Birds of a Feather, page 3
three
It was nine o’clock on a Thursday night and Lorenzo’s Bar was humming. The pre-show diners were long gone, the après-theatre drinkers yet to appear, and the group celebrating Julia Paterson’s birthday had taken over one of the large booths. Julia sat at the top of the U, with her colleagues seated along each side or on stools at the end of the table. It wasn’t the cosy night in she’d imagined for herself. She’d been coerced by a couple of work colleagues who’d insisted they needed to celebrate the end of a project and the return to their previous research. They’d wanted a place with style and for them Lorenzo’s, nestled in a narrow lane off Melbourne’s East End theatre district, had style. Julia had given in and agreed to go only because they had the next day off.
The gift of an extra day to their weekend was a total luxury but after the year they’d had Margaret, their head of department, had said they deserved the break. The team had worked long hours tidying up the last lot of research for handover and then preparing to kickstart the original work they’d been doing pre-pandemic. They’d all be ready to begin again fresh on Monday after their long weekend.
The dimly lit booth suddenly illuminated. Julia frowned as a birthday cake with candles already alight was pushed towards her along the table, then glared around wondering which of them had decided it was a good idea to surprise her. Julia didn’t enjoy birthdays. Not her own, anyway, and especially not those ending in five. Today she turned forty-five and she’d hoped to let it slide by without comment. The background music was drowned out as she was treated to a rowdy rendition of “Happy Birthday”.
“Act happy.” Geraldine, who’d worked with Julia for longer than the others, dug her with an elbow.
“Was this your idea?” Julia snapped, but Geraldine was saved by Kylie, another of their team, calling for her to blow out the candles.
Julia waved a menu across the flames, and managed to smile as her colleagues howled with excitement at her leaving one candle still alight.
“There’s a boyfriend somewhere,” Kylie cooed.
“Somewhere,” Julia agreed and cut into the cake that it was now obvious Kylie had brought along.
“Where is Glen?” Geraldine gave her a questioning look.
“Work.” Julia wasn’t actually sure what Glen was doing.
“At this hour?” Geraldine raised an eyebrow.
“We’re not married. We lead separate lives.”
Geraldine raised both eyebrows.
“How come you’re up this late anyway?” Julia asked. Geraldine had a husband who also worked long hours and a young family. She rarely attended social events.
“My mother-in-law’s staying and she gave me the night off. It seemed like a great escape when she suggested it.” Geraldine stifled a yawn. She was five years younger than Julia and looked permanently tired. “But I know I’ll regret it in the morning when the baby wakes.”
Cake on paper plates landed in front of them and they both bit into their slices as if their lives depended on it. Julia groaned. It was four-layered red velvet and the first taste was so divine she quickly took another bite. Around her almost everyone else had stopped talking to eat.
“You should make an honest man of Glen,” Geraldine said through a mouthful of cake. “He’s perfect. Divorced, has kids so won’t want more, good job, good looks. What more could you want?”
“More cake?”
Julia shoved her empty plate towards Kylie, who was waving the knife over the remains of the large slab. Geraldine followed her example and then Kylie asked about Geraldine’s kids thus saving Julia from answering.
What more did she want? She had no idea. Glen Walker had been her on-again, off-again partner for three years. He’d only met Geraldine on the rare occasions he’d been Julia’s plus one at a fundraising dinner or an end-of-year function. She’d heard nothing from him today. Not that she’d even thought about him until Geraldine had mentioned him. To be fair, he’d rung the day before to ask her out for a late dinner on her birthday. They both had busy jobs and didn’t see each other often during the week. It had been easy to decline, use work as her excuse. In truth she’d taken a tram to the city and bought herself some new boots, leather with no heel that would keep her warm and be good for walking. She’d thrown the old ones in a bin and gone straight from the shoe shop to Lorenzo’s. It had been after eight when she’d arrived. The cake was her dinner.
