Set Me Free (9 page)

 ‘I think I might
call it a night,’ Charlotte said to Emily and Geoff. She would've liked to
dance some more, but sitting across from Craig was adding additional stresses
to the list of those to be jettisoned. Best to simply escape, yet again.

Emily shot
Charlotte a look that said,
Don’t you dare.
Charlotte returned one.
I
need to get away from him
. A non-verbal conversation comprised of
exaggerated and contorted facial expressions, continued under Craig’s watchful
gaze and his bemused half-smile.

Lowering her
brows, Emily begged Charlotte not to leave her there with Cassette. Charlotte,
raising hers, and tipping her head towards the door, suggested Emily come too. Emily
glanced towards Geoff, noting she never gets anytime with him, and she wasn’t
going to ruin it by going home and sitting on the couch. Nodding towards Craig,
Charlotte indicated she really needed to get away from him. Finally, Emily
waved her off, defeated.

As though he'd
understood every raised eyebrow and downturned lip, Craig leaned back in his
seat and watched Charlotte for her next move. Cassette and Geoff were
ignorantly engrossed in another conversation, this one about reality TV.

With Emily’s
approval confirmed, Charlotte excused herself. She gave both Emily and Geoff a
kiss and slipped out of the booth. Craig stopped her before she could glide
away.

‘Charlotte.'

She rounded on
him, bristling, ready to attack.

‘How are you
getting home?’ he asked.

‘None of your
business,’ she replied and after a final wave to her family, flounced off.

Well, she tried to
flounce off, but was hindered, as one by one, friends and acquaintances patted
her back and offered her drinks. She slowed down to be cordial and catch up. Enveloped
by people all happy to see her, her temper abated.

What an exhausting
night it was turning out to be. Whatever happened to plain old ‘good’?  This
was a rollercoaster ride, and she’d never been fond of rollercoasters.

Jackson stopped
her halfway to the door, his hand on her arm.

‘You’re not
leaving are you?’

‘Yes. Thanks for
the dances. I had a great night.' No more flirting. It was time to go.

‘The night’s only
just beginning,’ he suggested, taking her hand and interlacing his fingers
through hers.

‘No, Jackson, it’s
ending for me,’ she said firmly, pulling her hand away.

‘You know my
number, baby,’ he called after her before being distracted by the pretty girl
he'd been dancing with earlier.

Shuddering, she
pushed her way through the rest of the crowd and out of the club. As she
launched herself onto the footpath and into the steamy summer’s night, she
almost collided with Craig Carmichael’s broad back. Where did he come from? 
She looked around him and saw he was bundling a slightly befuddled Cassette
into a cab. The cab sped off.

‘What – not taking
her home?' Charlotte sneered ungraciously, instantly back on the ride and
forgetting to be sociable.

‘No,’ Craig
answered, turning around. ‘I’m taking you home.'

Pardon?
  What new level of audacity was this?

‘Thanks, but no
thanks,’ Charlotte replied dismissively and started walking up Boundary Street.
Apart from the few people outside Barb’s, the street was deserted. Unexpectedly,
and unusually, the shadows ahead made her nervous. Perhaps there was someone
lurking in the recessed doorways of the shop frontages.    

‘No argument,
Charlotte,’ Craig called after her insistently. ‘Your family may be comfortable
with you walking the streets alone at night, but I’m not.’

She paused and
turned back. ‘It’s perfectly safe, and I don’t have far to go.’ What business
of his was it anyway?

‘It’s not safe,
and as it’s not far, you won’t have to endure my company for very long.’

‘You're not
walking me home, Craig. You're not to come anywhere near my home.' Charlotte
said adamantly before storming off once more, her dancing shoes clicking along
the pavement.

‘I can still
follow you,’ he called, and did.

‘I can call the
police,’ she threw back over her shoulder.

The threat was
ignored and halfway up the block she stopped to let him catch up. Damn, he was
persistent.

‘You’re pissed at
me,’ Craig observed as they fell into step. Her stride was surer than the last
time he walked her home, and she managed to avoid bumping in to him.

‘You think?’

‘For what it’s
worth, I didn’t mean to be a jerk,’ he commented, seemingly more humble now
they were alone in the peaceful, balmy night.

‘Perhaps you
should try harder next time,’ Charlotte offered. Then hastened to add, ‘not
that there will be a next time. With me, that is.' Slightly flustered, she kept
her eyes on the shadows ahead.

Craig was silent
for a moment, making her squirm some more. A car drove by slowly, but apart
from that, there was no one around.

