The Art of Friendship

by Lisa Ireland

  ‘But you already gave me this,’ Kit protested, waving her arm to indicate the engraved bangle she’d unwrapped earlier that day. ‘And we had a limit, remember? I hate that you always end up spending more on me than I do on you.’

  ‘You always spend way too much on Harry – I know that football club membership must have cost you a fortune – and I love buying gifts for you. But this gift didn’t really cost me anything much other than time, so you don’t need to worry on that front.’

  ‘Ooh, I’m intrigued.’

  ‘Well go on, open it then.’

  Kit pulled at the white satin ribbon – Libby always wrapped her gifts so meticulously, whereas Kit was very fond of using supermarket-purchased gift bags. Under the paper was a gold presentation box. She lifted the lid and found a gorgeous leather-bound photo album. ‘Wow. I didn’t even know you could still buy photo albums.’

  Libby’s eyes danced with excitement. ‘Open it.’

  Kit pulled the album from its box. ‘It’s heavy,’ she said, as she laid it on the coffee table, and opened the cover.

  Libby didn’t answer, but she moved over to sit on the floor next to her.

  On the first page there was nothing but an unsealed envelope, its flap facing outwards. Her name was handwritten in gold on the body of it. There was a note inside.

  Dear Kit,

  This is a memory book. It honours our friendship from its humble beginnings. I hope you like it.

  Libby x

  Kit’s eyes filled with hot tears. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Libby. Instead she turned the page to find a photo of the two of them, taken on Libby’s first day at Woodvale Primary. The image of the two of them in their green and white checked uniforms, shiny new school shoes, and oversized backpacks made her laugh. Both of them wore their hair pulled back in tight ponytails adorned with the school-approved green ribbon. They were so young, just babies really, but they were heading into grade six and thought they were very grown-up. The photo was a month shy of being twenty-eight years old. How the hell had so much time passed since that day?

  She turned the page to see more photos from that year – school camp, Libby’s birthday party, the swimming carnival and a photo of the two of them eating fairy floss, which she couldn’t remember being taken. She pointed to it. ‘Where were we here?’

  ‘I can’t remember exactly. It was a parade of some type. Your mum took us on the train.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I vaguely remember now. It was the Moomba parade. Pa used to take me to that when I was little. Mum must have had the day off. I wonder how she got your mum to agree to that.’

  ‘Perhaps we didn’t tell her? Jude was always a bit relaxed about that sort of thing, wasn’t she?’

  Tears were now sliding down Kit’s cheeks and she swiped at them with her fingers. ‘Yeah, good old Jude. She never was one to follow the rules. God, remember how we got pissed at Pa’s funeral and Mum never said a thing? She just cleaned us up, and tucked us up in bed at Pa’s place in the spare room. She never told us off, not even the next day.’

  Libby laughed. ‘Actually, I think I remember her giving you the disappointed speech. “I’m disappointed in you, Kit. And fancy leading Libby astray like that. What would her mother think if she knew?”’

  Kit grinned through her tears. ‘Oh, I’d totally forgotten about that. I remember I was pissed off at you because you were the one who spewed but I was the one who copped it.’

  ‘That’s because Jude knew I was an innocent.’ Libby giggled.

  Kit rolled her eyes and smiled, but she couldn’t seem to stem the flow of tears.

  Libby jumped up. ‘Back in a sec.’ She headed off in the direction of the bathroom.

  While Libby was gone, Kit flicked through the pages. There were photos of the two of them from their first years of high school, and ones from their uni days. A couple of them were taken on Libby’s wedding day, one of Kit holding Harry when he was just a few days old, Christmases together and birthdays and a gorgeous one of the two of them holding hands with Jude. It was taken just before Jude set off on a trip to Vietnam. Her tour had left from Sydney so the two of them had flown up together so they could spend some time with Libby before the trip began. As well as photos of the two of them, the book was filled with souvenirs of their friendship. Letters, postcards Kit had sent Libby from her travels, notes they’d passed to each other in school, coasters from bars they’d once frequented. Kit couldn’t believe Libby had kept all this stuff. Kit noticed an aerogramme stuck to one of the pages, flap side out. She unfolded it and began to read.

