The Changing Room

by Christine Sykes

  ‘Paris, here we come,’ said Claire.

  For several days Claire filled up on Paris fashion, enjoying the catwalks and spotting fashion royalty. Each evening, she discussed the cut and fabric of her favourite outfits with Lauren, and Lauren told Claire about her day. On the third day, Claire gave her pass to Lauren so she could experience the buzz of the fashion shows, and so Claire could spend the day quietly before meeting Anthony at their appointed rendezvous under the Eiffel Tower.

  *

  As she stood under the tower waiting, Claire wondered whether she and Anthony could weld their relationship back together. Her back operation had been successful, although she had to be careful and keep to a stretching regime. Her back would never be the same again – and she knew her relationship with Anthony would never be the same again. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it could become something else in its imperfection.

  She gazed up at the Paris sky through the lace of the steel girders, each reliant on the other, with enough flexibility to withstand land and wind shifts.

  Anthony emerged from the crowd queuing for tickets to ride to the top of the tower. He looked lighter, almost dapper, with a spring in his step. He walked tall, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The weight of me, she thought, then checked herself.

  As he crossed the space between the pillars, Claire tried to see him anew. As he was now, not the teenager she fell in love with. She imagined him as a stranger in the crowd and she was still attracted to him. As he neared, she felt the heat of him and saw his tentative smile. Her throat tightened.

  No words came out of her mouth. Gone were the easy greetings they’d shared for almost thirty years.

  ‘You look well, Claire,’ he said. The dimple on his left cheek deepened and the lines under his brown eyes crinkled. The setting sun flashed gold on the girder behind him.

  Claire longed to circle him, to sniff at him, like a long lost, yet familiar pet. He kissed both her cheeks and his soft facial hair left a tickle on her skin.

  ‘Your beard suits you,’ she stammered. He put his fine-boned surgeon’s hand to his face, feeling the down.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to shave so I left it.’ His voice resonated and Claire realised in the deepest part of her heart that she loved this man.

  ‘Dinner?’ she asked. ‘I made reservations for the restaurant here.’

  ‘Perfect,’ he said.

  ‘No, not perfect. I’m not perfect and I don’t want to be perfect. I just want to be me.’

  He took her hand and kissed it. When he raised his head, there was a tear trickling down his cheek and into his dimple.

  ‘Shall we begin the beguine,’ he said. Claire nodded, recognising the reference in the song to memories and rekindled love. They walked hand in hand to the lift to the restaurant.

  While they ate dinner and sipped beaujolais, Claire engaged Anthony in small talk. She described her visits to the Paris fashion show, talked about Lauren’s plans and updated him on Suitability.

  ‘Claire, there is something I need to tell you.’ Anthony wiped his mouth with his serviette and took a sip of wine. ‘You were right. I did have an affair with Yvette. Not while we were in Sydney – it happened after we left. Here, in Paris.’

  ‘The last point is irrelevant. What hurts me the most is that you were attracted to someone else other than me.’ Claire paused. ‘You broke our trust and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust you again.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Claire,’ said Anthony. ‘But I think I needed to spread my wings to appreciate what we had.’

  ‘Oh Anthony, that’s bullshit. Excuse my language, but it is.’ Claire lowered her voice. ‘Look, if there is any chance for us, we have to be completely honest.’

  ‘OK, OK. I admit I was attracted to Yvette. She’s vibrant and exotic. And she was so attentive to me.’ Claire scowled at him. ‘Look, I know it’s not your fault, but we’d fallen into a routine and hardly spent any real time together. I guess my male ego was flattered by Yvette’s praise and attention. But I don’t love her. I love you and I want to be with you, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me.’

  Claire excused herself and went to the toilet where she thought about ringing Genevieve, who would be just waking up. She didn’t need to; she knew what Genevieve would say: Oh, get over yourself. It’s fairy tale stuff to believe that there is one love of your life and that he will be faithful forever. You need to figure out what you want. If it’s Anthony, then forgive him; if not, there’ll be someone else.

  When she re-entered the dining area and saw Anthony framed by the lights of Paris, she knew what she wanted.

  ‘I’m going to stay in France, but not with you,’ she said. ‘I’ve always dreamed of living in a cottage in the countryside and I’m going to do it. By myself.’

  ‘Claire, are you sure?’

  ‘Surer than I have been for a long time.’ Claire smiled. ‘And if we decide to stay together, I want it to be on different terms.’

  *

  The following day, Claire located a rustic cottage in Provence, near a medieval village some forty kilometres north of St Tropez and filled out a rental agreement for the next three months. After a few more days in Paris, she took the train to Aix-en-Provence, rented a Renault mini and drove it to the cottage.

  She spent her time there tending the garden and watching the spring bulbs bloom. In April she picked daffodils and put them in the jug on the table, where she sat looking out of the windows and sipping café au lait. She bought fresh produce from the local markets and practised her cooking skills, helped by the Larousse Gastronomique book she’d found in a second-hand bookstore in Paris.

