‘Loved? As in past tense? That can’t be good. The fucking kidney club claims another member, eh?’ The tough girl reappeared, the one with the big glasses and colourful clothes that shouted, ‘Here I am. Notice me. Come and get me. I dare you’.
So like Nancy.
‘Only I had to get some disease so impossible it’s abbreviated: FSGS.’
‘Focal Segmental Glomerulosclerosis.’
‘You really do know your shit, then. Shame you weren’t around when the quack country doctor misdiagnosed it when I was young. What a waste of time.’ Aurora’s body seemed to shrink away, as if distancing herself from Alice, although not physically moving. ‘Maybe, if I’d lived in the city, if my mother had taken me instead, another doctor might’ve picked it sooner. But . . .’ One foot swiped a stone by the toe of her shoe. ‘Fuck, it’s hot. Forget about kidneys killing you. A person could die hanging around out here.’
‘I’m sure that tow truck won’t be much longer.’
The girl fiddled with her hair, the fringe sticking to the perspiration on her forehead. ‘Damn stupid thing. Guess I don’t need to hide anything in front of you.’ With a couple of sharp tugs, she ripped the eye-catching pink wig away and flung it on the ground about a metre in front of their feet. ‘Ta-da! As you can see, my luxurious locks are not so damn luxurious. I thought about shaving the lot off. Bald has to be better than this patchy lot. But I’m not sixteen any more. The Sinéad O’Connor I’m-bald-but-still-beautiful look doesn’t suit every forty year old. Thank God for P!nk and her six cities in six days concert tour.’
‘Pink?’
‘You know, P!nk—American music megastar: ‘So What’, ‘Fuckin’ Perfect’, ‘Sober’, ‘Raise your Glass’. I swear those songs were written for me. There’s even an album called Trouble.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Ask anyone in town who’s trouble. They’ll tell you.’
‘Oh, I see. I don’t believe I’ve heard of this pink woman.’ Alice couldn’t say anything else. She couldn’t form a single syllable. Her preference would have been to hug the girl. Instead, she surveyed the clump of shiny pink and blonde strands of nylon and said, ‘The wig is hardly necessary. Your hair is lovely, although I’m not sure what the wildlife will make of a hairy pink creature if you leave it on the ground.’
The pair looked at each other. Aurora was the first to laugh and Alice joined in. Soon they were telling more bad jokes and giggling so hard Alice’s sides ached. As the laughs petered out, a pensive young woman sat quiet, drawing the symbol for infinity over and over in the dirt.
‘I didn’t think I ever wanted to see this place again.’
‘How long have you been away, Aurora?’
‘The name’s Rory. I left young and stupid. Came back for a bit after Dad died. Long enough to pack up the house into boxes and decide I’d never return.’ Rory had picked up the wig and was dusting it off when she said, ‘I played around with headscarves for a while, thinking I’d lose the lot, but then I looked like a moron wearing a tea cosy. The so-called real-life wigs looked so unreal I decided to go with a fake pink one. I bought a yellow one at the same shop—I don’t mind yellow—only with this complexion of mine I resembled the missing Simpson’s family member. Pink I like, and it’s kinda turned out to be the most natural of all—for me anyway. I’m used to not fitting in, being perfect.’ She ran her palm over her own feathery fuzz of silver-blonde. ‘I wasn’t showing up here looking all pathetic.’
‘There’s nothing pathetic about you at all. You’ve got lovely bone structure. Look at those cheeks . . .’ Like your mother and sister. ‘The perfect shaped face for short hair,’ Alice said. She reached out and stroked Rory’s head. ‘And your own hair is lovely, especially the way the sun catches the blonde highlights.’
‘Yeah, Dad used to think so,’ she said wistfully. ‘When I was about twelve he told me my hair was like my mother’s. The next day I dyed it black.’
‘Why black?’
Rory flicked her head, a sign for Alice to stop fussing. ‘Anything not to look like my mother. Besides, black mostly suited my mood.’
The wall slid back into place; the wall Rory no doubt used to protect herself from painful memories. Alice saw so much Nancy in her that it hurt.
