The Changing Room

by Christine Sykes

  Claire suggested ground floor and Genevieve said it should be near a railway station or bus route. Anna jotted down the ideas.

  ‘While we’re at it, how about we try to get some comfortable chairs?’ Claire’s back throbbed. She shifted in the chair, then rose and limped around the room.

  ‘You okay, Claire?’ asked Genevieve.

  ‘I will be, just give me a few minutes.’ Claire tried stretching against the wall. It didn’t help. She lay on the floor and bent her legs, which provided momentary relief. She took another dose of pills.

  ‘How many of those are you taking?’ asked Genevieve.

  ‘I’ve stopped counting.’

  ‘You must do something about it. You can’t stay drugged up.’

  ‘I will. Once we get over this crisis, I’ll get it fixed.’

  ‘There’s always going to be a crisis. What did the doctor say?’

  The doctor had been direct with Claire. The MRI showed she had a herniated disc, commonly, though incorrectly, called a slipped disc. The accident in the surf had caused trauma to the already stressed area. He referred her to a neurosurgeon, saying in her case there would be no quick or easy solution. Just as there was no quick and easy solution to the issue facing Suitability.

  ‘He’s ordered more tests and referred me to a specialist. Stop fussing, will you, we have work to do. Come on, let’s push through.’

  Genevieve agreed to write an article for the local papers and source photos from their collection. Valda said she’d chase up her friend who knew the actress. Anna offered to type up their discussion and circulate the notes.

  Claire felt positive. It had been a good meeting, not like their usual ramblings, at the end of which Claire seemed to have most of the work to do.

  ‘Anna, can I give you a lift?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s all right. I can get public transport.’

  ‘It’s still raining, and after all your help, it’s the least I can do,’ said Claire. ‘Let’s meet again next week to review our progress. Meanwhile, we’ll keep in touch.’

  Anna’s place was not too far out of the way for Claire. It was in a modern row of townhouses. Bland and functional, thought Claire, who adored the character of her lovingly restored mansion, which still needed work to keep from falling apart. The maintenance and upkeep would be much easier in Anna’s place. There was a small garden in front, mostly established natives, which would not require any work.

  Some of the other townhouses had been modified. One had shutters on the windows and planter boxes of geraniums, as if it were a French maison. Claire preferred Anna’s place, which remained unaltered and faithful to the original sparse design. Much as she was curious to see inside, she declined Anna’s offer. The effort of getting in and out of the car would have been too much.

  ‘Another time,’ she said. ‘Anna, thanks again for all your help.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll try to get the notes to you by tomorrow afternoon. I was about to say “by close of business tomorrow”, but that doesn’t apply, does it?’

  ‘Not with everything we should get done,’ said Claire. ‘Bye, and let the countdown begin.’

  *

  By the time she arrived home, Claire’s back was in spasm and she struggled to get out of her car and up the steps. The view was fabulous, but Claire wondered whether she needed a house with so many levels.

  Anthony was waiting for her at the top of the staircase.

  ‘Hurry up, old thing. We’ll be late for the concert,’ he said in his mock jocular voice.

  ‘The concert. Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, I forgot.’ Claire never forgot engagements and wondered if she was taking too many painkillers. She hauled herself up the last of the stairs and onto the landing.

  ‘How could you forget? I’ve been looking forward to this concert for ages. Come on, throw on a jacket and let’s go or we’ll be late.’

  Claire almost laughed at the words coming out of Anthony’s mouth. She was usually the one who kept everyone on time for events. But tonight, she couldn’t do it.

  ‘Look, I know you really want to go. Do you mind going without me? My back.’

  ‘Mind? I absolutely do mind. We always do these things together. Besides, you love the orchestra. You’ll be all right when we get there.’

  ‘I don’t think I will.’

  ‘Have you made an appointment with the neurosurgeon?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve been busy with Suitability.’

  Claire felt as if she could topple down the stairs at any minute. The thought crossed her mind that she might be better off if she did. Lying at the bottom of the stairs a mangled mess would be better than this. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself.

