Clem looked at what she had written.
I can’t do that, she told herself. I can’t meddle.
But a part of her thought: if he only
knew
. She wondered what was the worst thing that could happen. Walking downstairs, she made the three-block journey to the nearest letterbox.
I’m just going for a walk, she told herself. I won’t send it.
She was mentally tallying the possible good and bad outcomes of James seeing these letters. She could only think of good. He would learn that Daniela truly loved him — had always loved him — and they would be together. But what if Clementine was wrong? James was hardly going to get angry at Daniela for being in love with him. If anything, he would be more sensitive to her feelings. Besides, Clem reasoned, reciprocity of attraction is one of the key drivers when attachment is first being formed in a relationship. Human beings are insecure creatures. We like those who like us.
‘I’ll just post them,’ she said.
She pulled down the metal opening of the letterbox and shoved the envelope through the slot. It landed on the pile of mail with a soft sigh. The second it was gone, she wanted it back.
Daniela was going to kill her.
Clementine pulled open the metal door and peered into the darkness. She tried to squeeze her hand down the chute, but the letterbox wouldn’t let more than the very tips of her fingers in.
‘Dammit,’ she said, feeling as though she was emerging from a bout of temporary madness. She tried to prise the letterbox door open.
‘Dammit,’ she said again, kicking it. It was sealed tight.
Walking home, she pondered what she had done, almost suffocating in panic. She looked at her watch. It was past midnight. The next mail pick-up was at 4am. She decided she would set her alarm and then plead with the mailman to let her retrieve the letter. She felt calmer. Yes. That was exactly what she would do.
She couldn’t sleep, instead squirming under the covers, thinking about Dani and James. It was nearly three when she finally dozed off. The alarm started blaring at 3.30am. She squashed it, then rolled over, sleeping until seven. When she woke, she sat bolt upright. The mail! She had missed it. Daniela’s teenage heartache was working its way to James right now. Clem thought about calling her; warning her. She even started to type a message, but the words looked ridiculous.
Watch out! James knows you love him.
She dialled, but as the phone rang she clamped her thumb on the red off button. She couldn’t leave this up to Dani to fix. Clem thought about going to the building site and trying to intercept the mail at the other end, picturing herself there, hiding behind a rubber plant while watching guard over the mailbox.
Then she pictured James getting the letters. He wouldn’t laugh or be cruel. At worst he would be touched but uninterested. At best he would rush to Daniela and tell her he loved her, too. But what if he didn’t?
Clementine scooped up her car keys, put a cap over her bed hair, and pulled a jacket over her pyjama top. Then she raced downstairs and jumped into her car.
In half an hour she was screeching to a halt outside the part-built apartment block.
‘Clem?’ Daniela was unloading tubes of plans from her backseat.
‘Dani! Hi, how are you? Is everything okay? Are you okay?’ The words tumbled out of her. Clementine’s voice was an octave higher than usual.
‘I’m fine. Uh, what are you doing here?’
Clem breathed. Daniela seemed normal. Nothing had happened yet. She could still stop it.
‘Nothing, I just, ah, wanted to come by and see how you are, and ask you, um, have you seen James this morning?’
‘I don’t think he’s in yet,’ Dani said, looking at her watch. ‘It’s only half past seven.’
‘Great,’ Clementine said, glancing around. ‘I was wondering, where does your mail get delivered to?’
‘Our mail? Clem, what’s going on? You’re starting to scare me.’
‘Oh, Dani.’ Clem looked at her. ‘I’ve done something really bad.’
‘What? What have you done?’
‘It’s silly really. Just a little mix-up when I was addressing some letters …’ She had half-scripted an excuse in the car on the way over, as she had dodged commuters and freight trucks. All the time she had been wildly thinking: She doesn’t have to know. She never has to know what I’ve done.
But looking into Daniela’s large, trusting eyes as she waited for her to explain, Clementine realised she couldn’t lie. She had been lying and deceiving people in one way or another since she had met Jason. It was time for it to stop.
