by Davina Stone
Mum shook her head “You don’t understand what it’s like to be ostracised, Judith. I do.”
“I don’t, Mum, you’re right. But what I do know is you had immense courage. To leave your community, your family, everything you knew, your whole life, and move to a strange city where you knew no-one. Because you believed in a better life, where you were free to be you. You and Pippa are more alike than you think.”
“I wasn’t a good mother to her.”
“You had post-natal depression. That’s an illness, Mum, not a choice.”
“But… I didn’t bond with her… I left you to—”
Judith put her finger to her lips. “So it wasn’t perfect. What family is? You need to trust that Pippa can look after herself, and most importantly, celebrate that she’s found happiness.”
They both gazed at the picture of Pip.
“Look at that hair.” Mum’s voice held a hint of a smile. “She’s always had so much fire in her belly. She’d never back down from anything.”
“Yeah, I know.” A moment’s silence. “You can both get past this, you know,” Judith said. “But you have to start talking to each other. Please call her, Mum.”
Mum shook her head. “If I say one wrong word she’ll jump down my throat. You know I can’t handle her shouting at me.”
“She only shouts because she wants to be heard. And Mum, honestly, it’s not just Pippa. It’s you going into your cave. Doing the silent treatment. I can’t be the one who sorts you both out. I can’t bake brownies and invite you round and carry the conversation while you avoid eye contact and Pippa grunts like a sulky bear. You need to work it through with each other.”
Mum snagged her lower lip between her teeth.
“Phone her, Mum. She needs to know you love her, that you accept her and her relationship with Shaz.”
“I will— soon.”
“Why not today?”
Mum’s chin retracted, her eyes wide. “Oh darling, I’m not sure I can deal with Pippa this soon.”
Judith firmed her heart. “No time like the present, Mum; it’s the only place we can ever change things.”
Mum looked ready to prevaricate but Judith gently took the photo out of her hands and put it back on the dressing table. “Why don’t you show me those new wools I saw next to your loom? They’re the most amazing shades. Where did you get them from?”
As she left half an hour later, having talked through warps and wefts, and how the new loom worked, Mum looked happier, and more relaxed. At the door, about to leave, Judith turned, and held her hand to her ear in a phone gesture.
Mum nodded. Judith was about to close the door when Mum said, “You look different.”
“I’m wearing jeans.”
“No, it’s more than that.” Mum swept her forehead with a hand, as if thinking. “You’ve got a glow about you.”
Judith smiled. The Judith of before would have passed it off on the late afternoon light, or the new blush she’d put on. But now she took the compliment and let it nestle into her heart. “Thanks Mum.”
And then she drove to the netball courts.
When she arrived, The Badass Girls were nearing the end of their Sunday practice session. It didn’t take long to locate her sister’s bright red head zooming up and down the court, and if she hadn’t, Pippa’s voice would have told her where to look. She spied Shaz a moment later, her long legs pounding up the court and poomph, she plopped that ball through the net with the grace and ease of a gazelle.
Judith waited on the sidelines while the team chatted with their coach and then Pippa came jogging over, wiping her face with the bottom of her shirt hem.
“Hey babe,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I just need to have a word,” Judith replied.
Pippa’s expression turned wary. “If it’s about Mum, I’m not—”
Judith was through with beating about the bush. “Mum’s going to call you later today.”
“I’m not speaking to her.”
Judith stood her ground. “What will it take for you to forgive her for last night?”
Pip scowled. “That was it, the final test. And she blew it big time.”
By now Shaz had arrived on the sidelines. “Pip!” she said sharply. “You need to stop this.” She turned to Judith. “Anything you can do to get her to talk to your mum, I support.”
Pippa gave Shaz a look that showed they’d obviously been talking—heatedly—about it all weekend.
“She was so rude to you,” Pippa huffed, her face even redder than her hair. “She didn’t acknowledge you as my partner, once.”
