Beautiful Abomination

by Frances Duncan

  “How did you know it was the last time?” her voice was almost a whisper, she didn’t want to break the spell.

  “I don’t know.” Kate shrugged. “I just did. I suspected but I didn’t know he was with her or I wouldn’t have—I don’t agree with cheating. You have an open relationship? Fine. But they don’t have that sort of arrangement.” She gave a hollow laugh. “The stupid bastard. I could completely destroy his life, I know everything! About her, about him, about their kids! Things I shouldn't know. Honestly, I’m starting to question whether they were ever separated in the first place. Ha! You can’t even trust the good ones. I don’t know why I did, but it’s not a mistake I’ll make again. Don’t trust men, Josie, and teach Patsy not to, too.” She seemed to run out of steam at this point. “Maybe we can save her at least.”

  “Do you love him?” Josie wasn’t sure she really wanted to know the answer.

  “How would I know?” Kate shrugged. “I’ve never been in love. I don’t know how to recognise it. Surely this can’t be it. Something so beautiful and wonderful shouldn't hurt so much.” She sighed. “I wanted to meet his kids. He talked about it. A lot. But it was just talking. It never fucking happened.”

  Josie didn’t know how to answer so she refilled Kate’s empty glass.

  Kate took a gulp of wine then her face lit up. “Let’s switch tacks here. Tell me about your father.”

  Josie reeled a little from the change of subject. She frowned, it hadn’t occurred to her to even consider her father. Her “mother” had told her he loved them both very much but was taken away by God. “He’s dead.”

  “OK. What’s his name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well that fits with the birth certificate at least. Where’s he buried?”

  “I don’t know.” Josie picked up a cushion and hugged it to her chest.

  “Didn’t your Mum ever take you to see him?”

  “Never. She did light a candle for him at church but that was it.” She punched the cushion. “How did I not realise that I know nothing about my father?”

  “You had your Mum.” Kate tried to console her. “She was awesome, from what you said. You didn’t need a Dad. You know, he never said one nice thing about her. He even said she’s a bad mother!”

  Josie understood they hadn’t completely left the ex-boyfriend. “Is that why he went back, because of his kids?”

  “They’re teenagers, old enough to make a choice. One of them lived with him, it seemed like the other one wanted to, too.”

  “It’s a stressful time at the moment. Makes sense he’d want to be with his kids, make sure they’re OK. Every time there’s an earthquake I worry about Patricia.”

  Kate gave her a sympathetic look then switched topic again. “How did your Dad die?”

  “That I do know. Car crash.” Josie’s grip on the cushion loosened as she mused. “Or maybe he was hit by a car.” Had he really died in a car accident?

  “That isn’t necessarily the same thing.” Kate pointed out.

  “I guess so. What if he was abusive and she left him? No, wait. I still don’t even know who my mother is. It would be someone else dealing with an abusive husband.”

  “She could be an aunt, or a cousin, or a sister...a family friend? No, same surname, definitely family...If she had a name change, it’ll show up on the birth certificate you ordered.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I read up on it. A birth certificate shows all previous names.”

  “Huh.” Kate had done her homework, Josie was impressed.

  “Do you know when he died? We could do a search for deaths in Christchurch with a car involved.”

  “Would that bring anything up?” A thought niggled at the back of her mind. She could show Kate the biscuit tin. For the first time she remembered the letter, there could be more in there too.

  “In the newspapers maybe. Articles or obits.” Kate pulled the laptop back and wriggled in her seat.

  Josie wasn’t ready to see what else the tin contained, not yet. “It was before I was born. So, 1973. I think-I think his last name might be Pritchard.”

  Kate looked at her curiously. “OK...We'll search 72/73.” She typed on the computer then groaned in frustration. “Nothing. The papers aren’t online. We’ll have to go in to look at them.” She flung herself back in her seat. “What—what is this?” Kate produced a book from behind her back. “This just stabbed me.”

