Hindsight Page 12

  “Hi Juliette, I’m Monica. Lily had to go back to work in the brothel next door, she asked me to bring Cal over when he woke up,” she smiles.

  What? The words are stuck and won’t come forth at the thought of having a hooker as a best friend as well as living next-door to a brothel. She doesn’t look like a hooker and there was no red light out the front. “A brothel? Chris, we live next door to a brothel?” My voice rises a few octaves.

  Chris smiles and shakes his head as he begins to laugh. Monica does the same.

  “No, not really” she says. “Chris told me about your memory loss so I thought it would be fun to put it to the test. See, wasn’t that fun?” She giggles, raising her eyebrows and shrugging.

  “Oh fuck! You scared the shit out of me,” the relief blurts out. “Thank God for that. Living next to a brothel, I mean, you don’t look like a…”

  Both Chris and Lily’s eyes are popping out of their heads. Their mouths could serve as aircraft hangers for an Antonov. Oh, that’s right, the bad language and blasphemy thing. Nice housewives probably don’t say ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’. “Sorry, my head really hurts,” I say, hoping that the sympathy vote will distract from my blunder.

  “Did she acquire Tourette’s from the fall?” Lily asks Chris.

  “Either that or she has another personality emerging, that of a wharfie.” He looks as dazed and confused as I feel.

  “Sorry, how rude of me, not sure where that came from. It must be the head injury talking.” Yes, that’s it Juliette, you’ll have no problem fitting in around here talking like that. Just keep going and soon you’ll be dining with Mrs O’Shane each night, sharing a plate of mincemeat over a glass of grand delusion.

  Lily smiles, throws her arms around my shoulders and cradles me the way Dash does. I can’t help but tense up a bit — after all, she is a stranger to me.

  “You had us all scared, Jules. You can’t go throwing yourself onto bits of furniture like that. Chris, how’s the coffee table, did it survive?” she says.

  “It’s seen better days but it will live, perhaps not as pretty as before though. Jules can do another patch and repair job on it,” he says.

  Yes, that will go on my list of things to do, just underneath getting the hell out of here.

  Chris goes out into the backyard to let us catch up, which leaves me feeling like a little girl visiting an eccentric old aunty by myself. What should we talk about?

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” She sits down and pours my tea. She must be really good at this tea-making thing, because she doesn’t even have to look at the cup — her eyes are glued to mine.

  There are three options here: lie, be honest or a mixture of the two. The head injury is legitimate, so serves as a reason for not remembering anything. Besides, it’s probably best to stick to something that resembles the truth. It’s easier to remember.

  “No. I’m really sorry but there’s a lot that’s unfamiliar to me. In fact, apart from the last couple of days, it’s all blank.”

  “Oh, lovey…” she whispers as her hand tightens around mine. “You poor thing. It’s going to be alright, we’ll get through this together. It must be so frightening for you.”

  I give a little nod.

  “How long have we been friends?” I ask.

  A long sigh escapes her, “Oh, let’s see. It would have to be five years this year.”

  “Do you know me well?” I ask. How well can you know someone in only five years?

  Lily laughs, “Do I know you well? I hate to scare you but we are known around here as ‘the tremendous two’ because we are always together.”

  I recoil into the vinyl upholstery of the chair because the thought of spending so much time with another person freaks me out. It’s not natural.

  “The kids have enjoyed having the boys over, but they really missed you, especially Ethan. I think he was pretty traumatised by seeing you hurt like that. He may need a little extra love.”

  We talk for a while and it turns out that Lily has two children, Rosie and John who are seven and six respectively. Rosie is in Ethan’s class at school and John the year below and they rent the house diagonally opposite us, at number thirty-three.

  “So, where’s your husband?” Hopefully that sort of question isn’t considered rude here.

  “Oh, him.” She looks as though there is a bad taste in her mouth as her eyes narrow.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that you haven’t mentioned a husband.”