“I don’t care.” Shaz stood her ground and glared at Pippa—quite fiercely, Judith thought. “If it takes her time to come around to us, so be it. After what you told me about her childhood, I get it. I really get it. You can’t not talk to your mum; it eats you up inside.”
“It’s easy for you to say; your mum’s the best,” Pippa almost whined.
“And so is ours,” Judith said firmly. “Mum always did her best. I know she got it wrong, I know she’s never really understood you, but she loves you and she tries. She worried herself sick when she thought you had glandular fever, she drove you to netball, watched your matches twice a week, every single week. Went with you to all the weekend tournaments and stayed over, even though she hates being with lots of people.”
Pip stared silently at the ground, unable to refute any of it, of course, because it was true.
“What would Mum have to do for you to forgive her?” Judith demanded again.
Pippa shrugged. “She’d have to say she totally accepts I’m gay and that Shaz and I are together. And not hang up when I—”
“Shout at her?”
“I only shout because she goes all weird and silent.”
“You know shouting is hard for her, Pip.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be, she should just accept—”
Shaz put a hand up. “Okay, heard enough now.” Pip stared at her. Shaz shook her head. “I love you, I absolutely love you, but sometimes you are such a stubborn cow.”
Pippa’s eyes rounded. “Cow! Did you just call me a cow?” She puffed out her chest and the two of them eyeballed each other. Then suddenly they both burst out laughing. Pip flung her arm around Shaz’s shoulder and Shaz planted a kiss on her neck. “Urk, and a sweaty cow at that.” She made a gagging face, but her eyes were full of love as she gazed at Pippa.
“Fuck! Okay, okay, for you—and Jude—I’ll talk to her. But I’ll tell her it’s only because you two made me.”
“Don’t you dare,” said Judith and Shaz in unison.
Pippa traced patterns in the gravel with her foot, her lower lip jutting. A moment later her mouth quirked at the corners as she peered up at Judith. “Do you think I’m a stubborn cow, too?”
“Sometimes.” Judith laughed. “But an adorable one.”
“Egh. Couldn’t you organise something?” Pippa wheedled. “It’s so much easier to talk to Mum when you’re there.”
Judith fought the familiar tug in her chest. “No, Pip. I can’t keep smoothing things out between you. You need to start talking to each other.”
“It’s so hard.”
“Yes. It is. At first. But once you start, you’ll find it gets easier. Just don’t get shouty, okay?”
Pippa hung her head, and Shaz squeezed her shoulder. “C’mon, lover, you can do this.”
“Okay. I’ll count to ten and try to be non-shouty.”
Shaz held up her other hand to Judith, who palmed it with hers.
“We’ve won.”
As Judith walked away, she found she’d broken into a little jog.
Wow, wearing jeans, and laying down boundaries and falling in love all in one week was totally empowering.
Chapter 20
When Carts walked past Ron’s office on Monday morning, he braced for the usual barrage of insults. He very much doubted that a week’s leave would have improved Ron’s warped view
of the world. But a week had changed him. Beyond recognition.
He would no longer put up with Ron’s shit.
All the way into the city he’d worked on a cutting, icily polite response that would put Ron firmly back in his box.
Head facing forward, spine erect, he stalked past his boss’s door, and then… nothing.
No “Wells, wipe that hangdog look off your face” or “Got caught in a tornado on the way in, did you?” Not even the inevitable “Get a bloody haircut, boy!” even though now, of course, he’d had a miracle performed by the hair goddess, Tara.
When no spew of vitriol eventuated, Carts ground to a halt half a metre past Ron’s door.
Curiosity made him step backwards and peer round the door.
The room was empty.
Ron may have outsourced his workload to the minions, but he was always at work earlier than everyone else. Ready to delegate while he drank coffee and chatted on the phone to one of his gnarly fishing mates.
Carts blinked at the sight.
