Hold On to Me

by Victoria Purman

  ‘My favourite film of all time.’

  Luca’s hand caressed her shoulder, rough fingers against her cool silk. ‘It’s not a fantasy, you know, that life that George Bailey had. Friends. Family. People who cared about him. That’s what counts at the end of the day. It’s what binds us to other people. It’s what makes us who we are and it makes me happy, having that all around me. But you don’t see that, do you?’

  Stella looked up at him.

  ‘You’re like George at the beginning of the movie—you know that? You only see what you missed out on, not what you have.’

  Stella found the ends of the tie from her dressing gown and knotted them while she thought about his question. ‘I did miss out on a lot as a child. I think … I know that’s left scars that maybe even I still don’t understand. I don’t even know if I remember half of what happened to me, to be honest. There are whole stretches of time that are a blank.’ Stella shivered with the awareness of how big this confession was. She’d told him about her past, but she hadn’t laid out before the link to how she’d treated him, why she was pushing away his love.

  Luca turned to her with searching eyes; she knew he was trying for all the world to understand her. ‘Is that what you want for yourself, some kind of big life, like the guy in the movie wanted? Did you want to get out and see the world, have big adventures?’

  Stella twisted her fingers into knots. ‘I did and look what happened. I nearly lost everything.’

  ‘But you made new adventures, didn’t you? You didn’t let anything beat you.’ Luca nudged her. ‘You did that with Style by Stella. Look at everything you’ve got here. This house. Your shop. Good friends. Your cat. An ex-lover.’

  Stella paused. ‘You’re not talking about Duncan?’

  ‘No.’ Luca moved, lifted his arm from her shoulder, and stood. He looked down at her, so visibly sad that her heart broke at what she’d done to this man. ‘I’m talking about me.’

  ‘You’re such a wonderful man, Luca.’

  ‘There’s always a “but” though, isn’t there?’

  ‘I’m screwed up—not that that’s any big revelation to you, I’m sure, after what I’ve put you through. Every few years, my fucked-up life comes back to haunt me. Just when I think I’m about to be happy … just when I am about to be really happy, it’s all there again. It’s as if some part of me doesn’t want me to be. Some part won’t let me be happy.’

  Luca shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘You ever talked to anyone?’

  ‘I had a social worker when I was a kid. More like a revolving door of social workers, to be honest. And I had Auntie Karen.’

  ‘But you lost her when you were eighteen.’ Then his voice dropped, quiet and serious. ‘You’ve been on your own a long time.’

  She’d been on her own for half her life. Fending for herself. Protecting herself. Creating her suit of armour. Her costume. Her mask. She wished she could stop. She was so tired.

  Her tears ran hot and wet down her face. ‘I need to sort myself out, Luca.’

  He said nothing but looked down at her. They held that moment for a long while. Stella hugging herself on the sofa. Luca standing in front of her, his hands trapped in his pockets.

  He sighed deeply. ‘I’ll ring Anna. She wanted to come and check you out. I’ll let her know you’re okay.’

  ‘Tell her I’m fine. Tell her that … Tell her that I’ve been well looked after by her wonderful brother.’

  Luca’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He picked up his phone and walked to the front door to make the call in private. But he stopped. Looked back to her with a longing that killed her. ‘Stella?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘You could talk to Anna. She’ll know what to do. She’ll help you.’

  Stella breathed, pondering what Luca had said. Could she talk to Anna? She was Luca’s sister and maybe that was too close. But she liked her and she was a Morelli. There was a loyalty about that whole family that Stella couldn’t dispute.

  ‘Okay.’

  And when Luca smiled back at her this time, his eyes shone bright.

  CHAPTER

  36

  ‘Oh my god, bella.’ Anna sat next to Stella, one hand gripping Stella’s fingers tight, the other scrunching a wad of balled-up tissues, dripping with tears. The coffee table in front of them was loaded with a box of fresh tissues, empty coffee cups and a half-eaten packet of biscuits. ‘I would never have known, you know? I mean, look at you. The courage and strength it must have taken for you to survive that childhood and be who you are today … well. You’re something, Stella. You really are.’

