Alberta Clipper (14 page)

Craig
seemed shocked at her reaction.  “I know, I know.  You're right.  Anyway,” he stood up, pushing his chair back under the little table between them.  He really looked terrible.  “I'm to take some time off.  I have annual leave due.  They're insisting I take it now.  Three weeks.”  He buttoned his jacket.  “So I guess I'll be taking an impromptu holiday.”

“Maybe that's not such a bad idea,” Christine said.

“And I won't be seeing you at the
morning
briefings anymore.  Mark insisted one of the other lads take that over.”

“Right.”  Christine was feeling piteous again.  She found it impossible to stay angry with him.  “Well, maybe we'll do lunch when you get back from your
,
holiday, okay?”

“Okay.”  He smiled at her, and stretched out his arms.  She reluctantly let him give her a hug.  “Thanks for being a pal.”  He squeezed her until she had to break free for air.  “And I really am sorry, Chris.” 

“I know.  Just don't be an ass again if you can help it.”

He held open the door, and they returned to the lobby.  Christine pressed the button for the lift.

“How's things with you anyway?
” Craig said as he turned to go.
 
“
How's the fellah? 
Gavan
?  Still in love?”

“None of your goddam
n
business,
”
s
he smiled at him as the lift door
started to
close, and he
winked at her, and
turned to leave the building with a grin that didn't quite reach to his eyes.

Something unusual woke Christine the following morning.  Something was different.  Uncomfortable.  For a moment she couldn't think what it was, but then she put her hand to her neck and felt the gold chain.  It was digging into her skin, and she had to lift her head gently and adjust it so as not to break it.  She lifted the pendant it carried, and blinked the sleep from her eyes in order to focus on it.  A cornflower blue sapphire surrounded by tiny little diamonds in a white gold setting.  She smiled at it.  Without uttering a word, this birthday gift had said a lot.  It was definitely expensive, but not outrageously so – the diamonds were pretty, but very tiny.  It was a classic setting – the buyer had taste.  Nothing too modern that would date.  There was no particular significance to it.  It wasn't an heirloom, sapphire wasn't her birthstone, he probably hadn't put weeks of thought into it.  It was more likely that he had just seen it in a store window and had thought it was a nice piece.  Classic, tasteful.  Christine loved it.  She
didn’t own much jewellery
.  She had a heavy gold choker that had once belonged to her mother and that she was unlikely to ever wear unless to an eighties-themed party, and she still had a silver cross and chain given t
o her by her late grandmother on
her confirmation.  But that was all.  Now, she had this.  The first real piece of jewellery she had ever been given.  She was lying there looking at it when the bedroom door opened, making her jump.

“Do you still like it?” 
Gavan
smiled at her as he carried two mugs of coffee over to the bed.  She blushed.  Of course, he had stayed over.  How could she have forgotten that?  She let go of the necklace and wriggled into a sitting position, taking care to keep herself covered by the duvet. 

“I really do.  Thank you.  Again.”

“No, no.  Thank you.”  He sat on the edge of the bed, facing her, sipping his coffee.  “Sleep okay?  I know I did.”

“Yes, actually.”  Christine ch
ecked the bedside alarm clock.

“Wow,” she thought aloud.  “I actually slept a solid eight hours.” 

Gavan
didn't seem to notice the surprise in her voice.  “You were exhausted,” he said with a smirk.

“I was drunk,” she punched him gently in the shoulder, tying not to spill her coffee. 

“Not that drunk,” he took the opportunity to pretend to peek down the duvet which Christine had let slip.

“
Gavan
!”  She grabbed at the covers.

“What?  I'm just looking at your necklace.”  He laughed and held the sapphire up.  “It's the colour of your eyes, you know.”

“So you said last night.”

“I honestly hadn't realised.  But it is.  It's the exact same colour.”

She leaned back a little, letting the duvet drop a fraction.  “I really do love it.  It's the best birthday present I've ever got.”

They sat on the bed, she leaning against the headboard, he with one foot under him and the other on the floor.  They sipped their coffees.

“So.”

“So.”

“What are we going to do today?”  He got up and walked over to the window and pulled the curtains.  Light streamed into the room, catching the diamonds and making them sparkle.  “It's another lovely day.  May I?”  He gest
ured to the patio door which led
out onto the veranda. 

“Sure.”

The sea-filled air blew into the room as
Gavan
pulled across the door and stepped out.  He
leaned against
the railing and stood there, taking in the view.  Christine sat in the bed, sipping her coffee, thinking how the view was much improved with
Gavan
in the foreground. 

“This is some place Chris, it really is.”  His voice was carried in by the breeze.  He stood there for another moment, and then turned back into the room.  “It's lovely out there, but it's supposed to pour later.”  He sat down again on the bed.  “Maybe we should make the most of it now?  Go out for a walk, and lunch?  Then we can stay indoors when it starts raining.  We could go back to my place, or a nice pub in town.  What do you think?  Had you any plans?”

Christine felt a sort of panic rise within her.  It was Saturday.  Of course she had plans.  She had the same plans she had every Saturday.  To go to the grave.  And she would rather go early.  The only thing worse than standing at the grave, was standing at the grave in the teeming rain.  The pathetic fallacy was just too much for her.  Suddenly,
Gavan
had gone from being the most perfect part of the room that morning, to being something she wished would disappear when she closed her eyes. 

“I, actually I have something I need to do this morning.”  She waited, hoping he would miraculously understand the unspoken, get dressed, and leave.