  ‘Suitability,’ said Anthony. ‘It’s always Suitability. Well, this time it doesn’t suit me to come second to that organisation. I’ve attended so many functions, made so many donations and put up with so many absences because of it. Tonight, I just want us to go to this concert together. Is it too much to ask?’

  Anthony’s words came to her in a fizz of sound and feeling. How could she let him down? What was she thinking? This wonderful man who had loved her for so long, had supported her and put up with her whims. She was a terrible, selfish person. Claire put on her velvet evening coat, hoping it would mask the casual clothes she was still wearing, and limped down the stairs behind Anthony.

  ‘See. I even hired a limousine.’

  The driver helped Claire into the luxury car and drove underneath the Opera House where the lifts were.

  The solemn strains of Verdi’s Requiem washed over Claire as she struggled without success to find a comfortable position in her seat. Afterwards, she barely remembered hearing the music.

  Claire knew she should be happy with her life. The people, the objects and the meaningful activities. But lately there was only dullness. Perhaps it was the back pain. Once she had that fixed, she would feel the lightness that she recalled as being happiness when she was young. She resolved to call the neurosurgeon first thing the next day.

  16

  MOLLY

  Molly walked to the Suitability premises. She was trying to get fit for the kids and had read you should walk an extra distance every time you go anywhere. She’d started with walking around her yard, then around her block, and now she could walk for hours.

  When Molly rounded the corner, she saw a grey woman standing in the doorway and recognised her from the makeup session. Molly reckoned Anna was around the same age as Grandma but in all other respects they were completely different. Grandma had been large, wore floral prints and dyed her hair mauve. Anna wore grey pants and a grey top and her hair was streaked with grey. Different shades of grey, but grey.

  They walked to a nearby coffee shop, which reminded Molly of her teenage hangouts, with old soft-drink posters, laminated tables and wooden bench seats like the ones where Joe first kissed her in public.

  ‘Will you have tea or coffee, Molly?’

  ‘I’ll have a cappuccino, thanks.’

  ‘And a pastry?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Molly with great effort.

  Anna ordered and paid, and they found somewhere to sit.

  ‘Claire wanted to come,’ she told Molly, ‘but her back is giving her a lot of pain. She has to see the specialist today to work out what to do about it.’

  Molly remembered the pain she’d had when her rib was broken and couldn’t imagine why she’d put up with it, or how she’d cope with the kids if something happened to her back.

  ‘Is Suitability gunna close down?’

  ‘Not if we can help it. Molly, your assistance will be so valuable. If we can pull together a few success stories, they give life to the statistics.’

  Molly still had trouble thinking of herself as a success story, even though Claire had gone on and on about it. Maybe when she had the kids full-time, maybe then she’d be a success story.

  ‘But I dunno where t’ start.’

  ‘That’s all right. We can j
ust talk if you prefer, and I have a few questions. Claire told me you have four children.’

  ‘Yeh, Daniel, Matthew, Emma and Grace. As ya know, the welfare took ’em. I was a mess, totally fell apart when Joe ran out on me. I ended up losin’ everythin’, includin’ the kids.’

  ‘Well, at least now you are getting them back.’

  Molly wondered what Anna would think if she knew the full story of what had happened. She seemed so straight-laced.

  ‘Yeh. They have a weird name for it. Restoration. I had to agree on a plan to gradually return the kids. I’ve got Grandma’s house, that’s one thing. And through Suitability I have some voluntary work, which shows I can keep to a routine.’

  ‘Would you say Suitability helped you?’

  ‘Are you kiddin’? I was in the total shit, sorry, in a mess when Sophie took me there t’ get clothes for court. I reckon those clothes changed my life.’

  ‘That’s a very strong statement.’

  ‘Well, it’s true. Wasn’t only the clothes. Was the way Claire treated me.’ Molly swirled the froth on top of her coffee. ‘I hadn’t felt that way since I was a kid when my grandma made me a dress for Christmas. Felt like I was the mos’ special girl in the world. Until I spilt food on it and Mum thrashed me.’

