Love, Lies and Lemon Cake

by Sue Watson

  ‘Oh, I hope it wouldn’t come to that,’ I said, shocked (how awful if it closed—no deli and no Dan).

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s why I came up with these menus... you need to branch out these days; nothing comes to you if you just sit around. You’ve got to be ready to go.’ He grabbed the coffees and sat down opposite me. I couldn’t help notice his legs in faded jeans were too long for the chair and stuck out awkwardly. I had a strong urge to reach down and run my fingers gently along his thigh. I wanted to feel the hardness of his legs underneath the faded blue. I wondered if the hairs on his legs were blond like the ones on his arms. I tried to push away the vision of him riding a huge wave to the shore. He was saying something to me and I had to focus and not think about his legs. ‘Faye...?’ he was saying softly, his head to one side. ‘Let me show you my possibilities.’

  ‘Oh, please, yes...oh yes, yes...’ I smiled, sounding like a bad Meg Ryan.

  I was imagining him on that wave, firm brown muscles, taut tummy, ocean spray on hard thighs... hair matted with salt and sun bleach. ‘Faye... you okay?’ I nodded.

  My heart was racing and it was only a matter of time before I was openly discussing his naked thighs, or, worse still, on my knees rubbing them. I could hear Mandy’s voice in my head saying something like, ‘Don’t creep him out.’ I was trying very hard not to.

  So he talked me through his delicious ‘possibilities’, as I nodded and licked my lips. He spoke of the saltiness of goats’ cheese married to the earthy sweetness of fresh figs, the sublime tang of sun-dried tomatoes with spicy chorizo and the delicate crunch of homemade oat biscuits adorned with Manchego cheese and fresh apricot chutney. His voice wafted over me like a warm Mediterranean breeze as he recalled the first time he’d tasted buffalo cheese in Italy a few years before. He talked softly of al dente pasta with sour, melting parmigiano and salty prosciutto eaten under a Tuscan sun with a perfect Chianti. He shared with me the crisp, salty freshness of beer-battered fish and chips in Sydney Harbour, barbecued pork on the beach and chilled golden beers drunk by dying waves in a molten sunset on Bondi.

  ‘I want to go where you’ve been... see what you’ve seen,’ I sighed.

  ‘Yeah... my mum never saw the world and I don’t want to wait until it’s too late.’

  ‘I understand you wanting to travel, live like a free spirit, especially after what happened with your mum, but have you never wanted to settle down? Have a family?’ I asked.

  ‘Nah... I don't think I'm cut out for a mortgage and marriage... I’ve never really wanted kids. Maybe someday—who knows?’

  ‘I think everyone should have kids if they can. Our children are our immortality,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, but then some people live through their kids and don’t live their own lives.’

  ‘True, but while I’m worrying about leaving everything in my life too late—I will always be glad I had Emma. And having kids is something you should never leave until it’s too late... you’d be a great dad.’

  ‘You reckon?’ He smiled at that.

  ‘Absolutely!’

  ‘Well, however we choose to do it, we owe it to ourselves to live the best life we can... kids or no kids. Ha. I sound like some hippy-dippy type don’t I? But you have to chase that rainbow, Faye... it doesn’t come to you.’

  He made me think about my own life and how I now had the freedom to do what I wanted and go to all the places I’d dreamed about. But did I have the courage to do it? For now I was just enjoying the view, happy watching those waves on Bondi... with him.

  He closed the laptop slowly, looking at me. ‘Why do I get the feeling that there are a few un-chased rainbows in your life, Faye?’

  ‘Oh, I suppose you give up on rainbows when you get married and have kids... Rainbows are for other people.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘I always wanted to travel... but that’s for your twenties, isn't it? You can’t up sticks and see the world at forty-two. I’ve got a daughter in uni and I’ve split up from my husband—there’s too much stuff to deal with here.’

  ‘Yeah? But, Faye, you’re a single woman now, so... give yourself permission to have some fun...’

