Home Truths

by Louise Forster

  ‘Oops, I’ve been caught out,’ Connie said. ‘Did you mind very much?’

  Jennifer shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about it Connie, the paper and the photo you sent were a lovely surprise on an otherwise dismal day. I was missing everyone and your parcel was the push I needed to get me moving. I wasn’t happy in London anymore.’

  ‘Before I forget.’ Connie stopped to dig in her handbag. ‘Calum mentioned you wanted my pickle recipe.’ She handed it over. ‘But until I’m dead, you can’t enter any of the local agricultural shows.’

  ‘Connie! You’re not going to die and I wouldn’t dream…’

  But Connie gave her a wise, old-lady look.

  ‘Thank you, I’ll treasure it always.’

  Jennifer asked everyone to follow her into the pink bedroom. She stopped in front of the closet and nervously wondered where to go from here.

  ‘I’ve always loved this room.’ Shirley gazed around. ‘And you haven’t changed it at all. You must love it too, Jennifer. I especially like the wallpaper, you can’t get paper like that anymore.’

  ‘Did you help Uncle Bob decorate?’ Jennifer wanted to know for future reference.

  ‘Yes, he needed it, otherwise the room would’ve…would’ve…’ Shirley faltered and looked at Connie.

  Sofie decided to help out. ‘Looked too glamorous for a couple of young women?’

  ‘That’s exactly right.’ Shirley nodded.

  Connie gave Jennifer a knowing wink.

  Okay, no more delays, it was time to free Uncle Bob’s spirit. ‘This might sound strange, but just humour me and come into the closet.’

  ‘Ah ha,’ Sofie exclaimed. ‘The mysterious space.’

  Connie and Shirley seemed surprised, but no one showed the slightest hesitation.

  ‘Is this a secret passage or something?’ Connie laughed.

  ‘No, but you’re close.’ Jennifer guided them through and switched on the torch in Bob’s secret room.

  ‘Holy shit!’ Sofie cried out. ‘Sorry, ladies, but holy shit!’

  ‘It’s all right, dear,’ Connie laughed softly. ‘I think it’s worth a holy shit or two. So this is where they all are — except for one.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Jennifer said. ‘Uncle Bob went to the hereafter in a gown.’

  ‘Yes dear, he did.’ Connie inclined her head, looking like a wise old fairy godmother. ‘When he knew time was running out, he jokingly said, ‘I would love to go dressed up as Veronica.’ Without thinking about how we’d do this, Shirley and I offered.’

  So these two lovely old dears had dressed her uncle after he died. Jennifer worked hard to stop her chin and mouth from trembling. ‘That’s quite something; I don’t think I would’ve been able to. Thank you so much. It would have eased his mind knowing he was dressed in his favourite frock.’

  Sofie shook her head. ‘I would not have been able to do that.’

  ‘I’d like to say it was a pleasure,’ Connie said. ‘And I guess, in a sense, it was — once we were done.’

  Shirley leaned in close. ‘He did look wonderful, so glamorous. I said…’

  ‘What is it, Shirley?’ Jennifer asked.

  Eyes wide, Shirley and Connie looked at each other, then turned to Jennifer.

  ‘What Shirley said was that Bob looked like a movie star and he could’ve attended any embassy function. The reason we’re here right now, by the way, is that we met two Russian embassy men today. I saw them at the funeral. Nikolay and Boris would very much like to meet Bob’s family.’

  ‘Boris! I’m flabbergasted, it has to be the same Boris I met at a Russian embassy cocktail party when Uncle Bob came to Paris.’ Jennifer told them. ‘And they’re here — in town?’

  ‘Amazing,’ Sofie said. ‘I’ve got goose bumps. But surely they didn’t come all this way from Paris.’

  ‘They’re in the Canberra embassy now,’ Shirley said.

  Jennifer’s brain hurtled from one incident to the next. ‘They didn’t happen to mention a bloke called Vladimir, did they?’

  Sofie gasped.

  Connie shook her head, reached forward and gathered a frock, feeling the fabric. ‘I adored making these. Bob was so much fun.’

  ‘Connie, I have an idea, but I’d like your, and Shirley’s, approval.’

