The Memories We Hide

by jodi Gibson

  The Memories We Hide

  By

  Jodi Gibson

  For my girls. Dreams do come true.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  Chapter 1

  Autumn 2018

  Laura zipped up the suitcase on her bed and exhaled as the deep ache inside her intensified. This ache was one she’d had experienced constantly for the past nine years. One she’d learned to live with. An ache of loss. An ache of guilt. And now the ache was so much more complicated. It wasn’t every day that her mum rang to tell her she had advanced stage cancer. That she didn’t have long to go. It wasn’t every day that Laura resigned from her job at the beauty salon in order to spend every moment possible with her dying mother.

  Laura sucked in a shaky breath as she pulled the suitcase off the bed and glanced around the room. She wondered why she felt such a finality at packing her suitcase and leaving her Melbourne apartment, as if it were for the last time.

  The bedroom door swung open, and Laura jumped, her nerves on edge. Luke, her fiancé, came in and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  Laura nodded, afraid that if she spoke her voice would give away the fact that she was far from okay.

  ‘Babe,’ he continued, ‘I know I said I’d be able to come up on weekends to visit you and your mum, but I’m not sure how often it’ll be. You know, with work and everything.’

  Laura frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve put my hand up for the promotion.’

  ‘Now? And?’

  ‘Well, I can’t just up and leave on a Friday night and be three hundred odd kilometers away in the middle of nowhere. Do they even have internet there?’

  ‘Of course we have internet! It may be a small country town, but it’s not the Dark Ages.’

  ‘It’s just there’ll be more meetings, more trips to Sydney. It’s bad timing.’

  Laura’s hackles rose. ‘Well I’m sorry my mother’s cancer is inconvenient for you.’

  Luke dropped his hands to his hips. ‘Come on. You know I don’t mean that. I’m simply saying I may not be able to get there every weekend, that’s all.’

  Laura swallowed back a lump of realization in her throat.

  ‘I’m sorry, babe, but you know how important this promotion is. It will set us up for life. We could finally get married, buy a house, start a family.’

  Laura shook her head. ‘I can’t think about things like that right now. My mother is dying!’

  ‘I know, it’s awful. But, we have to think about our future too,’ Luke said, reaching toward her.

  Laura batted his hand away. ‘This is so typical of you, Luke. Work always comes first. I thought you’d have my back on this and be there for me.’

  ‘I am, babe, but—’

  ‘And stop calling me babe. You know I hate it.’

  Luke cocked his head to the side and slumped his shoulders. ‘Look, I know you’re hurting, and believe me, if I could do anything to change things, I would, but …’

  Laura clenched her jaw, her body shaking with adrenaline as she reached for her suitcase and turned toward the door.

  ‘Laura, hey, come on. Don’t leave things this way. Let’s talk it through.’

  Laura paused in the doorway and looked back at Luke, wondering what she ever saw in him. Sure, he’d charmed her with his Brad Pitt smile and Chris Hemsworth biceps, and his promises of the world as he climbed the advertising ladder. But, when it came down to it, when it really mattered, he never had her back. This wasn’t the first time, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Work always took priority for Luke. Money and status were his first loves—probably his only loves. Why had it taken so goddamn long for her to realize that?

  ‘I’m not one of your clients who will talk it through. I’m not doing this anymore. It’s over, Luke. Goodbye,’ she said coolly.

  It wasn’t until she stepped into the elevator that she let the tears flow. She expected Luke to chase after her. Apologize. She even paused in the car for a moment, but he didn’t follow, and in fact, Laura realized she didn’t care. Instead, she felt a sense of relief. Pleased she’d found a strength within herself she hadn’t realized she possessed. She started the engine, her emotions still high.

  Half an hour later, Laura found herself backed up in the afternoon traffic trying to navigate the exit to the Hume Freeway. She was stuck between a garbage truck and a semi, crawling along slower than a Melbourne winter. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and chewed the inside of her cheek. ‘Come on!’ she whispered under her breath, not sure if she was more frustrated with her thoughts that wouldn’t shut up or the crawl of traffic and insistent rumble of the garbage truck in front of her.

  The traffic ground to a halt, and Laura stretched her neck to relieve the tension, the glint of the diamond on her left ring finger catching her eye. She slipped it from her finger and dropped it into the center console. Out of sight, out of mind. If only she could rewind her life back to happier times. Simpler times. But when? She was only twenty-seven, and yet, the only time she remembered being truly happy was during her childhood, when it was just her and her mum in small-town Banyula. She shook her head. Things had changed dramatically since then in ways she didn’t want to remember. Laura felt the tears begin to form and bit her lip to stop them. Was that really the last time I was happy?

  The sharp sound of a car horn jolted her back to the present, and she pushed down on the accelerator, realizing the traffic had begun to move again. Time to shut away useless thoughts like that and focus on getting back safely to her mum.