She took a deep breath and told Daniela about the letters. Dani’s eyes widened and her eyebrows rose as Clementine recounted each step: what the letters said and what she had done, and what she had been thinking when she had done it.
‘I thought it was the right thing,’ Clem pleaded, as she finished.
‘Those childish letters I had sent during lectures? Those private, stupid, childish letters?’ Dani’s face had gone white.
‘It’s unforgivable, I know. I’d do anything to take it back.’
‘Why would you do this?’ Daniela turned to her. ‘Are you insane?’
‘I know, Dani, I know — but we can get them before he sees them,’ Clem said. ‘We can undo this. It will still be in the mail room.’
She was panting in panic and desperation.
‘Okay,’ Dani nodded. ‘Okay. Let me think. There’ll be time to kill you later. We don’t have a mail room. This is a building site. Letters go to Briggs’s office on the other side of the lot.’
They raced around the grey skeleton of the building to a demountable at the back of the site. The door was closed. Dani gripped the handle and rattled.
‘Locked.’
‘That’s a good sign,’ Clem said. ‘The envelope must be in there. Or it hasn’t been delivered yet.’
‘I’ve got a key in my office.’
‘Where is it? I’ll run and get it.’
‘No!’ Daniela snapped. ‘You won’t know where to look.’
Clementine was silent. Dani looked guilty. ‘Come on,’ she said.
They hurried back across the yard to her office. ‘This is a nightmare,’ Dani said as she rattled her keys in the door. ‘Wh—? It’s open—’
Clementine heard a man’s voice. ‘Briggs let me in.’
James was sitting behind the desk. There were blue letters spread out all over it.
Clem’s gizzards turned to stone.
‘James,’ said Dani.
He looked up at her. ‘Dani, what is this?’
Clem stepped forward.
‘It’s me, it’s my fault.’
‘Is this some sort of joke?’
‘No, it was a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—’
‘After all these years.’ James was shaking his head.
‘James,’ Dani moved towards him. ‘They’re from so long ago. Can we just forget them?’
‘Forget them?’ His voice faltered. He laughed a little. ‘You want me to forget this?’ He pointed at her with a pale blue page.
Daniela’s voice rose. ‘Please don’t be mad. It was stupid—’
James stood and turned to face her square on. ‘Stupid? So, you don’t want to be with me?’
‘What? No, I—’ Dani stopped dead.
The air seemed to go out of the room. Clem looked to the door, wanting to disappear. Suddenly she felt very present and obtrusive. Everything seemed sharper. She became aware of the trace of concrete dust in the air and the distance sound of a revving motor. Dani’s eyes were bright, and Clementine could see the tension in her muscles. She was like a cat facing a large dog, unsure whether to step forward or dart away.
‘Is—’ Her voice was low. ‘Is that something you would want?’
James rushed towards her. ‘Dani, for years … for years I’ve been chasing you. Every time I thought we were getting somewhere, you’d run away. At uni it was Thomas Massey’ — he had his arms around her waist now — ‘and when I started working here you snuck out of bed in the morning, then spent months insisting we were just friends. You even brought your girlfriends to a party I invited you to this year.’
James looked at Clem. She looked away guiltily.
Dani shook her head, her face creased with confusion. ‘I didn’t want you to think I was some crazy girl who’d try and trap you into some life of domesticity.’
‘Why would I think that?’ James smiled. ‘As for not thinking you’re crazy, it’s too late for that.’
For once Dani was speechless. James grabbed her face and kissed her.
Clementine made a study of her fingernails.
After a minute Dani pulled away and laughed weakly. ‘This is so ridiculous, I’m crying again. What’s wrong with me?’ She wiped her face and laughed again. James hugged her. Clem started to back out. Daniela turned around.
‘Clem,’ she ran to her, ‘that was a dangerous risk you took.’ She threw her arms around her. ‘But I’m so glad you did.’
