Lisa Heidke (25 page)

Day 61

W
hen I clomp down my beautiful Oregon stairs at seven in the morning and see Sandy and Rock waiting for me, I know from their faces they mean trouble.

‘We need to go into damage control - again,’ Sandy says coldly. ‘First it was print but then Alana and her goddamn mother go and do a blab fest on TV - it’s getting out of hand.’

‘I really don’t -’

‘That combined with the fact that you and Rock are . . . Well, what exactly
are
you doing with Lucy, Rock?’ Sandy glares at him instead of me.

‘Yeah, I like you and everything,’ Rock tells me. ‘But I can’t risk my career -’

‘Rock, there’s really nothing to explain,’ I say, looking around for a pit to fall into. This can’t be happening. I’m not standing in my brand-new kitchen discussing my one-night stand with Rock. It’s ancient history. And that kiss a week ago? So not going to happen again.

‘I know you’re into me and everything,’ Rock goes on, ‘and I dig you, but I’ve got to think about my future. If I don’t have my television career, I’ve got nothing.’

‘What he’s trying to say, Lucy,’ says Sandy, ‘is that from now on you two need to keep it professional. I don’t know if the program will go ahead in its current format given everything that’s happened in the last week, but if it does, all of us have to remain professional.’ She nods to Rock to speak.

‘Sandy’s right,’ he says. ‘We need to lie low for a while, Lucy, then, when this blows over, we can, you know, be together again.’

I look away, willing myself not to laugh.

‘Hey, don’t cry, babe,’ Rock says.

It’s too much to bear. I run up the stairs to Bella’s room at the other end of the house, lie on her bed and give in to hysterics. I haven’t laughed this hard for a very long time. It feels fantastic.

‘Lucy-Lou, I’m glad I found you,’ Gloria says when she tracks me down in the bathroom, where I’m plucking my eyebrows.

‘Where else would I be? I’m a prisoner in my own home, just waiting for the next instalment of my public humiliation.’

‘Nonsense. That’s what I’m here to talk about. You’ll never believe -’

‘Gloria, I’m not in the mood.’

‘You will be, girlfriend, you will be!’ Gloria squeals.

‘I’ve been inundated with calls of support for you - women saying they’ll boycott
New Idea
and the current affairs shows because of how badly you’ve been treated.’

‘You’re joking?’

‘No way. I’ve got it all written down. There are pages and pages of the stuff. I’ve also fielded a call from Centre Management at Westfield asking if you’ll be their official ambassador.’

‘Get out!’

‘True! And get this, Foxtel are launching a nineties month in two weeks and they want you to host the whole shebang, kicking off with - drum roll, please - the very first episode of
The Young Residents
.’

‘Really?’

‘All true - to coincide with the release of a special edition DVD featuring twelve classic episodes -’

‘The wedding?’

‘Of course - the wedding, the coma, your death scene, it’s all in there. And I had an old woman ring up from Darwin saying she loved you in the broccoli commercial, and another one from Adelaide saying that in her neighbourhood they’ve started a petition to bring back
Marvels
.’

‘See, I told you a talking detective dog was definitely the way of the future,’ I say.

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darl.’

Day 62

I’
ve not had time to feel nervous about seeing Dominic today because I’m still recovering from last night’s celebration with Gloria about my possible acceptance back into polite society. Last night, in a moment of excitement, I rang Mum and told her the good news. Not that she believed me. ‘You’re living in a fool’s paradise, Lucy,’ she said.

Thanks Mum.

But nothing can upset me today. Luckily I don’t have too much of a hangover due to drinking white wine spritzers and downing two Beroccas before bed. It was a girlie night full of giggles and stories from our past. And by the end of it, Gloria and I decided that Max is no more than the father of my children. I have to move on from him and that’s what I intend to do.

And Dom? Well, Dom’s still the one I dream about.

And today’s the day it could all come crashing down. I keep telling myself not to have any expectations of this weekend. It’s just a chance for old friends to catch up, and for my children to meet the ‘cute’ guy in my ancient NIDA photos.

But I can’t help feeling happy and excited about seeing him. There are so many knots inside my stomach I feel like a tormented Girl Guide.