Finally, he went to his desk in a bit of daze. As he powered up his computer, Travis’s face popped over the partition and hissed, “Heard about Ron?”
Carts shook his head.
“He’s being investigated.”
“What for?”
“Harassment. Amy reported him for making constant derogatory comments about her appearance. And that’s only the start I reckon.”
“Fuck!”
“Yeah, apparently, that’s why he wasn’t here last week.”
“Good on Amy,” Carts said. It struck him that Ron had been cunning. He’d divided and conquered. Carts had always thought cheery Amy Nash with her can-do attitude had been a bit of a fave with Ron. He’d never heard a whisper that Ron was harassing her. But then, he’d never said a word about Ron’s treatment of him either. Just hunkered down and tried to survive the onslaught.
Such was the power of bullies.
He got on with his day, feeling oddly fidgety, like a bullet had been removed from his gut, but still left an indent. At lunch time, it felt strange not to have to hurry back in case he got the usual barbed comments for being gone too long.
On a whim, he went and bought a gelato after he’d eaten his salad wrap.
Decisively, he ordered a scoop of cherry white chocolate and a scoop of salted caramel.
Then he strolled down to their secret spot, took a picture of the gelato and sent it to Judith.
Almost immediately, his phone pinged. Awww yum. Wish I was there. Can’t wait to see you tonight.
They’d chatted on the phone yesterday evening for over an hour. She’d told him about her conversations with her mum and Pippa
“I don’t know if they’ve talked yet. I kind of don’t want to know,” she’d told him. “I’m leaving it up to them.”
“And if they don’t, what then?”
There was a silence before she said, a little mischievously, “I won’t make brownies for either of them, ever again. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I want to make brownies for anyone ever again.”
He’d laughed. “Fancy meeting up tomorrow after work? Would that be—too keen?”
“No. I mean, yes, but no.”
He’d frowned, and as if she’d felt it over the phone, she’d added, “Let’s try again. No, it’s not too keen and yes I’d love to.”
So now the end of another day full of surprises was here, and he’d started to pack his things into his bag—phone, pens, water bottle—and was about to head for the exit when a voice behind him called out, “Carter. Can I see you for a moment?”
Shite. The big boss, Clive Pearson, no less.
“Come into my office, Carter.”
Carts made his way to the other side of the eighth floor. Clive ushered him into his office and closed the door. When they were seated, Clive said, “I need to have a confidential chat with you, Carter.”
Carts’ collar tightened. Why did he still feel like there must be something he’d done wrong?
“Human resources are investigating a harassment claim against Ron,” Clive explained. “Obviously the details are confidential, but I am asking everyone in his department to come forward with any other information about Ron’s behaviour that might help us to get the full picture.” He pinned Carts with a serious look. “Do you have anything you’d like to share? If so, I need you to make a time to meet with human resources.”
Carts gave a slow nod. “I would like to speak to them. Yes.”
Clive sighed. “I had a hunch you might. You know we don’t stand for harassment at Pearson’s. The problem we face is that often staff won’t come forward and report their seniors for fear of recrimination. Thank you, Carter. I’ll tell Alicia in HR to call you and make a time.”
Carts got ready to leave.
“Another thing.” Carts sat back down.
“We like your work. You are highly competent, and very well thought of by your clients. We’ve had several of them phone us and praise you.”
“Really?” Carts blinked.
“We asked Ron to pass that on at team meetings. Am I right in thinking he didn’t?”
“I had no idea…”
Clive sat forward and steepled his fingers. “I’ve talked with the other partners, and while we’re investigating this issue, we’re in agreement we’d like you to step up. Act in the role of head of small business management.”
Carts stared at a swirling blue glass paperweight on Clive’s desk, trying to digest this information.
“Can I assume from your silence that’s a yes?” Clive asked.
Carts looked up to see that he was smiling. “God yes. Thank you. I—I’m just—surprised.” Completely gob-smacked would be more apt.