Julia deliberately kept her work life separate from her love—she corrected herself, personal life. Her relationship with Glen was both complicated and not so. They were such a non-event as a couple. She’d told him she needed space and he’d always given her that. She’d said no to his recent offer of dinner and footy tickets. They hadn’t been out together for weeks.
It had been the footy that had brought them together, three years earlier. She enjoyed his corporate box. If she was honest, it was their mutual interest in football and the great sex that had kept them together, but the sex had dwindled so that only left football, and she wasn’t sure she cared that much about that any more either.
“Another drink?” Kylie called.
“No. Thank you for the cake but I’m heading home.”
“Over the hill now you’re forty-five.” In a gap in the music Foster’s voice resounded around the booth.
A collective intake of breath whooshed within the group, all eyes swivelling his way then back to Julia. Foster had been the junior lab technician little more than a year – he’d come to them straight from uni. He often spoke without thinking and wasn’t good with following protocol. He’d caused them more grief in his short time with them than everyone else put together. It was Julia’s job to oversee his work and he’d been a thorn in her side for the first few months. He’d been named Feckless Foster by their head of research and the name had stuck, though never to his face.
Now they all waited on what Julia would say. Idiot was the first word that came to mind but she chose to keep the peace and not spoil what had been a pleasant evening.
“Cheeky,” she said instead. “For that you can autoclave the Eppendorf tubes for the whole lab on Monday.”
Foster blanched. It was a job everyone avoided.
Julia gave Geraldine a shove with her hip. “Let me out.”
The others shuffled around. Kylie handed her a shopping bag with the remains of the cake in a box at the bottom and someone pressed the flowers into her hands. She retrieved her small leather backpack from under the table and slid it over her shoulders. A chorus of goodnights followed her across the room.
As soon as the front door to her apartment block slammed shut, Julia removed her boots. Immediately her feet thanked her. It had been silly to wear them. She checked her letter box, took out a card and smiled as she noted the handwriting, then, juggling the flowers and cake, she walked up two flights of stairs to her second-floor apartment, her socks the only buffer between her and the cold terrazzo.
Nearing the top of the stairs she heard a noise. She was at eye level with the floor. Her neighbour across the hall was away; she’d been collecting his mail. She slowed, took the last few steps to the landing very carefully and peered around the balustrade. There was a man sprawled in a sitting position against her door, filling the space between wall and stairwell. A loud snoring noise emanated from his open mouth. Not dead then.
She stepped onto the landing and peered closer. A bunch of flowers lay beside him, and a bottle of red. She pulled herself upright and looked down at the dishevelled figure of Glen Walker.
“Oh, Glen,” she said sadly and would have put a hand to her head, only both her hands were full. There was no way to get inside without disturbing him.
She put her bags and flowers on the floor and gently shook his shoulder. He lurched forward, his eyes opened and he briefly focused on her.
“Hi, honey,” he mumbled. He always said it with a singsong chant that made Julia want to add “I’m home”. She kept silent as he blinked and brushed at his chin then slowly folded sideways to the floor, curled himself around her legs and began to snore.
She eased her legs from his clasp and unlocked her door. Once she was inside she reached back for her things, cast one last pitying look over Glen and shut the door. Thankfully she’d never given him a key.
Inside her apartment she stripped off her coat, hung it in her wardrobe and tucked her boots at the bottom. In the kitchen she put the flowers in a vase then glanced at the bottle of red she’d got out that morning. It was the only thing, other than the flowers and the cake, on the compact bench. When she’d left home her plan for the evening had been to order in Mexican food, watch some catch-up TV and enjoy a few glasses of her favourite red. She took the cake box from the bottom of the bag. There was still a small portion left.
“What the hell.” She shrugged and slid it onto a plate and opened the red.