The kids and I leave the house in Patch’s capable (!) hands.

‘Luce, you won’t know the place when you get back,’ he assures me, as he and three other men position the bi-fold doors ready for hanging.

‘So you keep telling me. I hope you’ve measured those doors properly this time,’ I say, looking them up and down.

‘Third time’s a charm. Have faith. Have I ever let you down before?’ Patch speaks straight to the camera.

‘Let’s wait and see, shall we? And while you’re doing the paint touch-ups, remember the new downpipes need to be painted to match the brickwork, okay?’

‘Will do.’

‘And the smoke detectors need to be fitted.’

‘Will do.’

There are a hundred and one other things that need doing as well but I can’t think of them.

‘We’ll take care of everything,’ Patch tells the camera.

‘Go and enjoy your weekend.’

‘You have my number -’

‘Forever ingrained in my memory,’ Patch says and smiles. ‘Now shoo. Let me get on with it.’

‘What if we have nothing to talk about?’ I say to Gloria on the drive down.

‘With your life? Please.’

‘Well, what if we get there and he’s short, fat and bald and parades his beautiful Eurasian girlfriend and four kids in front of me?’

‘Then you’ll be your charming self. You’ll smile, shake their hands and say thanks for inviting us.’

‘Do you really think -’

‘Of course not. For a start, the guy’s six foot two on a short day, and last time I saw him he was lean, tanned and had a full head of shiny brown hair.’

‘And the girlfriend?’

‘You should have asked.’

Maybe I should have gone to more trouble than throwing on a comfortable pair of jeans, cream jumper and brown boots. A bikini wax wouldn’t have gone astray either. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. I can’t think straight. This is a huge mistake.

Following Gloria’s messy instructions, we exit the highway, drive along a dirt road for ten kilometres and veer right at the fork in the road.

‘Next we should cross a cow grid,’ Gloria says, peering ahead. ‘And
voila
! So over we go . . . bump, bump, bump. And just about now we should arrive at Lot 74, the home of Dominic Delahunty. Bingo!’

The land is green and lush, and there’s a huge pond to the left and several horses in a paddock on the right. At the top of the hill is a large rustic homestead. I turn off the engine and breathe in the fresh eucalypt air. I may just throw up.

‘Gloria, I can’t move.’

‘Well, you’d better find your legs soon, honey, because the man himself’s just walked out onto the verandah. I’d say he’s expecting company, and guess what? There’s no lady friend standing beside him.’

Looking up, I see Dom grinning, wearing a red check flannelette shirt, Levi’s and work boots. As I struggle to open the car door, he walks down to greet us. The kids are already running around on the freshly mown grass.

Okay, he’s still tall, tanned and has a full head of hair. Even from this distance, I can see he’s drop-dead gorgeous in a Hugh Jackman/Wolverine way.

He smiles. ‘Hey! What took you so long?’

‘What? It’s only been a dozen years.’ I am desperate to appear happy, together and casual.

‘Thirteen,’ he corrects and engulfs me in a huge bear hug. ‘Come here.’

I’m overwhelmed, but can’t take my eyes off him. His complexion is a little more lined, his teeth a little less bright, but his hair’s as thick and shiny as it used to be. And as for those gorgeous blue eyes, they’re still gorgeous. All of a sudden I’m back in Newtown all those years ago and we’re in love. Or at least I am.

‘Dom, this is Sam,’ I say, pulling the children towards me and hiding behind introductions. ‘He wants to be an assassin when he grows up. And this is Bella, my beautiful girl.’ I push her in front of me.

‘Hi, guys. Welcome,’ Dom says, smiling. ‘Ah, and the dazzling Gloria! Still working that black to perfection I see.’

‘Well, it is my signature,’ Gloria replies, a huge smile across her broad face.

I can’t help staring as he leads us up the stairs and onto the verandah. Even with Gloria poking me in the back, I’m lost for words. Every emotion I felt for him all those years ago is rising to the surface. I’m powerless to stop them.

‘Your home is gorgeous,’ I manage, as Dom takes us on a tour of the house. ‘And your furniture is exquisite.’

