Trick of the Light

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘True,’ Michelle said.

  ‘Maybe he thought he was doing the right thing but something went wrong along the way,’ Steph said. ‘He loved you and the girls. I know that for a fact. And I know you know it too.’

  Erica nodded; words stuck in her dry throat.

  ‘So, when you say fraud, do you mean something illegal? Because I can’t imagine him doing anything shady,’ Steph said.

  ‘No, me neither,’ Michelle said. ‘He might have liked himself a little too much at times and engaged in the odd case of exaggeration or big-noting, but … Shit, sorry, that was a bit harsh of me.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve thought if he was still here, I might have wanted to kill him myself at times, I’m that angry with him,’ Erica said sadly. ‘Anyway, you may as well know the whole ugly truth. It turns out he wasn’t the good businessman and money manager we all thought he was. Or I thought, anyway. He left next to no super. Zero life insurance. The house still has a massive mortgage on it – he’s apparently been dipping into it to keep up the façade for years. Thank Christ he made his accountant and financial planner the executors of his will and I haven’t had to try and make sense of the mess. That’s the only saving grace I can see right now.’

  ‘So where were they when he was sending your finances into the shit?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘Good question. I think you know how he was – a bit of a control freak, especially about business. To be fair, they were probably pretty powerless. He was their client and I guess it’s the old adage of the customer always being right. Well, as we all know, in theory.’

  ‘Yeah. Accountants and financial planners can only advise. It’s really up to you if you take that advice,’ Steph said. ‘You have to indemnify them these days – sign to say you’re responsible for everything. It’s all part of the financial services reforms. Anyway, sorry, carry on.’

  ‘Honestly, I’m so grateful for what they’ve done, but I’m guessing at some point they’ll tell me I have to start paying for their services going forwards now they’ve finished doing Stuart’s estate stuff,’ Erica said.

  ‘Though, perhaps if you took it on yourself you might be able to sort it out? Sorry, I don’t mean to sound critical, but I wouldn’t trust anyone to take care of something of mine as big as finances,’ Michelle said. ‘If you’re in this mess, then perhaps something has to change to get you out. Sorry if I’m over-stepping.’

  ‘No, you’re probably right. I’ve been an idiot to trust Stuart, but I thought –’

  ‘No, Erica, stop,’ Steph said. ‘You’re not an idiot for trusting your husband whom you loved. Not helpful, Michelle. And, anyway, not everyone is good at finances. That’s why you have accountants and financial planners and the like.’

  ‘Yes, sorry,’ Michelle said quietly, and took another sip of her coffee.

  ‘I do agree I should have insisted on knowing what was what,’ Erica said.

  ‘Ah, hindsight. Such a beautiful thing. No point going there,’ Renee said. ‘Are these paintings really just prints? Because they look amazing.’

  ‘Yup. And speaking of clueless, I didn’t even notice Stuart had switched them.’

  ‘No way,’ Renee said.

  ‘He did what?’ Steph said.

  ‘Seriously, as in without your knowledge?’ Michelle said.

  ‘Yep. A few years ago, according to Paul and Toby.’ She tried to ignore the three pairs of huge eyes staring at her in complete disbelief, but her shame began to flare red up her chest and neck and across her face under their gaze. In the silence she knew they were probably thinking just what she had when she’d been told about the paintings – Fuck! What else was he hiding?

  Their eyes were big and their mouths pursed, stuck at cutting off the ‘oh’ they’d each no doubt stifled.

  ‘Christ, my head is spinning. No wonder you feel like you’re losing your mind,’ Michelle finally said, breaking the silence.

  ‘Yeah, but at least that’s real,’ Erica said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I can see the numbers on the spreadsheet and, yes, it’s stressful. But I know where they are. It’s the misplacing of things and other weird stuff that’s seriously messing with me.’

  ‘Like what?’ Renee asked.

  ‘Well, I couldn’t find my green scarf last week – that was why I might have seemed a bit unsettled, Steph, when you picked me up for lunch.’

  ‘Yeah, I did think you seemed a little off. But, then, you are going through a lot. Keep going.’

