The Things We Never Knew

by Megan Mayfair

  She looked up. She’d not noticed a wedding ring. Was he married with kids? Surely not. They were too young for that, weren’t they? “Your kids?” she asked, hesitantly.

  “My sister’s.”

  Michelle nodded. His sister had been in a grade between Pete and Lauren. That was the thing with a big family—usually, there was some overlap in year levels or football teams or dance lessons with other families.

  She handed the customer his coffee. “Are you sure I can’t make you one of these?” she asked Leon, pointing towards the silver travelling mug with a black rubber lid he was holding.

  “Thanks. A latte would be good.” He handed her the cup. “I’m due back on-site soon otherwise I’d stay and catch up.”

  She ground the coffee beans. “Are you working on the apartment building that Steve is?” This was perhaps the project Clare had mentioned.

  “That’s right. I’m doing some security locks now, and then I’ll come back later when it’s ready for handover.”

  After pouring the milk into the silver cup, she pushed the lid down and handed it to him, once again taking a second to appreciate his arms. He must work out regularly, or maybe his job kept him fit. Perhaps if she had become Steve’s slave, she could have kept fit and been able to check out Leon at the same time.

  Goodness. Was she really perving on Leon?

  “Thanks.” He placed the money on the counter. “Great to see you, Michelle.”

  “You too.” It had been nice to wander down Memory Lane. She often thought that things around here didn’t change, but perhaps they did. Leon was evidence of that. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

  “Absolutely.” He grinned. “Good luck with the new job!”

  He walked away, a strange reminder of her school days coming back to her in an unexpected, yet extremely pleasant way.

  Chapter 8

  Bebe looked around the café. Where was Michelle? Despite her initial hesitation and moment of sheer panic in the alleyway near Espresso Walk, she had made a return. After going through the box stashed in the back of her mother’s wardrobe, it was even clearer that there were too many unanswered questions.

  “Are you all right?” Cole asked. “What are you looking for?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Bebe slid her chair closer into the table. “Just taking it in. It’s such a nice place.”

  “I agree,” a cheerful voice said.

  Bebe looked up to find Harry standing next to the table holding a jug of iced water and sliced lemon.

  “You came back?” He poured glasses of water for her and Cole.

  “The coffee was so good,” she said. It had been, and she could hardly reveal the real reason she was there.

  “Great to hear. What can I get you?”

  After they placed their orders and Harry returned to the counter, Cole leaned forward. “Barista boy has a crush on you. He’s been unable to take his eyes off you. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t burn his hand on the machine he’s so distracted.”

  Bebe waved her hand, dismissively. “I’m only here for a couple of months. There’s not enough time for anything like that.”

  Cole raised his eyebrows. “Why not? Nothing wrong with a bit of a fling. He’s cute.”

  She looked across the room at Harry. He smiled at her, which she returned.

  “Ask him out,” Cole urged.

  She wasn’t sure about that. She didn’t want any complications. Bebe turned back to her colleague. “Hey, what are you doing on Friday night? Do you want to come to the opening night of the exhibition my mother has put together?”

  “Walk me through it.” He sat back in his chair. “By opening night, what do you mean? Canapés and wine, or just free tickets?”

  “The first. Fancy food, lots of champagne, the odd celebrity sighting.”

  “I’m in.”

  “According to my mother’s assistant, I have five tickets so bring Jordan, if he’s free.”

  “Thanks. He’ll like that.” Cole nodded his head towards the counter. “You should ask coffee boy to join us.”

  “Maybe.” She wasn’t planning to, but hoped this would get Cole off her back.

  Harry returned with their coffee orders. “Macchiato and the soy latte.”

  “Do you like art?”

  Bebe kicked Cole under the table. What was he doing? She didn’t need Cole going rogue and playing matchmaker for her.

  Harry shrugged. “Depends on the art.”

  “Bebe’s mother, Petra, is curating the new collection at the National Gallery of Victoria.”

  Harry turned to Bebe. “Really? That’s cool. Is that the Picasso exhibit?”