  Stella didn’t feel brave or courageous. She felt fragile and shattered, as if she was crumbling into a million pieces. ‘I survived by hiding it, Anna. But that doesn’t make it go away.’

  Anna patted Stella’s hand. ‘I’ve been a doctor long enough to know the people with the biggest secrets are often masters at hiding them. I can’t believe you’ve never talked to anyone about what happened.’

  Stella wiped her eyes. ‘It was easier to pretend my parents were dead than tell everyone the awful truth. You know how people would have looked at me if they’d known my parents were kids when they had me, that they became addicts to escape their dysfunctional lives, that I’d been in foster care? It was hard enough being the new kid in school without all that baggage as well. And then when Auntie Karen died, she left me all she had. I sold the caravan, landed in Sydney with a few thousand dollars in the bank and an even cleaner slate. I wanted to leave it all behind me. And then when everything fell apart there I came back here, thinking it would help. But in so many ways, I’m reminded of who I am here more than anywhere. Where I came from. I wanted to escape back home … but you can’t keep running. Your secrets run right along behind you.’

  ‘And most times, they catch up with you, Stella. I’m so glad you’re at a point in your life where you want to reach out. That’s a really important step.’

  ‘Thank you for listening, for being here for me today.’

  ‘My brother’s pretty convincing.’ Anna smiled, wiping tears from her cheeks.

  ‘Your brother’s pretty wonderful.’

  ‘He is.’ Anna held her shoulders tight and looked at her. ‘Bella, you know what the chances are of you coming through those childhood experiences completely unscathed?’

  Stella shook her head. ‘I’m lucky compared with some. I mean, I had Auntie Karen. I wasn’t even in foster care for that long.’

  ‘But your parents were chaotic and in a terrible mess themselves for the first ten years of your life. Ten years, Stella. From what the experts tell us about child development even the first few months are crucial to a child’s future. What some people end up doing to their own children.’ Anna waved the thought away. ‘I’ve seen it in my practice, so I’m no stranger to what really goes on out there in the world, the struggles people face. But now that Joe and I have Francesca, it makes that all so much sadder. What you experienced, that’s not lucky. That’s neglect and abuse. You know what I was doing when I was ten? I certainly wasn’t watching my father get sent to jail or being told my mother had overdosed. I think I was watching Beverly Hills 90210 and trying to decide if I should marry Brandon or Dylan.’

  ‘I was Brandon all the way.’ Stella smiled at that memory, surprised she’d found it.

  ‘Ah, Brandon. The nice guy,’ Anna noted.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Oh, I was definitely a Dylan girl.’ Anna reached for another biscuit and talked while she chewed. ‘Here’s something I really want you to understand. You are not alone. The things that happened to you? They were not your fault and they have happened to thousands of others. The lessons you learnt from them, and the love you had from your aunt—all that made you what you are today. Look at you now. You’re smart. You own a business and a home. You have an incredible eye for style and you happen to be gorgeous, inside and out. You, more than anyone, know about suffering and that gives you a unique per
spective on other people’s lives. That, my darling friend, is a gift.’

  ‘I don’t know if I’m that smart.’ Stella sniffed and covered her eyes with her palms, breathing deep, her shoulders shuddering and her heart aching.

  ‘Oh, stop being coy.’

  ‘No, I mean … Luca told me he loves me and—’

  ‘Of course he does,’ Anna interrupted.

  ‘—and I broke up with him.’

  Anna was uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. ‘You don’t love him?’

