by Louise Guy
Chapter Two
Nat glanced at her phone before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out into the street. Still no contact from the owner of the house in East Melbourne she’d looked at that morning. He’d promised to check her references and get back to her by the end of the day. Not that she was really holding out hope. Her references were hardly glowing with her housemates evicting her and her employment being unexpectedly terminated. A sick feeling had planted itself in the pit of her stomach ever since.
Her thoughts drifted to the previous day, to Todd’s smirking face when Lydia, head of human resources, entered the open-plan office area carrying an empty archive box. He’d never liked Nat, making it difficult for her to fit in with the staff of the not-for-profit. Everyone knew what that box represented: instant dismissal – pack your stuff and go. Nat’s heart had caught in her throat as Lydia inched closer to her desk with every footstep. Minutes later she’d found herself sitting in Lydia’s office, the archive box with her belongings on her lap.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lydia said, ‘but the company is unable to overlook what happened last week with Frank Barton. No warning is required in the circumstances. Your actions breach company policy and termination is the consequence.’
Nat gripped the archive box, doing her best to remain calm. It was ridiculous that this is how it ended up when she was only trying to help people. ‘What would you have done, Lydia? There were no vacancies in any of the support houses for him, and all emergency accommodation was full. It was three degrees outside.’ Her actions had been in the best interest of their client. Surely she could understand that?
‘We don’t take clients home with us. That’s drilled into every employee of Benedict’s. No matter what the circumstances. It’s unacceptable and potentially dangerous.’
‘It was only for one night.’
‘Not the point.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘And not the only breach of company policy.’
‘What do you mean?’
Lydia sighed. ‘You’ve crossed the line before, Nat. Given clients money, taken them out for meals and driven them to appointments after hours and on weekends.’
Now, Nat shook her head as she pulled to a stop at a red light. How could putting others first be a bad thing? They worked for a not-for-profit, for God’s sake. They were supposed to be helping people, that’s why they were there. But then her housemates had reacted similarly. They’d been disgusted when she’d brought Frank home with her. Their lack of compassion had floored her. Couldn’t they imagine themselves or someone they cared about in the same situation? Needing a hot meal, a shower and their clothes laundered. Wouldn’t they want to help them? Apparently not. She’d be glad to get out of there, she just wished the timing was better. Finding a new home without a job was going to be difficult.
The traffic started up and Nat continued along Dandenong Road towards her father’s home in East Malvern. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she’d hardly eaten. After looking at the house that morning she’d spent a number of hours at Shared, the community garden and soup kitchen she volunteered at. Digging had been cathartic, and when she’d finished preparing the trench for the leeks to be planted, she’d at least felt a sense of achievement. That feeling had been boosted by Robyn, the centre manager, when she’d flung an arm around Nat’s shoulder and squeezed it. ‘The number of hours you dedicate to Shared each month is simply incredible. It’s people like you that make a difference in this world. Don’t you ever forget that.’
A lump lodged in Nat’s throat as she thought about those words. The difference she was making was about to be reduced significantly. Without an income she’d have to immediately cancel her charitable contributions. She sighed, feeling very much alone. She’d thought about ringing her best friend, but Pip would be at work and she was so caught up in her wedding planning that having to listen to Nat’s problems, again, was probably the last thing she needed.
A weight settled on her shoulders as she turned off the main road and into the quiet tree-lined streets of East Malvern. Dealing with these issues alone was hard enough, but now she had to face her family and admit that she’d failed once again. Hannah would no doubt lecture her on the way she should have done things. She really wasn’t sure that she had the capacity to deal with any of this tonight.
Chapter Three
Hannah’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as her phone rang and she pulled off the main road and into the side street that led to her father’s East Malvern home. Zane Fox’s name briefly flashed up on the car’s dashboard display before she had the chance to cancel the call. Her heart raced as she glanced in the rear-view mirror. Had Amy seen his name? Her daughter’s eyes met hers before returning to the book she’d been engrossed in when Hannah arrived to collect her from after-school care. Her phone pinged. Another message. For once she wished her car didn’t have Bluetooth and her phone didn’t automatically connect.
‘Aren’t you going to listen to your message?’
Amy’s question sent a shiver down Hannah’s spine. She shook her head and did her best to make her voice sound normal. ‘No, it’ll be work-related. I’ll deal with it later.’
Amy raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? But you hate missing a call. You never cancel them. And you just told me you got a promotion today, it might be about that.’
Hannah shrugged, glad Amy couldn’t hear her heartbeat, which was thumping out of control. ‘Tonight’s not about work or anything else. I just want to keep my thoughts on my mum, your grandma. She’s what we should be focused on.’ Hannah averted her eyes from the mirror when she saw sympathy flood Amy’s face. If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d been lying to Damien for twelve years, now she was lying to her daughter too.
Another text pinged on her phone, causing her to brake inadvertently. She let out a long breath as she saw it was Damien. The text appeared on the display.
Running a bit late. Will meet you at your dad’s. Xx
‘Dad’s acting so weird lately,’ Amy said. ‘Is he sad about something?’