  “That’s the one,” Cole said.

  Bebe kicked Cole again, but he just smiled at her sweetly. “Bebe, weren’t you just saying you had some tickets? Seeing as … err … I’m sorry, what’s your name?” He peered up at Harry.

  “Harry.”

  “That’s right. Seeing as Harry is such a fan of Pablo.”

  She glanced at Harry, whose eyes were on her and his smile crooked. “Err, yes. Actually, there’s an official opening on Friday night if you’d like to come.”

  “With her, that is,” Cole said. “I’m attached.”

  Bebe glared at him. Why had he said that? Now Harry would think it was some sort of a date. “There’s a group of us going, and you’d be welcome to join us. They usually have nice food and champagne at the opening.”

  “That would be great. I am a bit of a fan, actually, and had meant to go and see it when it was open,” Harry said.

  “Great. I’ll drop the ticket in here tomorrow, if that suits?” Bebe asked.

  “I’ll shout you lunch to say thanks.”

  As he walked back to the counter, Cole leaned in to her. “Told you. He’s smitten.”

  “Cole,” she warned. “That wasn’t fair. You put him on the spot and you made it sound like it was a date.”

  He scoffed and took a sip from his coffee. “You get a date and a free lunch with the coffee boy out of this, and he gets a night out with a babe. Not a bad deal for anyone.”

  Bebe watched Harry speak with a customer. Cole was right. It wasn’t a bad deal. Harry was attractive and seemed like fun. She wasn’t here for long, but perhaps it would be nice to date a little.

  Cole dropped a folder on Bebe’s desk. “Here’s the no-no list for Andrea.”

  She flinched. She’d been immersed in her work since they’d returned from their coffee break at Espresso Walk. “A what?”

  “A no-no list. These are things that cannot go anywhere in her designs.”

  Bebe skimmed it and looked up at Cole. “Zippers?”

  “No. Only buttons.”

  She continued to read. “Sequins?”

  His eyes widened. “No! Absolutely not. Don’t even mention the word sequin to her, or you’ll see the biggest adult tantrum you can imagine.”

  “It’s just a sequin. It’s a plastic disc. What’s the problem with it?” She hadn’t planned on using sequins at all, but now she’d been told she couldn’t, she wanted to.

  “Try telling her that.”

  The door swung open. Bebe glanced up as Michelle stood in the doorway, waving and grinning madly.

  She’d really shown up? Despite any hesitations, Michelle was so friendly and childlike, Bebe couldn’t help but smile, and wave back.

  “Who’s that?” Cole asked.

  “Michelle. She works with Harry at the cafe.” Bebe walked over to Michelle. “You came!”

  “I’m on the late shift at work and figured I’d stop by here first. This is gorgeous!” She ran her hand over a gown and gave a gasp. “This is so fancy!”

  “Let me show you around.”

  She introduced Michelle to the team, and she gestured to a small retail section they offered.

  “This is beautiful.” Michelle sighed over a silk dress. “I have nowhere to wear it, but it’s beautiful.”

  “Find an occasion.”

  “I really don’
t think I can afford much though. I returned home from studying in Canada totally broke.” Michelle continued to flick through the dresses, murmuring in delight at each gown. “I like skiing, but it doesn’t love my bank account.”

  “That is an expensive hobby.”

  “Tell me about it. Got in over my head, but I’m so desperate to go back. I loved Canada.”

  “Me too. We lived in Montreal for a little while.”

  Michelle gave a sheepish look. “I went a little bit mad on a college trip to Montreal.” She pushed back her fringe to reveal a pink scar above her eyebrow. “Everyone in the family calls me Harry Potter now.”

  “Oh no!” Bebe’s heart beat faster. She knew about this ill-fated trip to Montreal where Michelle had inexplicably fallen off a boat. A photo had appeared on Michelle’s social media accounts of her in a hospital with a bandage around her head. The post, naturally, had received hundreds of comments from concerned family and friends. Lauren Fitzgerald (from behind her cupcake profile picture) had asked Michelle if she needed blood, and if so to remember she was Type O Negative, not O Positive as Michelle would always forget.

