The Three Miss Allens, page 31
Keira shrugged. ‘Sorry to say, but it is. Even with all the reno work, you’ve spent too many years sitting behind a desk. You need to loosen up, girl.’
If only Keira knew how true that was. ‘I’m trying. I really am.’
‘Good.’
‘I’m actually here to ask you about something.’
Keira played with her ponytail. ‘What’s that?’
‘I’m wondering if you want to come live at Bayview.’
Keira took a step back in surprise. ‘What?’
‘I know this might be totally out of the blue but Addy’s gone and you’re living in a daggy shack and I have all those rooms.’ Roma felt suddenly nervous. She waited, knitting her fingers together behind her back.
‘Wow. Really?’
‘Yes. Really. It’s not often in your life you meet someone and you just know you’re going to be really great friends. I think we’re going to be really great friends, Keira.’
Keira came to Roma and threw her arms around her. ‘I’d love to.’ She released her grip and laughed. ‘It’s so close to the studio and the beach. I love your house, you know that, right?’
‘I love it too.’
Bayview was working some kind of magic that Roma couldn’t see, but it was exactly the magic she had longed for it to cast on her. A new life, a hope for a new future, the next stage of her life. It all felt so close now she could reach for it and it wouldn’t slip away.
Keira looked to the ceiling, bit her lip. ‘I’m on a month by month lease so … I could move in four weeks? That should be enough notice. I don’t have much stuff. My place was furnished when I rented it and I’d sold off a whole lot of stuff before I left Canberra anyway.’
Roma thought of the bed Addy had bought for the room she wanted to use as her permanent summer bolthole.
‘I might have a spare bed.’
‘Well, we have a deal then. Except for how much rent I’ll be paying.’
‘Mates’ rates,’ Roma answered. ‘We can sort that out when you move in. Let’s just say I’m happy to subsidise the activities of the only Pilates instructor in town, given that I need to loosen up a bit.’
Keira laughed. ‘I think you’re getting there.’
Roma sighed. ‘Me too.’
Addy had been at work for one day on the television commercial for the city’s latest IVF clinic when things started arriving for her in the production office. On that first day, Tuesday, it was flowers. No card. She’d assumed the card had got lost and when she went in to the producer Sally’s office to check if they were a gift from her for coming back to work so quickly, Sally had looked at her blankly.
‘They’re not from me, doll. But they’re beautiful.’ They really were. They were a bunch of red, yellow and orange gerberas surrounded by strappy leaves and tied with a piece of brown string. Addy guessed they were from that arsehole Jack Andersson. It would be just like him to send flowers without a card. Who else would be sending her flowers? In her furious anger, she handed the bunch to a passing production assistant.
‘Happy birthday,’ she said to the young woman with skin-tight jeans, Converse sneakers and a singlet top, which revealed her full sleeve tattoo. She took them but looked around as if she had just been punked.
‘It’s not my birthday,’ she said.
‘No? It will be one day. Take ’em.’
On Wednesday, a dozen bottles of wine arrived, a selection of premium whites from the Adelaide Hills. Again, there was no note. She was way too mercenary to give those away, so she took them home and drank a bottle that night all by herself. A half-drunk text to Roma and Leo later that night revealed it wasn’t either of them.
On Thursday, it was chocolates. Specifically, a box of hand-rolled truffles. And damn, they were her favourite. Again, no note. She suspected now that the gifts weren’t from Jack. He wasn’t the kind of man to send a special gift and not expect the credit. It would have burned him up not to have had a phone call to thank him, so Addy knew it hadn’t been him. Which meant there was only one other person who would be sending her flowers, wine and chocolates. And that was Blake Stapleton from the Remarkable Bay Surf Shop.
Addy had thrown herself into production on the television commercial with the gusto she was known for. She revelled in the long hours and the organised chaos of organising crews and locations and families to film. If she was thinking about booking editing time and dollies, she wasn’t thinking about all that she’d left behind in Remarkable Bay.
