Lady: Impossible (35 page)

She takes a deep breath and starts rambling in a nervous manner. ‘Why is he late? He always comes home early on Wednesday. Francie texted him but he didn’t reply. Stephen and Sylvie are at work, so I lied to my mum and Francie and said I was going to a friend’s place. I got your address from the emergency contact list we have at home.’

‘Aw, sweetie, he slept in. That’s all. You weren’t able to text him?’

She sniffles. ‘I don’t have any credit.’

‘Oh.’

Not exactly a problem I’ve encountered before, but that’s beside the point, which I need to get back to… Francie and Sylvie must be Blair’s other two sisters, so the problem seems to be a case of missed messages and bad timing.

Abby emerges from behind me, apparently brave enough now to introduce herself. ‘Hi. I’m Abby, Millie’s friend.’ She digs into her pocket and hands Julie a tissue. ‘Here you go. Blow your nose.’

‘Thanks.’

Poor girl was distraught enough to travel all the way to her brother’s place of work. She must really miss him when he’s not around. And how did she even know how to get here? She must be very resourceful.
 

I usher her out onto the path, taking the opportunity to look down the street to see if Blair is anywhere close. I’m not sure how far the nearest bus stop is, so it’s not like I can properly estimate how long it’ll take him to get back, but judging from his reaction on the phone, he’s probably doing his best to hurry.

I turn back to Julie. ‘He’ll be here soon.’

‘He’s going to be angry,’ she says, glancing down at her feet. ‘I’m not supposed to talk to you.’

Abby gives her a funny look. ‘Why not? Millie is really friendly.’ She pauses. ‘When she wants to be.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Thanks, Abby.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Julie blows her nose again before answering, building the suspense. ‘He says you’re a bad role model. I don’t know why. I think you’re nice.’

I almost fall over her choice of words. Or should I say his choice of words: ‘Bad role model?’

I may not be the most down-to-earth individual, or the most understanding, but labelling me a bad role model is harsh. How could he say such a thing to his sister? She doesn’t know me. She met me once, in a supermarket aisle when I was giggling at my basket of vegetables.
 

The shock must be evident on my face, because Abby is quick to give me a warning. ‘Mills, don’t take it personally.’

‘How can I not take it personally?’
 

Suddenly conscious of Julie’s curious gaze, I try to make my expression neutral. It’s not her fault.

Presumably to distract me, Abby engages Julie in a bit of conversation.

‘So how old are you, Julie?’

She looks up at us with teary eyes, her unkempt hair making her look even more miserable. ‘Thirteen in September.’

‘Ooh, that’s a good age. Are you enjoying the school holidays? What have you been up to?’

‘Everyone works a lot so I mostly stay at home or go over to my friends’.’

‘I see. How about a boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend?’
 

I interrupt before Julie can answer. ‘She’s twelve. Why would she have a boyfriend?’

Abby waves me off. ‘Why wouldn’t she? She’s very pretty.’

Julie laughs, her smile brightening her whole face. She digs her hands into her pockets and rocks on her heels, suddenly exuding an unexpected confidence. ‘I had a boyfriend last year, but he moved schools.’
 

‘Really?’ I’m genuinely intrigued, letting curiosity override how offended I feel, at least for a few seconds. ‘Were you sad when he left?’

She shrugs, nonchalant. ‘Yeah. A bit.’

I raise my eyebrows and turn to Abby. ‘I think we have ourselves a little heartbreaker here.’

Abby nods enthusiastically. ‘You should give Millie some tips on how to impress the lads. She’s not very good. They all run away.’

If Blair was to return right now, he’d be livid at the topic of conversation. He already thinks I’m a bad role model. Now Abby is urging Julie to give me advice when, really, I’ve done enough to bonk her brother – twice.
 

And only twice, I remind myself. It’s all over between us.

‘Why do they run away?’ Julie asks.

Oh to be twelve again. Such an innocent age.

‘Probably training for the Olympics.’

Abby plays along. ‘Very quick runners.’

‘The quickest.’

‘You know in athletics, the four-by-one-hundred relay team? Millie’s ex-boyfriends.’

‘Yes. Sprinters, the lot of them.’

