Pictures of Lily (34 page)

I haven’t spoken to Richard since he left to stay at Nathan and Lucy’s on Tuesday night and even though it was him who asked me not to call, I find I’m strangely unwilling to anyway. I think I at least need the weekend on my own to mull things over.

My mum always works on Friday and Saturday nights so I’m surprised to find her at home. The flat smells of spaghetti Bolognese and for a moment I’m suspicious.

‘He’s not coming over,’ she quickly assures me. ‘It’s just you and me.’

I nod and go to the sofa, kicking off my shoes as I go. ‘I thought you worked on Friday nights.’

‘I changed my shift.’ She disappears into the kitchen and comes back a minute later with a glass of white wine. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, perching on the arm of my sofa. ‘I was wrong to do that to you last night. It had been arranged for a few days and I convinced myself I didn’t need to cancel. But you’re right. I was being selfish. As usual.’ She hands over the glass and I accept her peace-offering. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’ She gets up again. ‘I’m doing garlic bread and everything!’

We sit outside on the small balcony because it’s a surprisingly balmy night for May in Sydney. We balance our plates on our knees and eat in silence. I’m the one who breaks it.

‘Who is he, this Antonio?’

‘He owns the restaurant,’ she replies. ‘We don’t have to talk about me,’ she adds.

‘No, I want to. So he owns the restaurant? You’ve known him for a while, then.’

‘Yes, but it was six months before we discovered we had feelings for each other.’

‘Last time I saw you . . .’

‘We’d just got together,’ she interrupts. ‘I didn’t know where it was going.’

‘But it’s going well now?’

‘He’s asked me to marry him.’

I stare at her in shock. She’s smiling timidly. ‘And you’re not running for the hills?’ I check.

She shakes her head. ‘Not this time, no.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘I’ve said yes.’

I put down my fork on my plate and study her face. All her vital signs appear normal. She doesn’t seem deranged. ‘Blimey. I guess congratulations are in order.’

‘Thank you,’ she breathes.

‘Where’s your ring?’ I’m being childish because she said this to me so I’m surprised when she places her plate on the tiny table and goes inside. She returns a moment later with an old ring box. She hands it over and I open it to see an antique gold ring inside with an intricate design surrounding a red ruby.

‘What, no diamonds?’ I can’t help but say.

‘It was his mother’s,’ my mum explains. ‘I need to get it re-sized.’

I’m in shock. What’s got into her? Antonio, clearly.

‘I’m happy for you,’ I say, and find that I mean it, even though I’m still very confused about what this Antonio has over all the men before him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t want to tell you like this when I know you’re going through a tough time.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘So fill me in on what’s been happening.’

I sigh and look away. Oh, what the hell. ‘Promise not to be judgemental?’

‘I promise.’

‘Do you remember Ben who worked at the conservation park? Michael’s colleague – you met him once.’

‘I remember,’ she says immediately. ‘In the car park. Tall, good-looking man with blond hair?’

‘That’s him.’

‘Is
he
the one?’

I nod.

‘But how old is he?’

‘Twelve years older than me.’

‘
What
?’

‘Mum, you promised not to be judgemental.’ She settles back into her seat and makes a conscious attempt to relax. I fill her in on the rest.

‘Oh, darling.’ She looks at me sadly when I’ve finished. ‘We rarely get over unrequited love.’

‘Tell me about it.’

She studies me sceptically, then opens her mouth to speak before shutting it again.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

She takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. ‘I was in love with a married man before I met your father.’ She pauses for a moment, her expression tense. ‘Nothing ever happened between us, but I knew he felt something for me too. He had two children. He would never have left his family. I know it’s wrong, but I slept with your father to make him jealous.’ She pauses. ‘I didn’t mean to fall pregnant, but I did. Is this too hard for you to hear?’

I shake my head, willing her to go on.

‘After that, I’d made my bed and had to lie on it, but I’ve never loved anyone like I loved him.’

‘Did you ever see him again?’

‘I bumped into him once in London. It was after we’d moved back from Brighton. He was still married. He told me where he worked and I’ve kept tabs on him on the internet ever since. He died last year.’ I gasp. ‘Heart attack,’ she adds. ‘So now I can finally get over him.’

A wave of understanding floods me. This is why she is the way she is. Why she’s finally able to say yes to Antonio.

‘Did you ever love my dad?’ I find myself asking.

‘Yes. In my own way. But he and I got together so quickly, and under such strange circumstances . . .’

‘There was never any build-up? No sparks of electricity? No meaningful eye-contact? None of the things that send shivers of anticipation down your spine and make you long for someone you

can’t have?’ ‘Exactly.’

‘Richard and I never had any of that either.’

‘But Lily, that doesn’t mean he’s wrong for you.’

‘I know. If it weren’t for Ben, I’d be perfectly happy. But while there’s a chance of him being in my life, I’ll never be able to give Richard one hundred per cent. Is that fair?’

She looks thoughtful, then shrugs. ‘That’s a question you’ll have to answer for yourself.’

The longer I’m away from Richard, the more my head starts to clear. The next day is Saturday and it’s a cool, crisp day. I didn’t bring many clothes with me because I wasn’t sure how long I’d be away, but I did pack my new camera, still unopened in its box. I get it out now and study it.

I spend the morning down at Bondi Beach taking photographs of everything from the surfers to seaweed. I’m experimenting, and it’s hugely liberating to be able to take as many photos as I like without worrying about the cost of developing. Most of my photos are average, but there are a few that I’m proud of, like the pile of brightly coloured beach towels with a small child running out-of-focus in the background, or the close-up of a half-destroyed sandcastle and the way the sun hits the shells that adorn it. Every time I review a shot I think of Ben and what he would say. My heart is becoming calmer.