“You are one of our most valued employees,” Clive said with genuine warmth.
A slow smile dawned. It seemed in the last seven days there had been a change in the weather, a deluge, washing away all that muddy shit from his past, leaving behind it a reservoir of clear water. A pool that reflected someone back to him that he could get to like and respect.
A guy called Carter Wells.
He wanted to air punch as he got in the lift. His only problem was that he was now running seriously late for Judith. She’d be arriving at his house any moment. He had to let her know what had happened.
He took his phone out of his briefcase. Tried to key in his PIN. Nothing happened. Tried again. The screen was totally unresponsive. Frozen to fuckery. Why now? He shook it, then turned it on and off. Christ, this served him right for putting off getting his cracked screen fixed.
What a stupid idiot.
And then he noticed them. The messages. Not on his phone, but inside his head, clear as if they were a text on his screen. “This always happens to you, doesn’t it mate? Just as you think you’ve got your act together. Trouble is you’re jinxed… Loser.”
He saw that lonely kid in the playground, the constant insults scrolled on his locker, the dead stick insects hidden in his lunchbox, and the dry eucalypt leaves that replaced the ham in his sandwiches.
Enough. He closed his eyes, planted his feet wide, grounded himself and breathed deeply, in through his nostrils, out through his mouth.
He needed to let that picture go once and for all. It was redundant, broken like his phone.
When he opened his eyes, everything looked new, somehow brighter, shinier.
He exited the lift and headed for the train station.
He didn’t panic when he saw the train leaving the platform, nor when the overhead screen said the next one would be half an hour.
He turned back the way he’d come and put one foot in front of the other.
Judith would wait for him.
Judith drew up outside Carts’ house. When she’d been here for his birthday party a mere two weeks ago it had been dark, and she’d been so nervous that she’d barely noticed her surroundings. Now, curiosity took hold as she took a proper look. It was a neat, two-storey townhouse, part rendered and pa
rt coated in limestone that was the in thing right now. She should know, with all Dad’s home designs.
Excitement mounted within her at the idea of going inside and finding out more about the man she was falling in love with.
She sucked in a breath. Yes. She could admit it now. This emotion that had fluttered in her heart since the moment their eyes first met. This was love. It made her feel like she was in one of those utterly romantic old movies, as if Carts was Humphrey Bogart to her Katharine Hepburn.
She wanted to wear fake furs and sit in a chic little bar and smoke Gauloises and drink fine white wine as rain fell on cobbled streets and Ultravox sang “Vienna” in the background.
With Carts, forever and always.
Smiling to herself, she was about to exit the car when she saw Solo bound out of the house, down the path and throw a leg over the red Ducati outside. He looked like a man with a mission. What were the bets he was off to see Polly?
After he’d driven off in a shower of exhaust fumes, she exited the car and made her way up to the front door.
Pressing the doorbell, she let her gaze roam around the tiny front yard. Neat succulents in pebble-mulched flower beds were laid out at meticulously spaced intervals. Now her inner domestic goddess replaced Katharine Hepburn. It could do with a few more flowers, some pansies and brightly coloured petunias maybe.
When he didn’t answer, she guessed he wasn’t home yet. Not to worry, trains could be delayed. She sat on the low front wall and waited. Crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Got up and walked round the side of the house. Looked at the little splice of back lawn that was so neat she thought it must be fake, but when she bent down and ran her hands over it, found that it wasn’t. Peering in the small shed, she saw some basic gardening stuff. A trowel, a bag of soil improver and a lawnmower. It was kind of adorable thinking of Carts pushing it around his handkerchief-sized lawn.
Next, she peeped in the kitchen window. Everything was pristine. And completely devoid of anything that vaguely resembled a cooking implement.
Ten minutes had now passed, so she sent a quick message to Carts. I’m here. She went back around to the front of the house. Sat on the step and counted ants going in and out of a crack in a paver, and pulled out one lone weed from the path.
