Читать книгу Love Is the Answer - Tracy Madden - Страница 9

Marty started the car and then looked across at me. ‘You want me to drop you at your mother’s?’

I nodded. I didn’t need to remind myself that I didn’t have a life. Well not yet anyway! It was funny, but it had taken my sessions with Emerald Green to realise I was still living Davis’s life by staying in the house. I guess I had been hanging onto it. But why? He wasn’t coming back, that was abundantly clear. He now had the long legged, blonde. Something I could never be.

Anyway, I couldn’t have a dog and there was no room for my books. I should rephrase that, there was plenty of room, although it had never been the look that Davis had wanted. Minimalistic, you know, one of those interiors where the owners look as if they don’t have any belongings. Even a toothbrush looked out of place. And there wasn’t even a garden, only three cacti in pots on a small terrace, overlooking rooftops.

Taking myself off to the rose garden in New Farm Park for a personal date had shown me exactly what I had been missing and perhaps yearning for, for years.

Once Davis moved out, I had found myself rattling around our home with only the ghost of my marriage for company. I felt like a stranger in my own life, picking objects up and placing them down as if I had never seen them before. As I looked around, my old life seemed to rebuke me in the form of artwork, mirrors, pieces of furniture that although we had selected together, had never reflected who I was.

Once I made the decision two weeks ago, to offer the warehouse back to Davis, I had wanted to be out of there as quickly as possible.

I had emailed Davis and told him I would be gone by the weekend. In return, came a reply with a single cross on it. How ironic! Was he sending me a kiss or crossing me out? Funny, but I didn’t even have any qualms about Felicity Best living in my home. She could have it.

Deliberately changing my thought process, I broke the silence. ‘I’ve decided on a new car.’

‘What?’ Marty glanced across at me, eyebrows raised.

I gave him a look. ‘I can no longer drive around in a car that has Address blazoned across the back. I want it gone.’

‘Then change the number plates. Surely that would be easier.’

‘Nope,’ I said quite smugly. ‘I’ve decided on one of those little Fiat 500 Abarths.’

Marty spat out a laugh. ‘You’re kidding! A Fiat Bambino?’

‘The grown up version. It’s quite a little pocket rocket. It’s amazing how much you can personally customise them. I’ve chosen a red …’

Marty laughed interrupting me, ‘You’ll look like Speedy Gonzales!’

I ignored him. ‘… and they let me pick the seat coverings, and whether I wanted a black steering wheel or a white one. I chose the black with red stitching. And I’ve selected a white speed stripe as a trim! For a tiny car, it’s terribly stylish. The alloy wheels are trimmed with a touch of red, and the side mirrors are black. You should see them, they look like cute little ears sticking out.’ The thought of it made me smile, however I caught Marty shaking his head, a look of humour on his face.

‘Look Marty, it’s a bit of fun. I feel I deserve that after everything I’ve gone through. After all, it will only be me driving around in it. Before…’ I swallowed, ‘before everything happened we were looking at upgrading to a family car, a BMW four wheel drive… or perhaps it was me that was looking.’ I rested my chin on my hand, glancing out the window. And then I turned back. ‘Anyway I don’t know what I’ll be doing, so if I want to travel, it’s not too big to keep in someone’s garage. It’ll be zippy, a bit of fun for a change. And it’s so cute… you’ll see.’ Pleased with myself, I folded my arms across my chest. ‘The Abarth is to a Fiat, like the AMG is to a Mercedes.’

‘Then get yourself the Mercedes AMG coupe. You can afford it. It doesn’t have ears, it has wings.’

Good naturedly, I slapped his arm. ‘Stop it!’ He was such a teaser.

He ducked. ‘Never pick me up in it, okay? We’ll look like Noddy and Big Ears.’

I let out a peel of laughter. ‘I am not even going to ask you which one I am… but come on admit it… it’s a cheeky little car.’

‘I’ll have to see it to believe it,’ he told me. I could see he enjoyed our good natured bantering, something we had both missed.

We were quiet for a few seconds and then I glanced over at him. ‘You know Marty… I’m not sure I’ve ever had the chance to thank you.’

He shot me a puzzled look. ‘What for?’

‘I think you know.’ I exhaled. ‘It’s why you left Address, isn’t it?’

He nodded although didn’t look at me. His voice was soft. ‘Peach what could I do?’ He shook his head. ‘Look we both knew Davis was ruthless, but at what cost? This time he had gone too far. I asked him to either stop or at least be honest with you. That’s why we argued. He told me to butt out. And he banked on the fact that I would never tell you. He was bloody right.’ He paused. ‘You know I hated that bitch the minute she came on board.’

I laughed, enjoying hearing him voice those words. ‘Marty…’

‘Well think about it. If she hadn’t come, we’d all still be together. And Davis might be a pain the butt, but he would have been our pain in the butt.’

‘Believe me, I have been thinking about it and I have come to the realisation that that’s not entirely true. I wish it was so I could blame it all on her. But… the truth is… if it wasn’t her, it would have been someone else, or something else.’

His tone carried a cynical edge. ‘You’re charitable.’

‘No… just finally coming to my senses. Come on, we both knew he was the most selfish person that walked this earth. But,’ I shrugged, ‘call me crazy, I loved him.’

‘We both did. He was like a brother to me. We had some phenomenal times. I hate to admit it, but there are times I still miss him. Still miss the good side of him…’

‘Hmm … I’m not going to go that far. I’m not that charitable today. But Marty, thank you for standing up for me.’