Thoughts of Zane Fox momentarily left Hannah’s mind as she considered Amy’s question. Her daughter was very perceptive; Damien had been distant and distracted lately. She could pinpoint exactly when it started – the second Sunday in June. The morning after his monthly poker game he’d not been himself. He’d dropped in to see his parents that morning and judging by his mood when he’d returned, she’d worried that something was wrong with them. He’d assured her they were fine, that he was tired and had a few things on his mind. ‘I think he’s just stressed with work,’ she told Amy.
‘Well, I need him not to be. I have to talk to both of you about something important and if he’s stressed he’s just going to say no.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘I’m too old for after-school care and . . .’
‘We’ve discussed this before and the answer’s still no,’ Hannah snapped, cutting Amy off. ‘It’s not a matter that’s up for discussion. When Dad and I are working, that’s what you have to do. End of topic.’
‘Fine, I’ll speak to Dad. Even when he’s stressed he lets me finish my sentences.’
It was impossible not to miss Amy’s scowl in the rear-view mirror as Hannah opened her mouth, ready to respond. She closed it again. What she really needed was to take a deep breath and do her best not to let Zane Fox’s sudden reappearance rattle her. She didn’t deal well with stress, and unfortunately those closest to her usually felt the fallout.
‘Nat’s here,’ Amy announced as they slowed in front of the magnificent Edwardian brick house.
Nat’s presence was hardly going to lift Hannah’s spirits. They hadn’t spoken since the disastrous life coach birthday gift. She still didn’t understand her sister’s reaction. Life coaches were amazing. She’d seen one five years earlier and now made appointments every six months to make sure she was on track to meet her goals. She couldn’t comprehend how Nat interpreted the present as anything but an opportunity. Sh
e wasn’t planning to bring it up tonight though. She would do her best to be friendly and hope Nat reciprocated.
Hannah took Amy’s hand, surprised that her daughter let her, as they made their way along the pebbled path to the front door. She drew in a breath and managed to smile, noting the lavender-blue hydrangeas were still in flower in the garden bed that ran along the front of the house. To have flowers in mid-July was a sign, according to her father, that ‘all was well in heaven’. Her mother had adored hydrangeas, and when they were still in flower on her birthday she’d said the gods were looking down on her and preparing her for a wonderful year ahead. Following her death, it had always seemed extra special when they were in flower on her birthday.
The garden was well looked after. The lawns were neatly mown and the two bushes either side of the path had been recently trimmed. She’d never considered it anything special when they were growing up, but now East Malvern was a sought-after area in Melbourne’s south-east and her father’s house retained its character and charm. Newly built townhouses surrounded it, but the leafy garden kept it private and tranquil.
Amy dropped her hand and broke into a run to reach the door first. She knocked and it opened instantly. Hannah’s father, his thinning hair now almost totally grey, was waiting on the other side. He scooped Amy into a tight embrace, eliciting a muffled cry of objection from his granddaughter.
‘Hi, Dad.’ Hannah leaned towards her father and planted a kiss on his cheek as Amy squirmed out of his arms and went inside, no doubt in search of his beloved dog, Toby. ‘How are you?’
Her father linked his arm through hers. ‘Good, love. Now come in, it’s freezing out there. We’ve got the fire on and the wine open.’
‘Damien will be here any minute,’ Hannah said as he led her along the wide hallway to the back of the house. ‘He’s running a bit late from work.’
‘That’s fine, Han.’ Sue looked up from the kitchen bench as they entered the open-plan kitchen and living area. Her father let go of her arm and went in search of more glasses.
‘Sorry, I’d come and hug you but my hands are covered in flour.’
Sue was the one woman Hannah knew for sure her mother would have approved for her father. Her best friend for twenty-eight years, Sue had been part of the family well before she officially joined it when she married Hannah’s father ten years earlier. Connected in their grief and mutual love of a wife and best friend, they were perfectly suited. She smiled at her stepmother. ‘Where are the others?’
‘In your dad’s study. Just Phyllie and Nat.’
‘Go and say hello, love,’ her father suggested. ‘I’ll bring you a glass of champagne in a minute. I’ve got some sparkling grape juice for Amy. Is that okay?’
Hannah bit the inside of her lip. He already knew the answer to that question.
‘I just thought, it being a special day and all, that she might like a change from water. And it’s organic.’
She took a deep breath, deciding tonight wasn’t the night for an argument. ‘If you put it in a champagne flute, I’m sure she’d be over the moon.’
Her father beamed. He was so used to her saying no to treats and sugary drinks he’d be thinking something was wrong with her. It didn’t make sense to Hannah to drink anything loaded with sugar, and she certainly wasn’t going to poison her daughter and risk tooth decay, type 2 diabetes or heart disease. But it was a special day and she didn’t want to spoil it. One glass wasn’t going to hurt any more than a glass of champagne would hurt Hannah. She was looking forward to a drink. She wanted to celebrate her promotion, even if her mood had been soured by Zane’s phone calls. She planned to sip the champagne and privately dedicate it to both her mum and her own achievement.
‘Go and join Phyllie and Nat,’ her father encouraged again. ‘They can’t wait to see you.’