  Bebe had been at home, scrolling through her feed, and that comment had floored her. That was her blood type, yet her mother was A Negative.

  If she and Michelle had the same blood type … She pushed it from her mind. She needed to remain completely normal around Michelle or she’d begin to suspect something.

  “Harry said you’re from here originally, but you’re going to do the L’Or Master Class in New York? Don’t all the top designers do that class? He said you’d lived in London too. That’s so cool!”

  Bebe’s heart raced. Was she a talking point at the café? Maybe she was getting in too deep.

  “Bebe?”

  “Sorry!” She blinked, and pulled a dress from the rack and held it up to Michelle. “Yes, but when I was a baby, my mother took me to London. After that, well, I’ve never been in one place for more than a few years at a time. London, Paris—”

  “Paris?” Michelle’s eyes shone. “How wonderful! Why did you go there?”

  “Mum worked at a gallery for a while as a contractor. It was just the two of us.”

  You and me. Me and you. It was their mantra. It had always been their mantra.

  “So? Where did you go after that?” Michelle looked at her.

  “Milan, then Copenhagen. And then back to London for a while. I spent most of my teenage years there. Then St Petersburg, then back to London again.”

  “Wow.” Michelle’s eyes were wide. “That’s so unbelievably cool.”

  Bebe shrugged. “Then we did other places for short-term projects and things. Or just travelled. We’re sort of nomadic gypsies.”

  “My parents live in the same house they bought in the 1970s. Replacing the carpet was a huge change for them, and it took them three years to decide on the right colour.”

  “There’s something nice about that though.” Bebe pulled out a scarf and handed it to Michelle. “You know, someplace that’s yours, that’s your home. Nowhere has ever felt like that for me.”

  Michelle wound the scarf around her neck. The flecks of amber throughout it brought out her eyes and the soft highlights in her hair. “I guess, but it’s boring though. That’s why I had to get out, not that it worked very well, but you know. I’ll do it again. I’ll save up and then go.”

  “Go where?”

  “I don’t know. Someplace.”

  Surely Michelle had specific goals in where she wanted to travel. “What would you like to see?”

  “Anything new and exciting. Maybe I could go to Argentina. Perhaps Morocco.”

  Bebe could understand wanderlust and travelling to find new experiences, but Michelle seemed more like she needed to tunnel out of a prison, desperate to get anywhere. “I’m sure you’ll get to those places.”

  “Perhaps. I’ll be making coffees for a long time to pay for it.” Michelle touched the scarf. “This is beautiful. You’re so talented. Harry said your mother is curating the Picasso exhibition that’s about to open. That’s impressive. Talent must run in your family.”

  “She’s very clever.” She paused. “I have some tickets to the opening night if you’d like to go. A group of us are going.”

  “I don’t know much about art,” Michelle warned, “but that sounds like fun, and I’m always up for a party. Thank you! I’d love to.”

  “Great. I’ll drop in your ticket to Espresso Walk tomorrow,” Bebe said even though a voice inside her head was telling her this wasn’t good at all. Was it a terrible idea to invite Michelle to somewhere her mother would be?

  “I’ll take this,” Michelle hugged the scarf to her chest. “I need something to celebrate my new job.” Her face fell. “Oh, how much is it? I probably shouldn’t blow all my pay on one scarf.”

  “It’ll be fine once you apply my discount.” Bebe walked over to the counter, and laid it out to fold and wrap it for her.

  “This is so nice of you.” Michelle trailed behind, before stopping to examine another dress. “Oh wow. These sequins are amazing.”

  Bebe paused at the counter.

  Michelle poked at the garment with such enthusiasm, Bebe could only hope Cole couldn’t see what was happening to his precious merchandise.

  There was something so naïve and lost about Michelle. Bebe bit her lip, doubt creeping over her. She’d thought she could find out the truth while she was here, but what could that do to Michelle? What would be the impact of one of the most stable parts of her life—her family—being blown apart?