Snuggled on her lounge with wine and cake on the coffee table, she picked up the envelope she’d tossed there on her way to her bedroom. Julia’s brother, her sister-in-law and her two nephews had all sent texts during the day. There’d also been a couple from friends and of course Margaret, the head of their research team, had wished her well as they’d passed briefly in the corridor, but the only person who still sent a card for her birthday was Julia’s godmother Eve.
Julia felt a pang of guilt as she opened it. When had she last communicated with Eve? She couldn’t remember. Eve was her dead mother’s best friend and as dear to Julia as her mother. Their last Skype session had to be more than a month ago and there’d been a text or two since then. Life got busy and time flew by.
She withdrew the card from the envelope and leaned closer to the table lamp, the only light she’d turned on in the apartment. Julia smiled. Besides the card there was also a letter. Something else Eve did that no-one else Julia knew bothered with, and that was to write letters. Most of it was small talk, about the weather, the fishing, a movie Eve had been to, but it was the ending that surprised Julia. Eve said she hoped everything was okay with Julia, that she’d tried to ring a couple of times, had left messages but she’d had no reply. Julia put down the letter. She couldn’t remember a call from Eve. She slapped her palm against her forehead. There had been a call the night Glen had last taken her out.
They’d gone to some restaurant where everything was vegan. She recalled her phone ringing while she and Glen had been arguing over why he’d picked that restaurant. He’d thought she’d enjoy it because she’d said something about giving up meat. Julia had been horrified. “Of course I’m not giving up meat. I thought I was eating too much meat and needed to cut back and eat fish more often, that’s all.” Glen had totally misunderstood. They’d had a rather sad night – both of them in a huff and even though she’d been surprised when the food had turned out to be tasty, she wasn’t a vegan and on the whole she hadn’t enjoyed the night.
Julia had listened to Eve’s message after Glen had dropped her home but it had been too late to call back then. The next week had been extra busy at work and she’d been late home each night, time had gone on and … she hadn’t returned Eve’s call.
She glanced at the time and realised once again it was too late to call. She made a mental note to phone over the weekend, folded the letter, slid it inside the envelope and stood the card up on the table.
The last sliver of cake teetered on the plate. Julia took a mouthful and washed it down with a sip of the pinot noir. The chocolate of the cake met the berry and cherry flavours of the wine in an orgasmic explosion on her taste buds. She flopped back against her couch then almost immediately sat up and repeated the process. She’d probably feel sick soon, being that this third piece of cake was the only food she’d had since a salad at lunchtime.
She was halfway through the slice when her stomach began to churn. She took the plate to the kitchen, tipped the remains in the bin and topped up her glass, ignoring the internal alarm saying not to. She hadn’t drunk alone in a long time.
She took a defiant gulp of the tasty pinot. “It’s my bloody birthday,” she shouted. Not that she was celebrating this one but they did only come around once a year.
Her phone announced an incoming text and there was a thud beyond her outer door. She hunched her shoulders as if that would suddenly make her disappear. She’d forgotten about Glen.
There was another soft thud, then a gentle tap on the door. “Julia? Are you in there?” Another tap, a little louder this time. “Honey? It’s Glen.”
Julia rolled her eyes but kept her lips firmly pressed together.
There was a rustling sound, then finally the echo of footsteps on the stairs. She peered through the peephole. He was gone. Carefully she turned the lock and eased open the door. The flowers he’d left propped there toppled towards her and a small card slid with them. She snatched them up and, with the door once again secure, she got out a vase for the flowers. She only had two vases and her usual one already held the flowers from work. This one was crystal. It had belonged to her mother. The wording on the card was simple. “Happy Birthday Julia, love Glen.” She tossed it in the bin, and thought about putting the flowers in too but she so rarely got flowers. She put them in the vase and sat them on the kitchen bench. Then with a pang of guilt she fished the card from the bin and propped it against the base.
