The Things We Never Knew

by Megan Mayfair

  “Err…Steve has the club song on his phone, and when it rang yesterday on-site it brought back a few memories of you wearing a Kangaroos scarf in the week before the grand final.”

  She tilted her head. She only had vague recollections of him at school, but he appeared to have noticed everything. Perhaps being a little on the outside had given him an expert view in the dynamics of the classroom.

  Her heart lurched. She should have spent more time with him as a kid, especially as she’d seen he’d been struggling. “Leon. I hope I wasn’t mean to you at school. If I didn’t include you as much as I should have, I’m sorry.”

  “No. You were always nice to me. I had a hard time fitting in. Once I got to secondary school, things clicked a bit more. I got into sports and found some good mates. I had a better time there.”

  Thank goodness. “I’m glad you did. And, yes, I’d love to go to the footy if there’s a game happening. I’m rostered on Saturday morning, but I’m free after that.”

  He removed his phone and brought up some sort of sporting app, which he tapped and finally held up at her. “Well, that’s a bit of luck. Saturday afternoon at the MCG. Tigers versus Kangaroos. Will that give you time to get to finish up work?”

  That did seem exceptionally lucky that the Kangaroos were playing locally this weekend. Had his suggestion and subsequent checking been as innocent and casual as it appeared?

  Serendipity, or whatever it was, her smile widened. It had been a while since she’d been to a game, and going with Leon seemed like a nice way to spend an afternoon.

  Not to mention the fact that she’d barely thought about Ashton in hours.

  She hugged the bear tightly to her chest. Arcade games, photo booths and a childhood friend, perhaps a trip back in time was going to help her move towards her future faster than she could have anticipated.

  Chapter 14

  Was this a huge mistake? Bebe sipped from a glass of champagne in the foyer of the gallery surrounded by her posse: Cole, his partner, Jordan, and Harry and Michelle.

  The crowds mingled, talked, and laughed while taking in the pieces as waiters swirled around the room, balancing polished silver trays filled with delicious champagne and canapés on their hands.

  Harry looked, well … sexy, was the only word for it. He had on a well-cut skinny suit and a thin tie. His hair was slicked back, and his dark-framed glasses popped. It was such a pleasure to see a man in a suit that was perfect for their frame, but also for their personality. He had a sense of style that was timeless and unique.

  “How many of these type of openings have you been to?” he asked her.

  She exhaled and fidgeted with an empty champagne flute. “More than I can remember.”

  “Can I get you another?” He gestured towards her glass.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Told you. He’s obsessed with you,” Cole whispered in her ear as Harry walked towards a bar.

  “Hardly.” She brushed off his words with a scoff, before she noticed Michelle dissect some sort of hors d’oeuvres, removing some green garnish and stuffing it in a napkin.

  Harry returned with two glasses of champagne and handed one to Bebe. He paused and watched Michelle’s ritual. “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  “This looks amazing, but I’m allergic to parsley.”

  Bebe nearly spat out her mouthful. Parsley?

  “Does removing it help?” Cole scooped up a canapé from the tray of a passing waiter. “Shouldn’t you stay away from the whole thing if that’s the case?”

  “I’m not missing out on that beef.” Michelle scrunched up her nose. “It’s not super serious if I do have a little parsley; it’s eating a lot makes my mouth itchy. Besides, it’s a tasteless weed. I don’t understand why people smother food in it.”

  “Hang on, is it an allergy, or just something you don’t like? That’s quite different.” Harry raised an eyebrow.

  “I get an itchy mouth,” Michelle insisted. “I mean, I’ve never been tested for an allergy or anything, but I’m sure that’s what it is.”

  Bebe fanned herself with the program. Had someone cranked the heating up?

  “Are you okay?” Harry whispered.

  “I’m fine.” She smiled at him. “Why don’t we go through to the exhibit?” She needed to escape discussions of parsley, and the possible implications of their shared issues with the herb.

  Harry smiled. “Perfect.” He took her glass from her, and set them aside on a table. “Is your mother around?” he asked as they walked into the gallery space. “I’d like to thank her for the tickets.”

  Bebe glanced over at her mother, surrounded by people. She didn’t know who they were specifically, but she was certain they would be wealthy donors to the gallery: politicians, business people, journalists and anyone who was anyone in Melbourne. She probably wouldn’t be interested in Bebe or her friends. Thankfully. What would happen if she recognised Michelle? The thought had made Bebe nervous after extending the invitation to include Michelle, but they’d all be beneath her mother’s notice tonight.

  “She’s over there.” Bebe gestured. “But she’s always so busy at these things.”

  “I can imagine.” Harry looked over, and then glanced back at Bebe. “You look a little like her.”

  “A little.”

  “If there’s a chance, I would like to say thank you, but if not, could you pass on my thanks for the ticket?” Harry asked.

  Bebe smiled. “Of course. Thank you for coming. It’s nice to have some company.”

  “What’s your favourite piece here tonight?” he asked.

  She looked around, unable to choose but remembering that was how her mother liked to stage her exhibits. So not one piece stood out. They all worked in harmony to present a story.