  Dear Libby,

  How are you guys doing? Thanks for sending the photos of Harry – they were waiting for me when I got back to London from my trip to Italy, which was totally amazing, but more on that in a moment. I can’t believe my three months’ leave is nearly up. I’m heading back to Melbourne next week and even though it’s a bummer that the trip is over I’m kind of looking forward to getting home. It’ll be great to see Jude, of course, and I’m hoping it won’t be long before I see you and Harry again too. If nothing else it will be nice to be in the same time zone again!

  So, I have a bit of news. I met someone in Italy. His name is Marcus and he’s . . . oh God, Lib, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this but I think he might be The One.

  Kit felt her cheeks colouring as she read. Was this really what she’d thought at the time? Or was the letter an effort to convince Libby – and maybe even herself – of the relationship’s significance? She remembered her relief at finally having a relationship to talk about. It had made a nice change to be able to respond to Libby’s often asked question that yes, she was in fact seeing someone. Perhaps her eagerness to show the world – or more specifically her best friend – that she was loveable had contributed to her attraction to Marcus. Because looking back it was plain to see he was no prize. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, she supposed.

  We met in Venice. I was hopelessly lost and he offered to walk me back to my hotel. That was a month ago now and we’ve barely been apart since. Marcus is a teacher but he’s taken a gap year to travel and volunteer overseas.

  Gap year? Yeah, right. Once they’d moved in together it was more like a gap life. Oh, Marcus worked, of course, but on short-term contracts, because he couldn’t commit to more than that, not when he was always thinking about his next volunteer stint overseas. In the beginning Kit had thought that was an admirable quality.

  I couldn’t believe it when I found out he was from Melbourne too. You know I’m not into all that ‘destiny’ stuff you and Mum gab on about, but if I didn’t know better I’d think this was meant to be.

  She winced. This surely was hyperbole for Libby’s benefit? Even at the height of her attraction to Marcus she couldn’t remember thinking that he was her destiny.

  We’re so suited to each other and we want the same things out of life. I know it seems ridiculously soon but I’ve had the ‘I can’t have kids’ conversation with him already and he truly doesn’t care. He thinks the world is overpopulated anyway.

  Now this she had believed. She’d been such a fool.

  Libby came back in with a box of tissues, which she planted on the coffee table. ‘Sorry. I should have been more prepared. It’s usually me that starts up the waterworks, not you.’

  Kit folded up the aerogramme and took a tissue. ‘I just can’t believe you still have all this stuff. I think there are loads of our old letters in the boxes in my spare room, but I only have them because Mum was a hoarder and I haven’t managed to go through all her junk yet. But you’re so organised. You never keep anything unnecessary.’

  ‘You’re right, I don’t, but this stuff is necessary. It’s our history. I can’t think of anything more worthy of keeping safe.’

  ‘But when did you have time to do all this? You’ve been so busy with the move.’

  ‘I started
it ages ago. It was supposed to be your fortieth birthday present, but I finished it just before we left Sydney and I decided it would make a good Chrissie present. I thought you might need something a bit special this Christmas seeing as it’s your first without Jude.’ Libby paused for a moment and slipped an arm around Kit’s shoulders. ‘I wanted you to know that just because your mum has passed away it doesn’t mean you’re alone. We’re family, Kit. You’ll always have a place with us.’

  Kit nodded. The lump in her throat made it hard to speak. And she wasn’t exactly sure what to say. She wasn’t accustomed to sharing her emotions out loud. It was a quality that had driven her mother mad. She was constantly asking how Kit felt about things, asking her to share. Libby had loved talking to Jude about her emotions, it was one of the things that had made them so close, but Kit really couldn’t see the point. She was fine. When she had a problem she didn’t need other people telling her what to think or how she should react. She just needed clear space to think the issue through. Of course, not everyone was wired that way. Libby had always needed more emotional support than she had. But Kit was the strong one in the relationship. That was just the way it was.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. Too many bloody champagnes, that’s what it is. I’ve gone all soft and gooey and we can’t have that.’