  “He’s in Kalgoorlie, West Australia. You, Gran and Chris are the only ones who know the truth about me. My husband was in the Mafia; I stole thousands of pounds from him and ran away to Melbourne. So far it’s working out well, he’s got no hope of finding me.”

  “Really? Wow, a real life Mafia wife on the run. How exciting.”

  “No, just joking. That’s a plot from a movie. You’re so gullible at the moment. Seriously though, I left my husband after one too many bashings. I woke up in hospital with a fractured skull, broken jaw and three broken ribs.”

  “Oh God, Lily, that’s horrible.”

  She rubs the back of her head. “I was sure that he’d start on our baby girl next, so I made plans to escape, but then he got drunk again and put me back in hospital. My only fear was for Rosie, that I wouldn’t be there to protect her. Thankfully he was interrupted, a neighbour called the police and they arrived just in time. I woke up in hospital two days later.”

  “How much do Rosie and John know?” I ask.

  “They think their father died in a truck accident. It’s better than them knowing the truth. All kids should have some loving memories of their parents, even if they are manufactured. My parents moved over here to be closer after the dust had settled.”

  “Yes, sometimes it’s better than the real thing, isn’t it?” As the words slide out I can’t help but wondering to whom I am referring: my mother or myself?

  Lily looks as though she has been struck by lightning; eyes wide open, mouth agape.

  “Oh Jules, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She reaches forward and squeezes my hand again. Her warmth spreads up my arm, like a little heater.

  “Upset me? You didn’t upset me Lily, why would you think that?”

  “Oh. Um, no reason.”

  “Do you work to support yourself?”

  “I’m a seamstress for a fashion house in Collingwood, but I work mostly from home, which suits me and the kids.”

  Lily looks at her watch and gasps, “Oops, it’s nearly three. We’d best get a move on if we want to get all these children home. We usually walk down together. If I leave you to your own devices you’ll either get lost, or bring home someone else’s children.”

  “Which school do they go to again?”

  Lily looks at me and bursts out laughing.

  “Are you sure you should be out of hospital? Maybe you should rest and I’ll go and get them.”

  “No, I feel fine. Besides, Ethan will be more upset if I don’t go. He needs to see that everything is alright.”

  “You’re a wonderful Mum, Jules,” she says, smiling and touching me on the shoulder gently, as though she really means it. If only she knew the real me.

  Ethan runs up and hugs me at the school gate.

  “Mum! I’ve missed you so much.” His grey-blue eyes are as endless as the sky.

  “I’ve missed you too, Eth. What do you think of my eye, pretty bonza, hey?”

  “It’s real bonza, but Mum, don’t do it again, OK?” He frowns with a seriousness that doesn’t belong on a seven-year-old face.

  “I’ll try not to.” Tears well in his eyes. “Hey, sweets, what’s wrong?” I ask. Even though he is the oldest son, it’s easy to forget that he is still just a little boy.

  He shrugs, “it was pretty scary seeing you with all that blood, and then being taken away in an ambulance. I didn’t know if you were going to come back. You won’t go away like Grandpa John, will you?”

  “No, of c
ourse not.” Whoever Grandpa John is.

  My hips haven’t been squeezed to this extent since my attempt to fit back into my jeans after Cal’s birth. His dirty blonde head is buried into my waist as he eliminates all evidence of tears with the back of his hand.

  Clearly there is a need to comfort him, but how? My father was a master at comforting me. He was a salesman for a car parts company and travelled all over Victoria, usually gone three weeks out of the month. His leaving would upset me terribly. For days after his departure I would sit by the window after school and imagine that we were in his car, driving through the countryside. He would tell me funny stories about the places he went and the characters he met. Then we eat would a dinner of hot chips smothered with salt and vinegar, finishing off with a lime spider for desert, my tummy so full the elastic around my pants stretched tight. Each time he would leave he’d kneel down to my level and hold me tight and whisper in my ear that it was only four sleeps to go until we’d be together again. Sleeps went faster than days.