  ‘My MP3 player that I always keep on the hook in the hall turned up in the bedroom, which isn’t so weird; I probably forgot to take it off. Maybe I needed the loo in a hurry or something. Except I can’t remember. Oh, and get this. I now apparently sleep eat, too.’

  ‘Huh?’ Michelle said.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Steph said.

  ‘Yes, what do you mean?’ Renee said.

  ‘The other morning, I came down here and found a knife with peanut paste on it. I must have got up in the night and dived into the jar. See, I’m losing it.’

  ‘Hang on a second,’ Michelle said. ‘Are you taking sleeping pills?’

  ‘Only over-the-counter antihistamine Sleep Aid or whatever it’s called. I try not to because it tends to make me groggy the next morning. Why?’

  ‘Oh. Well, it doesn’t matter if that’s all you’re taking. But there’s been all that stuff about the side effects of another one – I can’t remember the name of it now. People have even been found driving without knowing.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Isn’t it called Stilnox? And it’s the drug that Olympic swimmer took that got him into some scandal or other?’ Renee said.

  ‘God, that’s right,’ Steph said. ‘But if you’re not taking anything like that, what could be going on?’

  ‘Maybe you have a ghost. Could Stuart be haunting you – well, um, trying to tell you something?’ Renee said quietly.

  ‘I don’t think I believe in ghosts,’ Erica said.

  ‘No, me neither,’ Michelle said.

  ‘Well, just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean they don’t exist,’ Renee said.

  ‘I agree,’ Steph said. ‘I had a school friend who swore black and blue she’d seen a little girl sitting on her bed and when they did some research found a child had died in the house years and years ago. Sorry, off track. Anyway, I haven’t seen a ghost or really experienced anything that might be one. But I am not prepared to say they don’t exist.’

  ‘Yeah, we can’t see air or gravity but they apparently exist,’ Renee said.

  ‘True,’ Michelle said. ‘Maybe it is Stuart, and he’s trying to apologise. Don’t they say ghosts or spirits, or whatever, stay because they have unfinished business? Maybe it’s his conscience.’

  ‘Well, I hope he’s upset about leaving Erica in the lurch,’ Steph said. ‘But can ghosts eat? Do they need food?’

  ‘God, I don’t know the rules of ghost-man-ship,’ Renee said.

  ‘Anyway, Stuart hated peanut paste,’ Erica said. ‘And thought our habit – mine and the girls’ – of eating it straight from the jar was the most disgusting thing ever. Well, not the most disgusting thing, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘So he wouldn’t be doing that as a ghost, I wouldn’t have thought. Or he’s doing it to somehow tell you it’s him,’ Renee said.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘A ghost might explain Boris’s weird behaviour,’ Steph said. ‘Erica had my cat stay for a couple of nights,’ she explained, ‘and he was behaving strangely – unsettled – wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. He’d stare into space and then suddenly turn around and run away, as if something had frightened him. He wasn’t at all the chilled cat you said he’d be.’

  ‘And he’s fine now he’s home – his usual lazy-arse self.’

  ‘Well, they say cats do see things we can’t. Same as with dogs,’ Renee said.

  ‘At least a dog would try and protect you.
Cats are all about themselves,’ Michelle said.

  ‘Not all dogs. My friend’s rolls over and presents his belly for a rub to every stranger he comes across,’ Renee said. ‘Hang on a second. What about spare keys? A friend of mine once realised the previous tenants had been going into their unit and stealing stuff. It took them ages to figure out.’

  ‘That’s why you get your locks changed the day you move into a rental – every man and his dog might have a set,’ Michelle said, ‘tradies, real estate agents, cleaners, gardeners.’

  ‘No. No one has a spare set of keys. And Stuart had the locks changed the day we moved in.’

  ‘What about tradies or builders during your renovation?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘Not that I know of. And, anyway, that was years ago now.’

  ‘Maybe Stuart ripped someone off with that, too?’ Michelle said.

