by Lisa Ireland
The incident with Alli on the night of the ball had provided a distraction from their differences and drawn them together, at least in the immediate aftermath. Kit had been a true hero that night; the paramedics had praised her and even indicated that if it were not for Kit’s quick actions, Alli may not have survived. In the weeks that followed Libby had experienced an overwhelming sense of guilt at how blind she’d been to Alli’s situation, especially once she thought about all the little signs that seemed obvious to her now she had the benefit of hindsight. But Kit had assured her that even if she’d suspected what was going on it was unlikely that she could have changed the outcome. It was a depressing thought, but one she now realised was probably true.
As Kit had predicted, Alli had withdrawn from her – from all the Arcadia women – once she was discharged from hospital. She was, of course, polite and friendly, but the intimacy they’d once shared was gone. Libby had tried to force the issue, begging Alli to talk to her, but Alli had brushed away her concern. ‘I’m fine, really, Libby. There’s no need to fuss. I’m just incredibly busy right now getting ready to move. I’m so excited about this move to the coast. You’ll have to come down for a weekend once we’re settled there.’
To date no invitation to visit had come.
It shouldn’t have surprised her really, because she’d done exactly the same thing to Kit all those years ago, after the incident with Goody. For years she’d harboured a resentment towards Kit and blamed her for making her time at Wyndham College hell. But this incident with Alli had brought that long-ago event into sharp perspective for her, and changed her previously steadfast view that Kit had interfered in something that was not her business.
That day Kit had fearlessly gone into battle for her, without giving a thought to what the consequences might be for herself. The way Kit saw it, Libby was in trouble and needed help and she would do whatever it took to provide that help. And as painful as it was to admit to herself after all these years of denying it, Kit had saved her that day. Yes, she had technically consented to Goody’s actions, but only after he’d coerced her with promises of the relationship, the social status, she so badly wanted. Had Kit not come along she would have lost her virginity to him that day, and not to sweet Tim Brooker, her nerdy consolation prize after Simon Turner had rebuffed her. And if she’d had sex with Goody there was no knowing what would have happened next. Maybe the outcome would have been the same. Maybe he still would have rejected her and spread vile rumours around the school anyway. Back then she’d been so hurt by his rejection, so devastated at the thought that all he’d really wanted was to be the first boy she had sex with, that she’d tried to distance herself from that pain. Instead of blaming Goody, she’d taken out her feelings of humiliation on Kit. Kit had known better than she had and Libby’s shame at her own actions meant she needed to distance herself from her friend.
So in a way she understood the facade Alli was putting up. Hopefully, with time and space, she’d feel comfortable enough to let Libby back into her life. In the meantime Libby was going to focus on making amends for her past mistakes.
One of those mistakes was the way she’d dismissed Felicity as being shallow and not worthy of her true friendship. She realised now that Alli’s view of Felicity was motivated by fear. Felicity had said as much when they’d met for coffee to debrief a few days after the ball.
‘I know what Alli thinks of me, Lib. I know you all know that my name isn’t really Felicity. Underneath I’m still just Felicia, who grew up in Sunshine with a mum who worked her fingers to the bone and a dad who drank her wages every week.’
‘Liss, I didn’t know . . .’
Felicity’s eyes were glassy with tears. ‘Alli knows. I can see it in her eyes. She hates me. I used to think it was because she thought I was a trashy gold-digger who married her way out of a bad situation. And you know what? In a way she’s right. Part of Jeremy’s attraction was his money, and the lifestyle he could offer me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. And he loves me. He knows exactly who I am and where I’ve come from, but he doesn’t care, and that’s why I love him.’
Libby shook her head but she could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘I’m sure that’s not what Alli thinks of you. She’s certainly never said anything to me,’ she lied.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to cover up for her. I know she’s never been my biggest fan. I’ve always felt like she thought she was too good for me. No matter how much money I spent on designer clothes and elocution lessons she could see through me. No matter how hard I tried to fit in she never thought I was good enough. But now I realise that it wasn’t that at all. I think her hate was actually wrapped up in fear. She saw through my ruse and she was afraid I’d see through hers.’
