‘I’ve told you before, Paige, you’re the one holding yourself back. You lost a baby. You could have lost your life soon after, but you didn’t.’
‘Why does it sometimes feel as though I did? The stroke robbed me of so much. I lost the things that made me who I am, the things that made me feel complete as a person. You know that jigsaw puzzle Mati has—the one with the missing pieces we searched high and low for that day? That puzzle is me. There are pieces missing, and I don’t mean my sense of smell and taste. The fact that I can’t explain what I feel frustrates the hell out of me.’
‘I know,’ Alice said, and for a second Paige truly believed she did. ‘Be grateful you recovered so well, Paige. Many women are not so lucky.’
Alice’s hug felt good, so good she should have left things at that. Instead . . . ‘Alice, I had fun last night. Aiden’s funny and sweet and—’
‘Sweet?’ The small plate landed heavily on the wooden table.
‘At least he was after he got over his mood. He blames his temper on his mother. She was a hot-headed Italian. Him and I actually have a lot in common and I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I felt such a strong connection—and so instantly. You know how it feels to be on the same wavelength as someone? Of course, you do,’ she rambled. Simply talking about the sensation she got around Aiden lifted her spirits. ‘You and Mum were the same—two peas in a pod, soul mates, yin and yang. Isn’t that how you described your relationship?’
‘You don’t have a relationship with that man. You can’t. You don’t know anything about him or his . . . family.’ Alice choked back a word. At least that’s how it looked.
‘Alice?’ she queried. ‘Why do I get the feeling there’s more to that statement? There is, isn’t there? I can hear it in your voice.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Paige, what you can hear in my voice is nothing more than a lack of sleep.’
Point taken, Paige decided not to pursue her line of questioning—for now.
After gobbling down a piece of toast, she guzzled the last of her cold tea and prepared to walk off her hangover.
‘A short walk up the road a few kilometres is about all I’ve got in me this morning.’
‘Up the road to where he lives?’
Paige clicked to Alice’s concerns. ‘Is this cranky Alice about Aiden? Look, I honestly don’t know which property he lives on. He said he lives up the road on an adjoining property. In this part of the country, that could mean any number of houses that share a boundary with this place. I’m a grown woman going for a short walk. That’s all. And Alice, after last night I can tell you this . . . If Aiden was open to a relationship with any woman, there would be a very long line of admirers to beat off first.’ Madam Pavlova and Voluptuous Lady for a start. ‘Still, a girl can dream.’ Paige winked before delivering a quick peck to Alice’s cheek. ‘Aiden means nothing more than a nice distraction. He’s intelligent, he listens when I talk, and we have a love of food in common. You have to agree; the guy’s not bad looking. That’s all I’m doing, Alice. I’m looking, like admiring a handsome racehorse. Okay, so, maybe Aiden is a little more squidgy around his girth, but I am enjoying the company, Alice, and we can talk about anything.’
‘Have you talked about your marriage?’
‘Um, no, not in any detail. What a strange thing to ask.’
‘I noticed you’re not wearing your wedding ring?’
‘I decided against wearing it the night we arrived. My fingers were swelling. Fluid, I suspect, from the heat and from sitting in a car for so long. I feel a bit bloated.’ She wiggled her fingers.
‘Bloated how?’
‘Okay, Nurse Alice, enough with the diagnosis. Apart from the heat, it’s getting to that time of the month. Bloat happens. That’s all it is. Please try to relax and stop worrying about me. And to prove I’m fit as a flea, we’re going to the pub for lunch and I’m going to show you how my appetite is improving by ordering the biggest meal on the menu. My shout.’
‘I dare say by lunchtime that hangover of yours will be well and truly ready for a big greasy meal,’ said last-word-Alice.
All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.