Eventually he
said, ‘When I came into the gallery on Monday, I meant to talk to you about the
plans. It was the end of a very long day, and I was tired and I got distracted.
And then before I knew it I...I was trying to wake you up before I had to rush
off to a site meeting the next morning. I did try Charlotte, quite a lot. You
must be a heavy sleeper.’

Charlotte blushed
and wondered if she’d been snoring. ‘You got distracted?  What kind of lame
excuse it that?’

‘What can I say? 
You’re very distracting.' It was barely audible.

Something warm
fired inside Charlotte. Ignoring it, she snapped, ‘And you’re very much a prick.
So tell me, is Cassette your girlfriend?'

‘What? Cassie?' He
smiled. ‘No, Cassie’s not my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend.’

Charlotte thought
perhaps she must have swallowed a goldfish. Her stomach was suddenly skittish. ‘You
seemed pretty chummy,’ she said.

Craig’s grin
broadened. ‘I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s like a sister to me.’

‘Then how come
I’ve never seen you with her before?’

‘I don’t go out
much.’

Charlotte snuck a
peek at him. He was staring ahead, his jaw slightly clenched.

It was now taking
some effort to remain livid. ‘You know I’m going to fight you in this
development, don’t you?’

‘I do.'   

They walked in
silence until they rounded the corner into her street and crossed the road in
front of her building.

Charlotte stopped.
‘You lied to me,’ she accused, finally seeking out his eyes.

‘No I didn’t. Not
technically. I failed to tell you something, but I didn’t lie.' Was he
teasing
her?

‘Same thing,’ she
snapped. ‘I don’t like liars. And I’m not very fond of people who are out to
ruin my life,’ she added.

‘I’m not going to
ruin your life,’ he said, not looking away, holding her with his dark brown
gaze.

‘Well that means
that you are because you’re a liar.’

He chuckled softly
and gently. ‘Your argument is not sound.’

Charlotte withheld
a grin. He was right. She sounded like a petulant child. She decided not to
bite back.

‘I’m going in
now,’ she said. ‘Thanks for seeing me home, I guess.'

He shrugged. She
paused, and her gaze fell on his lips. When the corners of his mouth started to
turn, so did she, on her heel, to stomp up the stairs to her apartment.

‘Goodnight,
Charlotte,’ he called.

Throwing him one
final glare, she closed her door on him and made a beeline for the shower to
wash away the sinful desire threatening her good judgment.   

‘Where
to first?' Emily asked, extracting the list of potential new gallery sites from
Charlotte’s lap.

‘Hardgrave Road,’
Charlotte answered, and pulled Ben’s car out into the traffic.

She was borrowing
the Mazda because the Monster was in the shop…again. Charlotte wished Ben was
with them. With him in tow, they might have been scoping out options slightly grander
than the low rent shops on her list. But Ben had different issues to grapple
with.

Over drinks at
Charlotte’s place last night they’d discussed the possibility of the
development proposal being approved.  

Relocating was
easier for Charlotte than for Ben. Her clients were mobile, and most of her
business was done at monthly exhibition launches. People came to the gallery;
they didn’t just happen upon it. Walk-in traffic was useful, but she didn’t
rely on the business of passing shoppers anywhere near as heavily as Ben did. A
lot more of his business came from his loyal customer base, and for him, moving
somewhere else meant starting from scratch. He wasn’t sure he was ready to do
that. So while Charlotte was dragging Emily around to look at relocation
options, Ben was pouring over his books to see if starting over was even feasible.

The first address
was just around the corner from the gallery. ‘At least we’d save on moving
costs,’ Charlotte mused hopefully.

‘Charlotte, you
run an art gallery that exhibits other people’s work. I don’t think your moving
costs will be that unmanageable,’ said Emily, dryly.

‘Just looking for
something positive, Missy.’

The space was
promising. It was a vacant shop among a stretch of restaurants, which
insinuated afternoon browsers; ladies-who-lunch walking off their meals before
picking the kids up from school.

The building was
old, but from the street front, there was no sign of potential collapse, unlike
other budget sites she’d seen. Charlotte peered in through the glass. It was
basic. Four walls and a sink at the back.

‘No back room,’ she
observed as she forced the stubborn key into the lock and led Emily inside. ‘And
I’m not sure about that colour.’

‘I’m sure about
it,’ Emily said. ‘It’s disgusting. Fluorescent green. Can we leave now?  There’s
nothing more to this place, and it’s turning my stomach.’

Charlotte
complied, but not before doing a circuit of the room, trying to visualise its
possibilities. Walls could be painted if she became desperate.