He sighed. ‘I should have told you the truth that day when you came to see me after Davis and I had the bust up. I couldn’t look you in the eye. I knew how much you loved him and I couldn’t be the one to tell you. I hoped that he’d come to his senses and maybe you’d never have to know.’

‘Well that wouldn’t have been exactly right either. But I don’t blame you.’ After I had found out about Davis’s affair, I was angry with Marty as well, because I wondered how long he had been covering for Davis. Numerous times Marty had phoned, but I hadn’t taken his calls.

In the last few months, I had come to the conclusion that Marty had been in a no win situation. The firm stand he had taken had cost him dearly, personally and professionally.

The car slowed to a halt outside Bea’s house. Leaning across, I offered Marty my cheek.

‘You know I love you babe,’ he said.

‘I know and I am always going to love you too sweetie. I hated not talking to you.’

‘Yeah it was the pits.’ And the look he gave me told me what an ordeal he too had been through.

I flashed him my mournful look. ‘I’m sorry.’

Fondly, he pulled one of my perfectly blow dried curls. ‘What are you going to do about that house?’

I climbed out of the car. ‘God only knows? Leave it with me. You’ll be the first to know. I need some thinking time.’ Strangely enough, even after all of these months, I still wasn’t out of the habit of wanting to share every new event with Davis. However, that certainly was not about to happen.

*

‘It’s me,’ I called, slinging my laptop bag onto Bea’s French oak kitchen table. I needed to check my emails. Davis and I were doing our property settlement. Anyone who thinks the divorce is difficult is kidding themself. That’s a piece of paper, over in a day. It’s the property settlement that was a pain in the butt, to put it mildly.

Filling the air was the smell of an artist at work. For me it was the smell of years gone by, the smell of our childhood home; a mix of acrylic paints, turpentine, canvases and artist paraphernalia. It was the smell of Bea.

Flicking the switch on the kettle, I called out to her in her downstairs studio, ‘I’m making tea.’

She was painting more often lately. She had an exhibition coming up in a couple of months, which was why she was heading to Byron Bay. She said the serenity helped. I had been treading carefully while staying with her. I was aware she liked her own space and needed the quiet to be creative. Her work was intensely vibrant in colour, applied by a palette knife, giving a rich deep impasto finish, with striking textured effects to give a three dimensional result that made the paint pop right off the canvas.

I was searching the tall glass fronted pantry when she came in. Turning to face her, it still sometimes took me by surprise how beautiful she was. For a woman nearing her mid-fifties, her free spirited allure had kept her face pretty. Plus she wore her individual style well. Although dressed in her signature white, an exotic piece of colourful fabric was wound around her head like a turban. Tendrils of blonde hair escaped and framed her expressive face, still lit by brilliantly blue eyes. Chunky bangles and rings accessorised her wrists and hands. Tucked into her headscarf was a hibiscus, picked from the garden earlier. It amused me that she wore white so often when painting. However, she reassured me she covered herself in a smock while doing so. A white smock.

I smiled. ‘I can’t find any normal tea, just these flower power ones - rose petal, dandelion, and rosehip and echinacea.’

Wrists jangling, she poked around. ‘I think there should be a new box in there somewhere. And the others are not flower power teas darling, they’re very healing. There is some wonderful passionflower tea in here as well.’ She turned to face me, giving me a look. ‘It would be perfect for you at the moment, excellent for nervous tension and anxiety.’

Gracefully, she perched herself on the edge of a rattan Antoinette chair, wiping her face with the back of her hand, smudging her forehead with a crimson hue. Once again, her bangles jangled, and I relished the sound of this constant comfort. She was like a kitten, you could find her anywhere in the house, simply by the ting of her jewellery.

Ignoring her reference to the state of my mind, I made a mental note to visit the shops later. An unconventional person, Bea had always struggled with the simplest of domestic chores. Well, it was her house, and she could live as she pleased. I readied two white mugs and placed some chocolate biscotti on a plate as we sat in her kitchen in companionable silence.

My laptop beeped that an email had come through. I glanced at it. It was from Davis’s email address. Hopefully, it would be the finalisation of our settlement. I opened the email and within seconds could feel the steam coming from my ears. I wanted to pick up the bloody laptop and hurl it across the room. I balled my hands into fists and almost began hyperventilating. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…’

‘Peach, what is wrong?’ The look of fright on Bea’s face said that I was scaring her.

I could barely speak I was so angry. With shaking hands, I spun the laptop around and pointed, ‘Read…’ I put my hands to my face and kept them there. The email wasn’t from Davis it was from that cow, Felicity.

Moving to the other side of the kitchen, I distanced myself from the laptop as if it was poison. I watched Bea’s face as she read.

Dear Peach, I believe you need to positively reinforce the situation and you will find happiness too. Only going through my own separation last year, I do have empathy for you, however it is your bitterness that makes this a distressing situation. Our careers are an integral part of our being and I strongly urge you to find something new to fill your days. Davis and I are far too busy working hard to be constantly interrupted by your demands on the settlement. When Davis has more time he will get to it. I don’t believe you know the pressure we are under running this business. Obviously you have no time-management skills, therefore you need to utilise your time more effectively. Felicity.

I watched as Bea’s eyebrows shot higher by the second. I put a hand to my stomach feeling like I might throw up.

‘Hmmmm,’ was all Bea said, her jaw clenched, her eyebrows still scarily high. For seconds we watched each other, both unable to speak.

