‘There is no way I’m leaving you on your own tonight, Marissa,’ Sonya said, dumping her bag on the floor. ‘We agreed this in the car, with Gayle. You promised to stay with me. Okay, you changed your mind, you want to be in your own place and I can well understand that, but, that being so, I’m sleeping in your spare room and I’m not leaving until I’m confident that you’re okay.’
‘I won’t do anything silly, Sonya,’ Marissa said. ‘Honestly. I totally lost it, I know that, I went right over the top, but I’ll be fine now. Look at me, I’m fine.’
Sonya looked at her across the kitchen table. ‘I look at you, Marissa, and I see someone who’s shattered and a bit spacey; a woman who looks rather worse than the night she started to play with razor blades. Sorry – I’m not subtle. Probably I should be dancing round you not referring to any of this, but then, I’ve never been in this situation before.’
Marissa nodded and looked away. ‘I’ll make some tea.’
‘Good idea.’
They stood in awkward silence on opposite sides of the kitchen table, not looking at each other. Marissa switched on the kettle and, unlocking the back door, walked out onto the deck. Her neighbour Alberto had kept the lawn mowed for her and pulled out the worst of the weeds, but everything needed attention. The sunflowers, just bursting into bloom, had grown tall and bushy; nasturtiums roamed wildly, wrapping themselves around the foot of the orange tree, and crowding the daisies. The table on the deck was coated with garden dust; dead leaves had blown in and settled around the ceramic dish painted with lemons that always stood in its centre. She blew away the worst of the dust and pulled out her favourite chair. Its cushion was covered in cat’s hair; clearly there’d been a regular feline visitor in her absence. It all looked tired and a little neglected, but it was hers, her sanctuary, and she was thankful to be back.
A madness had overtaken her that night. She could remember feeling shaky and light-headed as they left the hotel, feeling that she needed one of the others to lead the dance or she might not make it. Autopilot had got her through the dancing but back at the hotel, in the noise and harsh lighting of the foyer, panic overtook her. If she were alone she’d be all right, she could calm down, get through it, she thought.
‘Just need to run up to the room,’ she’d said. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Okay, but hurry up,’ Gayle responded. ‘We need you.’
‘Yeah,’ Sonya added. ‘The sisterhood is incomplete without you.’
Sisterhood: the word buzzed in her head. What she longed for was reaching out to her but now, having sought it, she wanted to run from it. The long passage to the room seemed to sway ahead of her, and she fumbled for her key and sank onto the bed. She couldn’t go back downstairs. Sleep might help. She must stay here, stay calm, try to breathe.
The phone startled her; it was the answering service callback. Try to be normal, try to be calm, play the message, she told herself. She listened to Frank’s voice and her head started to spin. The message kept repeating itself and there was a painful drumming in her ears. It seemed as though the bed, the very room, was shaking. She dropped the phone and grasped her head, it seemed gripped by an iron belt.
That was when the coldness hit her, a terrible cold that made her teeth chatter. Hot water, that would help, hot water . . . She staggered to her feet and stumbled across the room, hitting her head on the bathroom doorjamb. Dragging her clothes off, she fumbled with the taps and that was when she saw the razor. It seemed so logical, so right, the answer to the cold, the shaking and, better still, the answer to the fear and to the great scar, silent and brooding for so long, that had now reopened into a livid wound.
‘Chamomile,’ Sonya said, carrying the pot in one hand and two mugs in the other. ‘Chamomile, I think that’s what you like.’
Marissa looked up, jolted from her reverie. ‘But you don’t.’
Sonya shrugged. ‘I can get used to it, as long as my supply of caffeine isn’t completely cut off.’
‘You must have things you want to do at home,’ Marissa said.
‘Oh, you don’t get rid of me that easily,’ Sonya said, pouring the tea.
‘That’s not what I meant. It’s just that, well . . . what I said . . . we’ve been away a while, you must have heaps of things of your own you want to do, and I’m stuffing that up.’