Their next stop
was on Musgrave Road, across the river and up the hill from West End. It was a free-standing
shop front with a tenanted house behind it. The real estate agent’s pitch said
off-street parking. On the map, it looked isolated. Just thinking about it,
Charlotte felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

‘I’m going to miss
having Ben next door,’ she said.

‘You might find a
new Ben,’ Emily suggested.

‘He’s my best
friend, Em. He’s not replaceable.' She didn’t want a new Ben. She was happy
with the way things were, and she didn’t want anything to change.

‘No, I suspect
he’s not.’

They pulled up
outside the address but decided not to get out of the car. It was once a
prestigious old building, but the smashed glass window at the front and the car
body in the vacant lot next door spoke volumes about neglect. The guttering
hung loose, and the paint was peeling off in great swathes.

‘Drive on,’ suggested
Emily and Charlotte didn’t hesitate.

‘Did you ask Geoff
if he has any property law contacts?’ Charlotte asked.

‘I did. He
couldn’t think of anyone, but he was going to ask around at work.’

‘Can you pass on
my thanks?  It would be brilliant if we could get someone on our side who
understood the law. Hey, how’s his case going?’

‘Still no end in
sight. At least we managed a night together last Thursday, though. Thanks to Mr
Property Developer chasing you out of the door and dragging Cassette with him. You
never told me if he caught up with you.’

‘He chased me out
the door?’

‘He pretty much
jumped out of his seat as soon as your back was turned. Cassette was not happy.
Did you see them outside?’

Charlotte tried to
be nonchalant as she parked the car at the front of the next shop. The realtor
they’d arranged to meet was waiting for them. ‘He put her in a taxi and walked
me home,’ she replied, and promptly climbed out of the car. Emily’s eyes widened.
For now at least, shaking the realtor’s hand, Charlotte dodged further
questioning.

After the third
and fourth inspection, the first one was coming up trumps. Number five was on
the north side of town in Hamilton, further away than Charlotte wanted, but
beggars couldn't be choosers. Following Emily’s directions and driving through
the thick traffic that choked the northern suburbs, she tried not to feel
despondent.    

‘Turn here!’ Emily
suddenly screeched. Charlotte braked and took the left hand corner too sharply.

‘Bit more warning
next time, please. Need I remind you I am borrowing this car?' She slowed down,
expecting the unexpected. ‘Where now?’ she asked.

‘Hmm, I’m not sure.
I think that was a wrong turn back there.’

‘Emily,’ Charlotte
moaned. ‘Can I
please
turn on the Sat Nav?' Emily had flatly refused to
use it, preferring instead to flick through the pages of a fifteen-year-old
street directory.

‘No, I can get us
there. That dreadful robotic voice will make my brain explode if you put that
thing on.’

‘Well, my brain is
going to explode if we get lost again.’

‘You could always
let me drive.’

‘Ben lent me this
car on the condition that I don’t let you drive.’

‘Well shut up then
and turn right,’ Emily instructed.

Charlotte turned
into what was clearly a residential street. Typical of the suburb, it was a
blend of majestic weatherboard Queenslanders surrounded by enormous
well-manicured gardens and neighbouring mid-twentieth century apartment blocks.

‘I really doubt
we’re going to find a shop for lease up here,’ Charlotte complained as she
shifted down gears to climb the steep hill.

Suddenly she
braked again, this time to a complete stop. ‘Oh my,’ she whispered, gazing out
of the window at the most perfect example of Art Deco architecture she’d ever
seen in Brisbane. A car behind her beeped.

‘Where did you
come from?’ she asked it, steering the Mazda into a tight parking spot.

‘Um, Charlotte?’
Emily asked.

‘I just need to
have a look at this building.'

It was crumbling
around the edges, derelict, abandoned and desperately in need of some love. The
garden was a jungle of weeds, overgrown with lantana, cat’s claw and morning
glory. Nevertheless, a little concrete path still paved the way to the front
door.

‘That building?' Emily
asked, horrified. ‘That thing looks like something from one of my paintings. Seriously,
Charlotte, it looks like it could collapse any second. I don’t think we are
safe here.’

Charlotte got out
of the car. ‘Emily, it’s amazing. Look at those lines down the sides and the
ziggurat shapes in the windows.' Charlotte was mesmerised.

Peering out from
the safety of her seat, all Emily could see was an overgrown garden, several
windows boarded up with plywood, and crumbling stucco. But to Charlotte the two-story
1930s apartment building was a work of art equal to anything Emily would put on
a canvas.

Where Emily saw neglected
responsibility and society’s failings, Charlotte saw an opportunity to repair
and make things better than they were before. She gazed at the building before
her, imagining how she might restore it and wondering what condition it was in
inside.