  Her hand shook as she wrapped the scarf. Had she opened a door to a world that she had no right to step through to without hurting innocent people?

  Chapter 9

  Michelle was tidying the counter at Espresso Walk when she looked up to find Leon. Once again he was wearing his overalls with his snug T-shirt underneath (this one was a khaki colour, which was nice, but not as attractive as the blue that highlighted his eyes). He was holding the same large, silver travelling coffee mug he’d used last time he’d been in.

  “Hey,” she said. “Good to see you again.”

  “It was great coffee.” He handed her the cup and a five-dollar note. “Can I have a latte, please?”

  “Of course.”

  “Michelle.” He cleared his throat, and she looked up from the register. “Can I buy you a drink after work?”

  Unlike the simple coffee order, that request had thrown her. Not because she wanted to say no, but she wasn’t entirely sure she should be saying yes at this point. Was she sufficiently over Ashton?

  He cleared his throat.

  She was taking too long to answer and he’d noticed. “Thanks. That would be nice.” She didn’t want to hurt his feelings and maybe it would be good to have a drink with him.

  “Cool. What about we meet at Pacific Place later?”

  She’d not been to Pacific Place in years. “Eight o’clock?” It was hardly the worst idea. He was cute and she was single. Perhaps she could message Ashton with all the worldly ‘moving on’ type vibes. He may have dumped her, but there she was, dating again. Check that out, Ashton!

  Perhaps she could post something to Instagram with some thoughtful hashtags like #movingon or #learningtoloveagain or a cheeky #allthesingleladies.

  Then again, Ashton’s most recent photo he’d posted to social media had been taken on board his family’s yacht with Gretchen, who had looked sickeningly gorgeous in a skimpy bikini.

  Michelle couldn’t compete. There was no way she’d be posing in next to nothing, and where on earth was she going to find a yacht?

  Leon waved again as he left, holding the door open for an older couple. His cheeriness was so nice. Too nice for her. Would she just break his heart?

  A bit like those bullies in the schoolyard who used to steal his meat pie and iced doughnut. Back then, she could offer him part of her lunch, but it was only a part. She’d never really made too much effort to spend any time with
him, even though he used to lurk forlornly through the playground or hide out in the library at lunchtime while the other kids played downball against the brick wall of the canteen, or traded football cards on the park benches.

  She didn’t want to hurt Leon like the schoolyard bullies had, but was she ready to move on?

  A little ripple of anger hurtled through her body at how much the request for a simple date was throwing her so much.

  Ashton had stolen everything from her, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get it back.

  Chapter 10

  Bebe brought a pencil to her mouth and glanced up and down at Tessa De Luca.

  She was beautiful. Too curvy for the catwalks of Paris; she was more 1950s pin-up with an hourglass figure and cascading long dark hair. She was a fashion designer’s dream. So many styles could work on her.

  “I’ll finish these measurements and then we’ll talk designs,” Bebe told her.

  “I’m so sorry for the rush,” Tessa lamented. “I’ve been so busy with the businesses that time got away from me.”

  “It’s perfectly fine. Can I offer you a tea?” Cole asked Tessa. “Let me guess?” He narrowed his eyes. “Peppermint?”

  Tessa smiled. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

  “I saw you on that cooking show, by the way,” he added, almost shyly.

  There were plenty of local celebrities who came into the studio, but Bebe hadn’t thought Tessa was one. She thought Tessa owned cafés, at least that’s what Michelle had told her when she introduced them.

  “Did you?” Tessa asked Cole. “Which one?”

  “The one where the contestants are always yelling at each other.”

  Tessa sighed. “Ah, yes. That one.”

  Bebe ran her measuring tape around Tessa’s tiny waist.

  “Do they really yell at each other when the cameras aren’t rolling?” Cole cocked his head. “If they do, where on earth do they find such angry people?”

  Tessa laughed. “They’re much calmer behind the scenes. They edit those things so everyone looks a little cray-cray.”