She couldn’t even say it out loud to herself, but she missed Roma. She was angry at her, sure, for what she’d said during the argument, but couldn’t blame her. Roma was still grieving for her dead husband. Of course she would be. How could she get over a love like the one she shared with Tom? Addy remembered their wedding, at a beautiful winery in McLaren Vale, and had watched with envy at the way they’d looked at each other during the ceremony. Still so young, they seemed perfect together. How do you get over losing a love like that? Addy asked herself. She didn’t know. And she had a feeling she might never know. She wasn’t built for long-term relationships. Maybe that was it. Her attention span was too short so she kept moving.
She’d kept moving and come back to Adelaide, thrown herself into her work, but she couldn’t forget Blake Stapleton. Her body literally ached for him. She’d never experienced yearning before, but now knew what that felt like. It was a craving worse than when she’d given up smoking; a desperate need for him. And not just his body, but his calm stillness. And then she remembered what she’d said, about not needing him to cook her dinner or buy her wine or chocolates or flowers, that she was a sure bet.
Flowers. Wine. Chocolates.
When she got home late that night, her back aching and her eyes stinging from tiredness, Addy ate a few of the chocolates. Well, maybe twelve of them as she sat on her sofa and caught something mindless on TV to relax before crashing into bed for the six hours sleep she would squeeze in before having to be up at the crack of dawn to be back in the production office. Such a glamorous life. She had so much work to do the next day. They were still having trouble finding couples who’d successfully gone through IVF and who were willing to share their difficulties and successes on camera. People wanted to keep their secrets. Addy understood that better than anyone.
On Friday morning, she pulled up in the production offices’ parking lot at seven, juggling her handbag stuffed with papers and her devices, and a takeaway coffee. Her head was full of the things she had to do that day. So she hadn’t been expecting the surprise that was waiting for her.
It was Jack Andersson.
CHAPTER
30
Addy gripped her car keys in her hand.
Jack.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and her heart picked up, pounding hard and fast. It made her sweat and tightened the breath in her lungs. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Melbourne, not here. It was the only way she could come back to Adelaide, knowing that he was eight hundred kilometres away from her. How the hell did he know she was working here?
Jack stood by the back door to the large old warehouse, surveying the empty parking lot. He knew Addy was always the first to arrive at work, that she liked the extra time it gave her to look at last night’s emails, check for messages and plan the day ahead. Her car was lonely in the corner and Addy knew that they were the only ones there.
He waved. He was dressed head to toe in black, so Melbourne already, and had a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. Addy recognised his favourite battered leather jacket. He wore it because he believed it made him look like a real director. She ground her teeth together. Pity there wasn’t a real man underneath it.
He was in the way. He’d obviously planned it that way. She would have to get past him to go into work. She stayed where she was.
‘Addy.’ He called out her name, as friendly as if he’d just seen her yesterday.
She needed to remain calm, to keep her head. She slipped a hand into her bag, not letting go of her keys, needing to reassure herself that her mobile phone was right there if she needed it. The cool metal casing under her index finger was reassuring.
She took a deep breath, trying to find strength. ‘What do you want, Jack?’ Her words hung in the air and echoed in the empty parking lot.
He took her in, his eyes grazing from her head to toe as if he owned her, as if it was his right to look at her that way. She stayed where she was, trying to keep a safe distance between them although, in her experience, there was no safe distance with Jack.
‘You look good, Addy.’ He always did it this way. He started with the charm.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Aren’t you happy to see me?’ He came closer. Addy stepped back.
‘You need to go. You need to leave me alone. If you’ll get out of the way, I have to get to my desk. I’ve got work to do.’
‘Oh, c’mon, Addy. It’s been too long. Aren’t you going to say hello? What’s got into you?’
‘Just leave, Jack. Go back to Melbourne. Get out of my way.’ She positioned one of her car keys between her curled fingers, held on tight to it.