‘All locally made,’ he says.

I’m hardly listening. He could say he tortured chickens for a living and I’d reply, ‘That’s nice.’ Clearly, I’m not in charge of my emotions. I’ve been in his presence all of five minutes and my legs are jelly. I just want him to kiss me.

‘This place is massive,’ says Sam.

‘You live here alone?’ Gloria asks.

I mouth the word ‘subtle’ at her and shake my head.

She glances in my direction then smiles sweetly at Dom.

‘Nah, I live with Rusty. Hey, Rusty,’ he calls out. ‘Our visitors have arrived.’

My stomach lurches. Immediately, I feel nauseous and sad.

‘Here she is,’ Dom says as a portly red Labrador lumbers up beside him. ‘Rusty, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Rusty.’

‘She’s beautiful,’ Bella says, dropping to her knees and enveloping Rusty in a gigantic hug.

‘If you throw a tennis ball for her, she’ll be your best friend,’ Dom says.

‘Cool,’ Bella and Sam chorus. They run outside, Rusty at their heels.

‘So it’s just you and Rusty?’ Gloria persists. ‘You’re not married or -’

‘Gloria!’ I warn.

‘What?’ says Dom. ‘I don’t mind. Yes, I was married. Didn’t work out.’

‘Lucy was -’

‘Is,’ I remind her.

‘- married to an arsehole,’ Gloria finishes.

‘Surprisingly, it’s not that difficult to marry an arsehole,’ Dom says.

‘So how long have you lived here?’ I ask, changing the topic.

‘I’ve owned the property for eight years, but up until a couple of years ago I’d probably only spent a month here.

I was working overseas a lot.’

‘That must have been wonderful.’

‘To a point. I got tired of travelling, so two years ago I quit.’

‘Sculpting?’

‘Yeah, I was commissioning pieces for various galleries.’

‘Sounds glamorous.’

‘It wasn’t. I spent most of my time planning and juggling budgets instead of sculpting. So I packed up and came home. Now, it doesn’t matter whether people buy my work or not - I’m doing what I love. I decided I didn’t need the money that badly, or the aggravation. I have everything I need right here.’ He gestures to the spectacular view across the hills to the ocean. ‘I was always pissing off my agent because I wasn’t aligned with a particular school or movement, rarely attended openings and got sick of the critics.’

‘Because,’ says Gloria, ‘those who can’t, criticise.’

‘Exactly,’ Dom says with a shrug. ‘And I’m happy here.’

‘I can understand why,’ I say, peering out to where Bella and Sam are patting the horse through the fence. After waving to them, I turn to Dom and ask, ‘No horse flu here?’ Mother would be pleased with me.

‘Not likely,’ he says. ‘Disease wouldn’t dare present itself in the southern highlands.’

‘You were saying?’ Gloria asks him, giving me the eye.

He grins. ‘I like it here. I’m not saying that if a great offer came along I wouldn’t consider it, but I have a piece in an art gallery in Paris. That’s my claim to fame. I’m happy with that.’

‘And a gallery in Wollongong too, I hear,’ Gloria adds.

‘Yeah, the Gong has one of my sculptures.’

‘So, no desire to go back to the city?’ I say.

‘To live? Not at all. I have a much simpler life here, and I’m much calmer now that I’m running the show.’

‘And what show is that?’ Gloria asks.

‘Dabbling here and there. It keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. But enough about me, I want to hear all about my two favourite girls.’

‘Honey,’ says Gloria, ‘we’ve got more stories than could fill a book.’

‘
New Idea
, anyway,’ I say.

‘I’m sorry things are a bit of a mess for you,’ Dom says later when we’re sitting out on his verandah in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying a pinot gris from a local winery and some aged brie. ‘You deserve so much better. Max was obviously insane to leave you, Bella and Sam.’

‘Yeah, it’s tough, but in some ways I’m glad he left,’ I say, relaxing into a comfortable wingback rattan chair. The kids are off climbing mountains with Rusty and Gloria’s dozing in a hammock between two ancient gums. It’s all rather idyllic. If I get any more comfortable, I’ll fall asleep too.

Dom gives me an unconvinced look.