  I sink to my knees and gather Ethan in my arms and hold him close so that only he can hear my whispers, “Sweetheart, everything’s going to be OK. I won’t hit my head on any more coffee tables, OK?” His nodding head rubs up and down on my shoulder as small sniffles escape him. “Mum’s here, little man. I’m not going anywhere.” Which is not exactly true, but he’s been upset enough without knowing that my plans are to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

  “Aunty Jules, Aunty Jules…” John and Rosie also hug me as though we’ve been parted for years.

  It’s quite overwhelming to be the subject of such affection from two small people who are, effectively, strangers. Rosie’s flow of light brown curls tied back by a blue ribbon leave me in no doubt that she is her mother’s daughter. John smiles, his tongue poking through the gap where his two front teeth ought to be. Unless Lily and her ex looked alike, there is no trace of him in these children. They are a sunny day and spring breeze, just like her.

  “Right, we’ve got everyone, so let’s go home,” I say. The events of the last couple of days are starting to take their toll and my legs are wobbly.

  Lily looks at me as though my mind has just climbed out of my head and is doing the Macarena in mid-air.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Muuum!” Ethan says in surprise, shaking his head.

  “Jules, haven’t you forgotten something?” Lily said, her eyes peering over the top of her sunglasses.

  I think about it, although God knows why, my memory has not only been impaired from the head injury, but lacks actual memories from this life because this isn’t my life. Not that it’s possible, or wise, to point that out.

  “Ummm, no. I don’t think so,” I say.

  “Jules?”

  “Mum?” Lily and Ethan’s facial expressions are mirrors of each other, a virtual question mark appearing on their foreheads.

  “What have we forgotten? School bags, sports bags, homework?” I check off the logical items.

  “Eth, Mum has a bit of trouble remembering things at the moment. The bump to her head has caused her to forget some things, perhaps you could remind her of what she’s forgotten?” Lily says, prompting Ethan to speak.

  He giggles at her and she sniggers at him. Soon Rosie and John are also giggling. It’s infectious, my laugh adding to the cacophony, even though I have no idea of what we are laughing at.

  “Mum,” Ethan begins, “you’ve forgotten someone.”

  “Have I? Are you sure Eth?” He’s wrong. We are all here and accounted for, ready to mosey on home, but humouring him won’t do any harm.

  “Yes, Mum, I’m sure.” His voice is firm, convinced that he is correct.

  I look around but it doesn’t seem that anyone has been forgotten. “Well, there’s Rosie, John, Aunty Lily, me, you and…oh! You’re thinking of Cal. He didn’t come today Sweets, he’s at home with Dad. You can see him soon, let’s go.”

  There, the riddle’s been solved. No one is missing, we’re all accounted for.

  “No Mum, I didn’t mean Cal. I mean him,” as he points over my shoulder.

  “What? Who?”

  Ethan urges me to turn around by pointing harder and raising his eyebrows, nodding at the space behind me. My body turns around slowly to face the direction in which he is pointing, only to see a tall young man walking towards us. His lanky limbs and awkward stride make him look as though none of his joints are connected properly and need a good tightening with a spanner. Dressed in full-length trousers, blue shirt and dark blue tie, he hasn’t quite grown into his body yet. Then he smiles and it’s unmistakable. Time stands still. It’s more heavenly than a million angels, more breathtaking than the Northern Lights. It’s a smile that has made me thankful every day to have inherited. My eyes are drowning in tears and I can’t help but smile back because it is the smile of my father.

  “Hi Mum, how are you? Are you alright?” His long hand touches my shoulder, sending sparkles through me. I turn around to see whom this familiar but strange young man is talking to, but there is no one behind me. He reaches out and takes me in his arms, scooping me upwards into a hold as soft as a Melting Moment. My brain flounders for words and my body is paralysed, like a squashed bug on a windscreen before it is carried off in the wind.

  “I was really worried about you, but Dad said you were alright. You are alright, aren’t you Mum?” He searches my face for signs of life.

  Silence.

  “Mum?”

  Chapter 12

  Oh. My. God. What. The?

