Lola's Secret

by Monica McInerney

Lola still didn’t understand. ‘But why are you so unhappy? Isn’t it what you want? Daniel to go part-time so you can go back part-time too? Share the childcare? Isn’t that the whole idea?’

  More sobs.

  ‘Darling, you have to stop crying. Or get someone to do subtitles. I can’t understand tears and words together.’

  Bett smiled for the first time, even if only briefly. ‘I thought I wanted it. But Daniel hates the idea, I know. And he’s only doing it for me. And that’s not a good enough reason for him to do it.’

  ‘He’s hardly going to do it to keep the postman happy, darling. Of course he’s doing it for you and for the twins. Why else would he do anything?’

  ‘But I made him do it. I pushed him into it.’

  ‘Now I’m completely confused. So you don’t want to go back to work?’

  ‘I do. I think I do.’

  ‘Well, that’s just as well because from what I think you just said in fluent crying, your editor wants you to start as soon as you can in the new year.’

  ‘But I’m not ready. And it’s too soon for Daniel to go part-time. He’s only been in the new job five months, and I might have ruined everything for him too. See, Lola, I can’t do anything without wrecking everything.’

  ‘Good heavens,’ Lola said.

  Bett abruptly stopped crying. ‘Good heavens what?’

  ‘I’ve never been a believer in time travel but I truly think you’ve regressed at least thirty years in the past five minutes. What a load of nonsense you’re talking.’

  ‘It’s not nonsense.’

  ‘It is, darling. I’m sorry to be blunt, but it is. What are you doing sitting here talking to me about these things, anyway? You should be home saying them to Daniel, not me.’

  ‘We can’t talk any more.’

  ‘Cat got your tongues?’

  ‘There’s never time, with the babies, his work, my housework —’

  ‘Do you have time to eat? Shower? Dress yourself? Yes? Well, take time from those activities. Eat less. Shower more quickly. Wear the same clothes two days in a row.’

  ‘I do all those things already. There’s still no time to talk.’

  Lola sighed. ‘Bett, you gave birth to baby twins seven months ago, not to two huge millstones to hang around your neck. The wonderful thing about babies is they are portable. Not self-supporting yet, but I believe there’s a marvellous invention called a pram. In fact, did I see you with one of those just recently? A double one even? Those things underneath it are called wheels. You and Daniel could push the pram along, with the babies inside, and you could talk at the same time. Isn’t that extraordinary?’

  ‘When, Lola? When would we get time?’

  ‘What about every morning before he goes to work? Every evening before dinner? After dinner. During dinner if you’re just having sandwiches. Twenty minutes a day, rain or shine. It’ll do you and your figure good, your babies good, your marriage good.’

  ‘Sure, Lola. It’s that simple. A walk a day will fix everything. Thanks for your help.’ She stood up.

  Lola didn’t move. ‘You sulky little brat, sit down.’

  Bett’s mouth opened. She sat down again.

  ‘I’ve just spent two days sulking,’ Lola said, ‘so I know a sulker when I see one.’

  ‘What were you sulking about?’

  Lola lied. ‘The mess that Mrs Kernaghan made of our Christmas window display.’

  ‘So take it down. Tell her something happened to it and you had to start again. I can’t believe you let her get away with it anyway. It’s horrible. And I’m not sulking now. I’m angry. It’s a different thing.’

  ‘Sulking is the first cousin of anger. And I can’t pull down the display. The judging is in two days’ time. We’d never get something up in its place in time.’

  ‘So let that be your display.’

  ‘An empty window? How festive.’

  Bett stood up again. ‘Christmas isn’t a joyous time for everyone, Lola. Lots of people hate Christmas, spend it fighting with their families, or worrying about money. Some people can’t afford even a present for their kids, let alone their husband or wife. You work in a charity shop. You know all this already. Len used sausages in his display, didn’t he?’

  Lola nodded. He’d wound them into wreaths. They looked disgusting.

  ‘So why don’t you use the idea of charity in yours?’ Bett said.