  ‘If that was the case, they’d be more likely to send a bill or letter via a lawyer. Maybe knock on the door? It’s unlikely they’d break in. And if they did, they’d do some damage – like, as a proper warning or something, not just mess with you. Wouldn’t they?’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, Renee. Sorry, I’ve clearly been watching too much crime TV,’ Michelle said. ‘And, anyway, if someone had got in your alarm would have gone off.’

  ‘There is no alarm. The blue light outside is a fake.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I don’t have one either,’ Renee said. ‘The thought of it going off for no reason in the middle of the night and scaring me puts me off.’

  ‘Same,’ Steph said. ‘One of my neighbour’s often goes off. No one takes any notice of it any more.’

  ‘What if I’m losing my mind?’ Erica said.

  ‘Hey, we’re all losing our minds – well, except our young friend here, Renee – it’s called menopause!’ Steph said.

  ‘I have times when I simply can’t think of the right word – not big words, even – everyday words I’ve used all my life.’

  ‘Oh my god, yes! All the bloody time. At work the other day, I was trying to think of the word for potato masher and couldn’t for the life of me. I said, “That thing you use to make mashed potatoes” – insane when it was right there in front of me. My workmates looked at me like I had two heads and then began offering suggestions. It turns out, most people use a fork to mash their potatoes, or a ricer. It took us a ridiculous amount of time to get to potato masher. Funny if it wasn’t so bloody annoying. Another woman told me she almost wrote chunder instead of chowder in an online review of a restaurant the other day – only just caught it in time. It’s infuriating, but many of us are in much the same boat.’

  ‘Yes. Thank Christ we get the benefit of no more periods because that’s the only good thing about it that I’ve found!’ Michelle said. ‘Don’t worry, Renee, all fabulous things for you to look forward to!’

  ‘Great. Just bloody brilliant,’ Renee said.

  ‘Hmm. You know, I was sure I smelt Stuart the other day. It was the weirdest thing. I came in and it was as if he’d just come in or gone out in front of me – I could smell toothpaste, his body wash, deodorant … It was so strong it stopped me in my tracks. I would have put money on it being him.’

  ‘I’ve heard of people smelling ghosts and feeling their presence – like a cold breeze,’ Renee said.

  ‘I’m not sure whether to feel comforted or more scared,’ Erica said and let out a tight laugh in an attempt to shift her unease.

  ‘Hang on. Did you say you could smell toothpaste?’ Michelle said.

  ‘Yep. Peppermint. Why?’

  ‘Well, in that case it’s unlikely you’d be suffering from dementia because peppermint is one of the five scents being used in a new study they’re doing to detect it early. Here,’ she said, tapping on her phone and then holding it out. Erica read.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘And I can definitely smell leather, too – my shoes and leather jacket in the robe.’

  ‘I thought it was bananas – that when you stopped being able to detect that particular smell you had a problem?’ Renee said. ‘But maybe that’s a myth or a past theory.’

  ‘I remember that. It was one of the first things I noticed with Mum and Dad,’ Erica said, suddenly remembering.

  ‘And you can still identify the smells – that’s a key,’ Renee said.

  ‘You don’t have dementia, Erica: I’d have noticed and marched you off to be tested,’ Steph said. ‘So stop worrying about that.’

  ‘I agree. It sounds to me as if what you’ve got going on is more like absentmindedness due to stress and/or hormones than actual cognitive breakdown.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ‘Okay. Who’s for another cuppa?’ Michelle said suddenly, breaking the looming silence.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Erica said, grateful for the disruption to her tired brain, which was still processing the discussion. They were right: it was unlikely someone had been in the house. But she couldn’t shake the thought completely loose. And she wasn’t sure if an intruder was actually more unsettling than her roaming about at night doing things like eating peanut paste out of the jar unawares. Had she been up the step stool? God, she could have broken her neck. What else had she been doing that she wasn’t yet aware of? She tried to force it back by focussing on the movement and sounds coming from the kitchen.

  ‘I do still think you’re just overloaded and your brain is playing tricks on you while it scrabbles to regain control and deal with everything,’ Michelle said, sitting back down and placing Erica’s mug in front of her.