  “I like the whole lot, but …that’s my favourite.” She pointed towards a painting, largely red. It was chaotic and angular, but whenever she saw the piece, it calmed her. Was it strange to find peace in chaos?

  Harry nodded. “It’s beautiful. It’s busy and the colour is bold, but it’s not aggressive, is it?”

  She tilted her head, appreciating his summary of it. He had a good eye.

  When they finished the circuit and arrived back in the foyer where drinks and food continued to be served, and Michelle, Cole and Jordan were hanging out at the bar, Harry turned to her. “Thanks for tonight. I really enjoyed it. I love going to galleries, but I’ve never been to an opening of such a big exhibition.”

  “It was nice of you to come with me. Mum is always so busy working at these events, it can be lonely, but tonight was fun with everyone.”

  He jabbed a finger towards the rest of their party. “Cole seems like a good guy to work with.”

  “He’s great.”

  “The people always make the job,” Harry said, thoughtfully. “That’s what’s always sad about leaving a workplace. Not leaving the work, but the people. Probably why I’ve been where I have for a while now.”

  “How long have you been at Espresso Walk?”

  “Since it opened, but before then I worked at Double Shot—that’s Tessa’s first café. She’s an awesome boss and Espresso Walk is in such a good location.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I don’t know if you are into films, but there’s a great little cinema not far from Espresso Walk, and they show a lot of classics. Noir-type stuff.”

  “I love old movies.” She loved the fashion, especially in 1940s films.

  “Cool. If you’d like to grab a movie, that would be nice. There’s a bistro near it if you wanted to get something to eat first.”

  “I’d love that.”

  He grinned, and a pleasant feeling pooled in her stomach. Cole was right. A few dates and a little innocent flirtation wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I wonder if anyone else wants a coffee?” she asked.

  “There’s a good café near here. It’ll be open for a bit.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go.” She glanced back where her mothe
r appeared to be in an in-depth conversation with a couple.

  There was no need to tell her mother she was leaving, or how brilliant the exhibit had been. There would be plenty of people tonight to tell her that.

  Chapter 15

  Who knew going to the opening of art exhibition could give her such a hangover? After the opening, Bebe and Harry had wanted to go to a café, but Michelle had convinced the group to go on to a bar instead. She wasn’t sure what time she’d eventually stumbled home, but whatever time it had been she’d not had enough sleep.

  She yawned as she put on her apron and washed her hands ahead of her shift, but straightened when she saw Tessa in the café.

  Tessa looked up and waved her over. “How are you finding things?” she asked.

  “It’s great. Thanks again for the opportunity.”

  “My pleasure. Harry says you’re learning the ropes very quickly and the customers love you.” She removed an envelope and handed it to her. “This is for you.”

  The cream paper was heavy and expensive-looking. Michelle opened it to reveal an invitation to Tessa and her fiancé, Matthew’s, engagement party. She looked back at her boss. “That’s so nice of you.”

  She hadn’t known Tessa that long, and she didn’t know her very well, but it was nice to be involved in such a lovely event—a cocktail party at a very glamorous rooftop bar in the City.

  “My pleasure. Clare and Pete are invited too, of course. And people from here, and Double Shot. I thought it might be nice to hang out with everyone outside of work and let your hair down.”

  “And celebrate your engagement.”

  Tessa laughed. “Have I tried to turn my engagement party into some sort of team-building exercise? Poor Matthew.”

  “I don’t think he’d mind.” Michelle had only met Matthew once when he’d come into the café, and aside from being absolutely gorgeous, he’d clearly been enamoured with Tessa. “How did you get on with Bebe for your dress?”

  “Brilliant. I can’t wait to see what she comes up with.”

  “Neither can I. She’s so talented. Thanks again for the invite. I’d better get to work.”

  She tucked the embossed cardstock into the pocket in her apron and walked past the kitchen where Gabriel was glazing a tray of doughnuts. Michelle looked longingly at them and remembered how her work trousers had been a bit snug that morning.

  There was a drawback to working here—the food was far too good. And that was mostly Gabriel’s fault. He was the chef at Espresso Walk, and also Tessa’s father. According to Clare (officially the world’s worst gossip as she never liked to say anything bad about anyone), there had been some ‘bad blood’ between Tessa and Gabriel. She’d said this slowly and wisely, but hadn’t elaborated, which of course made it even more interesting in Michelle’s mind.

  She’d made a mental note to ask Pete when Clare wasn’t around. He was more of a gossip than his wife.

  Whatever the situation had been, it didn’t appear to be an issue anymore. They worked well together and were in some sort of discussion to open up a third café that would also be a gourmet deli. It sounded pretty cool to Michelle.

  She paused as her own father walked into the café, a newspaper under his arm. The collar of his knitted navy jumper was sticking up on one side and it was missing a button on the front. He’d never been a snappy dresser and kept clothes until they disintegrated.

  “Hi, Dad,” she called out.

  “Your father is tall,” Harry said to her.

  “Most of my family is, aside from me.” Her lack of height had disappointed endless netball and basketball coaches who’d been originally excited about the prospect of another Fitzgerald athlete to slot into a team, only to discover the youngest member of the family was scrappy and somewhat clumsy.