Havelock Ellis
20
Paige
After lunch, the annex off the pub’s dining room turned into a rehearsal space for the seven women sporting matching neckerchiefs and red shirts—breast pockets embroidered with an emblem. From their table, Paige and Alice could see Sharni hobbling on her bruised foot. She was the youngest by far, the diamond in the cluster that was too few to be called a line. They called themselves the Ditzy Dozen. The rest of the line—the other five members—was in the Edge Hotel in Calingarry Crossing, the synchronisation of their dance routine permitted courtesy of Skype technology. The giant screen that ordinarily displayed TAB odds and horse races was allowing the geographically challenged group to rehearse its latest routine, apparently in preparation for the Australia Day celebrations at Saddleton Nursing Home.
‘Maybe you should try line dancing, Alice?’
‘While the steps don’t look too difficult, I may need to dye my hair purple first,’ Alice smiled.
Paige had noticed the two smaller women on screen, one with lilac-coloured hair and the other pearl white. Lorna and Val were the names Paige thought she heard.
‘Bound to be a group you can join back in Sydney.’
‘Nancy and I . . . Oh, how we loved to dance,’ Alice sighed, ‘only the music stops once you lose your partner.’
A cacophony of rhythmic hand clapping from the line to the strains of ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ lifted the mood at Paige and Alice’s table.
‘You could dance again, Alice. The art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.’
Alice looked down her nose in surprise. ‘You’re quoting nineteenth century social activists now?’
‘I’m just saying, Mum would want you to let go and live a little. I could help, ask around. Someone in the area will know something. Maybe I can contact the local senior’s club and—’
‘Now who’s fussing?’ Alice’s smirk said she enjoyed the occasional about turn and Paige enjoyed seeing her more relaxed. ‘Paige, dear, I’m more than content being an observer. And don’t you dare throw any more life quotes at me,’ she chuckled.
Yes, this was good, Paige thought. Alice was happy. At last! Maybe even prepared to stay in town a bit longer.
At a clatter of pans in the pub’s kitchen, Paige leaned her chair back, balancing precariously on two of its four legs, her neck craning to see around the door. Aiden smiled, rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at the line dancers and flicked his head at Paige in a mischievous get-on-in-here kind of way.
‘What are you doing? Sit on that chair properly.’ Alice applied pressure to the edge of the seat so Paige’s chair snapped back to the floor. ‘I thought you and I were enjoying a little us time.’
‘Yes, we are, it’s just . . . Aiden looks done in the kitchen. I wasn’t there when he delivered my car so I didn’t thank him. Plus, we probably need to make a move. With the landlord due any day I should offer Sharni a hand tidying up around the place.’
‘Does this landlord have a name?’
‘Trouble, if you go by the town’s nickname.’ Paige rose from the chair and adjusted her shorts. ‘I’ll just nick over and see Aiden. I’ll only be a—’
‘Do you really have to? I’d rather we went home.’ As if a switch turned on, Alice’s easy expression hardened, a palm massaging her forehead. ‘I have an Achy Breaky headache coming on and I need to rest. But if a chat with Aiden is more important to you than my headache I can wait in the car. If it’s hot, there are windows I can put down. I’ll be fine.’
Even before Paige could answer, Alice was walking away with her usual macramé carryall handbag slung over one shoulder. As she led the way past the kitchen servery, Alice called over the music to Aiden, ‘I’m not well. Paige is taking me home.’
>
Paige could only mouth Sorry and shrug. Aiden had shrugged at the same time and they both bit back the urge to giggle.
There was mostly silence on the drive back. Once at the house Alice went straight to her room. The woman’s moods were all over the place and keeping in her good books had never been so complicated. Already, today had encompassed the full gamut—from cheeky smiles through short-tempered outbursts to a punishing silence on the drive just now. Perhaps mentioning the landlord’s nickname had been a mistake.
When Paige went to check an hour later, the headache was gone and she found Alice doing a good job of plain cranky.
‘I told you at the pub I wanted to go home,’ she said, as another cardigan hit the suitcase.
‘I thought you meant home here?’
‘Paige, this house is not your home.’
‘Of course it’s not. I didn’t mean—’
‘And I don’t want to be here anymore.’
Paige grabbed Alice’s hand, peeled a pair of socks from her grip, pleaded. ‘Stop packing and talk to me, please, I don’t understand. What’s happened to make you want to leave so urgently?’ Again! ‘Is it because of last night? Was it the pub earlier? The landlord coming back? Something I’ve said?’
