When I ring Hera’s bell, I can’t help but wonder what she’ll be wearing. She did put on a shirt for the Pink Bean opening, but maybe her professional pride played a part in that.
Her house is in Bronte and looks immaculate from the outside, with flower pots gracing the window sills.
When the front door swings open I say, “Your carriage has arrived, my lady.”
Hera grins at me, then looks over my shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re taking me somewhere in that white thing over there.” She shakes her head.
Before I reply I take in her attire. Not only has she donned the same kind of pristine white shirt that she wore at the Pink Bean opening, but she’s wearing a light gray blazer over it.
“I thought red was more your color,” Hera says. “But here you are, with a white car and a blue, what do you call it...” She points at my jumpsuit.
“I like all the colors of the rainbow.”
Hera nods. “Have you eaten?” she asks.
“Do I look like a woman who forgets to eat?” I bring my hands to my hips.
Her cheeks turn pink. “I—I meant, do you want to come in or head off straight away?”
“I’d love to come in.” I pause for a moment. “How did you know the white car was mine?”
“I know the cars in my street. None of them are white.” She steps back to let me into a narrow hallway.
Hera opens the first door on the right and ushers me into the living room. I take in the wooden cabinets along the wall, the worn leather sofa and matching armchairs that stand upon a thick patchwork carpet. The room is decidedly small—especially compared to my open plan home—but it somehow feels cozy, rather than cramped. Like you’d want to curl up in the sofa with a mug of cocoa and a book, and forget about the outside world. I imagine it served as a safe haven for Hera after her partner died.
“You have a lovely home,” I say as my gaze settles on her.
“Do you want to see my kitchen for inspiration?” She grins at me.
I want to see everything, I want to say, but don’t.
“Would you like some water?” she asks and gestures at the sofa. “Sit for a second. I’d like to, uh, discuss something with you before we leave.”
I settle in one of the armchairs and wait for Hera to return with a glass of water for the designated driver.
“Don’t freak out,” she says, after she has sat down in the chair opposite mine. “But Jill, my therapist, is going to be there tonight.”
“Really?” I tilt my head and, just in time, refrain from making a joke that might not be received very well.
“It’s a coincidence. I didn’t ask her to come or anything.” Hera gives a nervous chuckle that is very unlike her.
“Why would you?”
“I’m just a little bit annoyed by it.”
I can’t help a smile from spreading to my lips. “Because you talked about me with her? And now there’s a good chance she’ll meet me?”
Hera nods.
For a woman who has been on her guard since we met, she can be surprisingly open about things. I doubt she realizes what kind of signals she’s been sending me. Whether she’s aware or not, I’m receiving them loud and clear.
“Would this evening be more comfortable for you if I let you drive?” I give her my warmest smile.
She smiles back. Her eyes sparkle at me. “No way, I want to see you in action. If I don’t like it, I’ll just take a taxi back.”
“I promised you’d be home before ten and I’m a girl who keeps her promises.” I narrow my eyes. “Always.”
“Let’s be on our way then.” Hera rises. “If you can talk and drive at the same time, maybe you can tell me some things I really need to know about art on the way.”
“It’s not really about the art,” I whisper in Hera’s ear. “It’s more like a social gathering, but don’t tell Liz I said that.”
“I actually really like this.” We’re standing in front of a dreamlike depiction of the Sydney Opera House. “Don’t ask me to explain why, but it speaks to me.”
“You don’t need to explain. And I agree, these are really good.”
“Hello stranger.” I feel an arm on my shoulder.
“Caitlin.” I turn to her. “You remember Hera? Rocco’s aunt?”
“Yes, of course. Lovely to see you again.” Hera flinches a little as Caitlin kisses her on the cheek. “I have a bone to pick with you, Kat. I get the feeling you’ve been dodging my calls.”
“I asked Liz to give you my message. Clearly you haven’t received it.”
“I have, but I’ve thought of a different angle.” She looks over at Hera. “I don’t want to monopolize you tonight, but if I come over to the Pink Bean next week, do you think we can talk?”
“A different angle?”
Caitlin gives a slight nod. “I’ll tell you all about it over one of your delicious coffees. Let’s say Monday?”
A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes. Caitlin and Hera both grab one while I ask for a glass of water.
“Sure. Monday it is.”
“I’ve bought two already.” Caitlin nods at the paintings. “They’re stunning.” She cocks up her eyebrows. “Obviously I’ve known for a while that many a barista has a hidden talent.”
“Speaking of,” I ask. “Where’s Jo?”
“At a gig.” Someone comes along who taps Caitlin on the shoulder and she excuses herself.
“My sister said to refer Caitlin to her if she’s so desperate for an interviewee,” Hera says with a smirk on her face.
“Hilda?” I laugh. “She’d be an excellent guest, as would her son, by the way.”
As if he has heard our conversation, a dramatic voice booms from behind us. “K.Jo!”
“Brace yourself.” I find myself whispering in Hera’s ear again, breathing in her scent as I do. “The gays have arrived.”
Richard squints at Hera and me. “Wait,” he says. “Is there something I should know?” He looks at his partner Alan. “Has Rocco been keeping crucial lesbian intel from us?”
I try to wave off his comments as discreetly as possible—I’d like Hera to stay for a while.
“Lovely to see you, Hera.” Richard winks at her.
“Don’t mind him,” I say. “You know over-excited is his default mode.”
“Evening,” a voice I don’t recognize comes from the side.
“Jill.” Hera snaps to attention—as though the headmaster has just arrived to break up a raucous assembly.
“We’re going to circulate,” Richard says. “Catch you later.”
“Bye, darling,” I say absent-mindedly, as I focus my attention on Jill.
“This is Katherine,” Hera says, her voice stiff.
“Lovely to meet you.” Jill extends her hand and smiles warmly at me as she looks straight into my eyes—maybe she’s trying to assess whether I will end up hurting her client. “I won’t keep you, but I just wanted to say hello.” She aims her smile at Hera now. “Have a lovely evening.” With that, she saunters off and dissolves into the crowd.
I turn my body fully toward Hera. “That’s done then.” I glance at her empty glass of Champagne. “How about another tipple?”
“I can’t believe she just came up to us. She promised me she’d be discreet.”
“If first impressions are worth anything, I’d conclude she makes for an excellent therapist.” I put a hand on Hera’s shoulder. “I guess she doesn’t let you get away with much.”
“She’s wonderful, actually.”
Is Hera leaning into my hand?
“Ah, just what the doctor ordered.” I grab a glass of Champagne off a passing tray and give it to Hera.
“What kind of doctor are you to prescribe me this?” Hera’s voice has relaxed again.
“One without a degree but with a lot of wisdom from the streets.” I glance at Hera as she takes a sip. I wish there wasn’t a crowd of people around us—I wish we could continue this conversation somewhere a little quieter. From the corner of my eye, I see Kristin approaching. I remove my hand from Hera’s shoulder again. “Here comes our silent investor. Lucky I’m not drinking. She can’t help but inquire about ‘some numbers’ every time she sees me.”
Kristin and Sheryl arrive and, as expected, Kristin immediately engages me in conversation about the Pink Bean. I try to give her most of my attention, but I can’t help glancing at Hera as she chats with Sheryl. She nods thoughtfully and from this angle, with her chin turn downward like that, she looks so together, so every inch the woman I’ve come to know—serene though always a touch reluctant—that I feel something flutter inside my rib cage.