  ‘Next year, perhaps. It’s too late for this year.’

  ‘What have you always told me? That it’s never too late to fix something that really needs fixing?’ She leaned down and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. ‘I’m going to go home now and see Daniel. At least he doesn’t tell me off as often as you do.’

  ‘He wouldn’t dare. He knows that’s my job.’

  Another smile from Bett. A proper one this time. ‘I don’t actually think you’ve been much help today, but thanks anyway.’

  ‘You’ve stopped crying, at least. So what are you going to do when you get home?’

  ‘What I’ve been told by my bossy grandmother. Drag my husband and my babies out for a walk.’

  ‘Good girl. But make sure you pop in and say hello to your mother before you go.’

  ‘Of course. I always do.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  There wasn’t time between Bett’s departure and Carrie’s arrival to do any more thinking about the window. But as Carrie sat there in Lola’s room and ranted about Matthew, Lola’s mind kept drifting towards what Bett had said. Was there a way around the current situation? She didn’t necessarily actively have to ruin Mrs Kernaghan’s display, but say, just say, that someone accidentally left the door open …

  ‘Lola, are you listening to me?’

  ‘Of course I am, Carrie.’

  ‘What was I just saying?’

  ‘You were talking about Matthew and how crazy he drives you and how he never does anything around the house and never cooks and how fed up with him you are and does he think all the washing just washes itself and that the floors are self-cleaning —’

  ‘I didn’t say that about the floors, but you’re right, he never washes the floors, or the curtains, or —’

  ‘Divorce him, Carrie.’

  ‘And he won’t even — What did you say?’

  ‘Divorce him. You’ve never really been happy with him. File for divorce, go and live somewhere else with the three kids and hopefully you’ll find another husband soon.’

  ‘But I love Matthew. I don’t want to divorce him.’

  ‘So why have you been sitting here complaining about him for what feels like the last six hours?’

  ‘Because that’s what wives do about their husbands.’ She stood up in a flounce. ‘Your problem, Lola, is that your marriage didn’t last long enough for you to start hating your husband.’

  ‘No, Carrie. Unfortunately it didn‘t.’

  ‘I’d better go. Matthew will be up the walls looking after the kids on his own.’

  ‘So no divorce just yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m going to give him one more chance. And I’m also going to call into the bookshop on the way home and buy him an idiot’s guide to cooking.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ Lola said. ‘Be sure to pop in and see your mother too before you leave.’

  ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Just checking,’ Lola said

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day Lola was up at dawn, turning on the TV in her room and waiting anxiously for the weather forecast. She didn’t think she’d ever have thought this, but thank heavens the heatwave was continuing, and even better, strong winds had been forecast too. Terrible bushfire weather, but excellent for window display destruction planning.

  Was there a moral dilemma in what she was about to do? Should she allow Mrs Kernaghan to have her time in the spotlight? She was a volunteer, after all, even if she’d never actually worked a shift in the charity shop. ‘I’m more of a planner than a worker bee,’ she’d said
last time someone asked her to put her name down for the roster.

  No, the display had to go, Lola decided. The shop had become a laughing stock. And it wasn’t as if they had any chance of winning the competition, after all …

  Patricia was already in the shop when Lola arrived. She was sorting through a bag of clothes that had been left in the doorway overnight. She pulled a face as she took out a dirty nappy. ‘Can you believe people do this? They treat us like a rubbish dump sometimes.’

  ‘Perhaps they’ve left their address in a pocket of something and we can return the nappy to them,’ Lola said.

  Unfortunately there were no identifying documents in the bag. Lola was glad, however, to see Patricia pull out several items that were worth getting cleaned and put up for sale. Perhaps the nappy had been placed in the bag by accident. Lola suspected not, but if she only ever thought the worst about people, well, it would be impossible to go on living …

  Speaking of which. ‘Patricia, I think it only fair to let you know that I intend to sabotage Mrs Kernaghan’s display today.’