Hannah gave a wry smile. They both knew that was very unlikely. Phyllie might be happy to see her, but Nat certainly wouldn’t be. And after her last conversation with Phyllie, she expected a chilly reception from her grandmother too.
Chapter Four
A familiar uncomfortable feeling settled over Nat as she heard her sister’s voice in the hallway. She took a large sip of her wine.
‘What is it with you two?’ Phyllie asked. ‘Your face changes the moment Hannah’s mentioned, or like now when you can hear her. The two of you used to be so close. Is she that terrible?’
Nat considered the question. Hannah wasn’t terrible, but she was no longer the Hannah Nat had adored as a young girl and teenager. Hannah’s change in attitude towards her immediately after the accident had been the equivalent of a slap in the face, reinforcing that Nat should feel guilty for letting their mother down. There was never any question of Hannah covering for her following the accident. Instead, she went from being an ally to constantly telling Nat what she could and couldn’t do. Not only did she find this unbearable, it shook her confidence. She no longer had the support of the sister she looked up to. Encouragement was replaced with constant worry, of evaluating the possible negative outcome of every situation. Hannah developed the knack for sucking the fun out of everything. And then of course there was Hannah’s continued success, which contrasted with Nat’s spectacular ability to fail. She knew Hannah considered her a failure, she saw it in her eyes and heard it in her words. It was hard not to get defensive when someone always made you feel inferior. However, telling Phyllie any of this would just have their grandmother defending Hannah, and Nat didn’t need that right now.
‘Just a clash of personalities.’
‘That’s an understatement if ever I heard one,’ Phyllie muttered as Hannah walked into the room.
At least she’d changed, was Nat’s first thought. It was unlikely her sister had worn the skinny black jeans and beige, curved-hem jumper to work. She usually had her chestnut-brown hair tied back or up in a messy bun for work, not hanging loosely around her shoulders as she did now. She looked quite relaxed compared to the usual uptight way she presented herself. Nat’s eyes travelled to her sister’s feet. She couldn’t help it. Which boots would she be wearing today? It had become a joke, Hannah’s obsession with boots.
A red wedge heel. That was a surprise, although she did vaguely recall Hannah boring them all about the need to rotate footwear so as not to overuse one particular set of muscle groups or joints.
Phyllie stood when Hannah entered the room so that her granddaughter could hug her. ‘How are you, love?’
‘Good thanks, Phyllie. You?’
‘Very sprightly, thank you. Full of beans, in fact, and ready to run a few miles after I leave here.’
Nat raised an eyebrow, which she ignored. Phyllie had shirked the title of grandmother when, at age two, Nat had sat on her lap stroking her hair, saying, ‘What a pretty young filly.’ She was parroting her mother’s words after Nat had watched her grooming her favourite horse, not realising that the name Phyllie had come from her grandmother’s real name of Phyllis. Nat had refused to believe this was the case. ‘It’s the name you call the things you love,’ she’d insisted. Knowing the sentiment behind it, Phyllie insisted they all refer to her by her first name from that day forward.
Hannah turned to Nat. ‘How’s work?’
Nat gritted her teeth. Not how are you, Nat? What’s new in your life? Have you seen any good movies? Always straight to work. Today was not the day to ask.
‘Fine.’ She took another sip of her drink, her eyes moving to her father’s bookcase, which ran the length of an entire wall. It was full of thrillers and had a shelf dedicated to new releases he had yet to read. It looked like he’d added at least five new titles since she’d last been here.
The silence in the room was broken when her father walked in with a glass of champagne. He handed it to Hannah just as her phone rang. She set the glass down and somewhat reluctantly took the phone from her pocket. Her face paled as she glanced at the screen before cancelling the call.
‘Everything alright, love?’ Phyll
ie asked.
Hannah nodded before slipping the phone back into her pocket. Nat frowned. How very un-Hannah-like to not answer a call. Usually she’d make a huge performance about everyone being quiet while she took it, or would leave the room.
Her father cleared his throat. ‘Sue will be in in a minute, and then I’ll go and find Amy, who I’m guessing has headed out the back to play with Toby. We should have a toast for your mother before the night gets underway.’ He looked from Hannah to Nat. ‘I hope everyone has remembered exactly why we’re here tonight.’
‘Of course.’ Hannah looked pointedly at Nat. ‘Think you can manage to keep tonight drama-free?’
Hannah’s words, implying she was the one that caused their dramas, sliced into Nat like a knife. Five minutes. It had taken less than five minutes for Hannah to get her first dig in.
Phyllie clapped her hands together. ‘Enough.’ She held up her empty champagne flute. ‘One of you top this up, please. If I have to put up with this kind of nonsense, I’ll need plenty of bubbles.’
Following Damien’s arrival and numerous toasts for their mother’s birthday, Sue placed a platter of nibbles on the coffee table and suggested they all relax before dinner.
Phyllie remained standing and moved in front of the crackling fire, warming her hands while the others sank on to the comfortable couches.
Nat noticed Sue frowning as she studied Phyllie’s back.
‘You’re unusually quiet today, Phyllie,’ Sue said. ‘Everything alright?’