Clementine had to be back at her office by 9am for an appointment with the Highetts. Today’s argument was that Brian thought that, because Wilhelmina enjoyed cooking, it should be worth fewer ‘chore points’ than his job of doing the washing-up, which he hated.
‘Why don’t you take it in turns?’ Clem asked.
‘Because he can’t cook!’ Wilhelmina hollered.
‘You won’t let me,’ her husband countered. They descended into argument again. Clementine squeezed her eyes shut.
‘I think you two are great,’ she yelled. They stopped and looked at her. Clem exhaled and tried again, softer this time.
‘You two are great,’ she said, putting each of her hands on one of theirs. ‘You care about each other so much that you are trying to make the first years — the foundation — of your marriage strong to set the tone for your life together for the next fifty years. I love that you come here together to try and figure it out …’ They both searched her face, trying to understand why she was telling them this. ‘But you’re going to have to learn how to resolve conflict alone.’
They sat back.
‘What are you saying?’ asked Wilhelmina.
‘I don’t think I should see you any more.’
‘But why?’ asked Brian.
‘It’s not me, it’s you,’ Clem said. ‘You’re going to be together for a long time. And it will be challenging sometimes, and wonderful other times. But you won’t last if you don’t learn to work through your problems together.’
Slowly they looked at each other.
‘We understand,’ said Brian. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, taking his wife’s hand, ‘perhaps you could teach me to cook. Then we could do it together.’
‘You wash and I dry?’ she asked. Their faces relaxed. They leaned forward and kissed.
‘So it turns out I’m not such a bad relationship counsellor after all,’ Clem told Annabel over a coffee after work.
‘Amazing,’ she beamed. ‘All those years they wanted to be together. Well,’ she held up her latte, ‘here’s to you. And here’s to Dani and James.’
Clementine finished the last of her foamy cappuccino.
‘I should get home, I just wanted to let you know the husband-hunters hadn’t been total failures.’
‘I should go, too,’ Annabel said. ‘But, just one thing.’ She took a cream-coloured card from her bag and slid it across the table. It was the invitation to Damon’s fundraiser. ‘This sort of thing would have been perfect for the husband-hunters.’
‘No more of that,’ Clem said. ‘No more husband-hunting.’
‘Well, it’s a good cause,’ Annabel smiled.
Clementine picked up the invitation and looked at it. Damon had added a handwritten note down the bottom for Amanda, asking her to invite as many people as possible.
We’ve really got to support these kids
, it said. Her heart fluttered.
‘No,’ she told herself. ‘No more scheming.’
On the way home, she picked up a pumpkin and a few other groceries. She decided to have a night to herself, cooking and reading. Then she would see about applying for university courses for next year.
As she chopped the pumpkin into cubes, Sadie joined her, rubbing against her legs. Clem scraped the pumpkin peel into a pile and stood on the bin pedal. When the lid kicked up, she saw the card from the tulips she had torn in two.
You deserve better. X.
Clementine dropped the peel on the floor. She was mesmerised by the words: the loops on the Ts, the flat O in ‘you’. She reached into the bin and picked up the pieces. She took the card into her bedroom where Damon’s invitation was still in her bag and held them next to each other. The writing was identical.
It had been Damon all along.
They were sitting on white velvet chairs in Beaux St Claire, Sydney’s most exclusive bridal store. Annabel bent down to pick a sprig of white wool off the cuff of her pants. The boutique was carpeted in a snow-coloured shagpile and it was clinging to the Wayne Cooper power suit she had chosen to let the bridal sales team know she meant business. It was imperial purple with a sharp, authoritarian pleat in the leg.
‘This is one wedding I never thought would happen,’ said Clementine.
‘Me neither,’ said Daniela. ‘So tell us about Damon.’
‘What about Damon?’ Annabel turned to Clementine. ‘You went to the fundraiser, didn’t you?’
Clementine smiled. ‘I went to the fundraiser. I said a quick hello, made a donation and then I left.’
‘And was Damon grateful for your support?’ Daniela asked.
‘He may have called me later to say thank you.’
‘Woo-woo!’ Daniela yodelled.