Sonya pushed a mug towards her and sat at the other end of the table with her own, looking out onto the garden. ‘You know, Marissa,’ she said, ‘you’re right. There’s heaps of things to do, always are when you’ve been away. Opening the mail, airing the house, checking what’s grown in the garden, unpacking, catching up with people . . . but right now none of it seems more important than being with a friend who’s going through a crisis. Right now, that seems the most important, most special thing, the thing I most want to do.’
She looked across at Marissa. ‘If these last weeks have meant to you what they’ve meant to me you’ll know why I want to be . . . have to be here now. It’s called friendship; it’s not a new concept, although my guess is that it’s a scary one for you despite the fact that you show signs of being very good at it.’
She paused before continuing: ‘Sorry. Sorry I’m being patronising and facetious. It’s because I feel so inadequate. Look, Marissa, the other night Gayle and I thought we’d lost you. We were both really frightened and, frankly, pretty pissed off, and we don’t want it to happen again. Nor does poor bloody Frank, who doesn’t know what’s hit him –’
‘It’s not about Frank,’ Marissa cut in.
‘No, but you might want to explain that to him. Obviously it’s not about Frank, but he is a factor.’ She stopped suddenly and leaned across the table to take Marissa’s hand. ‘Don’t make it harder on any of us, darl. You asked us to dance with you and we did, and a whole lot more happened as a result, so now you’re stuck with us. Get used to it. Practise feeling what it’s like to have people who care about you, because we’re not going anywhere and we’re not going to let you down.’
The last time Brian had shaved was on the morning of the day he got the sack. For the next four days while his life stood still, his beard had grown; when he decided it was time to act, he soaped up his shaving brush, got out his razor and then put it away again and ran his hand over his chin. Who’d care if he shaved or not? Why bother?
By the time he was ready to fly back to Perth, he thought the beard was shaping up rather nicely. His hair had grown too. Normally he’d have had it cut by now but it seemed to go well with the beard, so, rather than get his usual once-over from the barber, he went instead to a unisex hair salon and, for the first time in his life, had his hair styled and his beard trimmed and shaped. As he put his jacket on and stood at the desk while the receptionist swiped his card, he thought he looked pretty good. He hadn’t had a beard since the seventies and it had suited him then too. His hair had been redder in those days but it had faded over the years and was now streaked with grey. He thought it looked distinguished. He no longer appeared the company man, but his own man. He wondered what Angie and Gayle would say when they saw him.
‘Hardly recognised you, Mr Peterson,’ said the clerk on duty in the Qantas Club. ‘The beard suits you, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
It was reassuring to be recognised, to be greeted in at least some of the places to which he’d been so accustomed.
Once on board he opened his briefcase and went through the paperwork again. In the Manly hotel he’d made a full assessment of his assets, superannuation, investments on and off shore, cash in the bank accounts, a rough valuation on the house and a couple of small commercial premises in Perth’s northern suburbs. He’d also drawn up a financial plan for the future. There was the house to be sold, some investments could be shifted around and the nature of some of them changed, but on the whole there was plenty of scope. A lot of what they owned was in Gayle’s name and there was no reason to change that. He just might need her to sign off a release on one portfolio if he decided he wanted business premises, but he was shifting closer to the prospect of a life of leisure. The last few weeks had made him realise how totally his time and energy had been focused on work; suddenly liberated, he was discovering what he’d missed. The real estate agent introduced him to the golf club and he enjoyed long, leisurely games with interesting new acquaintances. He was invited to a wine club, and to a day’s fishing on a luxurious launch.
There was life beyond tobacco marketing, and he was glad that particular episode was over. Gayle would be pleased too – she’d always objected to it. Now that she’d got the damn fool dancing business out of her system they could concentrate on the future. It had briefly occurred to him that he should let her know about the Manly apartment, check that she liked the idea, but he had always made the big decisions, organised their life together, and she could hardly complain about this the way she had about the house. It was time to go back to Perth and get things going from that end.
Brian leaned back in his seat watching the bed of cloud beneath the aircraft wings and reflecting on his own ability to move forward, in this case at great speed. Three weeks ago he was in the pits. Now he owned a new home and had opened the door to a fresh start.
‘So what do you think?’ he asked, dropping his bag on the floor and smiling at the look of surprise on Gayle’s face. ‘Improvement, eh?’