  Laura had escaped the city traffic and found herself focusing on the broken white lines of the country highway. The last time she was on this stretch of road, she was traveling in the opposite direction, away from her mother’s weatherboard cottage on the tree-lined street near the railway line. The railway line. That was always the memory that caused her thoughts to snag. Nostalgia was mixed with the harsh truth of why Laura had left almost ten years earlier and had never been able to return. But, like a shadow, her past was always right behind her. She had come one hundred eighty degrees, the city an almost nonexistent speck in the rearview mirror. Every kilometer brought her closer, brought her back to her childhood home.

  She chastised herself for the selfish emotions consuming her energy. She should be thinking of her mum right now. Nothing else should matter. But it was too late. Well-hidden memories once pushed purposely into the back of her mind had come forward again. She knew it was inevitable. That going back wouldn’t be just about looking after her mum in her last days. Everything she’d run from all those years ago would resurface. She’d
have to face Tom. And what about Rachel? She’d have to cross that railway line every single day.

  She switched on the radio to take her mind off things, the sultry voice of Whitney Houston’s ‘Saving All My Love’ filtered through the speakers. She smiled. Her mum loved Whitney.

  The large green sign ahead indicated 320km to Banyula, and all of a sudden Laura felt an overwhelming sense of nausea wash over her, the saltiness rising to the back of her throat. She pulled the car to a halt on the gravel at the side of the road and opened the door. She made it to the grass just in time.

  Chapter 2

  Banyula was a typical country town, big enough to be more than a speck on the map, but small enough that it felt more like a community than a town. At least, that’s how Laura remembered it. Her mum had told her about the changing weather patterns and the effects on the local farmers, and there was growing concern about the lack of jobs in the area to keep people around, especially with the relocation of the textile mill to a more viable location. And there was, of course, the other mill that kept small towns running, and running hot: the gossip mill. Everyone knew everyone’s business, or at least they thought they did. That was something Laura liked about the big city. No one cared. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own lives to worry about anyone else’s, which Laura knew wasn’t a great thing either, but it had suited her, especially when she’d first moved to Melbourne. No one really asked where she was from. She was able to get away with brushing over details and waving things off, always turning the conversation back to the other person. You couldn’t do that in a place like Banyula.

  The sun hung low in the western sky as Laura hit the outskirts of the township. A mass of clouds with undertones of dark gray gathered along the distant ranges. The gas station, which had once been a bright welcoming beacon with its large golden shell sign, was now boarded up, the sign faded and dull. There was a new electronics store a bit farther along, its hot pink façade almost insulting to the ranges and slopes on the horizon. Laura indicated, taking a left turn to avoid the main street. She wasn’t ready to be seen by anyone just yet, though she wondered how long she could remain unnoticed, then scoffed at the thought. No more than five minutes, probably.

  Laura saw the railway line up ahead, jutting as always through the quiet streets, separating one side of town from the other. There was no way around it, only over. She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white and her chest feeling like it held a flock of panicked birds within, their wings beating at her ribs trying to escape. She almost closed her eyes as her Mazda 3 bumped over the lines and then onto the smooth asphalt of the other side. She pulled to the curb a hundred meters up the road and exhaled.

  Laura’s heart calmed after a minute, and she looked at her childhood home. The weatherboards were not as white as she remembered, now tinged cream with age. The purple clematis bush had overtaken the front corner of the garden, stringy and overgrown, a willy wagtail dancing from side to side upon one of the vines without a care in the world. The pale, blue-front picket fence that Laura had helped her mum paint when she was eight was peeling and weather beaten, and the red tin roof was faded from too many relentless, hot summers that this part of the country knew all too well.

  After grabbing her bags, Laura followed the concrete path to the front door, avoiding the cracks like she used to when she was younger. She glanced over her shoulder, feeling as if someone was watching her, and noticed Mrs. Hatfield peeking out from behind her curtains in the red brick bungalow across the street. She had to be at least ninety now. She gave Laura a nod from her worn face and disappeared behind the lace.

  ‘Mum?’ Laura called softly as she opened the front door, pausing before stepping across the scratched wooden threshold. She placed her bags against the wall and walked slowly down the hallway. Her old bedroom was to her left, the living room to her right, and at the end of the hall, the kitchen. Tears pricked at her eyes as she pictured herself running down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under her feet, as her mum called her for dinner. ‘Stop running down the hall! You sound like an elephant!’ her mother would call out.

  The kitchen was just as she remembered. The old-style kettle, pale blue with a white dove on the end of the spout that whistled when it came to a boil, sat in its usual place at the center of the stovetop. Matching blue-and-white tea towels hung from the door of the wood-burning stove. The iconic blue-and-white willow-patterned dinner set was still proudly displayed on the wooden shelves. Below on the counter, Judy’s favorite teacup—the Wedgwood ‘Daisy’ blue—sat lonely on its matching saucer. Laura picked up the cup and ran her finger around the gold rim, which had faded due to accidental meetings with the dishwasher over time. ‘This teacup does not go in the dishwasher, Laura,’ her mum’s voice echoed in her head. ‘See! The gold is wearing away.’