  Josie took the book off her. “Sorry about that. I must have left it there.”

  “Have you ever thought about getting ebooks?”

  “Yeah but I have to pay for those. The free ones are either terribly written or weird Christian romances that leave out all the...” She looked down. “You know, the good parts.”

  “Josie! You read romance novels for the sex scenes!” Kate slapped her on the upper arm. “I never would have thought it of you. I’m impressed.”

  “No, not the sex scenes! I just like when they kiss, that’s all.”

  Kate snorted. “But why are the people on the cover wearing those outfits? I imagine it’d be hard to get out of those clothes.”

  “It’s a historical romance.”

  “The setting makes it more romantic?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure, who doesn’t love a time when women had no power? Not to mention the hygiene standards—”

  “I don’t like contemporary,” Josie interrupted and shrugged. “In some of them the couple are in bed by the second page. There's no build-up, no suspense.”

  “Just unmitigated fucking?” Kate grinned.

  Josie ignored her. “It lacks mystery, it lacks romance. Plus, all the characters are fabulously wealthy.”

  “Are they all maids in the historical ones, getting rogered by their betters?”

  Josie shuddered. “No, but somehow all the characters, or at least the main ones, being rich seems less ridiculous in another time. But the person always loves them for them not their money.”

  “It almost sounds nice.” Kate’s voice was wistful.

  Josie drew a deep breath. “It sounds like this breakup is really hard on you.”

  “Ha! He can fuck up his own life as much as he likes, he can fuck up his kids but he doesn’t get to fuck up my life or fuck me. Not anymore.” She drained the glass. “It’s like that fucking Amy Winehouse song. God, how pathetic am I?”

  “I never listened to her music till after she died. I only saw on the news about drunken antics and I wasn’t impressed. But her music...I can’t even...”

  “Beautiful, right?” Kate considered her empty glass. “It doesn’t even seem real. I thought that he...cared...for me. He acted like he did.” She held her glass up for a refill.

  “I think I need to get another bottle.”

  16

  20 July 2009

  Someone was swearing. Someone with an immaculate English accent better suited to reciting poetry. Josie frowned; no one in the office was English. The closest was an Irish guy who proved every stereotype about Irishmen by becoming more difficult to understand when he was drunk or excited.

  Rising from her chair Josie peered around the office, the desks nearby were empty. There was a big meeting on that morning; the new guy who she hadn't met yet was giving his 90-day plan to the team. It was a ridiculous new initiative by management to create “empowered employees.” She was glad it hadn’t been around when she started. What on earth would she have said? Her plan was to process the invoices then pay them, as simple as that.

  The swearing had turned to begging. “Please, please, please don't do this to me. Not today.”

  What the hell is going on?

  She really needed to focus. The payments had to go out today.

  There was a bang and Josie flinched.

  “You stupid son-of-a...”

  There was a click and the sound of a drawer being closed. With a sense of relief Josie realised what was happening. The man with the sexy accent was fighting with th
e printer. This was something she could fix.

  Josie hurried from behind her desk. “Can I help?” she asked as she neared the printer.

  The man jumped and turned around. “Uh – it wouldn’t hurt. It’s my first day and this stupid thing....” he trailed off and moved aside.

  Josie took his place in front of the display screen. She performed her regular dance; opening each panel, checking for paper, then closing firmly, the same process then repeated on each drawer.

  “And...there you go,” she said as the printer whirred back to life.

  “How did you do that?” he asked in disbelief.

  “I am intimately acquainted with the intricacies of this...printer.”

  He laughed and Josie felt a replying smile light up her face. He wasn’t traditionally cute but he wasn’t bad looking. Every man looked good in a suit.

  “I’m Josie.” She held out her hand.

  “I thought I'd met everyone on Friday.” His hand touched hers. “Dave.”

  “I was sick.”

  “Not swine flu, is it?” He made a show of leaning back from her, their hands still clasped.