  “Pocket rocket.”

  Not really. She was a much slower-moving vehicle than that, and one that had terrible navigation skills and was likely to end up in a ditch.

  She grabbed a menu, a bottle of water, and a glass, and approached the table where her father sat.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked as she poured him a glass of water.

  He unfolded a newspaper. “I thought I’d see you and have a coffee. I need to go by the office to grab a couple of files.”

  She reached over and straightened the collar of his jumper. “On a Saturday? Aren’t you going to the football match later?”

  “I want to get it done before Monday.” He looked at his watch. “Plenty of time before we need to go to the game.”

  Her father worked too hard. He’d always spent far too long at the office when she was a kid, or spreading out files on their kitchen table on Sunday evening to prepare himself for the week ahead.

  “I’ll get you a coffee,” she said. “I think you’re missing a button. That jumper has seen better days.”

  “Ah.” He shrugged. “Your mother bought this for me for my birthday a few years back. It’s my favourite.”

  “Well, if you find the button, I’ll sew it on.”

  “Thanks, honey.” He smiled and slipped his glasses on and fanned out the newspaper, instantly immersed in the sports pages.

  As she made his coffee, she glanced up at the clock. It wasn’t too long until home time and she could look forward to her date with Leon to the football. She paused. Clock-watching had always been her favourite activity at any job she’d held. It was probably one of the greatest skills she brought to the table as an employee.

  No wonder nothing worked out for her. Her siblings with their jobs and businesses had inherited the Fitzgerald work ethic, but clearly, like the family’s height, she’d missed out on that attribute too.

  Chapter 16

  Bebe placed her phone on the table. She’d been reading the reviews after the opening. The critics were calling her mother’s exhibition a “triumph”. She was so proud of her, but within there was a little ache. Would her designs ever be called a triumph?

  She closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream a little movie in her head where she’d slowly but surely achieve dizzying heights of success. Working a leading fashion house? Her designs on a catwalk in Paris? On the pages of Vogue?

  Footsteps sounded along the hall and into the kitchen. She opened her eyes and looked at her mother. “Congratulations! The critics love it.”

  “Thank you. I’m very pleased with how it came together. What do you have planned for today?” Her mother fastened a Chanel brooch to the lapel of her hand-stitched blazer.

  As usual, she was effortlessly stunning.

  “I have a date later.”

  Her mother arched a finely plucked eyebrow. “A date? With whom?”

  “Someone I met at a café near my work. He was at the opening last night.” Bebe said this last part quietly. “He really liked the exhibit.”

  “Well, have fun. I’m off to a fundraising lunch the gallery is hosting and then I’m going to dinner.”

  “Mum?”

  “Yes?” Her mother looked up from securing the clasp on her handbag.

  Bebe smoothed her skirt. “When you and Dad dated, what sort of places did he take you?”

  Her mother shrugged. “Nothing particularly of interest. Just here and there.”

  “You must have gone somewhere.”

  “Life was a little simpler back then. Perhaps a movie, or we’d listen to music.”

  It sounded like they’d dated in wartime. It hadn’t been that long ago.

  “You worked together. What was that like?”

  “I was only in on Fridays, and we didn’t have that much to do with each other. I reported to someone else.” Her mother glanced at her watch. “Now, I must go. Have fun on your date, and I’ll see you later.”

  The sound of heels against the floorboards grew farther away and the door closed.

  She slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. Disappointment settled over her. There seemed so few opportunities to get to know anything about Arne. She’d hoped that maybe back
here, there would be more glimpses of their life together, but once again, few details and a swift departure.

  Once her mother finished this contract, she was taking up a role in a gallery in New York while Bebe did the L’Or Master Class.

  Would they ever get back to Melbourne again? It had taken years to get here and who knew where in the world she would end up after she completed her studies at L’Or.

  Goodness knew there would be precious little information about her father to find in New York. Or anywhere else for that matter.

  Many years before, she’d been able to piece together where her mother and Arne had worked—a small engineering firm in Melbourne’s eastern suburbs.

  She located it on a map on her phone. Given the nature of the businesses around it, it seemed a good day to go when it was quiet. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for, but something compelled her to go to the scene where that photo was taken—the one of Greg, her mother, and Arne safely stowed amongst her mother’s most precious and secretive possessions.

  Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she locked the door of the apartment, and walked down to the train station.

  Slipping her air-pods into her ears and playing her current playlist, she boarded the first train, quickly switched to another line, and settled in as she watched the inner suburbs of Melbourne become the outer suburbs as the train made its way to the industrial park.

  Following her map, she paused in front of a grey, concrete building, shaped like a giant box. The only colour visible was coming from limp, brownish-green plants nestled in grey pots near the doorway.

  Dull.

  That was the only word for it. So dull, in fact, that it almost didn’t look real. Like it was part of a movie set during the Cold War. A gust of wind hurtled towards her, faintly whistling against the concrete. She glanced along the row of small, neat factories, offices and warehouses. As she’d predicted, it was deserted, given it was the weekend.

  She pulled her arms around her. This was where her mother had worked. Where she had met Arne, but also Greg.