  ‘Your mother thrashed you?’

  ‘She’s a right bitch, my mum. Sorry for the language. It’s true though. Wicked temper, drinks all the time and the worst taste in men.’

  Molly accepted the small packet of tissues that Anna took from her bag and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. The tissues were soft and smelled of eucalypt, not like the cheap plain ones in the oversized boxes that Molly bought, which scratched her nose when she had a cold.

  ‘How about I go order some of those pastries now?’ said Anna.

  Molly agreed with relief.

  ‘D’ you have grandkids?’ Molly asked when Anna returned.

  ‘No, not me. I don’t have any children.’

  ‘Really? I thought pretty well everyone had kids. You ever been pregnant?’

  The pastries arrived. Molly thought Anna looked like a grey dove.

  ‘Well, have you?’ Molly persisted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Been pregnant?’ Molly thought it was odd that Anna suddenly seemed to be so dense.

  ‘Look, I don’t think that’s any of your business.’ Anna folded her napkin in triangles.

  ‘What the hell? I’m spilling my guts to you an’ your life’s none of my business.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that –’, Anna broke her pastry into small pieces, ‘– I haven’t told anyone and I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘So, you were pregnant?’

  ‘Well, a little.’

  ‘What? Either you was or you wasn’t.’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I had a termination.’ Anna’s voice was quiet and squeaky.

  ‘You got rid of it? Jeez. I couldn’t do that. Joe wanted me to with the first one but I refused, even though I was only seventeen and everyone told me I was stupid.’

  ‘Do you ever regret having children?’

  ‘’Course not. I know other people think I deserted my kids.’ Molly still found it hard to admit she had left her kids. Who does that? ‘But I thought they’d be better off if I could get their dad back. I never wanted my kids to be from a broken home.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to …’

  ‘What about you? Do you regret havin’ an abortion?’

  ‘Not really. Most of the time I forget it happened. It was a horrible situation and I was pleased when it was over.’

  It wasn’t often Molly felt superior to someone else. She didn’t want to let the old dove off the hook, no matter how hurt and confused she looked.

  ‘A married man then?’ she asked.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It’s written all over ya face, and it’s the most common story, I reckon.’

  ‘Actually, he was my boss.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  ‘I thought he was a wonderful man.’

  ‘How can ya say that? He knocked y’ up and made ya have an abortion. Bet he paid for it, yeh?’ Anna nodded. ‘’Course he did. I bet he got ya sacked too.’

  Anna slumped in her chair.

  It was weird to see this stiff, proper lady looking droopy. ‘Sorry, but my grandma always said t’ call things by their right name.’

  ‘I’m all right. My friend Valda said the same thing but I haven’t come to terms with it yet.’

  ‘Maybe it’s about time ya did,’ said Molly. ‘Your boss sounds no better than my Joe.’

  ‘Do you want to tell me about him?’

  ‘That’s a whole other story. As Grandma would say, I could write a book about it.’ Molly thought her life would make a great soap opera – except most soapies were set in fancy houses or near the beach, not in crappy outer suburbs with overgrown yards, falling down houses and women in Ugg boots and trackie dacks.

  ‘Anyway, how come you dress that way?’ Molly asked.

  ‘What way?’

  ‘All in grey. You blend into the furniture.’

  ‘My mother would be pleased.’ Anna smiled.

  ‘Why would ya mother want ya to look like furniture?’ ‘That’s not exactly what I meant, but she used to say that as I was ugly, I should aim to blend in.’

  ‘That’s mean. What made her say that?’

  ‘My mother was beautiful and wore elegant clothes. I guess she must have been disappointed to end up in the western suburbs of Sydney with a struggling husband and a plain daughter.’

  ‘Hey, that’s where I come from,’ said Molly.

  ‘I didn’t mean anything negative. She grew up in Paris and always talked about what a fabulous life she had there before the war.’