  See, that’s the trouble with time travel — it lands you in situations without a decent briefing. It has no instruction manual, no cast of characters, not even a clue that you grew and then threw forth an extra human being from your uterus. Is he really mine? How old is he? What is his name? Oh. My. God.

  He releases me from his grasp and I smash down to Earth heavier than a meteor strike. Nothing but the remains of an incinerated crater surround my feet, the ones still wearing ugly flat shoes. Up until now my ability to take this freakshow in my stride was admirable. No, really, you have to give me that much, credit where credit is due. My calmness and determination to fit in without raising suspicion was well beyond what both Meryl Streep and Dame Judi Dench could deliver. But now, my sanity threatens to unravel and it’s not going to be pretty.

  “Mum, are you alright?” His beautiful face is flecked with concern, eyes the colour of jade searching mine for a glimmer of recognition. But there is none. Although this boy is the spitting image of his grandfather, and my full attention is on studying every line of his face, every curve and hollow, he is a stranger to me.

  He looks over my head, “Aunt Lily, what’s wrong with Mum? Has she gone into shock? I don’t think she recognises me.” His voice is tinged with fear, but is otherwise as gentle as tiny waves lapping the shore.

  Lily walks over so that she can speak out of earshot of the younger children, who are busy running around playing tiggy.

  “Will, your Mum’s head injury was quite serious, lovey. The doctor said that she has temporary amnesia, so she may not recall everything right now, but it will all come back to her. She hasn’t forgotten you, she’s just…still in shock from the trauma.” She lays her hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to life.

  “Will, named after your grandfather, William.” Oh yes Juliette, brilliant deduction.

  He smiles, mistaking my overhearing of his name for knowledge of who he is. There it is again, the smile that acts as a cradle for my soul. Although he is a stranger to me, there is an instant bond, if only because of the memories he stirs.

  “Yes Mum, that’s right. That’s me, your oldest, and best-looking, son,” he laughs.

  “As if!” Ethan yells.

  “You know it’s true, short stuff.” Will calls back.

  “Sorry Will, I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s been…a big couple of days. You’ll have to be patient with me, maybe remind me of some things, OK?”<
br />
  He puts a gangly arm around my shoulder and hugs me close, “Don’t worry Mum, I’ll look after you.”

  Will walks ahead, guiding the three younger children, while Lily and I chat. My mind is not on what she’s saying, it’s still trying to get over the hurdle of having an older son. Of all the events in the last couple of days, this, strangely, is the most disturbing.

  “Jules…”

  “Hmmm?”

  “You’re miles away again. Are you alright?” she asks.

  “Yes, I’m just…”

  “You didn’t recognise him either, did you?”

  I shake my head. “No, not at all.”

  “That’s OK, you’ve had a traumatic few days. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Do you want me to tell you about Will?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Well, he was born when you were nineteen, although you nearly lost him early on in the pregnancy apparently, but Will was a strong little soul and was born on June 16th,” she starts. “He’ll be fifteen this year and is in form three at school, his last year.

  “What, wait. His last year? Why’s that?”

  “Because boys do an apprenticeship in the year they turn sixteen, unless they are going to continue on at school.”

  “Why wouldn’t he continue on at school?” Utter confusion envelops me.

  “That’s probably a conversation you need to have with Chris. Anyway, he’s Collingwood crazy, plays for the local under-eighteens because of his height and ability, does exceptionally well at school and has dreams of getting a scholarship to university to study medicine.”

  “But how can he go to uni if he doesn’t finish school?” It’s not a hard concept to grasp, but for some reason my brain is resisting it.

  Lily winces. “Like I said, something you need to discuss with Chris, lovey.”

  Like the final piece of a jigsaw, it comes into place. The miscarriage I suffered at nineteen, the first positive pregnancy test. Seven weeks had passed before it even dawned on me that my period had disappeared. The doctor confirmed it and Chris and myself worked on getting our heads around being parents. It was shocking to both of us. Chris had finished his third year, and had started a part time internship at a progressive architecture firm. His pay was minimal and hours long, but the exposure and experience would set him up for life. We had only been together for six months.