Now she’d had time to reflect on everything that had happened, this made sense to Libby. Fear and shame made people behave in strange ways. It might have taken her forty years, but she was finally working out that not much good came of pretending to be someone other than her true self. She’d spent her whole life trying to fit in, trying to impress one group or another, and now she was wondering what the point of that was. It seemed that anyone worth investing her time in should love her just the way she was.
Kit had always been upfront with her about everything. Even when the truth was uncomfortable, Kit hadn’t shied away from it, because she was motivated by love. Finally Libby understood that. She owed Kit many things, an apology for starters, and with that thought, she took a deep breath and got out of the car.
*
The spring weather had finally started to make an appearance, so Kit had chosen to walk to the high school that morning. As she strolled home now in the late afternoon sun she had no regrets about that decision. She took her time, admiring the flowering plums and daffodils that had begun to blossom in the past few weeks. The spring blooms seemed full of optimism, mirroring her current mood. Wednesday was her favourite day of the week. She wasn’t paid a fortune for her work with the year seven girls at risk group, but it was the most satisfying job she’d had for a long time. She felt like she was really making a difference. Even though leaving the women’s centre hadn’t been a move she’d planned in advance, it had worked out for the best. She still had her sessional lecturing job, and now the house had finally settled she had a bit of breathing space, money-wise. John had told her not to worry too much about money and to take her time considering her next career move. If they were going to do this properly, be a family, he said they were in it together.
She thought Pa would be shocked and delighted at the sum of money his little weatherboard cottage had netted her. She’d felt a twinge of regret after the auction when the sold sticker was plastered across the sale board. Three generations of her family had called that house home. Still, it wasn’t as if she had anyone to leave the place to. Once upon a time she’d thought it would go to Harry, but she realised now that no matter how much she cared for him, he wasn’t her descendant and in truth the house meant nothing to him. He’d probably put it straight on the market the day after he inherited, so she might as well do it now and use the proceeds to live the life she wanted to. Sure, there were memories in that house, but no one could take those from her. They didn’t live on in physical things but in her heart.
Besides, the way her heart leapt every time she came home to John was more than ample compensation for any loss she felt. She’d even grown quite fond of his dog, although Hugo was still not a fan.
Today it wasn’t John’s red Mazda parked in the street behind her old bomb, but a sleek black BMW. As she approached the house she saw Libby walking back through the gate.
It had been a month since they’d seen each other. The last time was just before she’d moved in with John. She’d picked Harry up early to take him to the footy and Libby suggested having a quick coffee at the café by the lake in Arcadia Lakes. At first they’d been awkward with each other, overly formal
and polite, but Harry – apparently oblivious to any tension – acted as a conduit between them and eventually the conversation had flowed and they’d had a pleasant enough time. When they were leaving Libby had fingered the old Bulldogs scarf that Kit wore around her neck. She’d knitted it for Kit years earlier. ‘I can’t believe you still wear this,’ she remarked wistfully.
Kit had smiled at her. ‘Of course I do. It’s my good luck charm.’
They’d parted on good terms, but neither of them had said anything about organising a further catch-up.
Perhaps Libby was finally here to collect her paintings. She’d responded to Kit’s text asking her to collect them by saying she’d organise something ASAP, but that was almost three weeks ago now.
‘This is a surprise,’ Kit said as Libby smiled and gave her an awkward hug.
‘I was just going to the car to look for a pen. I was going to leave you a note to explain the basket.’ She nodded towards the doorstep.
Kit followed her gaze and saw a huge cellophane-wrapped gift basket in front of the door. ‘What’s that?’
Libby shrugged. ‘Just a little something from me to you. Open it and see.’