‘I have only one word for you,’ she said. ‘Karma!’ And she nodded her head firmly. I know she wanted to say I told you so. I was reminded of that first day when I had mentioned Felicity Best’s name to her and her reaction. She had been right. I had been tunnel visioned, almost oblivious to everything else but the thought of having a baby.

‘Really Peach, if Davis is letting that little upstart handle his affairs, then he is a bigger idiot than I always thought he was.’ Matter-of-factly, she handed me two tissues.

It was no surprise to me that my mother didn’t like Davis. I had always sensed it. And then since our separation, she had not exactly held back, telling me she had consistently found him ruthless, and as much as there was a charming side to him, she had always thought he was one to watch. Apparently, mothers seem to know these things.

‘I truly understand what it feels like to want to murder someone,’ she muttered, her arms elegantly folded across her chest.

I sniffed. ‘Erectile dysfunction would probably make me quite happy.’

‘Hummp,’ Bea snorted. Shaking her head she returned to the laptop, picking it up and taking it into the living room. As she came back in, she closed the glass panelled art deco doors and then slapped her hands together as if removing something distasteful from them. ‘We’ll deal with that later.’ Opening the top cupboard she pulled out delicate white and gold porcelain cups.

Catching the look on my face, she explained. ‘It makes such a difference to drink tea out of the right cup. Plus, I think we need something pretty to look at to distract ourselves.’ She set a small plate of dates down between us. ‘Drink your passionflower tea darling. I daresay you need it now more than ever.’ However, she didn’t sit down. She stayed standing looking out the backdoor, down into the garden, not saying a word.

*

With my head pounding, I laid down in Bea’s guestroom. I pulled back the off-white coverlet and thirty thousand cushions in all shades of purples, mauves and lilacs, and rested my head against the cool pillow. Once again I was rocked by sorrow. I wanted my illusions back. I wanted to pretend it had never happened. I did not want the trauma of searching for another life. In my mind I keep saying poor me, poor me, poor me. I thought of Emerald Green and knew she’d want to slap the bejesus out of me for feeling so sorry for myself.

In a bid to stop my wallowing, I turned my attention to one of Bea’s paintings opposite, in hues of magentas, purples and gold. I reminded myself, as Emerald Green would have advised, that right this moment, I was okay. But then again, she never liked it when I used the word, okay. She said it was a blanket word for covering all sorts of squirmy feelings. All right then, right this moment I was… and I fumbled around for the correct feeling… and then it hit me. Right this moment I was bloody pissed off. And that’s okay Emerald Green!

For the thousandth time I asked myself how I could have been so dumb. How I had let Davis make every decision about my life, until I was living a life that resembled no part of who I was, not one iota. I exhaled heavily. Recently, during my therapy, there had been moments of clarity, when it dawned on me Davis may have done me the biggest favour of my life. But if that was so, then why, oh why, was I feeling so horrible. Once again, depression and loneliness welled.

Finally, I climbed out of bed, and went into the downward dog pose, my favourite yoga position, stretching my spine and rejuvenating my emotionally drained body, mentally thanking Emerald Green for also introducing me to yoga. My eyes, exhausted from crying, felt like they might literally pop out of my head in this position. However, I heard the voice of my yoga instructor… feel this position making space in your spine. Can you feel it…?

No… but I am bloody trying, I wanted to yell. Lacing up my joggers, I headed out, hopeful a brisk walk would render some sense into me. I began to walk faster and faster, wishing I could move fast enough to outrun my own unhappiness.

I headed towards New Farm Park, a park I had now begun, once again, to enjoy. As children, thanks to Johnny, we had been frequent visitors to the playground, and although it’d had many upgrades, the swings still had the ability to bring back fond memories.

With a determined swing of my arms, I rounded the jacaranda lined ring-road until I caught sight of the playground. Instantly, my mind was invited into fantasies of years gone by and I felt my mood lift. Pausing to take it in, I watched, still amazed at the impressive tree-house-walk that wound through the roots of massive mature fig trees, incorporating their trunks and low hanging branches. The climbing net, looking like a huge spider’s web, had not been there when I was a child. The real estate agent in me instantly noting that it would have excellent city views from the top

With a smile, I watched as a young mother pushed her little girl on a swing, while a round faced baby brother, sucked furiously on his green dummy, from the safety of his pram.

‘Higher Mummy, higher Mummy,’ the girl squealed with delight. And then my mood fell again. As if in protective mode, I folded my arms against my chest. I knew that this was what I was missing. This… normalcy! I was nearing my thirty-fifth birthday and was single, but more painfully, childless. All of those years I had spent working in the corporate world had come around and bitten me, rendering me alone.

‘Cry, let it out,’ Emerald Green had said. ‘No pain, no gain.’ But there was too much pain and I wondered if I let it out, would I ever be able to stop. Surreptitiously, I wiped at my face, hoping no one would see my grief. Unable to punish myself further, I walked on, my thoughts drifting to only the year before.

*

Felicity had been with us for some months, and I was going in to the office less and less. I had felt my decision to hire her had been excellent. The truth was, I had outgrown the job, and I was well overdue for the position as a mother.

For the first time, I was spending huge chunks of time at home, nesting and loving every minute of it. Wonderful culinary feasts were prepared, we entertained lavishly, and I loved the fact that I didn’t have to be superwoman, and for the first time could be a homemaker. I couldn’t believe I was having those thoughts, however I was. I was also having thoughts of never returning to the corporate world, or at least, not for some time.

I didn’t voice my feelings to many, as it seemed disloyal as a woman, to not want it all. After all, I had been Telstra Young Business Woman of the Year only a couple of years earlier. However, my feelings had changed. At this stage of my life, I wanted a traditional relationship, where the man went to work and earned the money, and I stayed at home, cooking and having babies. Odd, I know.