  “No. Just a cold, I went to my doctor. Ordinarily I'd be in this meeting.” She indicated the meeting room with her chin. “But I have a lot to catch up. It’s pay run.”

  “You, Josie, are a lifesaver.” He turned her hand and raised it. “A goddess amongst women.” He kissed the air above her hand.

  Everything stood still for a moment then the printer beeped, breaking the spell.

  “I will buy you a coffee.” He dropped her hand, picked up his printing and walked backwards towards the meeting room, spreading his arms. “If I had the money I'd buy you a castle.”

  “A coffee will be fine,” she called after him.

  David grinned in response and turned to enter the meeting room.

  Josie found herself grinning too. She patted the printer. “Don't worry, I'll teach him how to treat you properly.”

  There was a warm glow inside as she returned to her desk.

  “THANK YOU FOR SAVING me this morning,” David said as they sat down with their coffees.

  “Thank you for the coffee.” Josie saluted him with her cup. “How did it go?”

  “Good. I think. It was a bit like being interviewed again but by a lot more people. How did your...ah...marathon go?”

  “Marathon?”

  “You said something about running?”

  Josie laughed. “The pay run. All invoices were accounted for.”

  “Finance humour. Nice.” He got her joke. No one ever got her jokes. “That makes a lot more sense. I was so stressed out I don’t think I was really listening.”

  They were both silent, drinking their coffee. Josie began to wonder whether she should excuse herself, saying she still had work to do. She noticed he kept hold of his cup like he was ready to run.

  “So, tell me,” David asked, “what do I need to know to survive here?”

  “‘Here’ as in New Zealand or ‘here’ as in the office?”

  “How do you know I’m not a Kiwi?” David pretended to be offended.

  “Your accent tipped me off.” She wanted to ask how long he’d been in the country, how old he was. She guessed a few years younger than her.

  “I bow to an intellect greater than mine.” He bowed from his waist, still seated. “I meant at work.”

  “Well...the printer can be temperamental but you got that memo.”

  David nodded. “I got that one loud and clear.”

  “If you want anything paid or to check if anything’s been paid, you see me.” Josie pointed at herself.

  “Do you pay me too?”

  Josie shook her head. “No, that’s HR. Wendy, specifically. And AR gets other people to pay us.”

  “And AR is...?”

  OK, maybe he was younger than she thought or had never worked in a finance team before. “Accounts Receivable. They send our customers invoices so they can pay us. There’s a team of them, they sit near me.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “I’m not sure you need to know that much.” Josie sipped her coffee and considered her answer. “On the people front, Mary is really good if you want to know something, but she can’t keep a secret.”

  David leant forward in his seat. “Can you keep a secret, Josie?”

  “I’d like to think so.” She leant forward too. “Although I have already let slip the best coffee place. It’s a closely guarded secret.”

  “I was terrified this morning,” David confessed.

  “So, it isn’t normal for you to beat up an inanimate object?”

  “That printer was out to get me,” he protested, throwing his hands up.

  “I’m sure it was.” She sat back in her seat trying to hide her smile.

  “I’m glad I made a friend on my first day.” David smiled back at her.

  17

  22 May 1992

  The new part-timer was cute. Young too, and drinking heavily. She looked out of place, leaning against the kitchen bench, stiff and awkward. He’d seen her drink her fourth glass of wine when he approached her.

  ‘Hi, I’m Gary.” He held out his hand. “Welcome to the office.”

  “Josie.” She brightened, as if relieved. Clearly she hadn’t been warned off him yet.

  He checked her out her as she shook his hand. She wore jeans and a white blouse - Gary calculated he could have her out of them within an hour. He loved monthly drinks, he’d already bagged most of the single women in the office...some of the attached ones too. He gave a nod to a former conquest who looked away, twisting her wedding ring.

  “Have we met before?” It wasn’t just a line, she was familiar. He was trying to remember where he’d seen her but was having no luck.

  “Maybe you’ve seen me around the office?” She offered. “I work on the fourth floor.”