  Thoughts came to her about her life in Sydney, the people she surrounded herself with and her large house. Did she really need the house, with its many rooms, big garden and constant maintenance? It was wonderful to have visitors and entertain, but she was loving the simple spaces of the cottage and the time to do basic chores for herself.

  Every morning, before breakfast, Claire sat in bed and wrote in a journal, exploring her thoughts and options. She revisited the dark places she’d descended into when she’d thought about ending her life, the feelings that had led her there and the support she’d received to move on and reclaim her joie de vivre. Once a week, she wrote a letter to Anthony, using handmade paper from the local markets. In these, she expressed her changing feelings about love, romance and their future.

  At the end of his residency in May, Anthony came to visit. They walked in the forest, picked lavender from the fields and had lazy lunches in the villages they passed through. Claire realised they hadn’t spent so much time alone together since they were first married. In the evenings, in front of the cottage’s open fireplace, they found each other anew and agreed to renew their vows.

  Claire hadn’t thought she was the kind of person who would want to renew her vows but Anthony’s betrayal had rocked her and she needed him to publicly commit to his future fidelity. Claire also wanted to make a different kind of vow to the one she had made when they first married. This time she would write her own vows, those of a mature woman who knew her own mind and knew her place in the world.

  One day, in the midst of their discussions about renewing the vows, Anna called and told her about Ted’s marriage proposal. ‘I know, let’s have a double celebration of your marriage and our renewal of vows,’ Claire said on an impulse. ‘We could do it in our garden in spring. What do think?’

  ‘Oh, Claire that would be wonderful. Très, Très chic.’

  Claire and Anthony travelled back to Australia together in the middle of June. Claire commenced preparations for the ceremony and contacted the real estate agent to put the mansion on the market.

  31

  CHAMPAGNE AND CELEBRATIONS

  Anna looked out across the garden from Claire’s downstairs guestroom, which had been converted into a changing room for the day. The purple rhododendron was in full bloom.
It was six months since Ted had proposed to her in early spring on the other side of the world. Six months of travel and meeting his family, who’d been wonderfully kind and welcoming.

  Anna turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Her makeup had been done by Matteo, and Lindy had done her hair. She wore a white silk dress that fell to the floor in gentle folds with a Chantilly lace bodice. Soon she would walk down the aisle in the garden.

  Alone in the room, to calm herself, she picked up her bouquet of burgundy roses and breathed in their heavenly scent. It was hard to believe it was less than two years ago that she lost her lover and her job. It wasn’t only her life that had changed in that time, she had changed inside and out. Maybe she’d become her true self, that’s what Genevieve had said. She was no longer the plain, efficient and reserved keeper of secrets. She wore bright colours, laughed easily and even sometimes forgot to finish tasks. But she’d never forget the kindness of her friends.

  Claire entered the room wearing a cream pantsuit. She looked sophisticated and glamorous. She was pleased Anna had agreed to use the mansion for the wedding and had engaged a wedding planner to handle all the details. Claire and Anthony would renew their vows after the wedding ceremony. Claire would say out loud that she made the choice to take Anthony back, a choice based on deep, mature love and not on need.

  The celebration was also a farewell party for the mansion. Claire and Anthony had been offered a huge sum by a well-known former politician. They had found a smaller place to buy and Claire would use some of the leftover money to set up a foundation to assist Suitability and other services for disadvantaged women.

  There was a knock on the door and Molly entered wearing a coral-coloured bridesmaid’s dress.

  ‘Look at the three of us,’ said Claire as they embraced. ‘We’re beautiful, strong women, who’ve been through so much over the last two years. In that time we’ve changed and become resilient, and all because of Suitability. I’ve had a great idea: we should have a new name. How about “The Changing Room”, to reflect what happens when women use our services?’

  ‘Mon dieu, you can deal with that later, everyone is waiting.’ Lauren, who was the other bridesmaid, entered wearing an aqua dress. ‘Tout de suite, tout de suite,’ she said in her much-improved French.

  Steve was waiting outside the room with the children. Matthew and Daniel wore pageboy outfits and the twins were dressed as flower girls. Daniel held Rufus, who wore a doggie tux with the rings in a pouch around his neck. Anna had suggested that Daniel continue to be a carer for Rufus at a long-term daily rate.

  Anna entered the portico, while Edith Piaf sang ‘La Vie en Rose’. She looked up and saw Ted in a grey morning suit, standing under the jacaranda tree, which, though not in bloom in September, was a handsome backdrop. About a hundred people were seated between them.

  Anna walked down the rosepetal aisle on her own. She’d decided that that no one could replace her father and that she didn’t need anyone to give her away. She smiled at Francine, who’d travelled all the way from Paris for this day and was videoing the ceremony for Aunt Estelle. She passed Valda and her family. Valda put a hand on her heart as Anna walked by. Genevieve and Alice sat with other volunteers from Suitability. Sophie and Venera were there, as was Lindy, who’d done their hair for the event. Ted’s son and daughter were in the front row with their families.