  If Stella wasn’t mistaken, Anna’s heartbroken face mirrored her brother’s. ‘Oh god, more than anything. He’s the best man I’ve ever met. But he deserves someone else. Someone easy. Why would he want to be with me when I have all this … this baggage I need to sort out? And Luca … he’ll be such a wonderful father. You know how he is with Francesca. I could never ask him to give that up just because I don’t want children.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  Stella shook her head. ‘No. This is all too much for any man to bear. I’m way too much like hard work.’

  ‘Stella, darling,’ Anna sighed and patted her hand as she sniffed away her tears, ‘we’re totally worth it.’

  ‘I thought I’d be okay, you know? I thought maybe I was ready. But the demons still haunt me, Anna. Even after all these years. I need to exorcise them but I don’t know where to start.’

  Anna picked up her phone and dialled a number. ‘I do.’

  Luca was covered head to toe in one hundred and twenty years of dust. He’d spent all Saturday ripping up the carpets in his terrace house, using a lever to grab at the edges so he could pull and rip at the carpet and underfelt with his bare hands. He’d tugged and ripped and dust and flecks of felt and carpet strands had floated into the air, into his hair and into his throat, and were still clinging to the sweat dripping from his body. The skip out the front of his house was half loaded already and it would be full by the end of the day. Luca had had plenty of offers of help, from his sisters and Joe, from his soccer mates. But he needed to do this alone. He needed to do something, anything, to distract himself from Stella.

  He wound his fingers around a shredded edge of carpet and tugged. It gave way with a satisfying tear. So Stella had talked to Anna. Had she revealed details about her past? It was none of his business, he knew, what Stella talked about with her doctor, but he was crazy with missing her and even just talking to Anna about her would go halfway to making him feel better. When Stella broke up with him, she’d said she had to get her life sorted out. How long would that take? He had no fucking clue and she hadn’t given him one. So the house renovation was taking the place of her—and of sex. And what a woeful substitute it was turning out to be.

  Another strip of carpet gave way under his grip and sling-shotted Luca backwards. With an echoing thud he fell, half on his arse, half on his right shoulder. He lay on the floor for a minute, coughing up the dust, getting his breath back. When he pressed his palm to the exposed hardwood floor to get a purchase to stand, there was a twinge. He turned over and used his left side, then stood and did a circle with his right arm, slowly and cautiously. He’d be fine.

  Well, his arm would be fine, anyway.

  He propped his fists on his hips and took a good look around the front room. His thoughts drifted back to the night Stella had told him her story. They’d stood right about where he was now, considering the wallpaper. He’d watched her standing there, his heart almost bursting out of his chest with pride at having a house of his own and having her in it. That night, he’d thought they were at the beginning of something. He’d felt good in about a million different ways at having her in his life.

  That fucking wallpaper. He’d planned to get rid of it until Stella told him she liked it.

  Last time he’d been dumped, he’d got a tattoo. For a fleeting moment, he thought about getting another one. But it wasn’t ink he wanted permanently on his body. It was Stella Ryan.

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Stella slung her handbag over her shoulder and clutched her car keys.

  ‘Hells yeah,’ Molly replied with a smile as she planted her elbows on the front counter of Style by Stella and threw the owner a beaming smile. Today she was wearing black platform wedges, black leggings and a Japanese-inspired grey smock she’d designed and made herself. She looked stunning. ‘You go and do what you’ve got to do up in Adelaide, Stella. Didn’t I prove the other day when you were sick that I can handle the shop?’

  Stella looked at her protégée with great pride. ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘I love it when you’re not here. I can close my eyes and pretend it’s my shop!’

  Stella laughed out loud. She understood the feeling exactly. She’d experienced the same sensation when she’d worked in other people’s boutiques in Sydney.

  ‘If you need anything, call me. I might have my phone off for a little while but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. And if a pipe bursts or something terrible happens, you know where Summer is. And call Courtney if it’s police-level serious. She’s primed and ready to spring into action if we need her.’

  ‘I’ll remember. Now go,’ Molly urged her. ‘Everything will be fine.’