A slight and
sudden pang of regret, for what she'd left behind to come to Queensland, stung
her. She never meant to give up architecture entirely, but running the gallery
left little time for anything else. Not to mention the cost of re-enrolling. She
was getting by, but the gallery afforded very few additional extras in her life.

She took the building
in for a few more moments then, reminding herself she was happy, climbed back
into the car.

‘Can you please
check the map again and find us a way out of here?'

Charlotte took one
last look before putting the car into gear.

‘Okay, okay,’ said
Emily. ‘Go straight ahead and then turn left, then right, then a sharp left. That
should be the street with the shop on it.'

It was, and the
shop was of the same vintage and style as the Hardgrave Road option. It was a
little out of the way, and the customer base would be completely different. While
a lick of paint might work for the Hardgrave Road place; in this neighbourhood,
it would definitely not be enough. This was the money part of town. It was
infinitely suitable, but this space would require a refurbishment befitting a
more exclusive clientele.

As they left, they
were subdued. The surprising lack of substitute gallery spaces made Charlotte
question whether she should actually be exploring some entirely different ideas
altogether. She thought of the magnificent Art Deco apartment block and felt
the faint tingle of inspiration. Perhaps she could…  

No. Her sister
still needed her.

‘Let’s get some
lunch,’ Emily suggested. It was after 2pm. ‘There’s a cute little place Geoff
and I discovered on Margaret Street in the city.’

Charlotte found a
parking space right outside the café. She turned off the Mazda and looked at
the building’s beautifully preserved façade. 1890s vintage, she guessed. As she
took it in, the solid oak front doors opened and a familiar figure stepped out,
dressed in a strappy, floaty, white sundress that blew around her in the gentle
breeze. Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. A run in with Cassette would be difficult to
stomach right now. As she watched, Cassette turned to tug someone out on to the
street behind her. Charlotte’s dread escalated, and her mouth went dry.  

‘Bloody hell, I
think your secret little café has been discovered,’ she grumbled, finding her
voice.

Emily glanced up,
clocked Cassette and turned to eyeball her sister. ‘Hey, she’s mine to loathe,
not yours. Oh but I get it, you’ve got issues since seeing her fawning all over
Mr Property Developer. There’s something going on with you two, isn’t there? 
You're going to spill over lunch, young lady.’

‘Don’t be
ridiculous,’ Charlotte snapped.

Emily laughed. ‘No
need to fret over Cassette though is there?’ she teased. ‘What is it you’re
always telling me?  She’s harmless?’

But as Emily was
speaking, Charlotte decided that Cassette, performance artist extraordinaire,
was very harmful indeed. The man following her out of the café and being swept
into her clingy embrace was not Craig Carmichael.

‘Oh shit!’ Charlotte
exclaimed and froze, paralysed with shock.

‘What ...?’ Emily looked
back at Cassette in time to see her husband playfully pull her into a
passionate and extended embrace. Emily turned to stone.

After what seemed
like an eternity, Charlotte found her faculties and fumbled to reinsert the
keys into the ignition. She stole a glance at her paling sister. ‘Hang on a
minute, honey. I’m going to get you out of here.’

Before she could
start the car, Emily opened the door and threw up on the street. The sound of
retching distracted the lip-locked lovers, and they both turned in scorn
towards the source. Then, recognising his wife, Geoff raced towards the car,
leaving his flummoxed lover behind.

‘Emily!’ he cried,
as she pulled herself back into the car, slamming and locking the door.

‘Please, Char,’
she begged, whispering.

Charlotte revved
the engine excessively as she pulled out, causing an approaching car to brake
suddenly in a cloud of burnt rubber. Without an apology she sped off, leaving
Geoff chasing after them, calling, ‘Emily, it’s not what you think!’

They were
instantly foiled by a red light, giving him the opportunity to catch up, run
out into the traffic and pound on Emily’s window. Mercifully, the lights
changed seconds later and Charlotte sped off. Lost for words, she threw
repeated glances towards her sister, who was hunched forward, clutching her
stomach and rocking slightly.

Emily’s mobile
began to ring. She dug it out of her handbag and turned it off. A minute later,
Charlotte’s began to ring, and Emily did the same again.

‘Oh my God,
Charlotte,’ she groaned. ‘Did I really just see that?’

Charlotte said
nothing, still searching for the right thing to say.

‘Can we go to your
place?’ Emily murmured.

‘We are, honey. Are
you okay?' It was a ridiculous question; born of futility.

‘No. It fucking
hurts,’ Emily growled.

Charlotte parked
Ben’s car down a side street near her building.