Somehow I think the humour is lost on Julie. She gives us one of those polite smiles that people give when they have no idea what the other person is on about. It makes me feel old, not being able to connect with her in this instance. No one wants to be out of touch.

I let out a low whistle. ‘Where is that brother of yours?’

Probably looking for another bad role model to fuck, that’s where.

Oh my God, I’m so bitter.

‘Should we wait inside?’ Abby asks. ‘How far away is this “bus stop”?’
 

I snort at her implied quotation marks. ‘The bus stop is real. You don’t have to say it like it’s hypothetical.’

‘It’s not that far,’ Julie says. ‘I’ve walked longer.’

Abby nods, seemingly impressed.
 

In the end, it takes Blair another couple of minutes to make it back. He arrives in a flustered state, rushing to a stop just inside the gate.

‘Jules, what are you doing here?’

She rushes over to him, hugging him around the waist and not letting go. ‘I didn’t know where you were.’

‘I sent Francie a text. You must’ve already left the house.’

Abby nudges me. ‘How sweet. Better than postcards, don’t you think?’

‘Definitely,’ I say under my breath.

Abby and I hang back as Blair hugs his sister. It’s a poignant scene. He’s clearly irritated that she’s here, his frustration evident in his features. Yet he comforts her anyway, rubbing her back soothingly and telling her not to worry so much.

He shoots me an apologetic look. ‘Sorry about this.’

‘It’s fine.’
 

The scene is a blow for me on two counts. The first being the pang of loss I feel at my own brother’s absence – both physical and emotional. The second hits home as I remember what it’s like to be held by Blair.

I turn my head away, clenching my jaw to stave off any emotion that dares show itself.
 

Abby leans in and whispers. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘You didn’t. I promise.’

‘Are you sure?’

Blair interrupts our little side-discussion, apparently very keen to leave. He even seems wary of the house, glancing at the front door as if it’s going to suck him back in for an extra shift. ‘I suppose we’ll be off now, if that’s okay?’

I answer without meeting his gaze. ‘Absolutely.’

‘All right then. Enjoy your day.’

I fight back a snort. Enjoyable, my arse. ‘Yes, see you later.’

I force a smile at Julie, who has finally let go of her brother’s waist. She rewards me with a toothy grin, the last thing I see before I turn my back on both Baxters. Abby does the polite thing and waves – she’s always been better than me when it comes to niceties.
 

I wait for them to leave the property before speaking again. ‘I should’ve asked him about the bad-role-model thing.’

It’s not in my nature to leave things uncontested. This is going to drive me nuts until I confront him about it.

Abby gestures for me to follow her back into the house. ‘Oh no. You don’t want to do that. That’s a terrible idea.’

‘The man lives in my house and knows all my secrets,’ I say, following her up the path. ‘Okay, maybe not all, but a significant portion of them. Why shouldn’t I question his loyalty?’

‘It’s not loyalty. It’s an opinion. And if you look at things from his point of view, it’s not without basis.’

‘What?’ I stop in front of the doorway, staring at her as she steps into the house. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re not role models for the youth of today, or any day for that matter. You can’t exactly aspire to be entitled, can you?’ She tilts her head and beckons me inside, seemingly bemused that I’m being so sensitive. ‘Forget about it. You have other things to worry about. Namely money.’

Grumbling, I step inside and shut the door on the world. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

I continue to mull over her words as we return to the piano room. Admittedly, on some level, it is borderline ridiculous that I feel so offended. I’ve never put myself out there as some sort of perfect woman, someone girls should want to emulate. I think what bothers me is that I try to be a good person. Telling a child not to be like me is, at the end of the day, a negative assessment of my character.

Abby sits down at the piano and starts playing a classical piece she knows off by heart. It’s a dramatic number, a fitting soundtrack for my predicament and not very uplifting. As if she can read my mind, she changes to an upbeat honky-tonk number, matching her expressions to the peppy tune.

Eventually she breaks me. I smirk, appreciating the fact she’s trying to cheer me up.

She grins at the breakthrough. ‘There we go.’

‘How long do you think they’ll be?’ I ask, referring to my parents and Andrew.

‘Depends on whether he needs to go away and do some work on his own. Sums. Research. Scoping out the market. He’s very thorough, you know.’

‘He wouldn’t make any money if he wasn’t.’