  The marriage celebrant took Anna and Ted through the formal part of the ceremony and then it was the moment when she pronounced them husband and wife.

  They kissed and Anna felt a warm ooze of love that filled her whole body, encasing her for a moment in the bliss of being at one with another person. She looked into Ted’s eyes and knew she could trust him and love him for the rest of her life.

  They signed the documents and moved to the side. Claire and Anthony renewed their vows, promising to cherish and respect each other and to live their lives fully as independent people in a partnership of love.

  The congregation clapped and strolled to a marquee where French champagne was poured into crystal glasses. Everyone toasted Anna and Ted and their new future. They cut the cake and danced the bridal waltz. For the rest of the evening, Anna, Claire and Molly danced with their partners, the children, their friends and extended family.

  Towards the end of the evening, Anna stood with her back to the group, and threw her bouquet. She heard a squeal and turned to see Molly holding the burgundy roses.

  Molly looked at Steve, who gave her a grin. Everybody seemed to stop and wait, as if the pause button had been pressed. Molly momentarily imagined the romantic scene: Steve falling on his knees, pronouncing his undying love and pulling an engagement ring out of his pocket. Everyone would clap and … But Molly wasn’t sure it was what she really wanted at this time in her life. She enjoyed having Lindy staying with her several nights a week, having the kids to herself and her special days with Steve. And what about Steve and his dreams – what would become of them?

  The moment passed and everyone resumed talking. The twins raced to Molly to see the bouquet. The boys ran to leg tackle Steve and Rufus followed.

  Steve cleared his throat.

  ‘Maybe that’ll be us one day, Molly,’ he said. ‘When I finish uni and get a proper job. Whaddya say?’

  Molly smiled. She was happy with the possibility of a future with Steve, when they were both ready.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said and winked at him.

  ‘Didn’t want to upstage you,’ Steve said to Anna.

  ‘You couldn’t if you tried.’ Anna looked at all her family and friends and thought her heart would burst with love. To think, that at sixty-five she was a wife with a whole new chapter ahead of her.

  ‘Come on, one last dance.’ Anna signalled to the DJ, who played Aretha Franklin’s ‘Respect’, the anthem of millions of strong and independent women.

  While Daniel chased Rufus across the lawn and pelicans soared overhead, Anna, Claire and Molly linked arms and shouted the R-E-S-P-E-C-T refrain at the top of their voices.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  If it takes a community of women to change a life, it certainly takes a community to help finalise a novel.

  The idea to write this story emerged from my experience as a volunteer stylist and coach with Dress for Success Sydney (DFSS). For my involvement in DFSS, I thank the incredible woman, Ann Sherry AO, who introduced me to another incredible woman, Megan Etheridge AOM. Megan is the founder and patron of DFSS and I thank her for her warm welcome and support. I also owe thanks to Jen Levy, who encouraged my involvement and read the manuscript for me.

  Anna, Molly, Claire and the other characters are based solely on my own imagination and don’t reflect any of the individuals I worked with in DFSS. I thank many writers for assisting me to bring these characters to life. Emily Maguire gave me the skills and confidence to embark on this journey through the Year of Novel Writing course at Writing NSW. I also thank Emily for her encouragement of my early draft and her confidence in my writing. My writers workshop colleagues Magda Cawthorne, John Anet and Simon Milton were invaluable in giving me feedback and advice.

  Extra special thanks are due to my friend Gwen Wilson, who gave me frank and fearless feedback on an early draft and was a constant support through the whole process. Gwen introduced me to Irina Dunn, my wonderful editor. Irina’s invaluable advice helped me to reshape the manuscript and develop the characters into a coherent and believable piece of work. She also believed in my work enough to advocate the novel to publishers.

  To my publisher, Jane Curry: I thank you for your warm welcome, your belief and understanding of my characters and story. I have felt truly supported and appreciated by you and your team. Thank you to Zoe Hale who has been a most understanding, enthusiastic and responsive person to work with. Sophie Hodge has been ever helpful with marketing advice and support. I also thank Catherine McCredie for her forensic and creative editing. Catherine helped me to lift the narrative and I thank her for her suggestions and i
nsight.

  Many friends have provided support and advice in my five-year quest and in particular I thank Sandra Banister, Monique Ferguson, Mary Gillett, Cheryl Bazzano and Laure Liss.

  Finally, I wish to thank my family. My sister Helen, who was also a volunteer with DFSS, read the story and loved it. To my partner, John Svoronos, who put up with my absences and immersion in the lives of my characters. And of course, to my wonderful son Bo Svoronos who consistently encouraged me to go for it.

  Photograph: John Svoronos

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Christine Sykes was a volunteer at Dress for Success Sydney for over four years. She served as a Senior Public Servant for 30 years. Now retired, she enjoys life’s simple pleasures, and is regularly involved in tap dancing, acting, painting and playing the flute. Christine lives with her partner on the south coast of Sydney.