  Then he leaned forward and I looked into his eyes, denim blue, like the sea. I’d never seen him this close before, but if I’m honest, I’d been imagining it for weeks. His blond stubble rough against the smooth, bronzed face; his lips, probably soft yet firm. I studied those lips, trying not to lick my own. They were so kissable. In the same moment we both leaned in instinctively and our mouths touched awkwardly, dry lips together, then the wetness of his tongue pushing gently into my mouth. The room was spinning and I swear the stars came out. I was lost. It was only a kiss but for me it was everything. I felt the sun on my face, and in those few moments, I tasted another life and heard the roar of the waves on Bondi Beach. Then, instead of melting into it and just going with the waves, he pulled away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just... I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you into anything. You’re not going to get back with your husband or anything are you?’

  ‘No. My marriage was over long ago,’ I replied, then reached out and pulled him towards me. Surprised at myself, I was kissing him this time, holding his firm, narrow back, my other hand moving up those delicious denim thighs.

  We slumped down onto the floor, half-kneeling, both completely absorbed in the kissing, when the doorbell clanged as a customer walked in. We fell apart, he pretended he’d dropped some papers on the floor and I was helping him, both giggling like children caught stealing apples. I had to take refuge on the chair for a few seconds while he served the customer because my legs had turned to jelly.

  I hadn’t kissed another man for years and this had been like the first time for me. I was in a daze, brought alive by long-forgotten feelings and sensations. There was no turning back now.

  He served the customer, then another came in, quickly followed by a couple more, so rather than sit in the shop gazing at him in a trance-like state, I decided to go. I was due back at work anyway and didn’t want to be late for my client, so gathered myself together and left, giving him a girly wave at the door. He smiled back and I had to turn away or I may have collapsed in the doorway.

  Walking out of the deli felt very different than it had less than half an hour before. I felt delighted and drunk walking down the high street of charity shops and pound emporiums which now appeared to me like the set of a Hollywood musical. I wanted to burst into song again.

  That kiss had been so unexpected, like a beautiful firework exploding, reminding me that sometimes lovely things can happen completely out of the blue. For something like that to happen on an ordinary Friday in March—I couldn’t help but believe anything was possible. Who knew what Faye Dobson was going to do next?

  10

  GERMAN SAUSAGE AND AUSTRALIAN SUNSHINE

  It was almost Easter and Emma was coming home. This would be the first time she’d returned since the split so it would be quite traumatic for all of us. I’d had a few texts from Craig, usually to do with what settings to put the microwave on or when the window cleaner was due, but that was good. At least he wasn’t crying on the phone or stalking me.

  I had spoken to Emma on the phone and told her I didn’t mind where she stayed (which was a lie) but that she was welcome to stay with me at Sue’s or with her dad. She said she planned to stay for a week of her holidays with us, and, ever the diplomat, said she’d stay three days with Craig and three with me.

  Though there had been texts, I hadn’t actually seen Craig since I’d left for Sue’s that night but I had to face him when I collected Emma. I went into the house to help her with her bags and he just nodded in acknowledgement like I was the bloody taxi driver. I felt nothing. And neither, it seemed, did he. Funny how you can spend more than half your life with someone and it all leads to zilch. Though I was only there moments, it felt strange to be in our old home with the two of them. I felt like an outsider.


  ‘You know, Mum, I was upset when you first rang me and told me about you and Dad...’ Emma said the following day when we went out for one of our special coffees.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Em. It wasn’t an easy decision.’

  ‘I know and I told myself it was better for both of you to be apart... but I cried a bit the first couple of weeks. I kept thinking, “I’m from a broken home,” which really isn’t the same when you’re twenty and you’ve already left home!’ She shook her head, stirring her coffee and smiling at the memory. ‘Silly, really.’

  My heart ached at this. ‘Oh, Em, the one person I wanted to protect in all this was you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s okay, Mum... I worried about you both, but I knew you’d be okay because you’ve got Sue and the salon. It was Dad I was really concerned about... but to be honest, he seems okay. He’s coping quite well, even talking about finishing the patio.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I smiled. I felt guilty about Craig and Emma, so this was good news, to know her short homecoming hadn’t been spoiled by me not being at the family home.

