Krystal pulled the cling wrap tightly around the Vegemite-and-cheese sandwiches and tucked them alongside apples and crackers into the lunch boxes – a red Spider-Man one for Jasper and a blue PJ Masks one for Olly. It was the first day back at school and she was running late. She opened the fridge to put the butter away and spied the half-empty bottle of white wine in the door. She had drunk the first half by herself last night once the kids were in bed and now she felt shame creeping up her body. But why? She pulled out the bottle and read the label. Seven-point-seven standard drinks in a bottle, so she’d had about three and a half drinks. That wasn’t too bad, was it? Lots of people in this country drank that or more on a daily basis. She put the bottle back and shut the door.
‘Jasper, can you go and change into your school pants, please?’ she called. The boys were slumped on the couch eating breakfast – cornflakes for both, but cow’s milk for Jasper and soy milk for Olly, who was dairy intolerant. When he was a baby, Krystal only had to put a drop of milk on his cheek for him to break out in nasty eczema.
She took the boys’ water bottles from the draining rack on the sink and filled them, her eye darting to the clock. She had the morning ritual down to within minutes and knew they weren’t going to make it, which meant she’d be late for work too.
Jasper brought both bowls to the sink, still wearing pyjama pants.
‘Jasper, pants!’
‘All right,’ he grizzled, in a tone she really should have picked him up on but simply didn’t have the time or mental space for this morning. Her mind was well and truly busy elsewhere.
Gabriella McPhee has Evan’s heart.
Or maybe she didn’t. Krystal had to confess that it was just possible that she wanted to know for sure where Evan’s heart was, wanted it so much that she might be leaping to conclusions. According to the newspaper, Gabriella’s transplant date was one day after Evan died – but then, it had been nearly midnight when she’d signed the papers. His heart couldn’t have got to Gabriella until the next calendar day, especially because he was in Sydney.
Sydney.
The very word conjured up dark and monstrous images in her mind.
She’d known the organs could be flown anywhere in the country, or even over to New Zealand. It was kind of poetic that it had ended up back here in Melbourne; almost as if he’d wanted to come home.
That was, if it was his heart.
She would go back to The Tin Man this afternoon after she finished work at the school. Roxy was taking the boys home with her, which she and Krystal often did to give each other an afternoon off, so her boys wouldn’t think anything was wrong. She had to go back and see Gabriella.
She rinsed the breakfast bowls, thinking about the scar that ran down Gabriella’s chest, imagining what it might look like, wondering if it was straight or jagged, an ugly purple or fine white. She wanted to see it. It would be an exquisite horror, a breath taking pain, to see the line, the incision, and know that Evan’s heart was just there, centimetres below. Krystal craved that pain. It was sick, clearly. Probably something like deliberately cutting herself with a knife.
‘Olly, it’s time to go,’ she said, turning off the television, then held out a hand to him to encourage him up. Her youngest wasn’t always compliant with the idea of day care. ‘It’s soccer day,’ she said, inspiring him.
‘Soccer! I wub soccer!’
‘I know!’ she said, smiling widely. ‘Let’s go.’
He rolled off the couch and walked towards the front door, where Jasper was already waiting, thankfully wearing his long navy school pants. He was playing with the door, repeatedly opening it a fraction and letting it bang back into place. Krystal groaned at the noise but ignored it.
She cast an eye up at the clock again. Shit. She cursed herself for letting her mind drift, for allowing herself to obsess over Gabriella McPhee and all the memories she brought back to life.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ she said, grabbing her keys off the side table. The elevator dinged. ‘Quick, the lift is here!’ She bustled the boys out into the hall and the heavy front door banged shut behind them.
After seeing Jasper to his classroom, Krystal hurried into the administration office.
‘Sorry!’ she said, breathless. She tossed her leather backpack to the ground, and sat down quickly in her chair.
Janice looked up from her own workstation, opened her mouth as if about to call her out for her lateness, but then closed it again. Krystal knew she’d been employed in this role as a bit of a charity case, some sort of social service from the school to one of their own – the widowed, single mother of a child in their care. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. She’d spent years working as a cleaner, waitress, checkout operator or delivery woman before she’d landed her job at Cinque, where she’d met Evan. It had actually been the position of cleaner she’d applied for here at the school. But the principal saw something else in her.
‘Can you type?’ she’d asked, peering at Krystal through half-moon glasses. Candice had a mop of cherry red curls, mismatched with pink lipstick, and wore a canary yellow top, a combination Krystal found intriguing. ‘Answer phones?’
‘Well, yes,’ Krystal had said, confused.
‘I think you should consider the position of administration assistant instead.’
‘I haven’t done that before, though,’ Krystal said, her mind racing to find some sort of relevant experience somewhere in her past.