‘Oh. Okay. Did you want to come in? You can collect your canvases while you’re here.’
Libby nodded. ‘If that’s okay? I don’t want to disturb you.’
‘John won’t be home for at least another hour,’ she said, answering Libby’s unasked question. She put her key in the lock. ‘Mind the dog. She’s pretty lively, but she won’t hurt you.’
Libby picked up the basket and they made their way inside. Buffy gave one excited bark and then proceeded to chase her tail until Libby bent down to pat her. ‘I can’t believe you live with a dog. She’s totally gorgeous though. What does Hugo think?’
‘We’re both getting used to her slowly. Actually, I have to say, I’m quite smitten. Hugo, not so much. But he tolerates her so long as she keeps a certain distance from him.’
Libby followed Kit down the hall to the kitchen. ‘Nice place.’
‘Thanks. We like it here. The location’s great and the house is very comfortable. But I don’t think we’ll be here forever.’
‘No?’
‘John’s keen on something with a slightly bigger backyard. We’ve started to look, but we’re not in a hurry.’
‘You’ll buy something together?’
‘Yeah, that’s the plan.’
‘Putting the Yarraville place on the market must have been heartbreaking for you, though.’
‘Actually it wasn’t, not once I’d made up my mind. And it all happened so quickly that I really didn’t have a chance to dwell on things. I’ve moved on now, Libby. I feel like my life is just beginning.’
Libby smiled. ‘I’m happy for you.’ She placed the basket on the kitchen counter.
There was an awkward pause. Neither of them knew what to say. ‘Sit down,’ Kit said eventually. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’
‘Well, okay, if you’re sure I’m not disturbing you? I have plenty of time on my hands these days, with Harry away at school and Cam working long hours. But I know you’re busy.’
‘Of course I’ve got time for a cuppa with you, Lib. It’s been ages since we last met up. It’s good to see you.’ It was true. It was good to see Libby like this. ‘So how is Harry getting on at the new school? When we went to the footy he had nothing but good things to say.’
Libby sighed. ‘He says he’s enjoying it. And he seems to be going okay academically, but the counsellor has been in touch saying they have identified some issues that need work.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘I think perhaps John was right that Harry needed expert help. Harry is now seeing the school psychologist at Braeton and we’ve also been having family counselling.’
‘Wow. How’s that going?’
‘We’ve only just started. Our first session was last week, but I can see that it will be beneficial. I’m glad John didn’t just let me excuse Harry’s behaviour away. His insistence has indirectly led to Harry getting the help he needs. The psychologist has already assured us that the issues are mainly behavioural, and so can be addressed with behaviour modification techniques, but he’s also diagnosed Harry with anxiety. So there are a few things to consider there. When I heard that my first instinct was to withdraw him from boarding school, but . . .’ her face coloured, ‘the psychologist feels that Braeton is a stabilising influence in his life and that his anxiety is triggered by “other sources”.’ Her eyes filled with tears which she quickly blinked away. ‘He didn’t come right out and say it, but I know he meant me. Apparently I’m a shit mother.’
‘You are not.’ Kit reached across and patted her hand. ‘You are a tigress of a mother if ever I’ve seen one.’
‘Well, I think that might be part of the problem. Anyway, things are going okay with Harry for now. He’s getting the help he needs and he seems to be happy enough. He’s made plenty of new friends at Braeton, and Alli’s girls have taken him under their wing a bit.’
‘How is Alli?’
‘She seems okay. I don’t see as much of her since she moved.’
‘I didn’t realise she’d moved already. Is she still with Greg?’
‘Well, yes, in a way. The company’s expanding and Richard has sent Greg to New Zealand to get the business up and running there. Alli didn’t want to be so far away from the girls, so they bought a holiday home down the coast. Alli is living there at the moment so the girls have somewhere to come home to on weekends and holidays. Greg comes home once a month, I believe. I wish I could say she was thinking of leaving him, but I honestly don’t think she is. Not that we talk about it. Alli would much rather pretend that everything is perfect than open up that wound.’
