She mentally corrected herself. No, it wasn’t her parents’ house anymore. It was just her father’s.
‘More tea?’ Margaret offered generally, gesturing to the green teapot on the table as if this were still her kitchen. Clearly, it wasn’t just Elizabeth who was having difficulty making the adjustment.
All declined. Margaret eased back into her chair and crossed her arms.
‘It’s so nice of you all to make the effort to meet me,’ Haruka said, making eye contact with each of them.
There was some polite murmuring and then silence, filled by the ticking of the kitchen clock.
Silly clock. Nobody had clocks that ticked these days.
‘So,’ her father began. ‘Would we have seen your work anywhere?’
The absurdity of the meeting suddenly struck Elizabeth as being so hilarious that she began to laugh, quietly at first, and then her body heaved with great silent racks of laughter and tears streamed from her eyes.
‘Elizabeth, what on earth has got into you?’ her mother asked.
Still unable to speak, Elizabeth gestured around the table. ‘This,’ she managed at last. She took several deep breaths, then blew her nose and heaved a final large sigh. It had been a huge, satisfying release of all vestiges of the emotions she’d been carrying around.
‘What are we doing here?’
‘Some of us are being polite,’ Margaret said.
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘One day, we might all be ready for this. But that day isn’t now,’ she said, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. Her parents looked quickly at each other and then down at the table. Angus remained sitting straight in his chair, his eyes fixed somewhere on the middle of the table.
‘I love you both dearly for trying to make this work,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I even love you a little bit for it, Angus.’
Angus gave her a grateful smile.
‘But I think maybe we should do this again, at a different place and with only one of my parents in the room. I’m sorry this has happened to you. I really am. I wish it could be different. But it’s not. My wish is for both of you to find true love and happiness for the rest of your life. But if it’s not with each other, then so be it.’
Here she passed the tissue box to her mother, who snatched one and dabbed at her eyes.
Elizabeth rose and went first to her father and then her mother, wrapping her arms around them and kissing them on the cheek. She squeezed Angus’s shoulder.
‘We’re all going to have to take some time,’ she said, realising that her parents needed her to be an adult here and maybe even to help them through this awkward phase of their lives. She looked at her father’s lined face and realised she was glad she had come home to London for several reasons. This was where she was needed. For now.
‘We’ll all get through this,’ she said firmly. ‘And we’ll be better for it on the other side.’
She beamed at Haruka and he winked at her in return. A powerful current ran through her at even the hope of all that was to come with him. Maybe marriage. Hopefully, children. But she would make sure it was right and she’d know when it was. She was after forever this time and would settle for nothing less. It was daunting to put her heart out there again after having it broken so badly. But Haruka was worth taking the chance. She was sure of it.
Leila was walking down Gloucester Road, heading to the tube station, when her phone vibrated again. She stopped, placing the flowers on the footpath at her feet.
Lucas.
‘Hello?’ She puffed lightly from the weight of the flower basket.
‘Hi.’
‘Where are you?’ she said, checking her watch. ‘It’s two in the morning.’
‘Couldn’t sleep. I’m at home. I needed to talk to you.’
She looked around for somewhere to sit, but she was at a particularly broad section of the road, with imposing white buildings and pillars flanking marble steps and no benches in sight. She moved to the edge of the footpath and leaned against a short iron fence, pushing her basket of flowers to the side with her foot.
‘Go on.’
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.’
She remained silent, her heart racing. A brown sparrow flitted to her feet and hopped from side to side as though expecting her to drop some crumbs.
‘You told me you love me.’
‘Yes.’ She kept her eyes on the sparrow, watching it skip and wag its tail in the search for something to eat on the spotless footpath.
‘I think I’ve made a mistake,’ he said.
Yep, here it comes. This was where he told her he’d been wrong to accidentally lead her on when there really wasn’t anything between them. He was right, of course. He shouldn’t be investing so much time in her when it clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
The sparrow flitted away and she closed her eyes, waiting for the axe to fall.
‘I think I’ve been unfair to you,’ he said.
‘Mmm.’
‘In fact, when I think about it, I think I’ve been unfair to a lot of people. Including myself. And Achara.’
She opened her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Men really are stupid sometimes,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe I get paid as much as I do. I’m a complete moron.’
‘You’re far from a moron.’
‘Okay, maybe not a moron. But a git. Definitely a git.’
Leila laughed. ‘What are you going on about?’
‘I’ve been people-watching.’
‘People-watching?’
‘Yep, and I’ve learned something about myself I hadn’t seen before.’
‘That you’re a git?’
‘Apart from that. I was at Southbank the other day for a business lunch, schmoozing a couple of fellow gits from Norway. It should’ve been a cushy afternoon. It was one of those great, hot August days at the end of winter.
‘I should have been kicking back with a few beers on the company’s tab, but all I could do was stare at the fake beach with its mechanical wave pool and watch the parents with their kids. And I kept thinking, That could be me.’
‘With Achara?’