  A warm tear ran down Laura’s cheek. She placed the cup back on the saucer and walked through the back sitting room and toward her mum’s bedroom. She could smell a hint of White Diamonds—her mum’s favorite perfume—the subtle scent of rose, jasmine, and sandalwood ingrained in the walls.

  ‘Mum?’ Laura pushed open the door slowly to see her mother lying peacefully under the rose-patterned quilt. Although the room was dim thanks to the blinds, Laura’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Judy. Her face was soft, but the fleshy cheeks Laura used to love kissing were now sunken into her angled cheekbones. And her mum’s hair, once thick and shiny, fell limp and dull beside her head. Laura was torn between wanting to hold her mother and sob or running away. She looked away, blinking back the tears.

  ‘Laura? Is that you?’

  ‘Yes, Mum. It’s me.’ Laura turned back, smiled, and then fell onto the bed embracing her mother, the tears falling freely.

  ‘Oh, darling. I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Me too, Mum. Me too.’

  That evening Laura fell into her old bed and pulled the covers to her chin. Seeing her mother like this had caught her more off guard than she’d expected. Guilt weighed heavily on her heart, regret cutting into her chest for being so selfish the past ten years. For letting her self-centered problems come between her and her mother, rendering Laura paralyzed and unable to return home all these years. Judy had made the effort to visit Laura in the city a couple of times each year, including every Christmas—except the last one. Now Laura had to make up for all those years. She had to cram a lifetime of memories into whatever time they had left.

  Laura swallowed her emotions. She’d be strong for her mother. She’d put aside her past and focus solely on Judy. She’d make sure of it.

  Laura woke early the next morning, the quiet surroundings both familiar and strange after being in the city for so long. She looked at her phone. It was only 7:30 a.m., but Laura decided to get up and get a head start on the day. While preparing some pancakes, Laura looked up to see her mum appear in the doorway of the kitchen.

  ‘Mum, should you be up and about?’

  ‘Oh, Laura. Stop fussing. But I could use a nice hot cup of tea.’

  Laura helped her mum into a chair at the table and poured her tea from the pot she’d just made.

  ‘It’s so good to have you here,’ Judy said, reaching her hand across to Laura’s.

  ‘It’s good to be here.’

  ‘Now, I don’t want you fussing over me, okay? Just having you here is enough for now. There will be a time …,’ Judy sighed and stared into her tea, ‘soon, when, well …’

  ‘Mum. It’s okay. I’m here, and that’s all that matters for now.’

  Judy looked up at Laura and smiled. ‘You’re right. That’s all that matters.’

  Laura spent the next few days reminiscing with her mum, recalling times of both joy and heartbreak, but most of all just being with each other. Laura hadn’t ventured out, apart from sneaking down to the supermarket first thing yesterday morning in her baseball cap and sunglasses, like some sort of celebrity wanting to slip under the radar. And it had worked. She hadn’t run into anyo
ne who had recognized her. But she also knew that wouldn’t last long.

  ‘Mum?’ Laura said, poking her head around into the living room, which smelled like a fresh spring day thanks to the late autumn roses Laura had picked from the back garden and arranged into a vase on the mantle.

  Judy opened her eyes from her chair by the window. The dated Jason recliner, with soft pink velvet fabric that was now faded and worn, had a reclining action that would cause a screech louder than car tires when it reclined.. It had always been Judy’s favorite. To Laura, the chair was as much a part of the family as anything.

  ‘Just resting my eyes,’ Judy said as she slowly edged herself up. ‘It’s lovely here by the window in the morning, even though there’s not much sun.’

  ‘This came for you,’ Laura said, handing her mum an envelope with a beachscape printed across the bottom. ‘I think it’s a postcard inside.’

  Judy took the letter. ‘Can you pass my glasses, honey?’ Judy motioned toward the floral glasses case on the side table. Laura opened the case, pulled out the bright purple frames and handed them to her mum.

  Judy slid them onto her face, twitched her nose to adjust them, and ran her finger underneath the seal of the envelope. As she pulled out the postcard, Laura saw a line of camels parading across sand in front of a burnt orange sunset, the words Broome – The Pearl of the North emblazoned on the front in bold block letters. Judy flipped the postcard over, and Laura watched her eyes scan the short message.

  ‘Who’s in Broome?’ Laura asked, puzzled.

  ‘Janet and Mac Gordon.’

  Laura shifted on the couch, smoothing down a frayed piece of fabric. Tom’s parents. Guilt crawled down Laura’s spine like a spider as she thought of Tom. Of how, after what happened to Ryan, she left so suddenly, cutting off all ties with Tom, her closest and oldest friend.

  ‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’

  Laura stood up. ‘What’s wonderful?’ she said, adjusting the roses.