  She was rewarded with a huge smile. ‘Oh, thank God, Lola. We’ve all been so worried. We couldn’t believe you’d just put up with it. It’s so ugly and I know we haven’t got a chance of winning and it’s only a street traders’ competition, but I hate that she thought she could come in and take over, just —’

  Lola held up a hand to stop her. ‘Patricia, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t realised you all felt so strongly. I’ve been like a crocodile lurking in the shallows, keeping an eye on proceedings and wondering when or if to strike. I’m sorry I’ve caused you unnecessary worry.’

  ‘I just hated the idea of her steamrolling us. Have you noticed she hasn’t been near the place since she realised everyone’s been making fun of the window?’

  ‘I had noticed that, yes.’

  ‘And the judging’s tomorrow. More ridicule. I can’t bear it. We haven’t got time to put in a new display, have we? Although we could ask Joan to bring her nativity set back in, I suppose?’

  ‘I’ve had an idea. Something one of my granddaughters said to me sparked it. Can I tell you about it?’

  Patricia listened and started nodding even before Lola finished her story. Kay did the same when Lola told her. So did Margaret.

  All they needed to do now was somehow destroy the current display.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Lola said.

  ‘No, I will,’ Margaret said.

  ‘I’m the youngest,’ Kay said.

  ‘Let’s all do it,’ Patricia suggested.

  As a quartet, they walked across to the door, opened it wide and secured it. The hot air rushed in. Margaret quickly reached up and turned off the airconditioner. ‘It seems a shame to waste it. The electricity bill is going to be so high anyway.’

  The first gust of wind set the chiffon spinning around the figure in what they all agreed was actually a dramatic and beautiful fashion.

  ‘Perhaps we should have installed a fan in the window and had it swirling like this permanently,’ Lola said. She noticed their expressions. ‘Perhaps not.’

  A second gust set the dummy teetering. A third made her rock forward, the fourth pushed her backwards.

  In the end, it wasn’t the fifth gust that made it happen. It was Len coming across the road from his butcher shop to see what on earth they were thinking having the door open on such a hot day. He didn’t listen as they tried to stop him. He rarely did. He simply walked in, talking loudly. ‘Girls, have you lost your minds? You have to keep the door shut in weather like this!’

  Afterwards, they agreed it was a combination of Len giving the door a good slam and one final gust of wind. The dummy began to rock, then spin, in slow motion at first, before it slipped sideways off its perch, bringing fifty strands of coloured chiffon with it. There was a moment’s silence and then the dummy’s head slowly and silently separated from its neck and rolled across the floor to Len’s feet.

  ‘Shit,’ Len said. ‘Did I do that?’

  ‘It was industrial sabotage and there were four witnesses,’ Lola said. She hurried to console him when she saw his expression. ‘Len, I’m teasing you. The sad truth is that wonderful display has been an accident waiting to happen for days now. Thank God it was you standing there, young enough to leap out of the way. It would have been far worse if one of we elderly ladies had been in its path.’

  ‘Or a baby in a pram,’ Kay said.

  ‘Or one of the competition judges,’ Patricia said.

  ‘Or a lawyer who could sue us,’ Margaret added.

  Len was quite agitated. ‘I didn’t do it deliberately. I didn’t, I promise. What are you going to do now? The judging is tomorrow!’

  ‘We’ll think of something,’ Lola said, gently steering him out the door. ‘And don’t worry about it for a minute. It was an unfortunate combination of the wind and the door-slamming, not your fault, and we’ll be sure to tell everyone exactly that.’

  The replacement display took less than five minutes to set up. It took longer to clean up the original one. Afterwards, all four ladies stepped out into the heat again and looked at their work.

  ‘Much better,’ Patricia said.

  ‘Exactly right,’ Kay said.

  ‘We still won’t win but it’s what we should have done in the first place,’ Margaret said. ‘Well done, Lola.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. It was Bett’s idea.’

  Where that morning there had been a store dummy covered in multicoloured chiffon, there was now nothing. They hadn’t put in a new backdrop, new display, new anything. The entire window was empty. All that was on show was a simple sign they’d written together on the shop computer and printed onto A4 paper.