  ‘Right.’ The kid would handle things here until she returned in the early afternoon. She could do this. She was trying to learn how to trust people. She wouldn’t have thought it was possible to leave her shop in someone else’s hands until she’d been ill and Luca had organised everything so well. It had been a small step but an important one.

  ‘See when you get back.’ Molly waved as Stella turned to leave.

  Stella tried to ignore the quiver of nerves in her chest. ‘Bye, Molly.’

  An hour later, Stella had pulled up outside a modern office building in one of Adelaide’s inner suburbs. She gave her name to the receptionist and didn’t have to wait long before a door opened and a tall, slim woman emerged with a folder in her hand.

  ‘Stella?’

  Stella looked up from the gossipy magazine she’d been trying to read and allowed herself a nervous smile before she stood, smoothed down her skirt with quivering fingers, and followed the sensible heels into the closest office.

  CHAPTER

  37

  It was raining on the first Monday in February in Port Elliot, a drizzling and sombre indicator that the best of summer was almost over. School holidays had ended and when the families left, the grey nomads arrived, and then the locals emerged once again and filled the coffee shops and the supermarkets, the chemist and the butcher shop. The pace of life got a little slower, much to everyone’s relief after a busy few months, and there was a sense in Port Elliot that there was room to breathe again.

  Stella stood in the doorway of her shop, her arms crossed, inhaling the smell of the rain from the quiet street. It had been a dry January and everyone was glad of the reprieve. She was glad of it in another way too. She’d had her most successful summer ever. Turnover was up thirty per cent, and she’d managed to bank enough to give her a buffer to survive a quiet winter. It wasn’t all downhill from there, either—she knew that. If the weather was kind at Easter, the town would be full of people again, and long weekends and school holidays would bring more crowds too.

  Today should have felt like an ending, but Stella let herself feel that it was the beginning of something new. Molly had returned to school, but was going to be working on Sundays in Style by Stella. Stella’s psychologist had suggested it, as a way of letting go, of learning to trust other people, of giving herself a break from the seven-day-a-week workload of owning her own business.

  It was a start. A good start. And she was looking forward to having a day off each week. She wasn’t yet sure what she would fill it with; since she and Luca had ended things, she wasn’t sure if it was right to want to spend it with him, no matter how much she wanted to.

  But she wasn’t ready yet to invite him back into her life. She had work to do on herself, on resolving her pa
st and the mysteries of her childhood. She’d continued seeing her psychologist and had been doing some reading and some hard thinking and things were starting to feel like they were falling into place. She felt on firmer ground. It wasn’t in her power to change her history but perhaps it was in her power to try to understand it.

  She needed to get to the bottom of what had happened to her and she felt ready to do that now, with the help of her psychologist. It was time to confront her demons so she could bury them. The time for running was over. That’s why she’d requested a copy of her files from the state government department that had responsibility for child protection. Officially, in government-speak anyway, the Minister had been her guardian until she’d turned eighteen; and there were files filled with every detail on her life up to that point.

  When she closed the shop for the day and sauntered home, she saw a thick, yellow envelope on her front doormat, clearly too bulky for her letterbox. She knew immediately what it was.

  She stared at it for a moment, her name typewritten on a white label, stuck at an angle on the envelope, then slowly bent to pick it up.

  Stella Marie Smith.

  That was her name. Her birth name. She hadn’t been known by it since she’d adopted Auntie Karen’s last name when she’d moved to Middle Point and become Stella Ryan. That had been a way of leaving her past behind, or so they’d thought at the time. But it was her name, and it encapsulated a past that was buried deep in her, in every cell in her body, in every smile and in every tear she’d ever shed.

  Stella held the bulging envelope in her hands, and felt the weight of the secrets within it.

  It was time she found out the truth.

  The papers were new and white, photocopied records of the originals. Stella had unpacked them on her dinner table, not before pouring herself a glass of wine. She figured she would need it. She slowly sat, squared the pile in front of her, and began to read.