Alberta Clipper (33 page)

“You asked her on New Year's Eve?”

“Well, you know me.  Romantic to the last.”  He spun childishly from right to left on the chair as Christine sat looking at him.  “I see your New Year's wasn't as exciting as mine,” he reached for her left hand and held her fourth finger, giving it a shake.  “What did you get up to?”

Christine pulled her hand away and laughed.  “Nothing worth reporting Craig,” she said.  “Nothing worth reporting.”

~

“
Gavan
wants to see you.”

Christine said nothing.  She could hear Emily sigh down the phone.

“He told Jack you weren't answering his calls, and
Jack asked me to have a word with you
.  He wants to meet you to talk.”

“What did you say?”  Christine shivered.  She could see the lights on in her father's sitting room.  It looked cosy and inviting from where she sat in the dark in her car. 

“I told Jack to tell
Gavan
to feck off.”  Emily's voice raised.  “But I also told him I would tell you.  Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”  Christine yanked the key from the ignition.

“Just in case you did want to see him,” Emily said.  “You haven't been answering my calls the last few days either, Chris.  How am I supposed to know what you are thinking?”

Christine bristled at the tone of Emily's voice.  She and Emily had never fallen out, not in all the years they had known each other.  She sat back in the car seat.  “I'm sorry, Ems,” she sighed.  “I'm just so, so angry right now.  I don't want to see
Gavan
.  I never want to see
Gavan
again.”

“Okay,” Emily said.  “That's completely understandable.  And I think you're right.  He doesn't bloody deserve you.”  She paused.  “I'm just sorry that I introduced you in the first place.”

“This is not your fault Emily,” Christine was firm.  “And anyway, there's more – stuff going on.”

“What stuff?”

“Look, I can't talk now.  I'm outside Dad's.  He's expecting me for dinner.”  Christine opened the car door, and a dim light came on above her head.  “Do you want to meet up tomorrow?  For a drink or something?  After work?”

“Sure,” Emily said.  “And a drink sounds great.  I've been on the dry since New Year's Day.  It's my New Year's resolution.”

“Wow,” Christine laughed as she stepped out of the car.  “And you've lasted a whole four days?  That's impressive.”

“It's certainly an improvement on last year, when we both decided to give up drinking for January, if you recall.”

“I recall the party we went to on the
second
of January.  Well, the beginning of it anyway.”

“Exactly,” said Emily.  “And anyway, I might as well enjoy what I have left of my holidays before school starts back.”

“Okay.”  Christine put her key in the front door, but before she could turn it in the lock, the door opened to reveal a smiling Matt.  “I'll call you tomorrow
,
Ems.  Bye.”

~

“So what do you think?”  Aggie took a sip f
rom her glass of water
.

“I don't know, Ag.”  Christine tried to ignore her father who was pottering around his sitting room behind her.  “I'm not sure if I can take the days off work.”

“But surely you have holidays to take, Chris?  When did you last take a week off?”

“I took a week in May.”

“Yes, but you didn't go anywhere.  That doesn't count.”  The two sisters sat in silence for a moment.  “You need to get away sometime Chris.  For a proper holiday.”

“Mmm.”  Christine longed to just slam the computer closed on Aggie and her bulging belly, but she knew she wouldn't.  “How is your back these days?” she asked.

“Oh, it's okay.”  Aggie stretched awkwardly on her chair, seemingly contradicting herself.  “Once I don't stay in one position too long.  It's hard to sleep in the heat though.  Anyway, stop changing the subject.”

“I'm not.”

“Jamie could get you a great deal on flights.  If you came soon, we could get out of the city for a few days together.  Maybe drive up the coast?  My last holiday of freedom.”

Christine thought about what Mark had said about flying to Singapore.

“I know it's a long flight for you, but, well,” Aggie fiddled with a strand of her hair.  “I'd really love to see you Chris.  Before the baby comes.  You wouldn't have to stay on.  And you could be here for Australia Day.  That would be good fun.” 

Christine sensed a presence behind her.  She turned to see her Dad looking at her from the other side of the room. 

“I know it's asking a lot, Chris,” Aggie said.  “But it'd be really -”

“I can't Aggie,” Christine shook her head.  “I've a conference in London in February that I can't miss.  And January is out too.  It's too late to ask for time off now.  I'm sorry.”  She looked up again, but her father was gone. 

Aggie was sitting, silent, nodding slowly.  “I understand.  It's okay.”  She took another drink of her water.  “Look Chris, I'd better go.  I said I'd be in work before eleven.”

Christine felt her stomach contract.  “I'm sorry, Aggie.”

“No, no, forget it.  Look we'll talk soon, okay?  I've got to go.  Say bye to Dad for me.”

Christine sat staring at the empty screen until she heard her father come back into the room behind her.  He stood at the door looking over at her.

“Should I be getting worried about you?” he asked her.

“Just because I don't want to run to Sydney on Aggie's bidding doesn't mean that there is anything wrong with me,” Christine could hear the nastiness in her tone, but
she couldn’t help
it. 

Matt took a deep breath.  “Emily phoned me yesterday,” he said. 

“What?”  Christine was incredulous.  “Why would she phone you?”

“She was worried about you, Chris.”  Matt sat down on the arm of the sofa, facing his daughter.  “She hadn't heard from you in a couple of days, and she was worried.”

“Just because I don't answer the phone once or twice doesn't give her the right to go checking up on me.”
  How could Emily have done that?  What was she thinking?

“Under normal circumstances, Chris, I'd agree.”  Matt's voice was brimming with frustration.  “But you're not -”

“What?  Normal?”  Now Christine was shouting.