  ‘At first I resented the fact you’d left him... Dad,’ she sighed. ‘I worried he’d just get worse without you... even grumpier, more insular. I don’t blame you, but he’s my dad and I love him... I do feel a bit sorry for him.’

  ‘I do too. I feel guilty about going. I’d been feeling it for years but he didn’t seem to have a clue. I think me going was a shock, even though I tried to prepare him for it.’

  ‘I know, and as much as I love him, I do wonder how you put up with him all that time.’

  ‘He wasn’t always like he is now, Em,’ I said, stirring my coffee. ‘I wouldn’t have married him,’ I replied, wondering if in fact he’d always been moody and uncommunicative, but now my perception had changed. ‘He was a lovely dad when you were little, always taking you to the park and teaching you to swim, ride your bike... but life changes you. Work and worry take over and we all turn into what we said we never would.’

  We sipped our coffees and gazed around the café. It was raining outside.

  ‘So, are you going to stay with Sue for a while?’ she asked.

  ‘A little while, I think. Sue’s easy to live with, I pay her a small rent—and if and when we sell the house, I’ll work out what to do next.’

  ‘Will you buy a smaller house, Mum?’

  ‘Not yet. I... actually I wanted to talk to you about that. I’d like to travel. I thought I might take some time off work. Sue says she’ll keep my job for me and I could just see a bit of the world. What do you think, Em?’

  ‘I think that’s a great idea. I always felt sorry for you waving me off on school trips when you’d never been abroad because of Dad not flying.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t mind if I went away? New York, Paris and... oh, I don’t know, I haven’t really planned anything—just travel, you know?’

  ‘Wow... yes. You should so do that, Mum.’

  ‘I’d love to see Australia.’ The mention of Australia stuck in my throat a little and as I said it I heard Dan's lovely voice. ‘And Greece. I’d also love to go to Italy, too...’

  ‘Be careful of the Italian men if you’re going travelling, Mum. I’d worry about you being swept off your feet by some hot-blooded Latin.’

  ‘Sounds great!’ I smiled.

  ‘Hey, I’m only just getting used to you not being with Dad—I don’t want my mum sleeping around Europe, thank you very much.’

  I blushed. Little did she know I’d almost got myself in hot water a little closer to home. I gazed round the coffee shop. It was busy for a Monday and we’d been lucky to find a seat.

  ‘Mum, I need my hair doing,’ she said, pointing to dark roots in her lovely blonde hair.

  ‘I’ll do it tonight if you like?’ I said. ‘Sue’s on a date so we can have a girls’ night in with face masks and I can do your nails too if you like?’

  ‘Oh, thanks Mum, that’d be great, but I booked to go to that new hairdressers’ in town, you know the one with the big screens. It’s very trendy and very expensive but Dad said he’d pay, so I could hardly turn it down,’ she replied, smiling.

  ‘No... of course. You must take him up on that,’ I smiled, sipping my drink, allowing the dregs of milky sweetness to soothe the spiky bits that had come up in my tummy.

  It was perfectly natural that Emma wanted to go to fashionable hairdressers, in the same way she wanted the latest fashions. I smiled, looking at my daughter’s tiny waist and beautiful long, blonde hair, remembering when mine was the same. Just because I’m her mum and happen to be a hairdresser, it doesn’t mean I’m the only one who can do her hair, does it? I thought, placating myself. Yet I couldn’t help but feel it was a fray in the ribbon of our relationship, a slight tear in our bond. This was healthy, I told myself; it was all part of her growing up and moving on. Yet inside I knew it was another reminder of her moving further away, living her own life.

  It was also a reminder that Emma wouldn’t need me around forever and that I had no more excuses to start living my life.

  We were discussing Emma’s hair colour when I spotted him through the human mist and coffee steam. It was still raining outside and his hair was wet. He ran his fingers through it, slicking it straight back, and it suited him. He was unshaven, untidy and unsmiling, and he looked like a film star to me. He was wearing outdoor boots with laces and a big overcoat worn loose and open, I wanted to climb inside and hold him to me. He looked so gorgeous it made my heart hurt, and the pang of longing flooded in.