  “No, that’s not it.” He took a swig of beer.

  “Maybe at church?”

  He lowered his beer slowly. Just his luck, a religious type. Still, he’d have her screaming for God pretty soon. He shook his head.

  “Maybe I just have one of those faces.” Josie shrugged.

  “Maybe.” It was her lips, those pouty kissable lips. She reminded him of a girl he’d slept with years ago. Her name was Jo too. “This is your first one of these, right?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced around the room as if to ask ‘is it that obvious?’

  “How do you like working here?”

  “It’s good. The people are nice. It’s not what I want to do though. It’s just to make ends meet since...” Her face darkened momentarily and she emptied her glass “...while I’m at Uni.”

  Interesting, her financial situation obviously bothered her. Gary filed that away in case he needed it later. “What are you studying?”

  “Literature. Though it’s been suggested that I switch to accounting and keep working here.” She smiled.

  In his head he unbuttoned her shirt slowly revealing her plain white, good-girl bra. He bet she’d go off like a rocket, teeth sinking into her full lower lip, the quiet ones always did.

  “Are you in second year?”

  “First.”

  Ouch, he smothered a wince, she was young. Still, she was legal. “Plenty of time to change track if you wanted to. But you seem like a woman who knows her own mind.” He smiled his lady-killer smile and she blushed.

  18

  11 December 2009

  Josie stepped into the skirts of her dress. “Wouldn’t you love to wear something like this?” she asked as she pulled them up.

  Patricia snorted from her place on the bed. “Maybe ten years ago, Mum. I’m not six anymore.”

  “Well, you’re still my little princess,” Josie teased, remembering princess-themed birthday parties, little girls in tiaras running through the house.

  Patricia rolled her eyes. “These days I’d rather be Kate Middleton. She’s going to marry a real prince.”


  “Don’t let your Aunt hear you say that. A guy at work called her ‘waity-Katie’. I’m surprised he got out of it alive.” Josie adjusted the bodice of the gown and tried to tighten the back.

  “I think I’ve learnt how to avoid her rants by now.” She flopped back on the bed and started playing with the ends of her hair.

  “You’ve got to teach me how to do that. Could you help lace me into this?” Josie backed towards her daughter, holding the dress up with her hand.

  Patricia groaned and sat up. “This corset is rocking,” she said as she grasped the laces. “I want one but without the big skirt.”

  “I’m not buying you a corset.” She stumbled as Patricia pulled the laces tight.

  “You get to wear one, why can’t I?” Tug. “You get to go out, why can’t I?” Tug.

  “You know why.”

  “What sort of teacher makes an assignment due on a Monday?” Tug. “It’s cruel,” tug, “and unusual,” tug, “punishment.” Sigh. “Just let me tie this...done.”

  Josie turned and put her palms out as if to ask her daughter's opinion. “I bet some kids don’t do a thing till Sunday night. I don’t like you pulling all-nighters.”

  “Why are you going out anyway? You never go out.” Patricia pulled the top of the dress and tried to adjust Josie’s breasts.

  Josie slapped her hands away. “I’ll do that. It’s a work thing.”

  “How about I wait up for you?” Patricia suggested.

  Josie turned and walked towards the mirror. Her hands down the front of her dress, shifting her breasts into place, she answered, “You’ll be in bed by nine then.”

  JOSIE HADN’T UNDERSTOOD why her novels described men as naked or stripped from the waist up (why didn’t they just say shirtless?) till she saw David. There was something so intimate, so shocking, about seeing his bare chest.

  The exposed skin was lightly dusted with hair, something Josie had never appreciated before. There was a slight definition in his shoulders, not like a bodybuilder, but enough to notice. His stomach was flat, with a dark trail of hair leading from his belly button into the waistband of his pants. She understood for the first time why it was called the glory trail because - glory! A dark part of her mind imagined tracing that line with a finger, her tongue. Her face heated; she was sure it wasn't just the mask she was wearing.