“Oh?”  He looked questioning.  He was probably expecting her to elaborate.  “Well, can I do it with you?”

“No.”  She almost shouted the word.  “I'm sorry.  It's just.  I want to go to my mother's
grave.  I -
.  That's it.”

He looked a little perturbed, but maybe also a little relieved.  “Okay, sure.  Well, I'll go with you.  If that's okay?  I'll drive you.”

“No.”  The breeze blew in the window over Christine's bare shoulders, and she shivered.  She knew she would have to do better than that.  “I'm sorry, it's just, I'd rather go alone.”  She could sense his indignat
ion, and she began to wish he ha
d never stayed over.  She just hadn't considered the next morning.  She had assumed he would just get up and leave and that she could have got on with her Saturday as normal.  But here they were. 

“Christine, I don't really understand.  Why can't I go with you?  What's the problem?”

She stared down into her coffee, before swinging her legs out of the bed and walking straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.  She grabbed her dressing gown from its hook, and stood in front of the mirror staring at her reddening cheeks, tying the gown tightly around her. 

It's none of your bloody business what I do with my Saturdays.

On autopilot, she put toothpaste on her electric brush, and took her anger out on her gums.

I don't have to explain myself to him, or to Dad or Aggie or anyone else.

But as she scrubbed unnecessarily, the diamonds surrounding the sapphire caught her eye in the mirror, and she stopped the whirring brush.  She knew it wasn't
Gavan’
s fault.  He couldn't possibly understand.  He had only wanted to be with her.  She dropped the toothbrush into the sink, and leaned on the edges of the basin.  The pendant swung beneath her chin.  She closed her eyes for a second, before adjusting her robe and opening the door into the bedroom. 
Gavan
was sitting on the bed, dressed, tying his shoelaces. 

“
Gavan
.”  He didn't look up.  “
Gav
, I'm sorry.  It's just -”  Then a moment of inspiration grabbed her.  “It's just it would have been my mother’s birthday next week.”  This was true.  “I want to spend a bit of time there today with my Dad.”  This was not true, but Christine couldn't see how it should make any difference.  It could have been true.  “I would love to spend the day with you.  Just.  Not today.”

He was on the second shoe now, but she sensed she was being forgiven.  A little.  He looked up from the bed at her.  “I'm sorry too.  Of course, I understand.  You need to be with your Dad.” 

Christine felt a little stab of guilt at this. 

“But Chris,” he looked down at his shoelaces again.  “Just understand.  I'd like to be there for you.  I want you to be able to talk to me.  About your mother.  About anything.”  He looked up at her again.  “I really like you, Christine.  I want you to be able to trust me.”

Tears started to fall from Christine's eyes as
Gavan
stood up and put his
arms around her.  She felt wretched
.  Not for excluding
Gavan
from today.  She hadn't for a moment considered taking him with her.  She felt awful because now that she was confronted with it, she could never see the day when another person came to the grave with her.  They would have to understand her grief, and they never could.  She cried because she doubted she could ever let someone inside her head like
Gavan
wanted to be
.  She couldn't imagine opening up to
Gavan
, or to anyone.  Ever.  She was so closed up inside.  So locked down. 

And that was what made her cry.

~

The guy who delivered her Thai dinner that evening was drenched.  Christine felt sorry for him just briefly, and tipped him more generously than usual.  She sat in front of the television with her food watching some completely mindless talent show full of talentless contestants and botoxed judges.  When it finished, she flicked channels until an old Woody Allen movie caught her eye.  Diane Keaton
always
reminded her of her mother. 
They could have been sisters.  She
watched
her
bat her kohled lids and flick her hair on the screen, and tried to imagine her mother in the seventies
,
stylish, mini-skirted, made-up. 
Her eyes flickered over to the photo on the bookshelf. 
She wouldn't have been sitting on her sofa in her thirtieth year, eating takeaway alone.  She would have been married with one baby and another on the way.  The threat of tears stung Christine’s eyes.  Her phone vibrated on the cushion beside her and she looked
with suspicion
at the screen.

“Hi Emily
.”

“Hey babe.  You okay?”  Emily was somewhere noisy.  “Jack said you blew
Gavan
off earlier.  I thought last night went well?  What happened this morning?”

Christine massaged her temples with her free hand.  “Oh, nothing.  He didn't do anything.  Where are you?  Are you with Jack?”

“He better not have.  You sure
you okay?  Yes, I'm with Jack.”  She was having to shout to be heard over the din.  “
Well, I'm actually pretending to be in the ladies
’
room.  He's at the bar with some work mates.”

“Is
Gavan
there?”

“No.”

Christine wondered briefly where he might be. 

“But he was talking to Jack earlier, and said you had gone all weird on him.  That you practically threw him out this morning.”

“Those were his words?”

“Those were Jack's words.  And Jack can be a little melodramatic at times.  But what happened?  Are you sure he did nothing wrong?”

Christine went quiet.  “I'm sure,” she said eventually.  The noise in the background seemed to be getting louder.

“Look Chris, are you okay?  Do you want me to come over?”

“No.”  Christine didn't want anyone over.  Not even Emily.  “I'm okay.  Look, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?  We could go to a movie?  Or just hang here?  You could stay over.”  She was silent for a moment.  “Ems, you can stay for a few days if you want.  If you need a break from your parents.  It's no problem.”  She took a breath.  “I'd like it.”

Emily seemed to be shocked into silence for a moment.

“Okay, well how about I call you tomorrow and we'll hang out tomorrow evening, yeah?”