She breathed, reducing the urge to blurt everything at once. ‘I know about the blackness, even though I was only the hand-holder through the chemo and radiation.’
‘Sometimes I think I could do with a hand to hold,’ Rory said. ‘Even better if they handed me a spare kidney.’
‘Transplant’s an option for you?’
She shrugged. ‘They tell me it is, but being on a donor list is mostly about waiting to be picked, and not being chosen is a recurring theme in my life. Besides, I don’t want to waste a perfectly good organ that might be better off in someone else, someone younger, someone with a family and a life to look forward to.’
‘Why would you say that?’
‘The odds aren’t in my favour, medically. Now, if one of those non-existent friends, or some distant family member I don’t know about appeared—and who probably wouldn’t give a shit whether I lived or died anyway—was to gift me a kidney . . .’ Rory scoffed. ‘Not much chance of that happening. I gave up on friends a long time ago; saves the disappointment when things don’t work out. And you don’t choose family—unless, of course, you’re my mother. To be honest, I’m thinking I might leave my fate in His hands,’ she thumbed towards the sky. ‘No one’s going to miss me when I’m gone. If I can sell this place I might blow the money on something like . . . Oh, I don’t know, something really wild.’
Alice was finding it hard to think, let alone speak. ‘Wild?’
‘I always wanted to go back to Italy. I had the best time in Positano one year. But . . .’ She looked up to the sky, raised both hands and screamed, ‘WE’D HAVE TO GET BACK TO FUCKING TOWN FIRST!’
‘I can take you wherever you need to go.’
‘And leave my beloved chariot here until the towy arrives? If the towy arrives. No way.’ On cue the tow truck rumbled over the hill and Rory lunged for the wig. ‘Speak of the devil. Time I put myself back together. You never know when Mr Right might come to your rescue. Not that I need rescuing,’ Rory made a point of clarifying as she snatched up the discarded hairpiece. ‘Shit! The dirt’s ruined the tape,’ she said frantically trying to position the wig. ‘It’s not going to bloody stick. I’ll look like a freak.’
‘No, you won’t. Come with me,’ Alice said, dragging her body off the boulder and leading Rory to the car where Paige kept a scarf for those occasions during the trip when a nauseous Matilda had needed all the Audi’s windows open.
With expert hands, Alice fashioned the scarf the way she used to do for Nancy, only this time it was to secure Rory’s preferred pink wig in place.
‘I suppose I resemble a tea cosy.’
Alice smiled when all she wanted to do was cry. ‘If you do, then you are a very beautiful tea cosy.’
Rory started towards the tow truck now pulling off the road, but rather than storm off all fired up as expected, she turned back, launched herself at Alice, wrapped both arms around her neck and whispered, ‘Thanks.’ Then she was off, the expected mouthful of expletives welcoming the driver and kicking him into gear.
As hard as it was to walk away, Alice had done all she could here. Back in her car, too emotionally drained to stay, and needing to see Paige and Matilda for a check of reality, she let the ignition kick over, the welcome blast of cold air-con cooling sticky sweat. She leaned back, closed her eyes and heard Nancy’s voice calling. It was muted, but it was Nancy’s.
‘Alice,’ the voice called. ‘Alice, are you okay?’
‘Oh, Nancy . . .’A banging sound startled her and a voice called again, more urgent.
‘Alice?’ Concerned blue eyes scrutinised. ‘I said, are you okay?’
Alice pressed the button to lower the driver’s window. ‘Yes, Aurora, dear, I’m fine. Was there som
ething else?’
‘You . . . you have to promise me something, Alice. You have to promise not to tell anyone about this. I don’t want anyone in town knowing my business or feeling sorry for me. I especially don’t need Aiden knowing. Promise?’
Oh dear God, she was Nancy, delivering the word ‘promise’ with identical desperation, her fear mingled with optimism, knowing Alice—trustworthy and faithful—would keep her secret.
‘Alice? Promise me?’
‘I promise,’ Alice whispered the pledge, seeing the same relief in the same eyes.
Too shaken by the incident to continue further, Alice drove as far as the turn off to Coolabah Tree Gully before pulling up alongside a farm gate where hung over the steering wheel and cried and cried.