Nearly a year went by while pregnancy eluded me. In desperation, I had begged Davis for the two of us to take a holiday. He kept putting me off, saying that the timing wasn’t right. Finally, he gave in. I was ecstatic. I checked my ovulation dates and booked accordingly.

There we were in one of the Small Luxury Hotels of the World at Blanket Bay in New Zealand, and my husband had turned into an adrenaline junkie. If he wasn’t bungy jumping, he was parasailing, jet boating, mountain hiking, heli-skiing and canyoning. I was exhausted just watching him and felt that we were wasting our precious small window of ovulation in the most romantic of stone lodges on Lake Wakatipu. At one point, Davis had even suggested that we cut short our stay in the lodge and hike to Milford Sound. I told him that was not going to get me pregnant, and began to wonder if he knew exactly how it was done. Sure I wanted him to have fun, but I wanted him to have fun with me.

Although he was on a high, it seemed as if our days were filled with adventure, and every night he was exhausted. One night he even said, ‘For God’s sake Peach, I’ve had it.’ I should have taken that as a hint, silly me, however so tunnel visioned was I with my biological clock ticking away rapidly, I needed a sledge hammer to hit me over the head to get it.

Anyway that was my first tip off. Second one, the next night, New Year’s Eve. Mid our eight course degustation, the mystical sound of bagpipes drifted into the dining room, drawing us and the other guests out onto the stone terrace. Spellbound, we listened to the unique harmonics, as the bagpiper played Amazing Grace, stirring all sorts of emotions in me. Shivering, I wrapped my arms tighter around myself and stepped in closer to the man in my life, thinking we were the luckiest people on earth to be in these surroundings.

‘Are you cold?’ he asked. ‘I’ll get your jacket.’ I smiled at my chivalrous hero, telling him to be quick. I didn’t want him to miss any part of this evening.

When the bagpiper had finished, the other couples returned inside, however Davis still hadn’t returned. Surprised, I went in search of him. I walked through the drawing room, passing the mammoth stone fireplace, thinking maybe he’d become waylaid there. I continued up the huge staircase and along the hallway to our room. The door was ajar.

I glanced around at our empty luxurious suite, noticing once again the sumptuous furnishings and elegant rug, the schist stone walls, and the timber beams. I made a mental note that the next day, there was to be no more activities. A day in this room was required. Earlier, we must have left the French doors ajar. We could not get enough of the view of the spectacular lake and the snow-capped mountains. They looked so close that it was as if we just stretched our hands out, we could touch them. I crossed the room to secure the door and with surprise noticed Davis’s tall shadowy figure in the darkness leaning against the balcony rail. He had his back to me. I went to call out, but noticed he had his phone to his ear.

Listening, I strained wondering who he would be talking to at that time of night. Davis didn’t say much at first, he just seemed to be listening. Then he said, ‘Yes, okay then. I need time.’ And then he paused again and after listening, he chuckled. ‘You’re very persuasive. You know that, don’t you? Yes, I know, I know. I feel the same way.’ It wasn’t so much what he said, it was the tone of voice he used.

For what seemed to be an eternity, I didn’t move. My heart hammered in my chest so loudly, I was sure he could hear it as well. Feeling desperately ill, I put a hand out to the wall as the cold hand of fear clutched at my heart.

Silently running back the way I had come, I returned to the dining room, terrified my face would give me away to the other guests. Within minutes Davis followed suit, minus my jacket. I didn’t ask where it was, there was no need. And I didn’t know how I was going to get through the next four courses. With my hands clutched together under the table, I kept thinking I was going to throw up. Rapidly, I blinked back tears. Looking at the man I loved, I wanted to beg him not to do this to me. He was my best friend, my lover, my life, the father of our unmade babies.

I watched anxiously as Davis drank from his wine glass, oblivious to my state of mind. And then the crushing blow hit me. I thought maybe I had gotten away with it, like when you kick your toe and for that first moment there’s nothing, and then the pain hits you. It hit me, like a sledge hammer hurting in a place I didn’t know I had.

Two weeks earlier, a staff Christmas party at our home. I was busy topping Atlantic salmon slices with my homemade chilli jam. Felicity was propped on a stool chatting to me, firstly saying that I had the most awesome life. I was so lucky. She even commented on my black and white striped apron with hot pink ties. It was one of those back handed compliments. ‘How… Stepford Wife-ish of you,’ she cooed, batting her lashes, throwing her head back and laughing. ‘You look very…’ she searched for the word, ‘cute!’

She then went on to tell me that Address was the best thing that had ever happened to her, every now and then elegantly recrossing her long tanned legs. The aquamarine mini dress she was wearing riding sky high. Her pretty blonde hair was in waves around her face. A brand new Louis Vuitton clutch on her lap. I remembered thinking could this girl get any more beautiful?

Davis had come in looking for something in one of the kitchen drawers. I noticed the way Felicity turned side on and over a bare tanned shoulder, flashed her eyes at him. I remembered pausing, hands clad in oven mitts, with the kitchen tray in my hand, stunned, and thinking she was a tad obvious. I had this sudden urge to say, ‘Excuse me dear, but I am in the room. Do you mind?’ But so taken aback was I, that I didn’t say a word. Party noises drifted inside from the terrace.