‘I’m just here to talk.’ And then she could see the change: the narrowed eyes, the edge in his voice. He pulled his shoulders back, and the shape of his lips transformed from a smirk to a snarl. His eyes narrowed, not in curiosity but in rage. ‘I’ve come all this way from Melbourne. I’ve been driving all fucking night and I haven’t had any sleep and I’ve drunk way too much shitty coffee. All to see you.’
‘You have to leave,’ she replied.
Jack laughed bitterly. ‘You’re working on some piece of shit TVC when you could have been working for me on my series in Melbourne? What the fuck, Addy? I needed you on that show. You turned your back on me, you know that?’
She could hear the tension crackle in his voice. Her fingers gripped the keys. Her heart pounded in her ears. ‘I was busy, Jack.’
He walked towards her, slow steps, menacing steps. ‘Don’t you know who I am, Addy? I am Jack Andersson.’ He slammed his palm against his chest. ‘I’m on my way. I’ve got an agent in LA. Did you know that? Huh?’
He was in her face now, snarling, angry. She swallowed, tried to breathe.
He reached for her, grabbed her upper arm, his big fingers digging into her, through her denim jacket, right into her skin. He was holding her so tight he was almost lifting her off the ground. Addy could already feel the bruises coming up, and the pain throbbing in the sensitive skin.
‘You haven’t returned my fucking phone calls. You wouldn’t come to Melbourne. What the fuck is wrong with you?’
‘Let go,’ she said quietly, forcefully. ‘You’re hurting me.’
Don’t make him angry. Don’t make him worse. You know what will come next.
‘I’m hurting you? What the fuck, Addy? How do you think I felt when you walked out on me, huh? It. Was. Fucking. Agony.’ Each word was spat in her face. Each word saw a tightening and twisting of his grip on her arm. ‘How the fuck could you?’
Addy breathed hard, glanced around. Please someone, she begged silently. Please come. But it was too early. She knew no one else would arrive for at least half an hour.
‘Who is he? Huh?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘His name. What’s his name, Addy? He’s the reason you didn’t come to Melbourne, isn’t it? Because you’re fucking someone else. I chase a job and you’re chasing some other guy’s dick.’
Addy was turning in on herself to try to ease the pain, pain which was now stinging her eyes, thickening her tongue, tightening her throat.
And it rose up in her like a roar. Don’t let him do this to you. Not again. Not ever again.
‘Get your fucking hands off me,’ she snarled as she jabbed at him.
His fingers slackened and he splayed two hands on his stomach and yelped. ‘What the fuck have you done?’ He gasped, breathing fast, bending in the middle. She saw a weakness exposed and she turned slightly, taking her weight on her back leg and kicked him. She didn’t have a word for the satisfaction she felt kicking him in the shin with a heavy boot.
‘What the heck is going on?’
Sally. Her dear friend Sally. Her voice was in Addy’s ear and she saw a flash of bright purple and then Sally was between them. The producer shoved her phone at Jack.
‘I’m on the phone with the cops, Jack.’
Sally looked over her shoulder at Addy. ‘They’re on their way. You all right?’
Addy couldn’t seem to move. The throbbing in her head was loud, like headphones full of rock music pounding in her ears, and she was shaking so much her keys were jangling in her hand.
‘Addy?’ Sally’s voice was filled with caution and concern.
Addy’s tongue was thick. She felt the throb of pain in her arm now and tried to shake it out but that only made it worse.
‘The cops?’ Jack moaned. ‘Good. They can charge Addy. You mad bitch,’ he shouted. ‘Look what you’ve done to me.’ He turned to Sally, jabbed the air. ‘That fucking bitch stabbed me.’
Addy glanced at the big brave Jack Andersson now, as he doubled over, wincing and clutching his stomach. It took her a minute to remember. She looked down at her car key, still gripped between her fingers, sticking out like one of Wolverine’s metallic claws. There was blood on it, bright red, at the tip.
The blood.