‘Look, you’re a mum. Mums are working administration officers from the word go. Give yourself a leg up. The job’s yours if you’d like it.’
Truthfully, the role had never held much appeal. But she was smart enough to know that it would look better in her work history, the principal was right about that. Evan had life insurance, so she was far from destitute, but she knew she’d still have to work and, more than that, she knew she needed some sort of structure and responsibility to keep her focused so she didn’t slide into dysfunction. She didn’t want to end up like her mother.
Now, she settled herself at her desk quickly, longing for coffee but deciding to wait until Janice’s frostiness abated. She concentrated on the school newsletter that was due to go out this afternoon. Janice collated each item but it was Krystal’s job to double-check all the dates and payment requests and send out the email. Low, dark clouds had gathered outside. She could hear Mrs Giannopoulos’s voice droning on about long division, and Mr Roberts playing his guitar in his classroom, to much shrieking and applause. In the sick bay, little Bo Wei was crying softly on and off, waiting for his mum to come back and pick him up.
Krystal rubbed at her eyes, aching for that cuppa.
‘Coffee?’ Janice suggested from her desk.
‘A double shot would be nice,’ Krystal said, thinking miserably of the instant coffee in the tearoom. It was one of Krystal’s jobs to order tea and coffee supplies, and she bought the stuff in one-kilogram tubs, along with raw sugar and long-life milk.
‘Maybe one day,’ Janice said, her mood seeming to improve. ‘We should raise it with the P & C to ask if they’ll at least fund us for a pod machine. Not that pods are real coffee, but they’re a darn sight better than instant.’
‘It’s the packaging,’ Krystal said. ‘The environmental leader, what’s her name, Siobhan? She won’t like pods because of the waste created by all those tiny plastic packets.’
‘Maybe we should petition for a coffee van, then, to visit us at regular hours and make us all sorts of fancy coffees.’
‘That’s a great idea.’ Krystal swivelled her chair around to study Janice, somewhat buoyed by this sudden spurt of conversation. Janice looked especially nice today, in a black pencil skirt, white blouse and matching jacket. Her red fingernail polish gleamed, reflecting the fluorescent lights above them. Her steel-grey hair was short and spiky, her thick-rimmed glasses edgy. Krystal wondered what her supervisor had been up to on the weekend.
Sex?
Antiquing?
Sex and antiquing?
Krystal studied her own cheap black pants and T-shirt with cable-knit cardigan and considered that she could use a wardrobe update, something to compete with Janice here in the office.
‘Maybe two teaspoons of coffee will help,’ Krystal said, getting up.
‘Did you have a bad night?’ Janice asked, her fingernails continuing to tap across her keyboard and her eyes peering straight ahead at her screen.
‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ Krystal said, pausing mid-stride. ‘Why do you ask?’ She was on edge now, her new, warm feelings towards Janice quickly cooling.
‘Just that you look like you could use that coffee,’ Janice said, her eyes still on the screen.
Krystal closed her eyes in frustration – she’d thought they’d been making social progress – and tucked her cardigan around her tighter. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’
Finally, the school bell rang. Krystal met Roxy – today wearing a patchwork coat that made her look like a friendly scarecrow – at the classroom door where she was collecting Jasper and Austin. She kissed Jasper goodbye.
‘Good luck,’ Roxy said, carrying both boys’ bags like a Sherpa, while they raced ahead of her down the verandah.
‘Thanks.’ Krystal hurried away, her boots clunking along the wooden boards, down the stairs and across the concrete, weaving through kids in yellow and navy uniforms, out to the car and on her way to The Tin Man.
The slow end-of-school traffic made her twitch with nerves. All she could think about was Gabriella.
Gabriella, Gabriella, Gabriella.
If she could just be there, next to a piece of Evan, maybe she could move on somehow from the mental nightmare she’d been in since his death. She inched her car through school zones and past buses, debating with herself, giving herself the chance to back out. She could take more time to think about it. She could try talking to someone at the hospital, though she knew that would be a waste of time. All information was sealed.
By the time she arrived in South Yarra and found a parking spot, she had almost no memory of the actual drive there. Her mind had been completely consumed with thinking about Gabriella, Evan, Cordelia-Aurora and everything that had happened that night in Sydney.
She stopped momentarily at the fountain in the courtyard outside the cafe, took a steadying breath, then forged on. Inside, the cafe was an oasis of beauty and she felt her spirits rise just being here. The aroma of coffee and vanilla wafted through the air. She stilled, taking it all in, getting her bearings. Frank Sinatra played over the sound system. To her left was the green wall, ivy and potted plants covering the bricks, that she’d sat beside the first time she’d seen Gabriella. In front of her was the cabinet of drool-worthy cakes and pastries. Behind the counter was a dark-haired, heavily whiskered man, probably in his mid-forties, scowling and working the coffee machine. He briefly looked up at her, then went back to his work. A huge bouquet of white lilies on the countertop exuded a thick, sweet fragrance.