‘It suits you,’ she said, but without the enthusiasm he felt was warranted. ‘Makes you look thinner – yes, an improvement.’
She’d only been home a few days but Brian didn’t think she looked any better for her weeks away. In fact, he thought she looked quite pale and strained. But then she was probably worried about having upset him and so she should be. He had a right to be angry, but equally he could now afford to be generous . . . magnanimous – that was the word. He would add it to his repertoire of negotiating options. It was only when he went upstairs to the bedroom that he sensed something was different. He wasn’t a particularly observant person at the best of times and couldn’t for the life of him make out what it was. The bedroom and bathroom were exceptionally tidy, and the vanity unit was pleasantly free of Gayle’s various creams and potions.
Brian washed his face and hands and studied his hair. It seemed that having one’s hair styled rather than just cut required rather more maintenance than he was used to. Was this the time to apply more gel or not? How did one tell? It looked okay, he thought. Gayle could probably advise him, and Angie would definitely know. He stepped back, satisfied with his appearance, and made his way downstairs, and that was when he became aware that the strangeness he’d detected in the bedroom seemed to have seeped into the other rooms. There was an uneasy atmosphere which was a little disturbing. Perhaps it was just Gayle’s long absence and the awkwardness she must be feeling about her shoddy behaviour.
‘Good to see you back,’ he said, rubbing his hands. ‘All went well, did it?’
Gayle nodded. ‘Yes thanks, very well,’ she said. ‘And you? Good trip to Sydney?’
‘Excellent. Lots to tell you, got some interesting new ideas. I fancy a drink. Usual for you?’
They sat, for some reason, at the kitchen table. Later when Brian reflected on it he didn’t know why they hadn’t sat somewhere comfortable. He wondered if she’d done it deliberately. The kitchen was her domain, the only area she never complained about; perhaps she’d wanted to drop her bombshell in her own territory. It was a beautiful evening, clear and mild, and the view out through the open glass doors, over the terrace and across the river to the city, was spectacular at dusk.
‘Well – big news,’ he began. ‘There’s going to be a few changes. I’ve left the company.’
‘I know,’ Gayle said. ‘The office called. They need you to return the corporate credit card, and sort out payment for anything charged since they . . . since you left.’
‘Damn,’ he said, suddenly and unnervingly wrong footed, ‘I forgot about that. I’ll sort it out tomorrow. That bastard Mal put me in an impossible situation. Moral dilemma, really, something I couldn’t go along with. I’ll tell you about that later.’ He took a swig of his drink. ‘I’ve no doubt bloody Rod Campbell in Chicago was behind it.’
‘I thought it might be something like that,’ Gayle said. ‘I thought that’s what you’d say.’
She sounded a bit weird and Brian felt as though he’d lost ground. It was a damn nuisance she’d got that call, but still, no turning back.
‘One can only go along so far with things that one doesn’t think are right,’ he said.
She nodded without looking at him. ‘I’m sorry, it must have been hard for you.’
Brian swallowed the remains of his drink and got up to pour another. ‘It hasn’t been easy but, you know, Gayle, I’m starting to feel it’s all for the best. All those years I kept my head down, worked hard, gave it all I’d got, and in the end they don’t appreciate you. So, I thought, I’m sixty next month, this is the time for a new start, time to enjoy the good life. Refill?’
Gayle shook her head. ‘Brian, I –’
He held up his hand to stop her. ‘Hang on, haven’t finished. It’s a gift, really, you know. It takes a bit of a crisis to make you sit up and take notice, take stock, and that’s what I’ve done.’ He reached for his briefcase. ‘First of all, I thought we’d make a move. I’ve bought a place in Manly –’
‘Brian, look,’ she cut in, ‘before you go any further there is something I need to tell you.’
‘Can’t it wait?’ he said. ‘This is big stuff, Gayle.’
‘So is mine,’ she said, and there was an unfamiliar sharp edge to her voice.
Magnanimous, he reminded himself. ‘Okay, go ahead, but I can promise you you’re going to like this.’ And he leaned back and folded his arms.
