Lola's Secret

by Monica McInerney

  Her four friends certainly had many skills to bring to this particular babysitting table. She should have guessed Kay would have the magic touch with babies. All those years of delivering dairy cows.

  ‘You’re like a baby whisperer,’ Patricia said, watching amazed, as first Yvette, then Zachary fell asleep in her arms.

  Margaret was the cook of the group. She’d taken four-year-old Delia into the kitchen with her as she checked the cupboards and refrigerator for contents and supplies. ‘Would Bett mind if I did some cooking, Lola? It doesn’t really suit me to sit around doing nothing but watch babies all day.’

  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind at all.’

  ‘I’m just going to nip into town and get a few ingredients. Her freezer’s nearly empty. I bet I can fill it before she gets back.’

  Lola pressed money onto her. ‘My family, my expense.’

  Patricia had been in the laundry. She came out now. ‘I’ll make a start on the curtains and the floors too. She’s not into all that organic stuff, is she? I love a good scrubbing day but I like my bleach and my sprays. None of this bicarb soda and vinegar carry-on.’

  ‘Except for the windows and the mirrors,’ Kay said. ‘Nothing works better than newspaper and vinegar for a streak-free finish.’

  Lola gazed at her friends. When had they got these advanced degrees in domestic arts? She certainly wasn’t going to start complaining. She cheerfully handed over more dollars.

  Joan came in from inspecting the garden. She wasn’t impressed. Her own garden was a regular winner of local contests. ‘Bett and Daniel wouldn’t mind if I did a bit of work out there, would they?’

  ‘If they notice, they’ll be delighted. If they don’t notice, we’ll tell them.’

  Joan walked up to Lola and held out her hand. ‘Please, sir, may I have some more?’

  Lola and Patricia stayed with the children. The other three were back from town within the hour, laden with bags of ingredients, cleaning products and punnets of seedlings.

  Margaret opened all the windows in the kitchen before she got started. It was another hot day, but a cool breeze started drifting through the rooms, carrying the scent of baking cakes, simmering casseroles and rising scones with it. Delia proved to be an excellent helper, stirring mixtures and sifting flour under Margaret’s careful eye.

  The temperature made it a perfect day for cleaning, too. The washed floors dried in minutes. The clothes dried on the line before it was time to hang out the next load. Patricia got little Freya to help her by handing out the clothes pegs.

  From her vantage point as Minder of the Smaller Children in the living room (she’d decided it really wouldn’t hurt them to view a little bit of television, it was so educational these days, after all), Lola watched her friends in amazement. ‘You’re all like a many-armed housework machine. What have I unleashed?’

  ‘Girl power,’ Patricia said.

  ‘I feel ashamed. Helpless old thing that I am.’ They’d insisted she wasn’t to do any of the physical work.

  ‘Helpless, my foot,’ Kay said. ‘Today is all about playing to our skills, isn’t it? What about yours?’

  ‘All I know how to do is dress up,’ Lola said, jiggling Zachary in her lap. Yvette was lying on a lambswool rug at her feet, kicking her legs in the air. ‘Shall I start with this little fellow? Put him in a chiffon babygro?’

  ‘And give him a Liberace complex for the rest of his life?’ Patricia said. ‘No, you’re the musical one.’

  ‘Great idea,’ Margaret said. ‘Sing, Lola, sing.’

  So she started singing. She sang every song she could remember. Songs from her favourite musicals. Songs from her Irish childhood. She even sang the song that had been her and Alex’s song, ‘Catch a Falling Star’. It had been in her head ever since her conversation with Luke. She hadn’t told her friends about Alex yet. Luke had promised not to breathe a word about it either. If he found any definite information, she would tell them, she’d decided. Perhaps. Eventually. If he didn’t, then there’d have been no false expectations or interest raised.

  Her friends made some impolite comments and did some obvious wincing at her singing – she told them they were just jealous that she knew so many tunes – but the babies appeared to like it.

  ‘Either that or they’re tone deaf,’ Kay suggested.

  At five thirty Lola gazed with pleasure around her. They were all sitting in the living room, holding a child apiece. The floors gleamed. The windows shone. The washing line had been filled, emptied and filled again, all afternoon. The linen cupboard was now full of fresh-smelling towels, sheets and pillowcases. The babies’ chests of drawers were restocked with their little singlets, babygros, socks and bibs. Even Bett and Daniel’s clothes had been washed, ironed and put away. The hot wind and burning sun of December in South Australia made life difficult for humans but it couldn’t be faulted for optimum drying conditions, they all agreed.

  In the kitchen, Margaret had made casseroles, soups and apple pies. The freezer was now filled with neatly labelled home-cooked ready meals. Outside, Joan had followed the shade around the garden, with great help from little George, plastic bucket and spade in hand. She’d weeded, trimmed edges and planted the hardy summer plants she’d bought that afternoon. Her work wouldn’t be evident for some weeks, even months, but she’d drawn up a map of what she’d planted and where, as well as a simple list of instructions for Bett and Daniel.

  When Bett rang to say they were on their way home, Lola didn’t tell her what they’d been up to. ‘Ready when you are,’ she said.