  *

  By mid-morning the following day, Jennifer found time to take out a couple of tall glasses of refreshing homemade lemonade and crushed ice to the courtyard. Brock, who had helped clean up the courtyard of builder’s rubble, was now helping Sofie prepare the garden beds for planting. He stepped forward and took both tall glasses, thanking her with a nod. She moved away into the shadows and was about to go inside when she saw Brock put his glass down on a nearby table. He extended the other glass towards Sofie. Jennifer watched, fascinated, as Brock took one of Sofie’s hands and wrapped her fingers around the sweating glass. He took her other hand and placed it underneath, making sure it wouldn’t slip and crash to the pavers. Once she had a firm grip on her lemonade, he let go of her, picked up his own glass and drank it down. Eyes wide, Sofie looked at the big powerful man, too stunned to drink her lemonade.

  Brock dragged his eyes away from Sofie, swung to face Jennifer and with a sweet smile he lifted his glass and said, ‘The best,’ His deep voice rolled like thunder.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Jennifer smiled. ‘In a couple of hours, Calum will show you where you can shower and change for dinner.’ He gave her a quick nod, emptied his glass and handed it back to Jennifer. She took it, winked at her sister and walked back inside, and with Claudia and Michelle’s help, organised a scrumptious smorgasbord lunch. Normally not a problem, but now her head swam with Sofie and Brock and…exciting possibilities.

  An hour before their guests arrived, Jennifer called out to everyone telling them it was time to spruce up.

  Now everything was set and Jennifer nervously waited by her open restaurant door, Calum by her side, his arm around her waist. She saw her guests down near the town hall come into view, and her body tightened reflexively.

  Bending down, Calum whispered in her ear, ‘Relax, it’ll be fine.’ Then gave her a reassuring kiss on the temple.

  Connie, Shirley, a lady she didn’t know and two men all came striding up the footpath.

  Jennifer took a deep breath to dampen a rush of anxiety, and hoped her plan wouldn’t backfire.

  Connie’s big smile and tight hug helped a little, before she stepped back to introduce the strangers. ‘Jennifer, Calum, I’d like you to meet Bob’s Canberra friends, Boris, Nikolay and Anna, Nikolay’s wife.’

  Anna whose photo they’d found in the cellar, which meant Nikolay was the singing drunk.

  After big smiles and handshakes all around, Jennifer ushered everyone inside to meet the rest of the family. She noticed Boris admiring the large black and white photos of her uncle’s favourite movie stars that she’d taken down to hang in the restaurant for everyone to enjoy.

  With lunch over Jennifer finally had a moment to study the eleven people sitting around the living room chatting and drinking coffee. Brock handed Nikolay the photo of his wife, Anna, that she’d found in the cellar. Boris looked over his friend’s shoulder, grinning. Bret, Michelle and Claudia were talking and laughing. Connie, Shirley and Anna were discussing fabrics. Brock stood next to Sofie, his big hands around a beer. He tried to keep his expression blank, but by his stance gave everything away. Jennifer smiled at the magnetism between her sister and the local police officer.

  She sighed, hoping what she witnessed was real, and turned away to address her guests. ‘Where do I start?’ she began.

  Boris looked up. She caught his smiling eyes and with a backward nod beckoned for him to join her. He excused himself to Nikolay and Brock and came towards her.

  ‘Calum, can you and Sofe look after this lot?’

  ‘Not a problem.’ He looked at the tall, debonair Boris and smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried, mate.’

  Jennifer kissed Calum on the cheek. ‘C
ome with me, Boris.’

  He offered his arm and said, ‘Please, take.’

  Jennifer slipped her arm through his and together they walked into the pink, girlie bedroom. Boris faltered; she tightened her hold on his arm and noticed a look of shock on his face.

  ‘I know. It’s over the top. I learnt yesterday it wasn’t Uncle Bob’s idea of decor.’

  ‘No, no, not his taste.’ Boris shook his head, eyes wide.

  ‘I have something to show you that was his taste, and I’m pretty sure this won’t shock you…I hope.’ She took his hand. ‘Come with me.’ She opened the closet, pulled him in and slid open the back panel. ‘It’s all easy once you know where everything is.’

  ‘I feel strange,’ Boris said. ‘I smell my dear friend Bob. But what is this place? It’s so dark.’ His voice shook with sadness.