‘You’re probably not going to like what I’m going to say. The first thing is that it’s over, Brian. We’re finished, our marriage is over. I’m leaving you and I want a divorce –’
‘Ah, bloody hell!’ he said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘What is this? Some claptrap from those dancing women? Divorce, indeed! Don’t play silly buggers with me, Gayle.’
‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘It’s over, I’m leaving – in fact, I’ve already left. I’ve moved my things out of the house. I’ve just come back to talk to you.’
‘But you’ve only been back a few days.’
‘There’s more,’ she said. ‘I saw Josh in Broome. I told him everything. I’ve also told Angie. They both know that you aren’t Angie’s father and they know about the deal we made, about my affair, everything.’
Brian felt the colour drain from his face. ‘You what –’ he began, but again she stopped him.
‘I haven’t finished yet. I went to see Josh to put right what I did all those years ago. I should never have allowed you to throw him out. I should have left with him. That was what I wanted to do. I stayed for Angie, and then because I was too scared to do anything else. But that’s all changed now, and Josh and Angie are adults and have a right to know the truth.’
Rage consumed him. He could feel the pressure pounding in his temples, his heart racing. He clenched his hands into fists and smashed them down on the table, making her flinch.
‘You had no right, Gayle, no fucking right. What the hell do you think you’re doing? That dancing’s sent you right off your stupid bloody head . . . I don’t believe this . . .’
‘I still haven’t finished.’
‘Oh really?’ he yelled. ‘What? I suppose you told fucking Mal as well, did you, and put a notice in the newspaper?’
‘I’ve found a lawyer and he’ll be writing to you. I think it’s best if we let the lawyers work out some sort of settlement.’
‘Lawyers?’ he roared. ‘Settlement? You have no idea what you’re talking about, woman. There won’t be any divorce, or any settlement. We’re selling the house, like you always wanted, and moving to Manly. No divorce, you hear me? No fucking divorce. But Christ knows what damage you’ve done, Gayle. We had a deal, you promised me. I kept my side of the bargain. Jeez, what about Angie . . . ?’
‘You didn’t keep to the bargain, Brian –’
‘I bloody well did. It wasn’t me who shot my mouth off.’
‘Part of the bargain was that you would lay off me –’
‘I did,’ he said, knocking his chair backwards onto the floor as he stood up. ‘I never laid a finger on you since, so don’t start saying I did . . ..’
The extraordinary thing, he thought later, was that she kept going, kept arguing with him. She didn’t back down, didn’t suddenly go quiet like she always did. She kept going, trying to shoot him down every time.
‘No, you didn’t bash me again, but it was more than that, Brian. You promised the bullying would stop but it didn’t. In fact, absolutely nothing changed. You still bullied me whenever I didn’t agree with you. You ignored what I said, overruled me, intimidated me about everything.’ She paused and seemed to be swallowing hard. ‘You even bullied me into sex when I didn’t want –’
‘You never wanted it,’ he spat. ‘Not for years.’
‘No,’ she said, standing up. ‘I didn’t. You know why? I couldn’t bear the thought of it with someone who just made use of me, who never listened to me, who never had any respect for me or interest in who I was or what I cared about.’
Brian felt as though his head were going to burst, and it was hard for him to breathe. He kicked another chair away from the table and sat down abruptly, taking deep breaths.
‘What about Angie?’ he said. ‘My girl . . . I treated her like my daughter. She is my daughter. I love that girl.’
‘I know you do,’ Gayle said, softening, ‘and she loves you. It’s me she’s angry with. She’s refused to speak to me since I told her. As far as Angie’s concerned, you’re the victim and I’m the villain. She wants to see you as soon as possible.’ She got up and took her handbag off the workbench.
‘Where the hell are you –’ he began.
‘I think it’s best you have time to think about this and calm down,’ she said. ‘But there’s probably not much more that we can say to each other that’s productive. You never listened to me, anyway, so it’s best to let the lawyers sort it out.’
‘But you can’t . . . I’m your husband, this is your home . . .’
‘I’ve told you, Brian. I’ve left,’ Gayle said. ‘I don’t live here anymore.’