  Bett’s mouth fell open when she walked in. She didn’t need to have anything pointed out to her. She kept uttering short phrases as she toured the house. ‘The floors … the windows … the laundry.’ She opened the chests of drawers in the bedrooms. ‘Oh my God. Folded clothes.’ She looked out at the garden. ‘Oh my God. No weeds.’ She turned to all five of them as they followed her into the kitchen. ‘How did you do this? When did you have time?’

  ‘Many hands make —’ Lola and Kay began in unison.

  ‘Casseroles and cakes!’ Bett said, opening the freezer. ‘Oh my God. And scones and bread and soup.’ She looked more overwhelmed than shocked now. ‘Thank you all so much. I can’t believe it. I must owe you a fortune.’

  ‘Not a cent,’ Patricia said. ‘Your grandmother bankrolled us.’

  ‘If I’d known this was what you’d all be up to, I’d have suggested we do the babysitting at my house,’ Carrie said, not managing to hide her envy.

  Lola knew her youngest granddaughter well. ‘Don’t worry, darling. We’re basing ourselves at your house tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  Lola reached into her Glomesh handbag and pulled out another big bundle of the charity hamper slips. ‘You and Bett didn’t think you’d finished, did you?’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Guest 1

  ‘What’s up with you?’ Neil snapped.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You haven’t taken your eyes off me since I got home.’

  ‘Just surprised to see you outside your room, I guess.’

  ‘Haven’t you got work today?’

  Rick shook his head. ‘I called in sick. I’ve got —’ His mind went blank. ‘A disease.’

  ‘A disease?’

  ‘Not a serious one. But I need a couple of days off.’

  Neil nodded. ‘Who are you expecting?’

  ‘What?’

  Neil repeated the question.

  ‘No one,’ Rick said.

  ‘So why do you keep looking towards the door?’

  ‘I thought I heard the postman.’

  ‘Mate, are you okay?’

  ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Neil’s shutters came down.

  ‘You want to go for a bit of a walk? A quick drink, or anything? Just hang out?’

  ‘What about your disease?’

  ‘I’m feeling better. What do you reckon?
Head out somewhere?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about anything?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Neil was heading for his room. Rick had to keep him out here, keep him talking. He asked the first question that came to mind. ‘So, any plans for Christmas Day?’

  ‘No.’

  Keep talking, Rick. Keep talking. ‘I’m going home. To my family. We always get together at Christmas time. It’s a chance to see each other, you know. To catch up on everyone’s news. To let everyone know how much we mean to each other.’

  ‘Great,’ Neil said. He went into his room and shut the door.

  All Rick could think about were the tablets he’d seen in Neil’s bedside drawer. Was that what Neil was planning to do? Overdose on sleeping tablets?

  He couldn’t just sit back and let him go. He went across and hammered on Neil’s door.

  ‘Mate?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you open the door?’

  It took some time, but Neil eventually opened it.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Rick asked.

  ‘Yes. What do you want?’

  ‘Can you, um … Can you loan me twenty bucks?’

  ‘I don’t have it.’

  ‘Did you have trouble at Centrelink today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you need some money? I can help you out.’ He reached for his wallet.

  ‘I thought you wanted twenty bucks off me.’

  ‘I do. Not for now, though. For next week.’

  Neil shut the door.

  Shit, Rick thought. Now what could he do? Neil’s mother had said she’d be there as soon as she could. She lived three hours away, though. It would be two o’clock at least before she got there.

  She’d been a combination of shocked and relieved when Rick rang and told her what he’d seen on Neil’s computer. ‘I knew something was wrong, that he was planning something. My poor baby. We have to stop him, Rick. Please, stay there with him, keep an eye on him, please. Don’t let anything happen to him before I get there.’

  He’d promised. But he didn’t know what to do or how to do it. If Neil hadn’t been in earshot, he’d have rung a helpline, the Samaritans, or someone else. They’d know what to do, wouldn’t they? Give him advice? But it was all about talking with them, wasn’t it? He didn’t know if talking was what Neil needed right now. Who else could he call, though? The cops? That was it. He’d ring the cops. He went outside the front door, hoping that if he spoke in a low enough voice, Neil wouldn’t hear. He dialled 000. ‘Hi,’ he whispered when the call was answered.

  ‘Police, fire or ambulance?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Who looks after possible suicides?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I think my flatmate is going to kill himself. I don’t know for sure, but his mother’s been worried about him for weeks and now I am too. It’s not a prank call, I promise.’ He explained it all quickly. That his flatmate had booked a one-way ticket to some place in the middle of nowhere. That he hadn’t left his room in ages except for today to get some dole money. That all he’d been looking at on his computer for weeks were suicide sites.

  ‘What’s his mental state now?’

  ‘Bad. Depressed.’

  ‘His life?’

  ‘Pretty bad. There’s not much going on for him. I just thought he was going through a bad patch, you know. Keeping to himself. His mother’s on her way, but what if she’s too late? What do I do?’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘In his room. He’s got loads of tablets in there.’