‘Yes. Except there were clearly two types of dads there—the ones with their mobile phones jammed to their ears shouting about takeovers and contracts, and the ones in the water with their kids on their shoulders, pretending to be sea monsters. It was plain as day.’
‘Er, what was, exactly?’
‘I’m not proud of this. But I realised that I have a sense of duty to Achara, and maybe even a bit of guilt. But I don’t love her. Not yet.’ His sadness wafted over her.
‘You’re doing the best you can,’ she said.
‘Maybe. But maybe I’m doing the wrong things. She’s eleven years old. She doesn’t care what I do for a living or how much money I have. When I meet her in person, she’ll only care about how I relate to her. I’ve been copping out. It’s easy to play the role of provider, not so much to play the role of dad.’
Leila’s skin went hot, thinking of the moment when Lucas met his daughter, fearful it would be a sour experience, wondering yet again if she should tell him about the email. But she forced the thought away. At this point, she’d be telling him more for her own absolution than to protect him. His journey with his daughter had just taken a dramatic turn and he was on the right path to building something beautiful with her.
‘It’s not too late,’ she said. ‘You’ve got plenty of time to get things right. This love thing doesn’t always spring up instantly.
It can be a process. Maybe for a while, love for you will be a verb rather than a noun.’
‘Huh. You can be very wise, Lay. And you’re right. I do have time. With her. But . . .’ He seemed to be searching for words. ‘But what about with you?’
‘Me?’
‘You.’
She remained silent, not daring to breathe, or speak, her heart ramming against her chest so hard she could see her breastbone lifting with every beat.
>
‘Are you still there?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I’m here.’
‘I don’t want to make the same mistake with you, closing off my heart and burying myself in work.’
Leila pressed her lips together for fear of speaking.
‘So I guess that’s what I wanted to say. That I, you know, love you too.’ She could hear the cheeky grin in his tone. ‘And I don’t want to be without you anymore because I’ve been a git long enough. And if you come back to Brisbane things will be different.’
‘Sounds tempting.’
‘Besides, that Quentin guy really is a total git.’
She breathed in a lungful of air that was gently scented with blooming jasmine growing on someone’s balcony and allowed herself to feel the joy.
‘I’m sure even I can do a better job than that guy,’ Lucas said, protective jealousy lending a throaty growl to his voice.
‘It wouldn’t be hard.’
‘So, I have this voucher for a hot-air balloon ride,’ he said. ‘Don’t suppose you’d want to come with me?’
‘I’ll be on the first plane home tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be waiting for you.’
Judy scoured the unidentifiable sludge on the kitchen window. She’d spent years trying to get rid of it. It appeared one day from nowhere and refused to go. Just like the cancer.
She rubbed at the glass with steel wool, scratching the smooth surface. She didn’t care. There was a deadline now. Things needed to be tidied up before . . .
Before.
Her knees buckled and she slid to the floor, her back against the fridge door, its strange warmth and quiet hum behind her like a soothing voice. She sobbed into her hands. It was too cruel.
Her fists at her face, she rocked back and forth and wailed silently.
Please, God, please, just make it stop. Make it stop.
But it didn’t stop and it wouldn’t stop until it was over.
At last she was left only with numbness. Her eyes roamed the lounge room.
There was their wedding photo in black and white, confetti falling like snow, Graham’s sideburns and her cat’s-eye glasses the height of fashion at the time.
Graham’s collection of LP records were shoved at the bottom of the television cabinet, always collecting dust, never played but never discarded because her husband was a romantic fool at heart and believed they should be saved. What would she do with them after?
After.
There was her cross-stitch hanging over the wooden rail, a threaded needle held there, waiting. It was a forest scene in Austria, somewhere they’d always wanted to visit. Somewhere they’d never go now. She should throw it away.
She stood shakily and pulled the cross-stitch from the rail and shoved it into the bin. Anything that was sad had to go. They couldn’t have these reminders lying around, taunting them.
A friend’s early Christmas invite was stuck to the fridge—a weekend away at the Sunshine Coast with gourmet cooking classes. Graham probably wouldn’t make it.
Into the bin.
A life insurance renewal bill. A high school reunion. A reminder to lodge his tax return.
Bin.
In the dining room cabinet, she found this year’s goals and resolutions they’d set in January. Learn French and go to Kakadu would never happen now. She slammed the notebook shut with disgust and was just turning to take it to the bin when something else caught her eye. It was a flash of something shiny, wedged behind a row of coloured bottles.
That most definitely had to go, right now.
26
Kate was alone at the The Tea Chest. It was early in the morning. She’d just drifted off for an hour when she woke up in a panic and decided to cut her losses and head to the shop.
Her anxious night had begun with thoughts of Mark and hadn’t stopped through the many hours of tossing, turning, nose blowing, visits to the loo, drinks of water, cups of herbal tea, sniffing of geranium essential oil (for balance), massaging of acupressure points, deep breathing and positive visualisation.
