False Advertising

by Dianne Blacklock

  Helen smiled back. ‘So, do I have your blessing?’

  ‘Like you need it,’ Gemma scoffed.

  ‘No, listen to me,’ said Helen as she felt tears creeping into her eyes. ‘Damn, I told myself I wouldn’t do this,’ she sniffed.

  Gemma frowned at her. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Helen attempted to compose herself. ‘You know what’s the hardest thing to leave? Not this house, or this place, not my mum – she won’t know the difference – not even Tony. He’ll be coming down to Melbourne in a few months anyway for the season there . . .’

  ‘So what is it?’ asked Gemma.

  ‘The hardest thing is that I have to leave you,’ Helen said, her voice breaking.

  Gemma stared at her. ‘Me?’ she said. Oh no, now she could feel a lump rising in her throat.

  ‘Do you remember the first day we met, sitting here at this table?’ Helen asked her.

  Gemma just nodded. She wasn’t game to try to use her voice.

  ‘I remember thinking, what am I letting myself in for? I didn’t realise I was getting the best friend I’ve ever had. What am I going to do without you?’

  Oh, why did she have to say that? Gemma’s face contorted as she tried to suppress the stubborn lump, but it was no use. She gave up, and pretty soon they were both intermittently sobbing, and laughing, and sobbing again, and hanging onto each other, and sobbing some more.

  ‘They have phones in Melbourne, right?’ said Gemma in a strangled voice. ‘And the Hume Highway, and aeroplanes flying in and out several times a day?’

  ‘I guess,’ said Helen with a sniff.

  ‘And you’ll come back for Lola’s naming ceremony?’

  ‘Of course,’ she assured her. ‘We’ll be back pretty regularly for Noah to see his grandparents.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Gemma, like something was settled. ‘Now I need a drink.’

  ‘Me too.’

  They picked up their glasses.

  ‘To Melbourne,’ said Gemma.

  ‘And to you and Charlie.’

  They clinked and drank.

  ‘And to you and Myles and Noah.’

  ‘And to Lola of course,’ Helen added.

  They clinked and drank again.

  ‘And to David,’ said Gemma, ‘may he rest in peace.’

  ‘Amen,’ said Helen. ‘And to friendship.’

  They clinked and drank, and then they had to refill their glasses. They sat down at the table, sighing in unison.

  ‘So . . .’ said Gemma.

  Helen nodded. ‘So . . .’

  ‘When are you migrating south?’

  ‘It’ll be a few weeks yet,’ said Helen. ‘There are a couple of things I have to take care of first.’

  Garie

  Helen took Noah’s hand as they walked along the track that led to the headland. It was a warm day; the sky was a clear expanse of blue, and there was barely any breeze to speak of, which was a relief. Noah had insisted on carrying the balloons, but Helen was worried he wouldn’t be able to keep hold of them, so she’d tied them to his wrist. He’d picked the colours. Blue for David, because Daddy had blue eyes, and he had lots of blue shirts, Noah remembered. And yellow for himself, and pink for his mother. Helen was carrying the box containing David’s ashes. It was a very ordinary receptacle, considering what it held – little more than a shoe box really, made from a kind of plastic-coated cardboard. She remembered being surprised when she’d picked it up from the crematorium, but David would have approved of its simplicity and lack of pretension.

  Helen and Noah came to the end of the main track and continued along a path that took them to the spot David had talked about. Helen had phoned the National Parks to make sure she wasn’t doing anything illegal, or against health regulations or something, but she had been assured she was within her rights by a very kind man who had also tactfully suggested she test which way the wind was blowing when she got to the spot, to avoid a potentially distressing outcome.

  Helen grabbed a clump of reeds and tore off a few stalks. She held her hand out in front of her and opened it flat. There was barely enough wind to lift the stalks off her hand, but when she brushed them away, they fluttered on the light breeze. She breathed in the salt air, looking out at the ocean. It was calm today, the waves lolling up over the rocks with a gentle splash. David would have liked a day like today.

  ‘Is this Daddy’s special place, Mummy?’

  ‘This is it,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’

  Noah looked around and nodded approvingly. ‘It’s a good place. Are we gunna let Daddy go now?’

  ‘Yes, we are.’

  Helen knelt down and placed the box on the ground beside her. ‘Hold out your arm, sweetheart.’ Noah did as she said and Helen proceeded to untie the balloons. Then she pressed the strings into the palm of his hand and closed his fingers firmly around them. ‘You have to hold on tight now, okay, Noah? Until it’s time, like we said, remember?’

  Noah nodded seriously, his face set in concentration.

  Helen picked up the box again and stood up. She took hold of Noah’s free hand and they stepped down a couple of rock ledges, close to the edge of the water. ‘Okay, Noah, this is it.’ Helen took a deep breath and lifted the lid off the box. ‘Are you ready?’

  He nodded, watching her. Helen held the box out in front of her and hesitated for a moment, before she turned it over. The ashes started to drift out slowly. Helen shook the box gently and more began to fall away. A puff of breeze came from behind her, blowing her hair forward around her face, catching the cloud of ashes and carrying it out further.

  ‘Now, Noah!’ Helen cried.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘That’s right. Let go of the balloons, sweetheart.’

  He held his arm out straight and opened his hand. Instantly the balloons were caught on a zephyr, dancing for a moment before scattering up into the air. Noah squealed with delight, clapping his hands. Helen smiled as she turned the box the whole way over and David’s remains drifted peacefully into the ocean below.

  She sat down on a flat rock, scooping Noah up onto her lap as they watched the balloons fly away, higher and higher, the ashes gradually dissolving into the water.

  ‘Daddy’s all gone now, Mummy,’ said Noah, matter-of-factly. If nothing else, he seemed to have inherited his father’s pragmatism.

  ‘He’ll never be completely gone, Noah.’

  ‘But you gave his clothes to Unka Steve, and now his ashes are sinked in the water.’

  ‘But Daddy will always be in our hearts, won’t he?’

  Noah turned to look at her, a little unsure.

  ‘What do you remember about Daddy, Noah?’

  He thought about it. ‘He had big hands,’ he said finally.

  Helen wrapped her arms tightly around him, resting her cheek against his. ‘Bye, David,’ she said softly.

  ‘Bye, Daddy,’ said Noah, waving one hand as the balloons rose high up into the sky towards the sun, until they couldn’t see them any more in the white light.