Clementine laughed. ‘We’re having dinner on Friday night.’
‘I always liked Damon,’ Annabel said. ‘I wonder if Beaux St Claire does group discounts?’
‘Calm down,’ Clem said.
‘I’m nearly finished, ladies,’ the sales assistant called out. ‘Why don’t you take a look around and I will be with you shortly.’
Daniela picked up a magazine and started flicking through it. There was a pile of them, each as thick as a phonebook, sitting by an ornamental fireplace. They had headlines like ‘The Perfect Table Setting for the Most Romantic Day of Your Life’.
‘Tell me again why we wanted this,’ she said. ‘Besides the four-tiered cake, of course.’
‘For me it was all about the cake,’ said Clementine. ‘But we do need dresses.’
‘I thought maybe lavender,’ Dani said.
Clementine opened her mouth ‘I thought maybe—’
Annabel cut her off. ‘Don’t tell me — green?’
‘I was going to say burgundy.’
‘All this fuss about the themes and the colours is exhausting,’ said Daniela. ‘A wedding shouldn’t be about napkins and bonbonnières. It should be about two people and those who are close to them. Is that a terribly unromantic thought?’
‘Just the opposite,’ Annabel said.
Annabel had believed in the husband-hunting project at the start. There had been a sort of egalitarian sense to it. But seeing Daniela and Clementine find men they cared about just drove home the truth that she couldn’t surrender her autonomy for someone she didn’t love. True, dating casually would get harder as she got older. But was that a reason to settle? The men would get older, too. Could she bear to share a home with a dull, greying man who she didn’t adore simply because it was what she had thought she wanted when she was in her thirties?
There was a crack of thunder from outside. The sky turned white as sheet lightning flickered and lit the whole room like a camera flash.
‘Perhaps we should be shopping for matching raincoats,’ said Dani, rubbing her bare arms.
They had a month and a half to go. The wedding was scheduled for the first day of summer. It had been the wettest September on record, and October was shaping up to be just as bad. Sydney wasn’t experiencing drizzle. It was having what was known as a ‘rain event’, where precipitation pelted the streets and battered the trees. It kept you awake, hitting the roof in great golf ball-sized drops for three or four nights in a row.
‘I wonder if Jimmy Choo does gumboots,’ Annabel said.
Her phone rang. It was Humpty. Ever since he and Mirabella had separated, he called daily to update Annabel on his progress. Today’s news was that Mirabella was preparing the mansion for the
House and Garden
shoot that was scheduled the next day. Humpty had moved into the Radisson hotel, despite Annabel’s protests that Mirabella had money of her own and parents and friends who could put her up.
‘But to put her out on her ear like that …’ he had protested.
‘Her ear? Humpty her parents have a quarter-acre in the Hunter Valley and a three-storey mansion in Kirribilli.’
She could hear him pouting on the other end of the line. Her role had morphed from brand manager and PR consultant to Humpty’s personal manager and life consultant.
‘Where are you? What are you doing? Come and have lunch with me.’
‘I can’t. I’m dress shopping with the girls. For the wedding.’
‘Oh yes, the wedding. Remind me where they’re doing it again.’
‘Humpty, I told you where they’re doing it.’
He had moaned when Annabel had told him that the wedding was to be at the same reception centre where he had celebrated his marriage to Mirabella a few short months earlier.
Annabel had hoped that he would have perked up a bit by now, but he just seemed to be sinking further into depression. Harry had called her weeks earlier to end things, and it seemed as though he and Mirabella were on the path to a proper reconciliation.
‘It is a lovely place,’ Humpty said. ‘It was such a beautiful wed— wed—’ He started blubbering again.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s this darn rain. I’m trapped inside with nothing to do but think. It was raining when I proposed, you know.’
‘I know, Humpty. I’ll call you later. Promise. I just have to organise the dresses.’
‘Poor Humpty,’ said Clementine.
‘Poor you,’ said Daniela. ‘You really liked Harry. Then the moment Mirabella heard you were together she decided she wanted him back. Very suspicious.’