‘It’s true,’ I say. ‘The marriage wasn’t working - hadn’t been for a while. It was like a really worn pair of shoes that you know you have to get rid of, but I was scared to chuck them out and go barefoot. But when I did finally take them off and toss them out it was an absolute relief. Does that make sense?’

Dom smiles. ‘You’re happy walking barefoot and Max isn’t coming back?’

I nod and take a sip of wine.

‘But would you take him back?’

‘Of course not.’

‘That’s good to hear. So . . .’

‘So?’

‘What’s up with you and Rock Hardy?’

‘Why? Do you find the match
so
unbelievable?’

‘That he could be attracted to you? Absolutely not. You’re great, you know that. But do I think you could be with him long-term? Somehow, I can’t quite see it.’

‘Why?’ I say, punching him on the arm.

‘Because, he’s a baby.’

‘Oh, right. So it’s okay for men to cradle-snatch -’

‘Hey!’ He puts his hands up in defence. ‘All I’m saying is that surely whatshisname couldn’t satisfy you . . . intellectually?’

‘Because I’m so scholarly?’ Then I grin. ‘All right, I admit it was all a bit silly really . . .’

‘So, there’s nothing going on?’

‘No, of course not. The man wears shoe gloves, for God’s sake.’

I sip my drink and look around. Dom’s home is rustic country, not pretentious at all, kind of homey and comfortable. I can just make out Bella’s and Sam’s voices in the distance. ‘I love this place,’ I say. ‘It’s so peaceful . . . pure.’

‘Smooth change of topic, Luce, but you can’t get out of it that easily. Tell me about him. Besides being young, Rock’s good-looking and charming, isn’t he?’

‘It was a momentary lapse - I didn’t plan to fall into bed with him. It wasn’t premeditated . . . I was feeling vulnerable . . .’

‘So it was a spur-of-the-moment insanity thing?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And is this madness likely to recur?’ Dom leans across and takes my hand. It’s comforting, strangely familiar and very sexy. It’s as if the years we’ve spent apart have been erased with one touch. I’m having trouble concentrating on the conversation.

‘What about you?’ I manage. ‘You’ve got an ex-wife - any children?’

‘No, unfortunately. We tried though. Really tried.’

I expected him to be guarded. Just because I’m an open book doesn’t mean others have to be. But Dom brings me up to speed on everything about his personal life.

‘In the end, Sybilla couldn’t cope with us not having children, and she blamed me. Said I was too caught up in my work, my own needs . . . It certainly wasn’t an easy separation and divorce, but is there ever such a thing? Lucy?’

I’m thinking about Dom and his ex-wife trying to conceive a child . . . man, oh man.

‘Lucy?’ he says again. ‘Your phone.’

I glance over at my bag. Inside it, my mobile’s ringing.

Loudly. ‘I thought you said you didn’t get good coverage here?’

‘We don’t. Usually. Would you like to . . . ?’

Yes. Yes, I would.

‘. . . answer it?’

‘Of course,’ I blurt and put the phone to my ear.

‘Only me, darling. Have I caught you at a bad time?’

‘Mother,’ I answer, and the moment with Dominic is lost. Not that there necessarily was a moment. Maybe it was all in my imagination.

‘I’m pleased things are finally turning around for you,’ Mum says. ‘What with all the drama of the last few months.

I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you.’

While I’m pleased that Mum is proud of me (from memory, she’s uttered those words only twice before: when my wedding scene in
The Young Residents
was voted Most Popular Soapie Moment, 1996; and again when I gave birth to Bella in 1998), I tell her as gently as I can that I’m in the middle of something and will call back later.

Mum’s still very much on the need-to-know diet, and the last thing she needs to know right now is that I’m a hundred and twenty kilometres away from home visiting the man from my past who I’ve never really stopped loving. The proud status I’ve just attained would be toast.

I’m taking a couple of minutes in the kitchen after dinner to gather my thoughts when Dom saunters in. I can’t think of anything to say so I just smile, but it feels more like a grimace. I’m drenched in excruciating, mind-numbing expectation and want to scream ‘Kiss me!’ I picture the two of us entwined . . .