She’s looking to start a third venue. I got the job through them.”
“It worked out well then.”
“How do you like being a locksmith?”
“It’s okay. I’m working for another bloke at the moment. He’s a great boss, but in the long-term, I want to start my own business. I’ve been taking some accounting and finance courses so I can do it properly. I know the trade and have a general sense of the business, but if I’m going to make the leap, I want to be prepared.”
“That’s wise.” That was exactly what Steve had done with his plumbing business. It was all so sensible.
Just like Lauren and her nursing, or Pete and his PhD, or Luke and his engineering degree. Sensible, grounded, hardworking. And there she was, the black sheep of the Fitzgerald family. Party-girl Michelle. Fell-asleep-in-the-back-of-a-taxi-and-ended-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-Melbourne Michelle. Got-on-the-wrong-train-and-missed-her-VCE-Literature-exam Michelle. Left-her-wallet-on-a-ski-lift Michelle. Fell-off-a-boat Michelle. Screw-up Michelle.
“You’ve got more of a plan than I do,” she said. “I’m not sure what I want to do in the long-term.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of options.”
He was too kind. Too nice. Far too nice.
After the pizza, shared memories and a few laughs, they stepped into a video arcade where they found coins in their pockets and her purse. They played a couple of games she’d not seen since she was at school, and took a photo in the photo booth.
“I didn’t think these things existed anymore,” she mused as a strip of three black and white photographs tumbled out. She held it up, examining them. The pair of them looked adorable, all smiles and bright eyes. In the last photo, Leon's head was tilted towards her, his eyes fixed on her face. “I can take a photo of it for In
stagram,” she said, holding it out and taking a shot of the images.
“It’s like retro Instagram. Can you send me a copy, please?” he asked.
She handed it to him. “Keep the original.”
“Thanks.” He looked at it for a moment and then slipped it into his wallet.
“Come on, let’s play Skee-Ball!” She grabbed his arm and led him over to the throwing game that had been a firm favourite of hers in arcade games growing up. She placed some coins into the slot; the balls were released and she picked one up.
“I’m pretty good at this,” she said, raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t the most athletic in the family, but in arcade games, she excelled. Perhaps it was the music and bright lights—others found them distracting, but she thrived on chaos.
“Yeah? Okay, bring it on.”
With a best-of-three games tournament almost complete, Michelle declared herself the winner. She’d well and truly bested his score.
He rubbed his neck. “You are good at that.”
She tossed the ball up in the air and caught it before throwing it down the alley. The ball bounced and slotted into the ring marked 20,000. “I played a lot of backyard cricket.” She grinned.
Tickets spilled out and she redeemed them for a fluffy teddy bear at the counter.
“I had fun.” She hugged the bear. “Thanks for asking me.” Her cheeks warmed and she dipped her head.
“Thanks for meeting me. Err…” He put his hands in his pockets, and then removed them again. “I was wondering if you’d like to do something on the weekend?”
“I’d like that.” She paused. That had come out of her mouth before she even had time to think about it.
“What about a game?”
“A game?”
“Footy. New season and all that. You go for the Kangaroos, yeah?” He narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember.
All the Fitzgeralds went for the Kangaroos. It was just what happened in their family. It was like a baptismal right—a blue and white jersey and a club membership.
“I do. How do you remember that?”
The Things We Never Knew Page 6