‘It’s not you.’
‘Then what? Who? Matilda? Aiden?’
SLAP! The white cardigan found itself crushed beneath a pair of shoes.
‘Oh, I get it,’ Paige said. ‘It is Aiden. You’re worried. That’s why at the pub when I wanted to talk to him you . . . Look, Alice, I won’t be accepting dares or doing anything silly again. Aiden’s turning into a good friend, that’s all. Someone to talk to and nothing more. That’s the truth and you can trust me to tell the truth—always, Alice. You taught me the importance of us being honest with each other.’ There was a small wobble in Alice’s chin before she burst into tears, shocking every speck of frivolousness from Paige. ‘Alice? You’re scaring me.’
‘I’m sorry. I tried, Paige. I tried telling myself all night that being here was not a bad thing for you. For us. Now I’m afraid.’ Alice shoved the suitcase to one side and plopped on the edge of the bed.
‘Afraid? What’s worrying you? Talk to me. Tell me.’
‘I want to but . . . I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I promised.’
‘Promised who? Robert? Is my marriage worrying you that much?’
‘No.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘Nothing.’ As if injected with a shot of duty Alice sniffed away the teary remnants and forced her back straight.
‘Nothing?’ The childish response left Paige even more perplexed. ‘Alice, please.’
‘All right, there is something.’
At last! Paige waited.
‘For a start, you’re a married woman. I can’t have you flitting around with . . . with that man. What will Matilda make of such behaviour? Besides, this house is no place for a girl Matilda’s age. One half of the property is run down and littered with dangers and the rest is kept like a museum and off limits.’
Paige knew that look on Alice’s face. ‘Did something happen? Did Matilda break something? Tell me and I’ll make sure I pay Sharni to have it fixed.’ Matilda had been especially quiet, but Paige had put it down to exhaustion—a combination of too much Toto, too much Liam and too much sunshine. Then there was the unexplained pain in her tummy and this morning’s small regurgitation tinged pink, which Paige assumed was the result of her cherry tomato picking adventures the day before.
‘It can’t be fixed, Paige.’
‘What exactly is it then, Alice? What did Mati do?’
‘Matilda is not the problem.’
‘Then what is?’
‘I just don’t want us staying here. In fact,’ the old Alice, the controlling Alice, was back. ‘With the person who owns the place coming home we have a perfectly legitimate reason for saying, “Thank you for the hospitality, Sharni, but we are leaving earlier than planned.”’
‘But Sharni said our staying won’t be a problem when the owner comes back—not for us. For Aiden maybe,’ she clarified.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Apparently, they’re old school mates who grew up on neighbouring properties and were . . . close.’ She was about to say gay, but for some reason Paige couldn’t quite put the words gay and Aiden in the same sentence. Disbelief or wishful thinking? Probably both. Besides, blurting out something so personal, something that Sharni had intimated privately at the pub the other day, would not help the situation or put Paige in the good books. Alice disliked gossips as much as she did labels.
Alice had stopped folding. She looked at Paige. ‘You said Aiden’s mother was Italian and their family property is close by?’
‘Yes.’
‘What else do you know about her?’
‘Well, Alice, Aiden and I didn’t exactly share resumes.’ Paige immediately regretted the facetious swipe, but this conversation was becoming more frustrating by the second. ‘I did, however, get the impression his mother’s name is not mentioned much.’
‘Would you care to elaborate—without the sarcasm this time?’
‘I gather she took off when Aiden was a baby,’ Paige said with a shake of her head. ‘How any mother can leave a child behind I’ll never understand. Hardly surprising Aiden has family issues. He’s also none too happy about this Rory coming home either.’
Alice’s head jerked up. ‘The landlord’s name is Rory?’
‘Yeah, like Rory McIlroy—the golfer. You haven’t heard Robert raving about his latest golf idol?’ Paige rolled her eyes as if to say ‘lucky you!’ and explained. ‘I admit the name, Rory, isn’t one you hear a lot, but it’s common enough in our household at the moment, and with the Irish. There seems to be no shortage of them in these parts. Rory inherited this place after his father died, but hasn’t lived here for some years.’