Davis appeared oblivious. He placed his wine glass on the monolithic stainless steel kitchen bench, and rifling through the cutlery drawer he asked me where the gas refill was for the wine opener. There was a feeling, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Something was trying to make itself known to me, but I didn’t want to know. I bent to place the salmon into the oven, but still aware, with my back to them, I glanced at the mirrored splashback. I saw Felicity pick up Davis’s glass and seductively drink from it, the entire time her eyes on him. He took it from her, his hand touching hers. Smiling, he put the glass to his lips, where hers had been. Holding her eyes, there was a look flowing between them that no psychiatrist would need to glimpse to decode.

The intimacy of their pose took my breath away. I felt it deep in my gut. My face flushed. I spun around and looked at Davis directly. He caught my look although nervously glanced away. Casually, Felicity slid off the stool and sashayed through the house and out onto the terrace, proudly swinging her new Louis Vuitton handbag, a gift from an admirer she had told me earlier.

Just at that moment the doorbell chimed, heralding the arrival of another guest, leaving us no time to talk. The next morning when I bought it up, Davis waved it away reminding me how inebriated staff became at Christmas parties, and it was the one time of year when bad behaviour just had to be excused. He said it was normal for people to either love or hate the boss, generally the latter.

I honestly accepted his explanation. I wanted to. My focus was on getting pregnant. We had our romantic holiday all planned and nothing was going to get in the way, although, something about Felicity’s handbag kept seeping in to my consciousness, making me uncomfortable.

However now I knew, Felicity Best the girl who had everything, now even had my husband. Well I had fed her to him very nicely. Stupid me! And the handbag… I came to realise that was his calling card.

*

Lost in thought, I walked on until I had reached Oxlade Drive. I skirted down the side of the Merthyr Road Bowls Club and out onto the walkway that ran along the banks of the Brisbane River. I hadn’t realised New Farm was quite so liveable. Davis had always been so dismissive of it. However, it was similar to West End in the fact that they were both cosmopolitan, inner city suburbs, gracing the river.

Continuing along the riverside path, I paused briefly to allow a mother duck to pass as she protectively ushered her little family across the path. With delight, I watched as one by one they gracefully slid into the water. Not too much further along, I came to the Sydney Street City Cat terminal.

For years I’d often said when I had more time, I’d ride one of the City Cats from beginning to end. Well now, because of Emerald Green’s insistence on my personal weekly dates, I had done it. It’s interesting how you live and work in a city and mostly you never see what tourists see. Over the last couple of months, I had seen more of Brisbane than I had perhaps ever seen. And I had loved it.

In gaining awareness about myself and my values, I was fast losing the false sense of self I had been sustaining, and gradually I was meeting the truth, and finally I was meeting me. Where it was going to lead me, I still had no idea. However I was slowly becoming okay with that. Sorry Emerald Green, I was slowly becoming comfortable with that.

My mind ticking over, I headed up Sydney Street, and before I knew it I realised I was heading towards Frank Carmody’s house as if on auto pilot. Although I had been coming to my mother’s house for years I had never been to this part of New Farm. Now it intrigued me. I still couldn’t see much from the footpath, so I leant heavily against the gate, attempting to make a crack I could peer through, to no avail. It was locked – lock, stock and barrel. I could have brought the keys with me, however I hadn’t planned on walking this far.

From under the sturdy knotted branch of a massive Moreton Bay Fig tree, with more than a little interest, I admired the shady street, lined with the mature trees. The view of the neighbour’s mulberry tree soothed me, evoking memories of the huge mulberry tree in my childhood backyard at Johnny’s house. It had been the centre of many activities. There Lou and I had perched for hours in its branches eating an endless supply of the messy berries.

Most of the neighbouring houses were in the Queenslander style and definitely more modest than Mr Carmody’s. Directly opposite, I noticed a large, white, rather handsome cat saunter out of a track of some sort which was positioned between two homes. I hadn’t noticed the track earlier with Marty. Flanked heavily by trees, you would almost have to know it was there to see it. It must have led from the street below.

The cat nonchalantly continued across the road and then sauntered into some overgrowth right beside Mr Carmody’s eastern boundary. There appeared to be another track, which must have led down to the river, so unkempt I imagined it was inaccessible to all except those who knew about it.

Bea belonged to the New Farm Historical Society and occasionally told us interesting titbits, some harder to believe than others. Originally, the suburb of New Farm had been a huge farm. When the farmer divided the land to sell, he put easements in place so he could lead his oxen down to the river. Some of those easements still stood in place today, although there was, of course, not one oxen to be found. Some property owners saw no need to have the “Oxen Easement” clause removed from their title deeds, and every now and then they came up again. Perhaps that was what the track had been.

Hesitantly, I took a few steps towards the track. However, just then the white cat came bolting out, hackles raised, looking like he had seen a ghost, and scaring the living daylights out of me. Hastily stepping back, with one hand to my chest, I watched as he took off back across the road and disappeared into the overgrowth. Heart still pounding, I spun around as a bike shot out of the trees behind me.

Once again I jumped back, my hand to my thumping chest, crying out in fright.

By the look on the rider’s face, it appeared I had startled him.

Instantly he stopped, propping himself on one leg, turning to me. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone.’ He removed his sunglasses. And in that instant there was a flash of energy, almost a recognition.

Narrowing my eyes, I took another step back. ‘It’s… it’s fine. No problem.’ With my arms folded in front of me, I ran my hands up and down my goosebumpy arms, wracking my brain to see if I remembered meeting him before now. However, nothing came to me.