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he stood in the queue ordering coffee. His eyes twinkled at the girl behind the counter, his face momentarily coming alive as he gave her his order, like he was telling her something really special. My heart soared and I let Emma talk without listening. I lost myself, remembering his voice and how it felt to kiss him. I nodded at Emma’s detailed description of her hair, imagining my head on his chest, recalling our lips clumsily coming together, his tongue in my mouth.

  He was still chatting to the girl behind the counter, laughing with her, and I was burning with irrational jealousy.

  The girl was definitely flirting with him. I was trying to see how young and pretty she was. Long, black, shiny hair, dimples when she smiled, in her twenties... at that age you’re pretty even if you aren’t pretty. He moved further down the queue.

  The girl’s face was now a full-on beaming smile just for him. I knew how she was feeling; attention from Dan was like sitting in the warm, yellow rays of Australian sunshine. He laughed at something she said and my heart thumped down onto the table and rolled around in cold coffee froth.

  ‘Mum, are you okay?’ Emma was waving her hand in my face to get my attention. I had been lost for a few minutes and it took a second or two for me to ‘regroup.’ God, he had such an effect on me—I hadn’t felt like this for a long time; it was just like being eighteen again. Emma looked worried. It wasn’t like me to switch off mid-conversation, especially when I was with her. Our time together was precious and she was everything to me... how dare he distract me and interrupt our mother-daughter time with his blue laughing eyes and his damp blond hair.

  We continued to chat about hairstyles, moving on to French manicures. And if you’d asked me, at any point during that conversation what was actually said, I couldn’t have told you... but I could have told you exactly where he was in the queue, every facial expression and every single movement he made. Meanwhile, I constructed vague phrases about hair and nails, so Emma wouldn’t suspect I was elsewhere. I wished I’d learned to lip-read so I knew what he was saying to the coffee girl. Hadn’t I read in a magazine that Australians are culturally more promiscuous?

  Now he was smiling at something she’d said and it felt like I was having a stroke. My heart was beating quite fast—was it the high caffeine content in the macchiato, or was I simply going mad? Fake nails, Vanilla lattes, lemon cakes, body chocolate ...kissing Dan... Dan... Dan.

  As he left the qu
eue with his coffee he spotted me and as our eyes met. I waved, not sure how to do this. What to say? ‘Look, Emma, it’s Mum’s new toy-boy lover’ just wasn’t going to work.

  He was walking towards us, slowly but definitely in my direction... Dan. I felt faint.

  ‘Mum... Mum, are you okay?’ Poor Emma was alarmed and grabbed my arm. She didn’t need this, not now, not after what she’d been through already. Her brow was furrowed. She thinks I’m having a stroke... I think I’m having a stroke... Am I having a stroke? I didn’t want this. Dan was my fantasy lover, my escape. I didn’t want him meeting my daughter yet, it was all too soon. If he was going to come over, please God, let him be discreet, I thought. This is why love and lust should be banned for anyone over thirty-five, because an older body isn’t resilient enough to take the stress of it all.

  Perhaps I was too old after all to be planning world travel and lusting after free-spirited, taut young men from other hemispheres?

  With sweat on my upper lip, and my voice louder than it should have been in such a small space, I informed a puzzled Emma we needed to go. I stood up suddenly, knocking over what was left of my drink and attempting to climb out from behind the table, to the amusement of a table of teenage girls

  ‘Faye—hi?’ He looked slightly concerned.

  ‘Hi. Yeah... I’m great,’ I muttered. ‘I’m here with my daughter—Emma, Dan, you must meet Emma. Hey... it’s... Emma...’ I said, sounding like some crazed chat-show host, turning and introducing a still rather puzzled Emma. She knew me well and my high-pitched voice and unnecessary repetition of her name was textbook Mum-in-a-panic and bound to set her radar off straight away. Whatever happened, she mustn’t guess the truth... that I had fallen madly and inappropriately in lust with a younger man whom I’d already kissed, and wanted to kiss again.

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Emma,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ Again she gave a puzzled look, slightly irritated even.