  ‘I’m sorry, Boris.’ Jennifer reached down for the torch left in its usual spot on the floor. ‘I didn’t mean for you to grieve all over again. Before I switch on the torch, think of this room as a celebration of Bob’s life. Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, light please.’

  ‘Voila!’ And the room sparkled.

  Boris gasped. His hands came up to cup his face. ‘Veronica’s beautiful gowns…Choodnee. Beautiful.’

  ‘You’ve seen all these before, haven’t you, Boris?’

  He smiled through his tears. ‘Yes,’ he said. He took a couple of steps closer to touch the frocks. ‘Some, not all.’

  ‘Boris, do you have another name too? Like Bob, who became Veronica?’

  ‘No one knows, but yes, I am Marilyn. I gave Bob a Marilyn Monroe key-ring for present. Something from me,’ Boris said, hand on his chest.

  ‘Oh Boris, that’s so beautiful. Bob has left something for you.’ Jennifer turned to get the small, carved wooden box and handed it to him. She ran her hand over the name printed there: Marilyn. ‘I haven’t opened it. I thought Marilyn was another favourite Hollywood star my uncle loved to dress up as, but now I know the box is yours.’

  Boris gazed at it and smiled. He put it aside and opened his arms for Jennifer. She stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back.

  ‘We are a pair, yes? Both weeping like old ladies.’ Boris gave a deep, throaty chuckle. ‘I am all right now.’ He opened the box and seemed relieved. Inside were photos of Boris and Bob, some letters, and neatly labelled discs bundled together with a rubber band. ‘Thank you for everything. In the wrong hands this information would ruin my career, and my life.’

  Horrified, Jennifer stared at him. ‘That’s dreadful, but I do understand. Obviously Uncle Bob couldn’t come out either. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been any need for this room. By the way, I happened to try his laptop and I’m sure it’s been wiped. So you don’t have to worry about that either.’

  ‘I must apologise, Nikolay did look around a bit. He may have cleaned laptop.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jennifer slowly nodded as all the little, and not so little, incidents made total sense. ‘So he was the one holed up in the cellar that night — obviously drunk and singing.’

  ‘So sorry, but yes, was Nicky.’ He dipped his head as if a little abashed. ‘So sorry about your apartment too,’ he said, looking remorseful.

  ‘Under the circumstances, I accept your apology, but if I ever come across Vlad again, I think I might have to smack him around. To see my personal belongings thrown all over the place angered me. I felt violated.’

  ‘Vladimir was, how you say, pissed off because you kick him out. Best idea.’ Boris gave her a steady gaze and tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘Was Vlad a plant — a spy?’ Her breath caught, flabbergasted at the idea she’d had a spy in her life, in her home…Shit! In her bed! ‘Did Vlad make reports on me?’

  ‘Do not worry. He had nothing to report.’

  ‘Really?’ Jennifer asked, not certain she wanted to know. ‘Our affair must’ve been ever so boring.’

  ‘No-no, you not boring, ask Nikolay. You are chef, very good chef,’ he added, peering into her eyes to make sure she understood. ‘But not rocket scientist.’ His laugh was more like a low thunder-rumble. Imagining this man in a gown was becoming more and more difficult. ‘Vladimir did other jobs, spying. He, as you say, not the smartest tool in the shed.’ He laughed, adding, ‘Is good saying. He should not have done mess to your home. He got in big trouble.’

  ‘Hang on, how come you knew he made a mess?’

  ‘He told us he felt like big man to trash your home.’

  ‘Oh! — Oh!’ If he’d bragged about ransacking her home, he would’ve bragged about their sex. ‘What else did he say about me, my home?’ My bedroom!

  Boris gave her a blank look.

  ‘Come on, he would’ve said something about how good he was in bed?’ She was feeling antsy now.

  ‘Ugh, he did that all the time, and we did not believe him. Everything he did was rubbish.’

  Jennifer briefly wondered whether that was a slight on her prowess and decided that ignorance was bliss. ‘He’s a moron.’

  ‘Byeazoomyets. Idiot.’

  Dare she ask? But there was no holding back, she had to know. ‘Are you a spy?’

  ‘E!’ Boris shrugged.

  ‘What do you mean, E!’

  ‘We spy, they spy. All a big joke. Whole families in US of A spy.’

  ‘True, I thought at the time how silly to send whole families back after being away from Russia for so long.’