Curiously, I watched as he continued across the road and disappeared down the unkempt track opposite, the same one the white cat had vanished into. I daresay this was not the first time the rider had used the track, leaving me to wonder if it posed a security issue.

I turned my attention back to the house. Although I could barely see a thing in the late afternoon light, a wonderful sense of peace washed over me. There was something enchanting about this house. I walked back to Bea’s home somewhat slower than I had headed out.

It was almost dark when I arrived back at Bea’s. I was pleasantly surprised to see Lou getting out of her car with her two children, Lakshmi four, and Bob two. I remember when she was born, Bea saying, ‘Lakshmi? It sounds like the name of some exotic food. What sort of name is that for a child?’

And although I agreed with my mother, I could not help but wonder if my nan had said the same thing to her about my name. ‘Peach? It’s a piece of fruit. What sort of name is that for a child?’

Lou had explained she wanted her baby to be named after the Hindu goddess of fortune and prosperity. She wanted her child to be the embodiment of beauty, grace and charm. That was Lou for you. By the time she got to Bob, she chose his name because she liked it - go figure.

‘Aunty Peach, Aunty Peach,’ Lakshmi called.

‘Hello darling, what are you doing here?’ I cuddled the small blonde replica of Lou, kissing the top of her head before doing the same to Bob. I took in Lou’s face and instantly knew something was wrong.

‘Go surprise Bea-Bea, she’s in her studio,’ I urged the children, using their pet name for their grandmother.

Lakshmi ran off with Bob in tow. I frowned. ‘What’s up Lou?’

Wearing cut off denims and scuffed camel suede boots, she plonked herself down on the bottom step and crossed her long legs with a look on her face that said the world had come to an end. She was a gorgeous tall blonde, with a perfect lithe body - we still didn’t look anything like sisters. And I was still her protector. Some things never change.

She signed theatrically. ‘It’s Mitch.’ She shrugged and looked forlorn, looking very much like Lakshmi at that moment.

‘Darling, what is it this week? Let me guess. He can’t decide between his X Box and his bong?’ Lou and Mitch were often on a break and every few weeks it was something different.

Ignoring my comment Lou spoke. ‘He doesn’t pay any attention to me. I could be chopped liver for all he cares.’ And then she cupped both of her hands around her small breasts, her face lighting up. ‘I’m thinking of having a boob job.’

‘Right!’ I said. ‘And that will fix all of your problems?’ I sat down beside her. ‘Lou, how about finding a guy with a car to begin with? A job would also be good! Not to mention a wallet. One with credit cards in preferably.’

Lou had had her fair share of dating guys who were hot but generally hopeless. However, Mitch was the one she had decided to have children with.

‘You could do so much better. You are worth more…’

She cocked her head to the side, blue eyes wide, and looked at me, brushing her long hair behind one ear.

I read her mind in a flash. Crossing my arms in front of myself, I looked away. ‘I know, don’t go there. I’m the last one who should be giving advice when it comes to relationships.’

Lou exhaled heavily and then wailed, ‘He never wants sex. It’s not fair.’ She pouted. ‘I’m thinking either a boob job or an affair.’

‘Lou,’ I admonished. ‘Don’t say that stuff. You don’t mean it.’

‘It’s okay for you. You’ve got the best boobs around…’

Wearily, I shook my head. ‘May I remind you they’re obviously not the answer to everything.’ I paused and exhaled heavily. I was in no mood for one of her tirades. Everyone knew Lou was a drama queen. So much so, her jersey in year 12 had it stamped across the back.

‘Look, you’re just going to have to forgive me, if I’m not that understanding today. The way I feel, I may never have sex again. The man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with is with someone else. So, you not having sex very often certainly does not stir any sympathy from me.’ I looked at her, shaking my head with frustration. ‘Lou, Lou, Lou it’s time to grow up.’

I noted the shocked look on her face. For the first time in my life, I felt not one ounce of guilt, however I leant down and kissed the top of her head, before turning on my heels and taking the steps two at a time.

The next morning, before I left the house for my appointment with Mr Carmody’s lawyer, I went in search of my mother to say goodbye. I could hear the sound of her voice coming from her studio downstairs. It sounded as if she was on the phone to Johnny. God love them, they were still the best of friends. We were an odd family. Johnny’s latest wife Patrice, she was number three, came along to every family gathering whether Johnny was coming or not. My mother told Johnny if he ever left Patrice, she would have her, she loved her that much. See, I told you… odd family.

Halfway down the stairs I stopped in my tracks. I could hear Bea talking. ‘She seems to be doing better. Johnny, honestly, I always thought Peach would be our stable one. But really, it’s quite the opposite. Look at Lou. I know we don’t love Mitch, but who would have thought she’d be so sensible and secure? You can’t pick them can you? Quite frankly, I’m not sure what Peach is going to do with her life. It’s all rather depressing. Of course I am hopeful she will head to Provence and spend some time there. You know she has to do it Johnny. She has been running away from it for years. Yes… I’ll give her your love. Give mine to Patrice.’

I raised my eyes to the heavens. Invisible again. Lou, the sensible one! Was my mother kidding? I left the house in a huff. My sister had only been seeing Mitch for three months when she fell pregnant. Right from the beginning their relationship appeared to be fraught with difficulties, with Lou often returning home to either Bea or Johnny, but that didn’t stop her falling pregnant with Bob, saying that she wanted more than one child, and therefore thought they should have the same father. Mitch was probably a nice guy, however it might have helped if he worked slightly more often. And now Lou was thinking of either having breast implants or an affair? Lou was stable alright!