With her glass of red in hand she paced. Glen turning up like that had unsettled her, or perhaps she’d already been on edge. If she was being honest, the lead-up to her forty-fifth birthday had been playing on her mind for days, weeks even. Most people anticipated zero birthdays, either with excitement or disdain. For her, zero birthdays had meant nothing more than another year older, but anything ending in five was bad luck. She wasn’t superstitious but it was inevitable. She glanced at the clock. A bit less than an hour until midnight, then this birthday would be done. Her phone pinged again, reminding her she had an unread text.
The message was from Margaret. Sorry so late. Didn’t want to spoil your birthday. Could you come in to work tomorrow. 10am. M
The churning of cake and wine in her stomach met the surging swirl of nerves in her chest. She sagged to a chair. Margaret had called her to work without the others before but that was when they’d been in the middle of some vital testing and she’d wanted to go over things, cross the t’s and dot the i’s. Julia was sure they’d done all that. They were ready to restart their pre-pandemic research on Monday.
Had they missed something? Julia’s mind raced back over the previous week’s work. As the second-in-charge she oversaw Foster. She’d had to be tough on him for his lack of careful procedure when he’d first arrived but he was a brilliant researcher and once he had understood the importance of their recording and double-checking processes he’d been much better. Or so she’d thought, but a stuff-up wasn’t impossible when it came to Foster. Just last month he’d missed recording a second test result that would have set them back months. Julia had been happy with his work since but perhaps Margaret had discovered something.
Julia frowned at her phone. She didn’t think Margaret would call her in just to talk about him. Anyway, he’d been given tidying-up tasks the last few weeks, nothing he could stuff up. Now that she thought about it, they’d all been so focused on their final write-ups and clean-outs she’d only seen her boss in passing the last few days. Margaret had either been holed up in her office or out of the department altogether. Julia peered at the text, trying to read between the lines. Her gaze lingered on the word “spoil”. Why would Margaret think a late-night text would spoil her birthday? Surely she meant interrupt. Julia knew there was no point replying or ringing. Margaret turned her phone off between the hours of eleven pm and six am.
Julia did a mental scan of their current situation. Money was short but it always was. Last year the funding for their original research on immune responses had dried up just as Covid-19 hit. The damn virus had saved them. Money had been thrown their way to use their research to explore those immune responses to Covid-19 infection. Perhaps they’d have to pare back staff now that they were going back to their original research.
Julia glanced at the clock again. Only forty-five minutes to go. It couldn’t be something bad if it didn’t happen on her birthday.
four
Lucy slid the dress up her body, over her arms and onto her shoulders. The satin lining slithered softly across her bare skin sending a shiver down her spine. She tugged the hem down and reached behind to catch the zip. It wouldn’t come all the way up but it didn’t matter. She smoothed the jade lace of the outer layer over her hips and stomach, and stood side on to take in her profile then twisted her head from side to side to inspect her hair. The hairdresser had done a good job. Lucy’s hair was thick and hard to manage. Moira had tamed it, even if just for a while.
She glanced at the digital clock by the bed. It was nearly time to collect the kids. She undid the zip, stepped out of the dress and hung it back on its hanger, knowing it wouldn’t get the same careful treatment later tonight when Alec took it off. It had been a lucky find at the op shop in the main street, one of several good buys she’d found there since they’d moved to Wallaby Bay.
Lucy cast a critical eye around the spotless house as she passed through the rooms and took her keys from the kitchen bench. They’d been lucky to get this place. It was small and basic but she liked it and the rent was cheap. Mr Flavel, who owned it, planned to knock it down one day so he didn’t want to spend money on it, although he was happy to pay for any minor fixes they did themselves to keep it liveable. Lucy already had a list of repairs for Alec to tackle while he was home. A fizz of excitement bubbled in her chest as she picked up her bag and keys. He’d be here tonight.
The kids were staying with their grandparents overnight. Their bags were already packed and in the car. She was delivering them straight from school. Alec’s parents always offered to have the children on the first night of his return home.