  Libby laughed. ‘Have we exceeded your tolerance level for sentimentality?’

  ‘You could say that.’ She leaned against Libby briefly. ‘Thanks, though,’ she said softly. ‘It’s a beautiful present. I really appreciate it, Lib. I mean that.’

  Lib squeezed her shoulder and then moved back to her own cushion on the other side of the table. ‘So, what shall we talk about? What’s new in your world?’

  Kit screwed up her nose. ‘Same ol’, same ol’. I expect the next few weeks will be pretty busy. You know holiday season – the season to get together with your loved ones and abuse them.’

  Libby sighed. ‘Some people have terrible lives, don’t they? I pity those poor women who don’t have the wherewithal to get out of those situations.’

  Kit bristled at Libby’s words. ‘What do you mean, “wherewithal”? Do you mean money? Education perhaps? Because I think you might be surprised at some of the women we see. They’re not all poor, uneducated waifs who don’t know any better.’

  Libby’s face had turned pink. ‘That’s not what I meant at all. I just meant I feel sorry for any woman who finds herself trapped.’

  Kit let out a long, slow breath. ‘Sorry. I got on my high horse there for a minute.’ She took a sip of her tea, and then shook her head. ‘This subject is too grim for us to be talking about today. Let’s talk about something fun.’

  ‘Okay, like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Oh, actually I do! I have been meaning to talk to you about this for a while now.’

  Libby looked at her intently. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘We’re both celebrating our fortieth birthdays this year, right? I was thinking we should do something special together to celebrate.’

  ‘Sounds good to me. What did you have in mind?’

  Kit shrugged. ‘Well, I was originally thinking some type of party, but . . .’ She flipped through the pages of the photo album. ‘This photo has just made me think of something even better.’ She turned the album so Libby could see the photo of the two of them at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was taken the week before Kit’s birthday during the year she’d lived overseas. Even now she found it hard to believe that Libby had flown all the way to London to support her through one of the toughest times of her life. Once the worst was over they’d taken themselves off to France for a short break. That evening, looking out over Paris with her best friend beside her, she’d turned a corner. She knew then that everything was going to be all right. ‘Remember this?’

  Libby nodded. ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Remember we made a promise to each other that night?’

  ‘To return for our thirtieth birthdays.’

  Kit nodded. ‘Except we never did that.’

  Libby’s face took on a defensive expression. ‘I couldn’t. I had Harry and –’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m not blaming you for that. It wasn’t great timing for me either, remember? I’d just taken on a new job too.’

  The tension in Libby’s face dissipated. ‘Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that.’

  ‘But, Lib, I don’t see why we couldn’t do it for our fortieth birthdays.’

  Libby seemed not to comprehend for a moment. ‘You mean go to Paris? Just the two of us?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean. Imagine how much fun we could have.’

  Libby was silent.

  ‘What? You don’t like the idea?’

  ‘I love it. It’s just that . . .’

  ‘What?’ Kit looked into her eyes, daring her to admit Cameron wouldn’t like it.

  ‘Well, I don’t know how Harry would fare without me.’

  ‘Harry will be fine. He’s not a baby anymore, and didn’t you say that there’s a bus that drops him right at the school gate? So it’s not like he needs to be driven to school or picked up. I presume he’s capable of making or buying his own lunch, and seeing as Cam’s not invited, he’ll be here to take care of everything else.’

  ‘I guess,’ Libby said tentatively.

  ‘Come on . . . think how much fun we can have. We can stay in a swanky hotel and get waited on. Or if that’s not your go I’ve heard of a few fabulous apartments we could rent. Maureen went last summer and rented through an agency her sister recommended.’