Krystal swept her eyes across the tables and lounges. In the furthest corner she spotted a more intimate nook, with a few dark brown cowhides lying on the floor between the heavy, stuffed lounges, and pink carnations adorning a low glass table. Her breath caught in her throat. Seated at one of the lounges was Gabriella McPhee, her long red hair loose, dressed today in a ruffled off-the-shoulder white shirt and maybe … was that just the hint of a scar showing at the neckline? She was working on a laptop, which balanced on her knees atop a long, layered denim skirt. Incongruously, there was a dog at her side, a creature with golden blond hair so beautiful it should have been in a pet food commercial. It wore a red service jacket and sat up quite straight, as though on guard.
Krystal almost lost her nerve then and took a step towards the counter with a view to ordering a coffee and gathering her wits. As she moved, the dog’s head snapped towards her and it fixed Krystal with a stare. Her step faltered; then Gabriella looked up, following the dog’s gaze, and their eyes collided.
Time stood still. It was as though she could see Evan’s essence behind those eyes and her urgent need to get close to Gabriella thundered in her ears. Gabriella’s hand lifted to her chest and even from where Krystal stood it was easy to see shock register on her face.
She knows!
A hurricane of emotion swept through her, from her toes to her hair – excitement, grief, anger, desperation. Without thinking, she marched towards Gabriella, holding her gaze. She stopped at the edge of the table. All she could hear was her own breath – in, out, in, out. She needed to speak, to say something. Her eyes dropped to Gabriella’s chest and her white shirt, rising and falling with every breath.
Then Gabriella coughed. Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes watered as if she was choking on something. She leaned forward, hurrying to get her laptop onto the table in front of her.
‘Are you okay?’ Krystal asked, making a move towards her. The dog growled.
Krystal froze. The dog was statue stiff, one side of its top lip twitching like Elvis Presley’s famous sneer.
Gabriella straightened in her seat again, but beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Krystal didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go towards Gabriella because the dog was in the way, but she wanted to make sure Gabriella was okay, and there was so much pressure inside her, the words she needed to say trying to force their way out.
Gabriella coughed again and blinked her eyes, then took a big breath. She was okay. Krystal took her chance.
‘I’m sorry for interrupting, but my name is Krystal Arthur. I think you might have my husband’s heart.’
Gabriella stared at her, some kind of realisation crossing her face. ‘It’s you. You’re the one doing this.’
‘Doing … what? What do you mean?’
‘That one was new.’ Gabriella said it quietly, almost to herself.
‘What was new?’ Krystal stood stiff with tension.
The dog growled again. Gabriella looked surprised and reached out her hand to place it on the animal’s neck. In the back of her mind, Krystal considered that this type of canine behaviour could precede an attack. But it was a trained golden retriever, not a stray frothing at the mouth.
‘I don’t understand,’ Krystal said. ‘Maybe I should start again. You’re Gabriella McPhee, aren’t you? I only need a few moments. I just need to talk to you about something …’
The dog got to its feet, its growling intensifying. Then the man with the dark hair was at her side. ‘Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the cafe now.’
Krystal spun to glare at him, a loud buzzing inside her head. She needed this all to slow down. She needed time to explain who she was.
‘As you can see, you’re upsetting this dog.’ He kept his dark eyes on her but gestured to the retriever, who had drool dripping from its lips now, its eyes still boring into Krystal. She’d have to rethink that idea about retrievers being harmless. ‘This dog is a service animal and is on duty. If she feels you’re a threat, I’m guessing you probably are.’
‘Luciano …’ Finally Gabriella spoke, as if she was going to tell him everything was okay.
But Luciano held out his hand to Gabriella and addressed Krystal. ‘Let’s just call it a day, okay. I can send for a cab, or make you a coffee …’
‘I’m not drunk,’ Krystal hissed at him, the guilt of last night’s wine fresh in her mind and now horribly aware that the cafe chatter had quietened as customers turned to stare. Her skin flamed.
Still, Luciano hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Neither had the dog. Fierce, stubborn pride and anguish fought to get her to hold her ground. She couldn’t lose now, not when she was so close she could almost touch her goal.
‘Please, Gabriella, I only need a few minutes of your time.’
The dog barked – a single, piercing shot of sound that made them all jump.
‘Let’s go,’ Luciano ordered.
Searing with humiliation under the eyes of the whole cafe, Krystal hurried to the door and just made it outside before she burst into tears.