  ‘Yes, you have been through an awful lot in quite a short space of time,’ Steph said.

  ‘So perhaps we should be concentrating on helping you find a way forwards,’ Renee said.

  ‘Yes,’ Michelle said. ‘Could you maybe downsize? I know the market’s not the best right now and it might feel like giving in, maybe. But also, perhaps it’s time to put any pride aside and face facts.’

  ‘I think you’re right. I’ve been trying to keep everything together, in part so the girls didn’t discover the truth – especially about Stuart, who they adored and so looked up to.’

  ‘Sweetie, I don’t think you can keep up the pretence. And you’ve raised two very intelligent and savvy girls,’ Steph said.

  ‘I think they’re probably more capable of separating the issues, or will be able to in time, than you’re giving them credit for,’ Michelle said.

  ‘I just wanted them to be able to come back and never have to know.’

  ‘I get that,’ Michelle said.

  ‘You know, some of the best life lessons come out of not what’s gone wrong but how you dealt with it,’ Renee said.

  ‘And perhaps, and I know it’s not ideal, probably not right at all on any level, but perhaps they could help? They both had jobs, didn’t they?’ Michelle said. ‘Maybe if they knew …’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want them to come back, cut their trip short, to rescue me. And, let’s face it, this is really my doing. I didn’t take enough interest in the finances. I let Stuart brush aside my questions in the early days. No, this is my issue.’ Even just saying that made Erica feel stronger. That and having the collective wisdom of her friends beside her – even just their presence.

  ‘So, I take it there’s no sign of a job?’ Renee said.

  ‘No. All but one application has been rejected. But the one that hasn’t been is actually an offer.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you say? That’s great news,’ Steph said. ‘God, that was quick.’

  ‘But I take it you don’t want the job, then? Is it completely unsuitable? Otherwise why aren’t you looking relieved?’ Michelle said.

  ‘And maybe you might have to …’ Steph said and stopped.

  ‘It’s in a funeral home – as an assistant to a funeral director.’

  ‘Oh,’ Steph said.

  Michelle and Renee sat with their mouths slightly open, as if they were going t
o exclaim but had thought better of it.

  ‘I actually really quite like the idea of it. And I had a lovely long conversation slash job interview with the man I’d be working for. He thinks I’d be perfect, too.’

  ‘So, if you don’t have an issue with the funeral industry – all that death – and now I’m thinking about it, it’s growing on me – what’s the problem?’ Michelle said.

  ‘Yes, is it just the initial shock? But, really, it’s mainly customer service, being organised and kind and compassionate, isn’t it?’ Renee said. ‘I think you’d be fantastic. And your own losses would mean you could offer genuine empathy and understanding.’

  ‘Though might it be too close to home – a bit traumatic – for you, for that very reason?’ Michelle said. ‘I hear compassion fatigue can be a major problem in the caring industries. I read or heard some statistics about funeral workers … I can’t quite remember what it was now. But, anyway …’

  ‘Hang on, you said you like the idea, and you can always leave if you don’t like it. So, what’s the problem?’ Steph said.

  ‘Melrose’s too far away.’

  ‘No, that’s just out of the city, isn’t it?’ Renee said.

  ‘Not Melrose Park, Melrose, full stop. It’s around three hours’ drive north – up near the start of the Flinders Ranges. Two hundred and seventy Ks. I’m glad it’s not just me who’s getting muddled.’

  ‘Oh,’ Renee said. ‘That’s a bummer, then.’

  ‘Melrose is lovely!’ said Michelle. ‘It’s officially the oldest town in the Flinders Ranges, I think. I haven’t been up that way for a few years, but I clearly remember it being very picturesque and tranquil. But, yes, it’s too far for a daily commute. Weekly might be doable, but even that would be pretty exhausting.’

  ‘But why did you apply, then?’ Steph said.

  ‘I didn’t. I emailed the guy because his ad was so lovely, so heartfelt. He’s lost his wife, too. I just thought it would be nice to reply. I know it sounds ridiculous.’

  ‘Not at all. I bet you made his day,’ Renee said.