‘Maybe they belong together,’ Annabel said. ‘Melanie Sissowitz said he’s moved into the Double Bay house. All very hush-hush of course.’
‘Yes,’ said Clementine. ‘We can’t have any word of their reunion getting out before the divorce settlement goes through, can we? You know she asked me to write a testimonial to say she had arranged for them to have couples’ counselling?’
‘You didn’t do it, did you?’ Annabel grabbed her arm.
Clem grimaced. ‘Not yet. But I’m sort of stuck. If I do this, maybe I can get her to give me my mother’s ring back. She’s been holding it over me ever since she found it in Jason’s car.’
‘But what about Humpty?’ Dani asked.
‘I know.’ Clem gripped her skirt. ‘This is just another person who has been hurt by my stupid affair.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought it was over. The night I had dinner with that photographer Tim Oldfield—’ Clementine broke off. Her face was frozen in a startled sort of daze.
‘Clem?’ Daniela waved her hand in front her face. ‘Clem?’
‘Annabel,’ said Clementine slowly. ‘Does Humpty leave a key out at the Double Bay house?’
‘Yes, they hide it in the fountain on the front lawn. Why? What does that have to do with anything.’
‘Hand me your phone, will you?’
Wordlessly, Annabel passed it over. Clementine pulled out her own mobile and scrolled through her contacts, then entered a number into Annabel’s phone.
‘Clem, what—?’
Clem held up a finger to silence Annabel. They heard her phone connecting. Clementine straightened her back and cleared her throat. On the other end they heard a soft ‘hello?’
Clementine’s voice boomed across the bridal boutique.
‘Timothy, darling, how are you? Mirabella Burbage-Jones-McRae here …’
Daniela and Annabel stared at each other, incredulous.
‘Timothy, darling,’ Clementine went on, ‘I am so thrilled about you coming here to shoot tomorrow. I know you used to photograph all the stars. I was so fabulously excited that I started wondering if there was any chance we could possibly make the shoot earlier?’
Dani and Annabel had to cover their mouths to stifle the laughter.
‘Now you were scheduled to come at….? Noon, that’s right. Oh Tim, darling, do you think we could possibly make it ten? No — better yet — nine o’clock. There’s a key hidden in the water fountain on the front lawn. Just let yourself in and snap-snap away with that camera of yours. You can? Nine? Darling, that’s fabulous. Just waltz right in, we don’t stand on ceremony here when it comes to
H&G
.’
Clementine hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh of relief.
‘Clem,’ Annabel said, ‘you are a genius.’
‘He bought it,’ she said softly. ‘He actually bought it. He’s going to go in there and see the wife of one of Sydney’s richest men in the arms of another man.’
‘Humpty will get his proof,’ Annabel said.
‘I’ll get my ring back.’
‘Mirabella might finally get her face over all of Sydney’s gossip columns,’ said Daniela.
Annabel raised an eyebrow. ‘Everybody wins.’
They cackled with laughter.
As a reward for a successful morning of shopping, they treated themselves to some cakes at Adriano Zumbo’s.
‘I think we did well,’ said Clementine. ‘I’m pleased with that colour.’
Annabel nodded and opened her Filofax.
‘Next is the cake, then the florist, ‘she said.
‘It was so good of you to offer to help plan the wedding,’ Clementine said.
‘I’m happy to do it,’ said Annabel. ‘I organise large-scale events all the time.’
Dani didn’t say anything. She was sadly stirring the foam on her cappuccino. The waitress brought over three generous pieces of cake. Clementine and Annabel took theirs, but Daniela didn’t look up.
‘Dani,’ Annabel said gently.
‘What? Oh, sorry.’ She accepted the cake with a small smile of gratitude, but didn’t say anything. They sat in silence, listening to the rain hurl down.
‘Dani, are you okay?’
‘Uh-huh,’ her voice quivered.
‘What’s wrong? You can tell us.’
She looked up.