  Molly dreamed of going to Paris one day, ever since Grandma took her to see a movie about a French orphan girl. Molly had wished she was an orphan. She wanted to call her daughter Madeline, but when they were twins she couldn’t decide which one, so she settled on Emma and Grace.

  ‘Are you French?’

  ‘Part French. My father was English. They met after the war. She was staying in the countryside with relatives and he was stationed nearby. In the photos I’ve seen, he looked handsome in his officer’s uniform, and they fell in love.’

  ‘Sounds like one o’ those French movies.’

  ‘It does, doesn’t it? I think my mother wanted her life to be a French movie. But it wasn’t. She had to content herself with coming to this “godforsaken country” – her words not mine – where she was forced to put up with second-hand clothes sent by her Parisian relatives.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ said Molly.

  ‘When you think about it, it’s what we do at Suitability. My mother was brilliant with a sewing machine and updated the clothes so they looked new. Any that were too far gone she’d turn into clothes for me.’

  ‘My grandma used to make me pretty clothes when I was little.’

  ‘What about your mum?’

  ‘Oh, she’s hopeless. At anything. Most of the time she didn’t realise I was there.’

  ‘That’s awful.’

  ‘That’s not the worst of it,’ said Molly. ‘But let’s not go there now.’

  ‘All right, but if you ever do want to talk about it, I’m a good listener. My mother taught me if you can’t be a sparkling conversationalist, be a good listener.’

  ‘What a bit– I mean, female dog, she was.’ Molly felt exhausted, as if something had been drained out of her. Damned diet, she thought. Another one of those pastries would help. She was pleased when Anna offered her a lift home.

  *

  When they arrived at Molly’s place, there was a man in her front yard. She felt cold fear.

  ‘Can you come in with me?’

  Anna parked the car and turned the engine off.

  ‘Hey there, what do you want?’ Molly called out.

 
The man slowly rose from his kneeling position beside the garden bed and turned towards Molly with what looked like a chainsaw in his hand. Molly gripped Anna’s arm.

  ‘Hiya. Had a free morning, so I thought I’d do some more work on the front yard. Hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t resist having a go at this hedge.’ He turned to Anna. ‘I’m Steve, a friend of Nathan’s.’

  Molly relaxed. ‘Nathan is Claire’s son,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, of course. Nice to meet you, Steve.’

  Steve put the electric hedge trimmer down.

  ‘I should get going,’ said Anna. ‘My dog Rufus will need his walk soon. Will you be okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Molly. ‘Better than.’

  Steve returned to the hedge and Molly went inside, changed into some clean trackie dacks and a windcheater, and returned to help him. As they worked together Molly talked about her dreams for the front yard, which now included planting fuchsias.

  ‘It can happen,’ said Steve. ‘Just needs a bit of time an’ patience. Like most things.’

  ‘So how come you’re not stuck-up like that Nathan?’ Molly asked when they stopped.

  ‘He’s all right, you know, despite his private school upbringing.’ Steve laughed. ‘Just shy, that’s all. I’m from a good ol’ western suburbs public school. Lucky to have got to uni.’

  ‘How’d ya manage that?’ asked Molly. There was a time when Molly’s teachers had said she could go to university. That was before Joe.

  ‘My mum was ruthless. She forced me to study hard and got the teachers to help me.’

  ‘What ya wanna be when ya finish?’

  ‘A lawyer. That’s all I ever wanted since I was a kid and a bloke from Legal Aid helped mum out of a mess. It’ll take a few more years though.’

  ‘Must be tough.’

  ‘Yeh. I get some extra cash doing odd jobs for people. And I’m always thinking up new ways to make a quid.’

  ‘Yeh, me too,’ said Molly.

  ‘Anyway, better nick now off an’ study.’ He picked up his tools and walked towards the front gate.

  ‘See yas,’ called Molly.

  Steve turned around and gave her a massive smile. ‘Yeh. See yas.’