“No.  That's not what I was going to say.”  Matt took a calming breath.  “Christine.  Christine, I know you are hurting.  I know that.  But it's been f
ive years.  And what worries me
and
Aggie
,” he paused, “and Emily, is that you don't seem to be, improving.  Moving on.  You have to move on.  Let it go.”

“That's such bullshit,” Christine stood up and pushed the chair roughly against the side table.  “I have moved on.  I am living my life.  I have a job.  A good job.  I had a boyfriend.  It wasn't my fault that he turned out to be an ass.  I have a social life.  I see you all the time.  What more do you
all
want?  What else can I do to make you
all
happy?”  Tears were streaming from her eyes now, and Matt came towards her, arms outstretched, but she pushed him away.  “No.  I don't know what more you want from me.”  She was sobbing now.  “I'm doing the best I can.  But I can't forget it.  Forget her.  I don't want to forget her.  I don't want to.  All I can do for her now is remember her.” 

Matt got to her just as her knees buckled, and she collapsed, keening into his arms.

“I know, pet, I know.”  He half walked, half dragged her over onto the sofa and she sat with her head buried in his chest.  “I understand, you know.  But we can remember, and move on too.  That's what we must do.  That's what I do, pet, every day.  Your mother is always with me, but I have to live on without her.”  He stroked Christine's hair as she shuddered against him.  “And you must do the same.  You will never forget, Chrissy.”  He pulled away from her, trying to get her to look at him.  “But you must pack up your burden small. Carry it with you, but carry it like a keepsake, small and light.  And sometimes you will need to take it out and look at it, but most of the time you will be able to carry on, to live.  You are right to always have it there, with you, but it shouldn't be weighing you down.  It shouldn't be holding you back.”  Matt stared across the room at a framed photo of his wife, smiling over at them both from the mantelpiece.  “You have nothing to feel guilty for,” he said quietly.  “Nothing.”

Christine sat up straighter.  She wiped the back of her hand across both cheeks.  “I wish I could believe that, Dad.”  Her voice was raw and broken.  “I really do.”

“Afternoon
,
Christine.”

Christine looked up
briefly
from the coffee machine.

“Hello
, Mark.”  She took her coffee and sat at one of the tables where she had left a few trade magazines she had intended on flicking through in peace. 

Then Amanda appeared at the door of the coffee room, with Craig following her.
  She walked over to the machine where Mark was standing looking a little bewildered. 
“I'll
do that Mark,” she
t
ook the filter handle from him
and proceeded to make two coffees.  “You want one, Craig?” she asked.

“Thanks doll,” Craig said from the seat he had taken opposite Christine.  He turned one of her magazines to face him and started flicking through it. 

Christine glared at him.  “I suppose you'll expect your wife to make your coffee too after you're married?”

“Hey, beautiful, don't take out your grouchiness on me.  Is
Gavan
not making your coffee just as you like it these days?”  He winked at her.

Christine glanced up
towards the coffee machine
.  “Fuck off, Craig,” she muttered. 

“Easy tiger,” Craig looked at her.  “What's eating you?”

“Nothing.”  She knew she was blushing, and she wished that Craig would just shut up.

“Eh Mark,” Amanda left a coffee down in front of Craig, who took it, beaming at Christine.  “Do you know, has Petra organised lunches yet for the strategy meeting tomorrow and Thursday?”

“I've no idea, Amanda,” Mark said as he stirred two
spoons of sugar into his mug
.

“It's just, my friend has started a new business.  Providing sandwiches and other stuff to offices for meetings and lunches.  She already has a few clients on the square.  It'd be great if we could give her the business.”

Mark took a sip of the coffee.  “Sure, tell Petra to order from her both days.  Tell her I said it was okay.”  Christine and Mark made brief eye contact, but she looked away.  “And if it's good,
ask Petra
to use them for all our lunch meetings going forward.”

“Oh, that's fantastic
,
Mark.”  Amanda looked thrilled.  “Thanks so much.  I'll go and tell her now.”

Amanda left the room, leaving Mark standing awkwardly at the coffee machine.  Then a tanned-looking
Shay
came through the door.  Craig stood up.  “Gentlemen,” he said, and took his coffee with him out of the room without a word to Christine. 

Shay
whistled as he made himself a coffee.  The atmosphere in the room was suddenly unbearable, and Christine stood up abruptly, gathering her journals to her.  She put her mug in the sink, and
left with the briefest of nod in the direction of the two men
.

Mark watched her go. 
Shay
stopped whistling.

“Christ,” Mark shook his head.

“I got your email about Burt Montgomery coming over to sit in on the strategy meeting tomorrow,”
Shay
said.  Mark had to admire
Shay
’s apparent ability to ignore the awkwardness he knew surrounded himself and Christine whenever they were in close proximity.  An awkwardness he was convinced everyone in the office could sense.

“Yeah,” Mark sat down on a chair. 

“That's a new departure for head office, isn't it?  I thought they never got involved.”

“They have never got involved before,” Mark's tone was grim.  “But I think they want a better handle on what's going on in Europe.  I'd expect a little more, input, from now on if I were you.”

“You think they're considering pulling out?” 
Shay
turned to face Mark.

Mark drained his mug.  “I don't know,
Shay
.”  He stood to go.  “But it's just another thing to add to the list of shit I have to worry about.”

Christine was sitting at her little kitchen table, staring at nothing, when the buzzer went.  She walked over to a small white box on the wall, and pressed a button.

“It's open, Dad.”