‘It was just shopping for the dresses made me think of Ma,’ she said. ‘I miss her.’
‘Oh, Dani.’ Clementine and Annabel each put an arm around her.
‘I just miss being able to talk to her,’ she said.
‘She would be glad you’re happy,’ Clementine said.
Daniela nodded. ‘Yes. You’re right. And she was always saying I was too skinny,’ she smiled. ‘Pass me that cake.’
Rain lashed the café. As they ate, Annabel looked out the window. She saw a couple pull their jackets over their heads and sprint down the street. It made her think of Patrick. It had been months since they had last spoken. She longed to see him again. The night before she had been to the reception centre where they had first met. It had made her want to go back to that night and ask him out for a drink.
As they piled into Annabel’s car, Clementine’s phone buzzed.
‘It’s Damon,’ she said, grinning.
After dropping Clementine home, Annabel drove to Daniela’s house. James emerged from the front door in gumboots and a raincoat. Daniela ran up the path, then met him on the stoop and kissed him. As Annabel pulled away, she watched Dani try to walk past James into the house, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back, kissing her again before granting her admittance.
Annabel turned onto the main road, aware she was not far from Patrick’s. She found herself driving to his house. While she didn’t really know what she was doing, she had a half idea that she wanted to see him again, to somehow make things right after everything that had happened with Harry at the races. She slowed the car as she reached his building. The ivy was shiny and wet. The bluestones beneath it were darkened and damp. Annabel sat, listening to the dint of heavy raindrops on her car roof.
Then she opened the car door and ran through the rain.
She pounded up the stairs, slipping on the stone worn smooth by decades of footfalls. Gripping the banister, she continued climbing, trailing a path of water down the hall. When she reached Patrick’s front door she didn’t allow herself to pause and consider, she just lifted her knuckles and knocked. For a brief, merciful moment she thought he was out. But then she heard movement inside. Part of her wanted to run away, but she remembered that guests to Patrick’s house were announced long before they arrived by the echo of their feet on the stairwell. The door opened.
‘Patrick,’ she said. ‘You stopped calling me.’ She was out of breath. The words came out in an airless string.
‘Annabel.’ In bare feet, linen slacks and a cashmere jumper, Patrick looked uncharacteristically casual. He turned and looked over his shoulder. Did he have company? Annabel realised her rash decision might not have been the best idea.
‘Why did you stop calling me?’ she asked.
‘Annabel.’
Her chest tightened. In her experience these conversations never went they way you wanted. If you had to ask someone if they loved you, you usually already knew the answer. But it was too late to stop now.
‘I really enjoyed our time together,’ she said.
‘Come in, come in,’ Patrick pulled her out of the hall. ‘You’re soaked.’
‘I’ve been running,’ she panted.
‘I can see,’ he smiled.
She caught her reflection in a brass mirror. Her hair was a sodden mess. Her face was worse. Her eyeliner was not trickling romantically down her cheeks, but instead was smeared across her forehead and gathering in black pools under her eyes. There was a dirty slick under her nose where she had wiped her eyes then her face with the back of her hand. It made her look like she had a moustache.
‘Oh God,’ she took a tissue from her pocket and dragged it across one cheek. Patrick stilled her hands.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said. Then he sighed. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call. After meeting your friend Harry I decided to bow out with my dignity intact. I’ve competed against men like him my whole life. It never ends well.’
‘Patrick, I’m so sorry,’ Annabel said. ‘Harry was just — I don’t know — I’ve known him for a long time.’
He held up his hands. ‘I never made my intentions clear. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘Did you have … intentions?’ she asked.
‘I had … hopes. When I saw him, I thought that I was a fool to ever think you would be interested in me.’
‘Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?’ Annabel said. She pressed her hand against Patrick’s face and was surprised to find that it felt coarse. He hadn’t yet shaved. He watched her with kind, intelligent eyes. Then she kissed him. Professor Patrick Bodenheimer kissed her back. He held her tight. It felt like warm honey was being poured into her belly.