The only thing giving me an ounce of pleasure at the moment was my new car. I pulled into the smallest parking spot out the front of Montgomery’s in Brunswick Street, where I was to meet John Scott to return Mr Carmody’s keys. My friend Chilli was co-owner of the restaurant with her son. I don’t know what I would have done without her words of wisdom these past ten months.

There was the lingering aroma of coffee and bacon in the air. Montgomery’s was already full and the busy hum of conversation greeted me. For a few seconds, I watched as Chilli crossed through the restaurant to me. I noticed how many patrons looked up and smiled at her as she passed. Briefly, she stopped, a warm greeting for first this one, and then another. Catching her eye, I winked and waved, indicating I already had a table as I had already spotted John Scott seated on one of the white leather studded banquettes. The lounge made quite a statement sitting against the backdrop of an ebony wall adorned with two enormous sparkling Venetian mirrors.

Sitting very upright, glasses on the end of his nose, Mr Scott was busy perusing paperwork, giving me a chance to observe him.

I hazarded a guess that he was perhaps in his early sixties. Dressed in a double breasted suit and pale blue silk tie and pocket square, he appeared a rather formal man, his silver handlebar moustache making him more so. Snapping a folder shut, he stood and pulled out the chair opposite for me. Yesterday, I had felt he was a man of little emotion, however today I observed that he gave a fleeting look of admiration at my attire.

I had never been a trousers girl, legs not long enough. Instead, I have always opted for a far more feminine look, and today I wore my favourite Alannah Hill red silk tiered skirt, with a red and white polka dotted ruffled blouse, along with my secret weapon, shiny nude patent leather heels. Nude heels helped the legs to look longer. I flicked my long dark curls behind one ear. The swishing of my silk skirt was audible as I sat, placing my monogrammed Louis Vuitton handbag on the chair next to me.

Mr Scott gestured to the waiter for two coffees. I must say I was a little disappointed we didn’t order anything to eat, as it almost seemed sacrilegious to be at Montgomery’s and not order their delicious fare. However, I was most grateful for the bite sized shortbread that escorted the fragrant brew. Mr Scott appeared to be a man who wasted no time on pleasantries, getting down to the task at hand.

‘Right,’ he briskly stated, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. ‘I believe you’ve seen Mr Carmody’s property.’ He glanced at me over the top of his glasses. ‘What is your opinion?’ He was direct, I’ll give him that.

With my elbows on the table, I leant forward, resting my chin on my hands. I could feel my face light up. ‘I truly love it, and let me tell you, I’d love to buy it myself. However, I’m astute enough to realise that the price would be well out of my reach. Such a pity. A girl can dream though.’ I flashed him a smile.

I had tossed and turned all night over Mr Carmody’s property. I was realistic enough to know that I would never be able to afford something of that scale in the New Farm area. I was reminded of a couple of years ago, when a developer showed us a presentation of apartments he was seeking council approval for, in Hastings Street Noosa Heads, a small but very sought after prestigious holiday destination, an hour and a half north of Brisbane.

There were a dozen of us in the meeting. As soon as I saw the artist’s impressions, I instantly made an audible sound of lust. Surprised, all heads turned to look at me. I wanted one of those apartments. I wanted the ocean at my door. I wanted the life that went with it. And I wanted to be one of the people that lived that type of life. However, the price tag was exorbitant. So, realistically I got over my wanting. Yesterday, I had felt like that about Mr Carmody’s property. And just like the Noosa apartment, I’ll eventually get over it.

Mr Scott tapped his fingers on the table top. ‘And what is it that you would do with a property of that size if you owned such a thing Mrs Riding?’

I laughed. ‘Oh don’t worry, I’ve given that heaps of thought and I have so many ideas, I wouldn’t know where to begin.’ However, that did not stop me. ‘The garden is truly spectacular. It must have been a paradise in its day.’ I glanced at him, but he wasn’t the best conversationalist. ‘That house and garden needs to be filled with people. It has so much to offer. One thought I had, was an inner city B&B, but with old fashioned charm. I’d call it Carmody House.’ I began to warm to the idea once again. ‘Sounds nice doesn’t it?’ And this time I got a curt smile from him. ‘Or I even thought about running cooking classes from the house, using produce grown in the kitchen garden supplemented by the numerable gourmet outlets in the area. It’s one of those properties that could have many uses, and could bring pleasure to many people. Even weddings in the garden, I can see them now!

With my hands in my lap, I leant back in my chair smiling, watching Mr Scott’s face. Momentarily, he appeared amused. His long pale slender hands once again clasped together on the table in front of him. Hands that looked like they had never done a manual day’s work in their life.

Briefly, he looked down and then he looked up at me again. ‘And you would have a dog?’

I sat up in my chair, looking surprised at his line of questioning. I spluttered, ‘Sure… of course… a couple of dogs.’ I felt my face light up again. ‘Actually, I love dogs. I’m sorry to say my former husband was not so keen, but that’s about to change as soon as I get myself settled. In fact, there are going to be many changes. Anyway, I have a list, and dog is on the top…’ I stopped. I knew I was rambling, however as Mr Scott was very quiet, I was filling in the pauses, as I had a habit of doing.

‘So, you didn’t see it as a family home?’ he asked, brow furrowed, looking over the top of his reading glasses, making it sound as if there should be a correct answer.

‘Oh absolutely, for someone else I could not think of a better place to raise a growing family. It would be idyllic. But…’ and I glanced down at my hands in my lap and swallowed. ‘Just not for me…’ My face clouded over, my pain returning where I thought it had eased. I cleared my throat and attempted to move on. ‘I’m sure …’

Mr Scott cut me off. ‘Perhaps one day?’