  Our Christmas display is empty. For too many families in our area, Christmas is a time of hardship. No food on the table, no presents under the tree, no tree at all. This year, the Clare Valley Charity Shop intends to produce as many Christmas hampers as we can. We need your help. We won’t win the window display competition, but we hope to receive enough donations to fill as many as one hundred hampers to distribute to needy people in our area. If you can spare any canned goods or toys, books or gifts (new, please, not second-hand), we’d love to receive them.

  Thank you

  The Committee

  ‘Perfect,’ Kay said again. ‘There’s only one thing I’m worried about. Who’s going to tell Mrs Kernaghan?’

  As it turned out, none of them needed to. She saw it for herself. Lola got a phone call from Margaret that night. She’d been working the late shift and had faced Mrs Kernaghan’s wrath.

  ‘She was furious, of course. At first, at least. But she kept seeing people stopping to read the sign and come in to tell us what a good idea it was, and you should have seen her. She said that her initial display was just to attract attention and this had been the real intention all along. Shameless! And, Lola, there’s already been donations left, cans of fruit and drinks, and Luke said he’d ask at work if we could have a pile of the cardboard boxes that the computers come in. They’d be just the right size for hampers.’

  Lola already knew about the boxes. Luke had told her himself, when he called unexpectedly to the motel. She’d heard the knock, opened the door and there he’d been in all his gangliness, his hair even more unruly than usual, standing shyly smiling, holding a black bag in one hand, with a cardboard box at his feet. She’d barely had a chance to say hello before he started talking.

  ‘Lola, I hope you don’t mind, but I was thinking about when you were unwell and you didn’t get a chance to go on the shop computer for a few days, and I know you told me there’s a computer here at the motel, but you mightn’t always … Anyway, I thought you might like this.’ He held up the black bag. ‘It’s a laptop computer. And don’t worry, I haven’t bought it. It’s an old one we had at work. No one was using it, so I’ve fixed it up and put new programs on it, and the internet might be a bit unreliable now and again, but I’ve installed a top-grade wifi system, and be
tween that and the roaming broadband around here —’ He stopped and laughed at her expression. ‘You’re not sure what I’m talking about, are you?’

  ‘I think you lost me at “laptop”, but please, do go on. But come in out of that heat first.’

  He followed her in and started unpacking the bag and the box. ‘Basically, it’s a computer for your room, Lola. And I’ve also brought an old printer that I had lying around. Just for those days when you’re not at the shop but feel like going online.’ He plugged in cords and pressed buttons, explaining what he was doing in simple terms. Within minutes, there on her small desk was a working computer and printer. He turned and smiled. ‘There you go, Lola. Now you can really take over the world.’

  She’d planned to bring up the subject of Emily with him. To tease him a little, to see which way the land lay. But suddenly, inexplicably, she was so moved by his thoughtfulness that all she could do was wipe away the tears that had sprung into her eyes. ‘Thank you, Luke. Thank you so very, very much.’

  Now, after she’d finished talking to Margaret, she spent a happy hour surfing the internet in the comfort of her own room. She picked up all sorts of ideas for her Christmas lunch. Watermelon salad for starters, she decided. A grilled seafood main course. Chocolate-coated strawberries and cream for dessert. There was still the minor matter of when she was going to find the time and the ability to prepare all these different menu items, but she’d worry about that later.

  She was about to sign off and join Jim for a drink in the bar when she heard the sound she loved, the ping of an incoming email. It was from Ellen in Hong Kong.

  Lola, are you there?

  Lola quickly replied. Of course, darling. What’s wrong?

  I’m being mean to Dad again. I can’t seem to help it.

  If emails could come with sound effects, Lola knew she’d have heard tears. The internet was a wonderful way to communicate, but sometimes it just wasn’t enough.

  Are you near the phone?

  Yes.

  A minute later, Lola was on her bed, phone in her hand, trying to calm Ellen, who was now crying inconsolably. It appeared there had been another visit from Denise and her daughter Lily, which had gone even more badly than the last one.