Alice seemed to pale. She clasped her forehead.
‘Do you need to lie down, Alice? Are you—?’
‘I’ll be fine, Paige. I’ll be even better once I’m away from here so I can stop worrying about Matilda being kicked by a horse or falling into flooded rivers or out of lofts. While you’ve been gallivanting around like a teenager, I’ve been worried sick.’
‘Alice?’ Paige didn’t try to hide her confusion. She physically pulled back wondering whether to argue, question, or hug the woman and make up. Alice had turned her back and was staring down at the blessed bag on the bed.
‘Okay, fine. I give up. I’m over arguing about whether we stay or go, so we’ll go. But . . .’ Paige knew one thing. ‘Not Sydney. Not Robert. Not yet. If you insist we leave this town and we can’t access the boatshed then we’ll stay in Saddleton. I’m sure the Audi can cope with the road Aiden and I travelled the other day. The conditions weren’t so bad. We either risk the back roads or we wait until the main road repairs are done in a couple of days. Your choice, Alice.’
Alice’s expression said she recognised the manipulation. Of course she should have done; she’d been lovingly controlling Paige by stealth for years.
‘That’s hardly a choice, is it, Paige?’ she said. ‘When you put it that way I suppose we’ll be staying a few more days. My back doesn’t feel up to a long drive anyway. In fact, I can feel that bursar in my lumbar region getting more inflamed by the minute. You’ll have to stay close for the next couple of days and look after your daughter while I rest.’
Alice Foster was giving in. Paige could hardly miss the signs of something so rare. The bulging bag, no longer bearing the brunt of her bad mood, was again Alice’s focus. This time, item by item, she began emptying the suitcase, folding each garment slowly and methodically, her mind clearly somewhere else.
Paige’s throbbing head was struggling too. She was in no condition to work out anything right now. Tomorrow was a new day, one she’d spend occupying Mati so Alice could have a worry-free day and rest her back.
A mess
age tone beeped in her pocket.
What next? She looked at the caller ID and groaned. Just what she didn’t need. Robert.
As reception in the house was scant and mostly unreliable, she decided to wait until morning before attempting to return the call. Besides, Paige wasn’t convinced they wouldn’t be heading home sooner than planned, despite her small win with Alice just now. For reasons unknown, the woman’s worry level was off the scale, and fighting over what was supposed to be a fun getaway made no sense. Maybe Paige should give in, go home, sit down with Robert and, together, find a way through this . . . this hiccup—Alice’s word, not hers.
Paige had slept badly, woken early, and was stopping by the kitchen for juice to quench her thirst when she opened the fridge, surprised to see the beginnings of breakfast in a bowl. Was Alice planning scrambled eggs? An apology perhaps? The meal was a favourite, the texture alone enough to satisfy Paige, the light, fluffy, melt-in-your-mouth sunshine on a plate always a special Sunday brekkie treat.
Her phone beeped in the pocket of her shorts. Taking advantage of a phone reception spike to check the rest of her messages, Paige headed outside. As she scrolled through the spam and ignored the unimportant bits and pieces, she wished life was an inbox—easily sorted: deal with some, save others for later, delete what’s not important. Waiting in her inbox this morning was the Prepare for the New School Year newsletter, an email rather than a crumpled piece of paper at the bottom of a schoolbag. There was also the latest post from the Tuck Shop Tribune, the blog site designed by a parent with too much time on their hands. Paige’s emails these days held nothing interesting, mostly phishing emails or spam: a Nigerian prince willing to marry her, a long-lost relative from the UK giving away a tax-free fortune, and the offer of a bigger, longer-lasting erection. The next email was, rather appropriately, Paige thought, a message from her former colleague, Giles.
Wouldn’t you love a longer-lasting erection! She chuckled, dragging a chair across to the shade so she could read the email before calling Robert. Giles could always make her laugh.
Season of Shadow and Light Page 25