  ‘Apartments? How long were you thinking of going for?’

  ‘Relax. I’m thinking a week, two tops. Obviously longer would be better, but we have to be realistic. I can probably only take two weeks of leave anyway.’

  ‘So when would we go?’

  ‘In between our two birthdays? End of June or beginning of July, perhaps? I’d already planned on having leave for my birthday, and I’ve told Maureen that. We’ve pencilled in the last two weeks of July as me being away, but I could bring it back a couple of weeks so we’re not actually away for either of our birthdays, but we’d be there for the two weeks in between.’

  Libby bit her lip, but her eyes shone with excitement. ‘I’d have to talk to Cam.’

  Kit quashed her irritation. Apparently married people could never make a decision without consulting each other. She supposed that was fair enough. It was probably the reason she’d never felt the desire to tie herself down that way. ‘Of course.’

  ‘But, Kit – Oh. My. God. You and me in Paris again. Can you imagine?’

  ‘I can, actually. Why don’t you grab your iPad and we can have a look at flights and accommodation. That way you’ll have all the information you need to discuss the idea with Cam.’

  Libby nodded and jumped up right away. ‘Best plan ever,’ she said as she left the room.

  Chapter 10

  ‘Good morning, sleepyhead.’

  Libby opened her eyes to see Cam standing above her, fully dressed. ‘Morning,’ she said, confused as to why he was waking her. Ever since he’d officially started the new job – exactly three weeks ago today – he’d slipped out of the house silently, long before she or Harry were up. Perhaps there was something on today, an appointment for Harry that she’d forgotten. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Seven thirty.’

  ‘Oh. Why are you still here?’

  ‘Richard told me to take the morning off. He said Georgina told him you’d be miserable here if we never got any time together. He ordered me to take you out for breakfast.’

  How romantic. Her husband had to be ordered to take her out. ‘What if I don’t want to go out for breakfast? What if I just want to stay in bed?’

  A cheeky smile appeared on Cam’s face as he slid a hand under the sheet
and cupped her breast. ‘I’m sure that would be fine too.’

  She batted his hand away. ‘Stop it,’ she giggled. ‘What if Harry comes in?’

  ‘Since when has Harry woken up before ten on a non-school day?’

  ‘You have a point there, but I am kind of hungry.’ She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  But now Cam was not going to be put off that easily. He knelt down on the carpet in front of her and pushed her knees apart, leaning in to kiss the inside of her thigh. She sucked in a breath and ran her fingers through his hair. ‘I guess breakfast can wait,’ she said.

  *

  A morning session in bed always put Cam in a good mood, so now they were seated opposite each other at The Lakes Café drinking coffee, Libby figured the timing was right to bring up the Paris trip.

  Kit had been nagging her for an answer for weeks now. She’d already asked to have her leave brought forward and was keen to book as soon as possible. Libby had put her off, saying she wouldn’t be able to confirm anything until Harry started school. She said she’d need to check the school calendar to make sure she wasn’t going to miss any important events while they were away. To some extent that was true – Harry’s wellbeing was always her top priority – but the real reason she couldn’t give Kit the go-ahead was because she hadn’t had a chance to discuss the idea with Cam. If she’d told Kit the truth she would roll her eyes and start lecturing Libby on how Cameron wasn’t her boss, and how she was her own person free to make her own decisions. But Kit just didn’t understand that marriage doesn’t work like that. It wasn’t like she needed Cam’s permission – of course he couldn’t stop her from going if that’s what she really wanted – but she wanted to make sure her trip didn’t cause any tension between them. They’d only been in Melbourne six weeks or so, but already things were so much better between them than before the move. Cam was working ridiculous hours, but he was clearly loving his new job. When he was home he was happy and cheerful, and interested in her and Harry in a way that he hadn’t been when they’d lived in Sydney. And for the first time since Harry started school she didn’t feel guilty about not bringing in any significant income.