‘Exactly.’ She shakes her head again. ‘I’m really sorry this is happening to you. But we’ll help out, no matter what.’

‘Thanks, Abby.’

She continues to play, her long manicured fingers running over the keys with skill and grace. But with every passing minute I feel further unsettled about the fact that I’m not doing anything myself. Antsy, I pace up and down in her line of vision, before deciding I want to read Oliver’s note again.
 

It really is flattering that he finds himself unable to forget me. I was so sure after our meeting that he’d written me off for good. If he’s this interested, I should seize the opportunity and convince him I’m worth the trouble. I’m sick and tired of being at the behest of outside forces and unwelcome developments. I need to do something.

I drum my fingers on the table, holding the card in the other hand. ‘Hey, what time is it in Switzerland?’

Abby abruptly stops playing, pivoting on the stand so she can face me. ‘Why?’
 

‘Why do you think?’

She gasps, seemingly conflicted. Her eyes sparkle with interest, but her brow also furrows. ‘I was encouraging this idea half an hour ago...’

‘But?’

‘Well, maybe you should wait until you have an idea of how much money you’ll have left.’ She winces. ‘Don’t hate me.’

‘I don’t hate you – I know what you’re saying. I certainly don’t want to come off as unconscionable. But to be fair, whatever happens, I’ll hardly be destitute.’

She takes a moment to consider the idea. Concentration is at times an odd look on her. However, after tapping her finger on her lips to some unknown rhythm, she points at me and nods. ‘Zurich is one hour ahead.’

I clap my hands together, energised by her approval. ‘Great. I’ll try ringing him, and if the call doesn’t go through, I’ll see if Polly has another number, or even an email address.’

‘Do you want me to leave the room?’

‘No, no. Stay. Kick me if I say something stupid.’ I take my phone out again. ‘He’s probably working, so here’s hoping I don’t sound stupid when I leave a voicemail.’

She stands, putting one foot in front of the other as if priming herself for a roundhouse kick. ‘I’ll kick you if you do.’

‘All right, calm down. I haven’t stuffed up yet.’

‘True.’ She relaxes her stance and waits for me to place the call.

Needing some sort of positive force on my side today, I bring the phone to my ear and pray for a response. I hear ringing, which is a great start – at least the call has connected. After about ten rings, there’s a click, and seconds later I hear Oliver’s voice.

‘Millie, what a pleasant surprise. How did you know I was being bored to tears by a particularly dull investment forecast?’
 

I want to do cartwheels. A man who actually wants to hear from me? He must be a dream.
 

I turn on the charm, winking at Abby to indicate a positive response. ‘What can I say? I heard your telepathic cry for help. In German, French and Italian.’

‘Is that what I was thinking? I couldn’t understand all the mumbo jumbo going on in my head. Three official languages? How absurd. Maybe that’s why the Swiss are so neutral. Who can be bothered arguing with so much translation having to be done?’

I giggle, hopefully in an attractive way. I love how he’s confident without being arrogant. ‘They also make very good watches.’

‘All the better to time how long it takes to say things in three languages.’

‘And they’re very big on democracy. All those referendums.’

‘All the better to vote on how long it should take to say things in three languages.’

Abby bounces with impatience when I laugh again. I can tell she wants to hear both sides of the conversation.
 

‘Please tell me you’ve walked out of the boardroom, Oliver.’

‘Whatever do you mean? I’m speaking English. No one can understand my insults.’ He chuckles. ‘No, no, I’m walking down an unknown corridor, pretending I need the loo.’

‘Physically pretending, or did you merely say you needed to go to the bathroom?’

‘You want me to walk around as if I’m busting for the toilet? My, my, you’re demanding. What do I want for lunch?’

‘Um, Swiss cheese… fondue?’

‘Fondue? By myself? Is this your roundabout way of saying I’d be having a better time if you were here with me?’

Forget silly little texts – this is vintage flirting. I should be twirling my fingers around a telephone cord like I used to in 1995. ‘You’re asking an awful lot of questions. There’s such thing as too much democracy.’

‘Of course you’d say that. Your ancestors were part of the ruling class. I haven’t looked into it, but I’m probably descended from some crafty middleman, employed by your lot to collect dues from peasants. Or was it thralls rather than peasants? I’m not down with the nobleman’s lingo.’