I blinked a couple of times and swallowed again, unsure if he was asking me, or offering words of comfort.

‘Perhaps one day Mr Scott.’ In a far more business-like manner, I moved on. ‘I’m sure you remember me saying that I am no longer in the real estate industry, and while I am flattered that Mr Carmody thought I might like to market the property for him, yesterday I took a former colleague with me to view it.’ I looked directly at Mr Scott. He said nothing. I pulled Marty’s business card from my bag and slid it across the table. ‘As Mr Carmody appeared to trust my judgement, I’m happy to oversee Marty Edwards and will endeavour to make sure we do the right thing for Mr Carmody’s family.’

He glanced briefly at the card, but left it where it lay on the table. He reminded me of a headmaster, and I, feeling once again like a school girl, had become nervous of my answers, hoping to respond correctly. John Scott’s hands were now joined together as if in prayer, at his chin. ‘So your living arrangements at the moment are?’

‘Oh?’ I was rather taken aback. He was an unusual man, his line of questioning odd. ‘I’m staying with my mother here at New Farm for the short term.’ I didn’t feel it necessary to explain my plans for travel.

‘And then you wish to…?’

I gave an ironic laugh. ‘Mr Scott… I’m…’ For a few seconds I was lost for words. ‘I’m trying to make a new life.’ There I’d said it. ‘A new career, a new home, a new everything.’

He leant forward. ‘Yes I see.’ Squinting at me, he looked as if he did see. He exhaled heavily and if it was possible, sat even more upright. ‘Mr Carmody spoke highly of you.’

I slowly nodded, smiling, grateful for the compliment. He scratched at his temple. Patiently, I waited.

He opened a folder and studied it for a few minutes. Murmuring to himself, he then glanced back at me. ‘So, if you were to purchase the property, what do you think a fair price would be?’

I put a hand up. ‘Mr Scott, I don’t think you understand! As much as I love the property, I am not in a position to be able to buy a property of that calibre. I wish I was, but I’m not.’

‘Right… hmmm,’ he said slowly, and then pushed a piece of paper towards me. ‘What do you think about this figure?’

I looked at the sum. ‘What...?’ I frowned. ‘I’m sorry but I’m not following you? Are we talking about the same property?’

‘Yes we are. Perhaps I should explain further.’ He straightened his glasses on his nose. ‘That price comes with a condition. You may not find it agreeable and you are within your rights to say so. For quite some time Mr Carmody knew he was not long for this world. As I have handled his affairs for many years, and as he had no family, he asked me if I would act as executor of his affairs.’

‘No family at all?’

‘No. His ex-wife was an American lass and that is where she now resides. Mr Carmody was an only child and he had no children. His loves were his dog and his garden.’ He looked at me.

I nodded. ‘Yes, I met Wilbur the labrador. I told Mr Carmody, I would gladly take Wilbur for him, but unfortunately our home at the time was unsuitable. I believe he went to an old friend of Mr Carmody’s. I know how traumatised he was by it. It was terribly sad.’

‘That is correct, but it was never meant to be long term.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Now, Mr Carmody was most grateful that you kindly made that offer. He was moved by your generosity.’ He exhaled. ‘Which leads me to this next point. Mr Carmody left strict instructions that if you were to purchase the house, at what we shall call a special price, then he has one wish.’

Baffled, I looked at him closely.

‘The dog comes with the house.’

I gave a small laugh. ‘Mr Scott, as soon as I get myself settled I will gladly take Wilbur. It would be a pleasure.’

Mr Scott leant back in his chair. ‘I see Mr Carmody was right about you. He said you were a generous person. The thing is he wants you to have the house. But he also wants to assist a struggling business. Perhaps you have heard of it. It’s called Silverback Acres.’

I shook my head.

‘It’s a sanctuary in Tasmania for old dogs whose owners have had to go into care. The people that run it are a retired couple and are self-funded. Mr Carmody has bequeathed the money from the sale of the house to Silverback Acres. Although he was impressed with the sanctuary, he thought Tasmania would be too cold for Wilbur.’

‘I’m still not quite following. If Mr Carmody wanted to assist Silverback Acres then surely he would want top dollar for his property. The price you’ve mentioned is about a fifth of what that property is worth.’

‘Yes, but you’ve missed one important thing.’ He paused briefly. ‘He wants the dog to spend his old age on his property.’

‘Oh I see.’ I leant back in my chair. Mr Scott sat quietly. I looked at my hands while I thought, and then I looked up. ‘I would have gladly taken Wilbur for him you know.’

‘I do know Mrs Riding.’ And he pushed the papers towards me. I looked at them, but did nothing. Mr Scott sensing my hesitation raised his eyebrows in question.

‘Mr Scott, I have been in the real estate industry for many years. I know paying this small amount of money for that property does not seem right.’

‘I wouldn’t call one million dollars a small amount of money.’

‘I think you know what I mean.’

He nodded. ‘Mr Carmody said you were honourable. I have a question. Can you afford this sum, because I can work something out for you?’

I blinked rapidly and held my hands out. ‘That’s not it. I can afford it. It’s just that…’

‘Let me help you here Mrs Riding. Mr Carmody wishes to bequeath one million dollars to Silverback Acres. He wishes Wilbur to live out his life on the property he loved. He thinks highly of you.’ He paused watching my face. ‘I know this is a lot to take in. Why don’t you give yourself a few days to think it over and get back to me?’