  ‘Does he know you’ve called us?’

  He looked over his shoulder. ‘I don’t think so. His windows are shut and the blinds are down.’

  ‘Go back into the house, keep talking to him. What’s your address?’ Rick gave it. ‘We’ll get someone there as soon as we can.’

  Back inside, Rick went straight to Neil’s bedroom door and knocked. ‘Mate?’

  ‘What? Jesus, can’t you leave me alone?’

  ‘I need some help.’

  The door was flung open. ‘With what?’

  Rick glanced around the room, his mind suddenly blank. ‘The curtains.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Neil shut the door again. ‘Just leave me alone, would you?’

  Rick spoke loudly into the door. ‘Neil, I think you should know, I’ve accidentally called the police. They’ll be here as soon as they can.’

  The door flung open again. ‘You’ve what? Why?’

  ‘They want to talk to you.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About how things are going for you.’

  ‘Since when do the cops give a shit about how I am? Since when does anyone give a shit?’

  ‘Lots of people do.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘Me, for a start.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’

  ‘I’m your mate. I’ve been worried.’

  ‘Sure. I’ve hardly spoken to you in weeks. You wouldn’t know what to be worried about.’

  ‘Mate, what’s happened to you?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Are you …?’ Rick tried again. ‘You’re not …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Planning to do anything stupid, are you?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘You know.’

  ‘What?’

  Rick couldn’t say the words. He shuffled his feet. He managed a quick glance down at his watch. Only five minutes had passed. It could be an hour before the cops got there, let alone Neil’s mother. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle this.

  ‘So can I go now?’ Neil’s voice was heavy with sarcasm and annoyance.

  ‘No!’ Rick practically shouted. He decided to tell him the truth. ‘Mate, your mother’s worried sick about you. She’s been worried sick for weeks. I went into your room today when you were out. She begged me.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘I went though your stuff. She was worried you were on something, drugs or drink —’

  Neil just stared at him.

  ‘Then I went onto your computer —’

  Neil’s expression changed then, relaxing slightly. ‘You don’t know the first thing about computers.’

  ‘No, I don’t. But my sister does. She gave me a quick lesson over the phone.’ He didn’t want to go into what he’d found. This was going badly enough as it was. ‘Mate, don’t.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t do it. Please.’

  ‘Why don’t you just mind your own fucking business?’

  ‘You were going to do it, weren’t you? You really were. You were going to get on a bus and go to some motel and —’ He stopped there.

  ‘Thoughtful, aren’t I? I could have done it here but I didn’t want to leave you with any mess.’

  ‘How the hell were you going to do it?’

  ‘Tablets.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I mean it. Why?’

  ‘Because I’ve had enough.’

  ‘Had enough of what?’ Rick searched desperately for a way to keep him talking, to make it okay. Where were the cops? Where was Neil’s mother? Searching desperately for something, anything, to say, he tried a joke. ‘Had enough of being locked in your room day after day? No wonder. It stinks in there.’

  There was a moment when a flash of anger appeared in Neil’s eyes, then it was gone. ‘Jesus, never go into counselling, will you?’

  Keep him talking, Rick. Keep him talking. ‘Mate, you just have to get out more —’

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Neil. I thought you just wanted some time to yourself.’

  ‘I do. Right now.’

  ‘Don’t do it. Please.’

  ‘Who’ll care if I do?’

  ‘Your mum. Your sister.’

  ‘Yeah,
like they spend all their time getting in touch with me.’

  ‘They do. You just never take their calls. I’ll care too. You’re my friend.’

  ‘Some friend. I’m useless, mate. I can’t even find a job.’

  ‘You haven’t even tried. You sent out, what, two applications? Jesus. It took me ten goes before I got my job.’

  ‘It’s not just work. Ever been dumped? Have any idea how that feels?’

  ‘At least you’ve had a girlfriend. I haven’t even got that far.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘You’re a virgin?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Shut up, I said.’

  ‘Jesus, I thought I had it bad.’ It was the first time Neil had even come close to smiling.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  ‘Is that for you or for me?’ Neil said.

  ‘Police,’ a voice called.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ Rick said. ‘It’s for you.’

  The policeman and the policewoman were still there an hour later when Neil’s mother arrived. She must have broken every speed limit, Rick realised. She didn’t knock, didn’t call out. She just opened the door and ran inside, almost knocking her son out of his chair with the force of her hug. ‘No, Neil. Don’t do it. Please don’t do it. We love you. We’ll help you. We’ll make it better, I promise you. Just don’t do it. We’ll fix it all for you. Whatever we have to do, we’ll do it, I promise.’

  Ten minutes later, the front door opened again. It was Neil’s younger sister. She came straight over to her brother, hugged him, held him close. Rick hovered in the background. He’d stayed in the kitchen, trying not to eavesdrop as the police counsellors had slowly coaxed the story from Neil. They’d done this before, Rick could tell. Their questions were kind, understanding. When Neil started to cry, Rick took himself out to the back yard. His friend didn’t need a witness to that. He’d only come back in when the policewoman had appeared at the back door, asking if he’d like a cup of tea.