  ‘Yes, especially sad for the children who didn’t grow up there.’

  ‘So Boris, your life as Marilyn, how did you manage with everybody spying on everybody else?’

  ‘I have private apartment,’ he smiled. ‘Spies think I have girlfriend.’ He laughed again. And Jennifer laughed with him.

  ‘Boris, I have a plan and I wonder if you would like to join us? Can you come back next Saturday?’

  *

  It was late Wednesday afternoon when Jennifer finished her dinner preparations in the restaurant’s kitchen. An intimate thank-you meal for Calum turned into dinner for four: seeing as Sofie was there, she could hardly leave out her sister. And then there was Brock, he hadn’t stopped helping Sofie create a pretty cottage garden around the fence line. There were many people in town she’d like to have over for a meal, but where would that end? She decided they’d probably enjoy drinks and finger food just as much.

  Jennifer poured herself a glass of wine and looked through the open upstairs kitchen window. The courtyard’s transformation from a dump to a romantic garden setting was coming together beautifully. Brock was on his knees, his large hand around a tub filled with delicate red petunias; he released the plant from its pot and placed it in the ground, covering the roots with rich soil.

  After covering all the fences in fairy lights, and stringing more in the neighbour’s tree that hung over the six-foot fence, Calum moved away and disappeared from view. Shame, she loved watching his agile body at work.

  Jennifer heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to see Calum come through to the kitchen. He moved behind her, slid an arm around her waist, the other across her chest. He nuzzled her neck behind her ear and softly said, ‘You ready?’

  ‘Hmm, not sure what I should be ready for,’ she giggled.

  ‘Nothing scary.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  His arm around her waist gave her a squeeze before it moved away. In a flash, all the courtyard’s fairy lights came on.

  Dazzling.

  Jennifer softly laughed at the transformation from a dull space to a twinkling, truly romantic setting. She twisted her head and kissed his jaw.

  ‘I’m guessing you like the result,’ his deep voice rumbled behind a smile.

  ‘It’s everything I imagined. It’s all lovely.’

  He dipped his head and found her lips for a light but luscious kiss. Jennifer closed her eyes and rested her forehead in his neck, when he murmured, ‘Do you know what’s going on down there?’

&
nbsp; ‘Where?’ she asked moving her face away from his warm skin.

  ‘Down there,’ he said with a nod to the courtyard.

  Jennifer held her breath. Surrounded by the magic of tiny lights, Sofie and Brock stood barely two feet apart facing each other, not moving, just staring. Sofie dropped her trowel; it clattered on the paving stones and Brock flinched. It seemed to wake him out of a trance, because he took a step forward, picked up the trowel, and offered it back to Sofie. When she didn’t move, Brock’s big hand went to her shoulder. He slowly let his hand move down her arm until he gathered her fingers in his, he gently took her wrist and carefully put the trowel back in her hand, curling her fingers around the handle for her. With a soft look over his shoulder, he moved away to plant another tub of flowers.

  As if in a dream, Sofie looked down at her trowel, shuffled over to her garden bed and using a watering can, watered the newly planted flowers.

  ‘Christ,’ Calum murmured.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jennifer murmured back. ‘Dinner is going to be…interesting.’

  *

  The Grand Opening.

  A rush of adrenalin woke Jennifer. She took a deep breath and lay still for a moment, enjoying the feel of Calum’s chest rising and falling against her back. She twisted around to look at him. He opened one eye slowly.

  ‘What?’ he asked, voice sleepy-warm and inviting.

  ‘I thought I heard something.’ She listened, but all was quiet. ‘It must’ve been my imagination.’

  ‘Come here. I want to fool around with your imagination.’

  ‘Aw,’ Jennifer giggled. ‘You wouldn’t be able to keep up.’

  ‘I’ll give it my best shot,’ he chuckled, deep and husky.

  She lifted his comforting arm from around her waist, leant across his chest and squinted through the dim light at the numbers on her bedside clock. ‘But I’ve only got…six hours.’

  He tucked her in close. ‘I think we can squeeze something in,’ he murmured, and nuzzled her ear.

  She smiled, remembering the previous night when she’d found a dazzling diamond ring in her pumpkin soup. She flexed her fingers to make it sparkle. When she met his gaze, time became irrelevant.