Where would she find the strength to keep another secret?
How?
34
Alice scanned the suitcase open on her bed. What did she do with this new information? Pack it away the same way she packed her jumpers at the turn of the season? Alice had been known to pack away disappointment and those hurtful memories, such as the day her parents disowned her years before. Those emotions had been mothballed, vacuum-sealed in plastic and pushed to the very back corner.
Packing seemed to be a genetic trait, even though Alice’s efforts lacked the neatness and precision of a Faye Foster practice pack conducted a full fortnight before every overseas excursion. Unlike her mother’s big black suitcase—the one Alice had packed with room to spare the night she eventually left home—the emotional suitcase she’d carted around bulged so much these days she had to crush the lid closed by sitting on it to lock the latches in place.
Alice now stared silently at the half-packed suitcase on the bed, her composure a thin thread pulled tight over a razor. The morning drive meant to clear her head had made everything more complicated. This ridiculous road trip idea, meant to unburden Paige and let her daughter work through her problems, was going to be Alice’s undoing.
Problems! Alice huffed to herself. After today’s discovery, Paige’s problems with Robert seemed small.
So her husband had had an affair. Husbands did that sometimes. So did wives. Alice had witnessed more heterosexual marriage breakups amongst colleagues and acquaintances than gay ones, and often over something insignificant. Anything could be mended. Even one-eyed horses. Marriages were mendable too, and Paige could mend hers, only not from Coolabah Tree Gully. That’s what Alice was about to tell the woman whose eyes were boring a hole through the back of her shirt.
‘We should talk,’ Paige said, leaning her shoulder against the open door.
‘I’m too exhausted to talk, especially if the conversation is going to turn into another argument.’
No words could make a difference any more. Alice knew too much now. Having seen Aurora, talked to her, touched her to know she’s real, nothing would be the same again. Controlling this situation with Robert, deciding what was best for Paige and Matilda, would require time, preferably away from this small town. Once back home and the humdrum of life resumed, Paige and Robert would work through things for their daughter’s sake and this trip would become a memory; one that Alice could add to that memory jar.
‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ Paige was saying, ‘but you and I can’t leave things unfinished. I don’t know if I’m coming or going—literally. One minute you’re insisting we leave, the next it’s fine to stay. And now—’
‘I wanted to go because . . . It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s not home.’
‘At least it’s not raining anymore,’ Paige tried.
‘Let’s not jinx ourselves.’
‘Are you packing or unpacking? What’s happening, Alice?’
‘I’m tired and getting older by the day.’
‘Older by the . . . Oh,’ Paige sighed. ‘Your birthday!’
Paige had obviously started calculating the number of days in her head when Alice blurted, ‘This has nothing to do with my birthday.’
‘Look at me, Alice,’ Paige said, her eyes squinted, searching for a reason, for something she might have missed. Then came the Oh I know what all this is about expression. ‘So, someone else’s birthday. Mine maybe?’ An uncertain smile matched the uncertainty in Paige’s voice. ‘Has Robert contacted you? Is this why you want us to cut our trip short?’ Alice shook her head. ‘Good, because the last thing I want is Robert thinking a big surprise birthday bash will right every wrong, especially if I’m required to be all happy in front of an audience. I’m simply not that good at acting and I don’t think I care for any more of his faking-the-perfect-husband act at the moment. Besides, Alice, I’d really prefer to celebrate my birthday here. Aiden had said he’d help Mati bake an early birthday cake. Our birthdays are only a week apart.’
‘Is that right? How very thoughtful of Aiden to offer,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll leave him to it, then. You know what they say about too many cooks.’
‘Unless of course, if you were going to . . .’ Paige reached out a hand. ‘Look, I’m guessing Aiden’s hardly going to feel like baking me a cake any more, so if you’re upset about Mati spending time with Aiden and not you—’
‘I’m not.’
‘Honestly, Alice, when Aiden offered, and when Sharni offers to help, I figure you enjoy the break. I know the way Mati and I rely on you can be a bit of a chore.’