She felt woozy, closed her eyes, saw her reflection in the mirror. She was back at her house. It was the night she’d broken up with Jack. She’d run to the bathroom, terrified, and locked the door behind her, fumbling with the lock, standing there in her bare feet, shaking and frightened. Was that her in the mirror? Her auburn hair was tugged into knotty clumps. Around her neck, a rough, reddish ring from where his hands had gripped her, shoved her, tightened around her. She was cataloguing the damage, running through it like a production schedule. Under her chin, a scrape and a sting and blood. On a cheekbone, a slash, where his ring had crunched against bone when he’d backhanded her. And her eyes. Hollow. Lifeless. Where had she gone? Who was this person staring back at her, this ghost?
There had been no sign of Addy McNamara in those hollow eyes.
She had tasted blood and looked down. On the gleaming white of the bathroom sink drops of blood smoothed into watercolour smudges and streaked like rain on a window. Except the rain was blood red. The memories ripped at her.
Sally spat the words out. ‘You are such an arsehole, Jack.’
And then the police car arrived with a squeal of brakes and a light that flashed red and blue and reflected in the windows of Addy’s and Sally’s cars. There was the sound of slamming doors and heavy footsteps on the asphalt and an unfamiliar male voice speaking into a two-way radio. One officer went to Jack. One came to her.
‘Are you all right?’
Addy glanced from the officer to Sally. Her mouth opened but she didn’t hear any words come out. There was a ringing in her ears.
‘I’m the one who called,’ Sally said, then she leaned over and looked directly into her friend’s eyes. ‘I saw it all, Addy. I waited in my car and called them.’ Her voice dropped. ‘This is your chance to tell them everything.’
Tell them everything. Sally knew. Oh god, she knew. Addy felt her insides shrinking, hollowing out and filling up with shame. Heavy as concrete.
Sally reached for her hand. ‘I mean it, Addy. Please. For the love of god, before he does this to you again or does it to someone else. Tell them everything.’
The police officer nodded at Sally. ‘I’ll have to ask you some questions, too.’ Then she turned to Addy. ‘What’s your name?’
Addy’s eyes swam with tears. Now the police were involved. There would be interviews, questions, reports and maybe charges. God. She’d stabbed Jack. She was going to be arrested.
‘Addy McNamara. Adelaide McNamara.’
‘Do you know that man talking to the officer over there?’
Addy nodded. ‘We used to be in a relationship.’
‘Has he hurt you before?’ The officer’s voice was quiet and undemanding, and Addy knew all the questions had to be asked, but they still felt like an intrusion.
When Addy hesitated, Sally squeezed her hand. ‘This is your chance, Addy. Please tell them.’
‘Yes. He’s hurt me before. He’s hit me before.’
‘You’ll need to be medically assessed,’ the officer said quietly.
‘I can take her to hospital, get her checked over,’ Sally said quickly, fiercely.
The officer looked at Addy knowingly. ‘We’ll want the evidence documented so we can take this further.’
Addy nodded, feeling at once half asleep, and half as if she would never sleep again in her life.
Her mask had cracked and shattered. She couldn’t hide behind it any more.
She looked past the officer and Sally. Jack was being pushed into the back seat of the police car. The lights on top of it were still flashing but there was no noise from the sirens. Everything was silent except for the beating of her heart in her ears, the pressure of it in her chest so big it felt like her ribs were cracking. The stinging, swelling and bruising in her arm had begun to throb now in time with her heartbeat. After so long, she was now feeling everything. Every blow. Every hurled insult. Every taunt. Waves of hate and rage began to crash all around her and she felt as if she were drowning in it all.
It was all over.
The glittering and glamorous life of Addy McNamara had been a joke and a lie and now everyone would know it.
* * *
Addy went back to work the next day and the days after that until the commercial was done. The completed product was a soft-focus piece of propaganda about the success rates of in-vitro fertilisation and the joy having children would bring to a sad couple with empty arms and big wallets. She’d found the perfect, photogenic happy couples and their perfect, photogenic children and the director had done a brilliant job of capturing every smile, every look of love and every hug in a style that would out-schmaltz Hollywood.