The many times she checked her phone also didn’t lessen her anxiety. Still nothing substantial from Mark. Just a short message to say that he had lots to tell her and would call her.
Her temporary victory at discovering The Tea Chest was still financially viable had been wrecked first by Judy’s announcement that a sale had been made to an unknown woman and second by Mark’s avoidance of her. And there was still the issue of where to go from here now that the angel investor and his money were out of the picture.
Yet she still tried to hold on to her sense of accomplishment because she had accomplished a lot here. This store was beautiful and it was popular. She’d grown as a businesswoman and she’d opened a new store in another country in record time and the positive press reports kept coming. She’d managed to honour Simone’s legacy and set up a future for her employees and for the ongoing growth and expansion of The Tea Chest. She’d created a new role and adventure for herself, one that was immensely tough and satisfying at the same time. And most importantly, if things kept moving forward the way they were, then the future looked promising for her family and one day she would have a legacy to leave them. She’d have to look at the figures carefully, but it was just possible they would succeed without an infusion of money from an investor to prop them up after all.
The only fly in the ointment was the woman who was now her partner. She was a totally unknown entity. Kate was both anxious to hear from her and terrified of what she might bring to the company.
Now, she soothed her ragged nerves by cutting ribbon into lengths for gift wrapping, enjoying the sound of the dressmaker’s scissors as they so assuredly cut through fancy pinks and lime greens. There was something so solid and reliable about dressmaker’s scissors. Something from a simpler time.
She laid the ribbons out into straight lines, gathering them in accordance with their colour and their varying lengths, and tied them with a pretty bow.
It was while she was bent under the counter that the bell rang above the door.
She didn’t wish to be grumpy about it, but her lack of sleep meant she was weary and not in the mood for early-morning hagglers. Anyone who got up at this time was a haggler, someone used to hunting bargains at flea markets at dawn, armed with torches.
She straightened up to face the customer and tell them to come back later.
But it wasn’t a customer. It was Mark. And her two boys. All standing on the other side of the counter with goofy smiles and sleepy eyes.
They were a vision. They had to be. Both the boys were wearing board shorts, which seemed strikingly out of place in London.
She couldn’t think what to say or do. It was so bewildering. So sudden. So wrong. They should be on the other side of the world.
‘Mummy,’ the boys cried, impatient for her reaction. They ran behind the counter and threw themselves at her, wrapping their arms around her waist, their collective weight throwing her off balance so she had to grab the bench top. She could smell some kind of gravy on them.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, kissing them.
‘Surprise,’ Mark said. His face was still Mark’s. There was no reason it shouldn’t be, but he looked both exactly the same and also different. He had a small shaving cut on his chin. The lovely laugh lines around his eyes were deep and his expression radiated . . . something. Fatigue, certainly, but there was more than that. The distance had made her look at him anew.
And she liked what she saw.
Yet she stilled the arms that ached to fly around him to hold him tight. She tried to read him for potential pitfalls. Anger, disloyalty and hidden truths. Emotional ties that might once have been tight but now were uncertain.
She was different. She’d taken on an enormous challenge, had faced her fears and defeated them all. She wouldn’t be the same ever again.
And if that was true for her, it would be true for her beloved husband as well, living a diffe
rent life in a different place.
It was possible they didn’t fit together the same way anymore.
All of this became clear to her in deep, transformative knowing in the blink of an eye. She was just lifting her arm to reach for him when a body popped up between them and broke their eye contact.
‘Look,’ Keats demanded. He held up a small Boeing model plane. ‘They gave it to me to keep. And these as well.’ He pointed to plastic golden wings pinned to his chest.
‘Me too,’ said James, not wanting to be left out.
‘You look like little pilots,’ Kate said, cupping both of their adorable chins in her hand and squeezing their soft cheeks just a bit too tightly. It had been far, far too long since she’d had her boys in her arms.
‘How did this happen? Why are you here?’ she said.
‘We went to the house first and dropped off our bags. We thought we’d be early enough to surprise you but Elizabeth said she heard you leave at the crack of dawn to come here.’
Finally, he touched her. He reached out and stroked her hair, a look of wonder on his face as though he couldn’t quite believe she was in front of him and she closed her eyes, melting under his hand.
‘Your hair’s longer,’ he said, running his fingers through it, sending shivers down her spine.
‘I haven’t had the time to get it cut.’
James shot a small toy car towards her and it smacked into her foot.
‘I’ve got so much to tell you,’ she said to Mark, rolling the car back to James with her toe.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said first. ‘I should never have taken such a huge gamble with our family. It hasn’t been fair to you at all. I want you to know that you—all of you—are the most important thing in my life. Everything else is just window dressing.’
‘I know that.’
‘And it’s all okay.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘I don’t know if you got my messages, but the money hasn’t disappeared at all. It was Judy.’
Mark smiled. ‘I know.’
‘How?’
‘I’m the buyer.’
‘Buyer of what, exactly?’
The Tea Chest Page 28