‘Well, baby steps. At least she has some time away from him, and maybe this taste of independence will give her the strength to actually leave one day.’
‘I hope so.’
The kettle boiled and Kit made the tea – weak Earl Grey for Libby, strong Irish Breakfast for herself. No milk, no sugar for either of them. ‘So, should I open this basket? Or should I go grab your paintings from the spare room first?’
Libby clapped her hands together. ‘Open the present! I’ll just grab the paintings on the way out.’
Kit undid the ribbon and let the cellophane fall. First there was a bottle of Moët. ‘Wow, very nice. But I don’t understand, Lib, what’s all this in aid of?’
‘Keep going. It’ll make sense soon.’
‘Okay.’ She dug into the basket and pulled out an array of delicacies: chocolates, cheese, a bottle of pinot gris. ‘This is all gorgeous, but I still don’t understand.’
‘There’s more in there.’
Down the bottom was a parcel wrapped in pale pink paper adorned with French poodles. ‘This paper is too pretty to tear.’
‘Just open it!’
Inside there was a book, The Little Bookshop on the Seine. It looked more like Libby’s type of book than hers – but she smiled and thanked Libby for her kindness.
‘Open the book.’
Kit did as instructed and a small envelope inscribed with her name dropped out. She tore it open. Inside there was a voucher from a local travel agency for two thousand dollars.
‘What the . . .? Libby, this is ridiculous.’
‘No it’s not. Don’t you see? I want us to have our trip to Paris. I stuffed up last time and I’m incredibly sorry about that. I want to make amends.’
Kit sat speechless for a moment. She really didn’t know what to say. This was a ridiculously expensive gift, one she could never accept even if she wanted to. ‘This is a truly lovely thought, Lib. I really appreciate the gesture, but I can’t accept a ticket to Paris.’
‘Of course you can. Think of it as an apology for me stuffing up our birthdays. Please, Kit, let me do this. I’ll work around you this time.
With Harry away at school we could go anytime outside of school holidays. Well, until March next year, that is.’
‘What’s happening in March?’
‘I’m going away on a month-long artists’ retreat.’
‘Really? Lib, that’s great.’
‘I’m really looking forward to it. It feels exciting to be doing something just for me. And while we’re on the topic of my art, I have some other news. I’ve been asked to provide a painting for an emerging artists exhibition organised by Footscray Community Arts Centre.’
‘Wow, that’s fantastic. I’m really happy for you.’ Kit’s words were genuine. Maybe Libby was finally growing into who she was always meant to be.
‘Now that Harry doesn’t need me so much I’ve decided it’s time for me to claim my life back, to find out who Libby the person is again. I’ve begun by redecorating the house.’
‘Wow, really? So you’ve given up worrying about what Georgina might think?’
Libby grinned. ‘I’m working on it. I’ve started on the bedrooms.’
Kit laughed. ‘Baby steps, I guess.’
‘I did do something a bit braver though. I’ve set up my craft room as a mini art studio and I’ve started doing some painting at home.’
‘That’s fantastic. What do Cam and Harry think about it?’
Libby gave Kit a self-conscious smile. ‘Harry’s barely home these days. I don’t think he’s even noticed, but Cam . . . well, I have to say he’s been really supportive.’
‘I’m really pleased to hear that, Lib.’ Kit meant what she said. Someone as talented as Libby should be able to indulge in her passion freely.
She briefly thought about telling Libby she’d seen her art. Ethically she supposed it was the right thing to do. But on the other hand, what would her confession achieve? Libby clearly hadn’t wanted anyone see it. Kit could only speculate as to why. In the days after the move the painting had haunted her. The implication of the heart pendant being cast aside was not lost on her, but without discussing the piece with Libby she had no way of knowing if her interpretation of the work was right. Maybe one day she’d ask her.