Alice jerked her hand away. ‘My granddaughter is not a chore and neither are you.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ Paige’s exasperation was unmistakable. ‘Alice, what is it? I don’t understand. Please, tell me. What’s got you so upset?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Can’t?’ Paige stiffened. ‘Or won’t?’
‘I can’t. I promised. It’s about trust.’ Alice sat on the edge of the bed and Paige drew a chair over to sit in front.
‘Who did you promise? Robert? What sort of promise?’ Exasperation switched to concern. ‘If keeping something a secret is this upsetting, maybe you need to just tell me. We’re family, Alice. No matter what it is or how bad you think something might be, you can always tell family.’
‘That’s not true.’
Paige looked hurt, her body jolting upright in the chair. ‘Alice?’
‘You know what happened with my parents. I lost so much and so many years. If only I’d kept my lifestyle a secret.’ A cynical little snort escaped and Alice shook her head. ‘That was the first and only time I confessed to anyone. I wished I hadn’t.’
‘That was then. They came around, didn’t they?’
‘You turned them around, Paige, not me. You were the granddaughter they always wanted. I understand that more than ever now you and Mati are my life. I’m scared. Please Paige, I want to be at home with both of you, the way it was before all this ridiculousness.’
‘Ridiculousness?’ Paige looked ready to provide Alice with another lecture when a scream outside made them both jump up.
‘Muuummmeee!’ Matilda’s voice cried out, ear-piercing, blood curdling, the squeal launching the women out of their seats and over to the window. Matilda stood red-faced, her hand clutching at the back of the shirt Alice had bought her one Christmas—the pink one that closed at the back with a dozen pearl buttons. ‘Mummy, come quick. The horse ate my buttons.’
‘It’s okay, Alice.’ Paige’s reassuring squeeze of her arm forced an audible breath. ‘She’s fine. She’s standing, she’s breathing, she’s yelling. But I’d best go sort out the horse,’ Paige tried to sound upbeat. ‘I’ll be right back and we’ll get to the bottom of this. Don’t you move.’
Don’t move? As if she could. Fear riveted Alice to the spot. A debilitating fear, not for Matilda or Paige, but for herself.
The truest thing Alice had said in days sat heavily as she watched Paige comfort her daughter. Paige had bridged the unconquerable divide Alice had created with her parents when she’d shocked them with her coming out. The truth had not been her friend that day.
‘Why can’t you lie?’ her mother had asked
matter-of-factly.
‘Because I can’t be me if I do.’
‘Don’t be selfish. This isn’t all about you. Announcing something of this nature to all and sundry can only lead to disappointment. People won’t understand, Alice dear. They won’t accept you. Trust your mother. Some secrets are best kept for the sake of others.’
‘But—’
‘And do consider your father’s reputation, Alice. Don’t you want him to be proud of you?’
Alice nodded.
‘Make him proud by protecting the people who love you. If that means not telling the truth, then so be it.’
So be it!
The lies began that day, her lifestyle a tightly held family secret. Sadly, pretending to be straight had never been quite good enough for Colin Foster. While the frayed relationship with her mother did mend over time, the glue that had finally pieced together a family that might otherwise have remained broken was a happy little girl called Paige.
Faye Foster had never looked so anxious as she did that day Alice arrived unannounced, a young Paige clinging tight to her hand. Although Alice and her mother had met on a few occasions over the years, Paige had been at school each time.
Alice guessed Faye’s anxiousness today was largely about Colin discovering the mother-daughter rendezvous she’d kept a secret. The only other time Alice had witnessed such apprehension on Faye’s face was the day she’d come out to her parents. Now here she was, in the same house and yet so much had changed. Alice Foster was grown up. She’d seen the world, saved lives, fallen in and out love several times before finally, devastatingly, losing the love of her life. She could have lost her own will to live after losing Nancy if not for the ten year old sitting beside her, pushed up hard against her hip and gnawing on worn-down fingernails under the silent scrutiny of strangers: Colin and Faye Foster.
At least they’d been asked to sit down.
That’s a start, Alice thought.
Faye quickly suggested the child might be happier watching TV in the next room.
Season of Shadow and Light Page 37