I return to the flat to find an unexpected visitor waiting for me. It’s Lucy.

‘Hello,’ I say warmly.

‘Hi.’ She looks uneasy as she stays seated on the sofa nursing a cup of tea. My mum switches off the telly that has obviously been entertaining them in my absence and makes herself scarce.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.

‘Molly was bringing Mikey in for lunch with Sam.’ Sam is a horticulturalist at the Botanic Gardens and he sometimes works weekends. ‘I hitched a ride and then borrowed Molly’s car to wing my way over here to see you.’

‘You should have called.’

‘I did. Your phone is switched off.’

I pull it out of my bag. ‘Actually, it’s run out of battery. I forgot to pack my charger.’

‘I’m just going to pop down the shops,’ Mum says as she comes out of her bedroom.

‘Okay,’ I call over my shoulder.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she says to Lucy.

‘Now we can relax,’ I say with a smile when she’s gone, but Lucy still looks tense. ‘How are you?’ I vaguely wonder why she’s not asking me that question under the circumstances.

‘I’m fine,’ she replies. ‘Sorry, I know I probably shouldn’t have turned up out of the blue like this, but I felt like I had to do something. Richard doesn’t know I’m here.’

‘Right . . .’

‘Why haven’t you called him?’ she asks.

‘He asked me not to.’ I’m confused.

‘He didn’t mean it, Lily. He might’ve wanted you to take a day or so to think about it, but he never expected you to cut off contact like you have.’

Now I’m dumbfounded.

‘He’s a mess,’ she continues. ‘He hasn’t been able to work. He’s only just gone home after staying with us for days. He didn’t want to be there without you. I don’t understand how you could do this.’

Now I know why she looks so uncomfortable. She’s not here as my friend; she’s here as Richard’s.

‘What has he told you?’ I manage to ask.

‘That you had a childhood crush on an older man—’

‘It wasn’t a childhood
crush
,’ I interrupt.

‘Whatever it was, now he’s rocked up in Sydney and you’re thinking of running off with him.’

My face flushes. She makes it sound so trivial.

‘Lucy, you don’t know the whole story,’ I respond firmly. ‘I fell in love with Ben ten years ago and have never fallen out of love with him. On the contrary, I’m now in deeper than I ever have been.’

‘But he’s twelve years older than you!’ she objects.

‘So? It’s not
that
ridiculous an age-gap. It felt like it when I was sixteen, but not now.’

‘Have you really thought this through? I mean, you don’t have a dad in your life . . .’

‘I
do
have a dad!’

‘Yes, but he hasn’t been around much. And your mum has always moved from man to man. Maybe you unwittingly went looking for a father figure?’

‘That is ridiculous,’ I snap. Isn’t it? I try to push the notion out of my head.

‘I don’t mean to interfere.’ Yes, but you
are
interfering. And it’s clear where your loyalties lie. ‘But you and Richard are so good together,’ she continues.

‘I know,’ I say, as sadness seeps through me. ‘I love Richard. But I love Ben more. You yourself told me, that – on paper – you and your ex were perfect together and Nathan was no match for him. But you followed your heart. That’s what I’m trying to do.’

‘I didn’t tell you that story to make you break things off with my husband’s best friend,’ she says miserably.

‘I know you didn’t. And it didn’t take you telling me that to help me make a decision. In fact, I haven’t made a decision yet. I’m still trying to.’

‘Oh, Lily, please come back and see him,’ she begs. ‘Please give your relationship one last chance. You could come with me now?’

I politely thank her for coming to see me. But still I stay away.

On Monday, Jonathan makes the announcement that Kip is leaving. The advertisement for picture assistant goes up on the company website immediately with an end-of-week deadline. He obviously wants to get things moving quickly. Bronte emails me to say cheers for covering for her on such short notice. I reply with a good luck message for her forthcoming job interview and ask how the shoot went.

Brilliant location. The photographer was a dickhead though.

Who was the photographer?
I ask
.

Have you heard of Pier Frank? He’s into all this weird arty shit. Jonathan thought it’d be fun to get him to experiment with an editorial shoot, but it was a bloody nightmare trying to reel him in. Hopefully we pulled it off.

For the first time I wonder how much I would enjoy working
with
photographers instead of
as
one. Is this what I really want to do? And let’s not forget, Bronte slugged her way through three years as an editorial assistant before she got her break on the picture desk. She’s only twenty-five. I’m twenty-six so if I work to her timelines I’ll be lucky to score a job as
another
assistant before I’m thirty. Do I really want to go down that long and winding road when my heart isn’t fully in it?

Richard would say I’m mad not to.

Ben would tell me to get onto those photography courses.

That night, I go back to Mum’s and pull out all my old photos from ten years ago. I study the ones of Roy and Olivia and allow myself to dwell in the past for a while. I remember with a pang waking up on my second morning in Australia and begging Michael to take me to work with him. I never lost my enthusiasm for that job. I just couldn’t go on once Ben had left. It was the same with photography. My feelings for him overrode my passion for anything else. Now he’s back in my life I’m finding joy in the interests I abandoned years ago.

All the signs point towards a life with Ben. But before I see him again, I need to face Richard.

I go home after work the next day. I don’t call ahead to warn him, but his truck is parked in front of the house and my heart is in my mouth as I walk up the front path to the house I adore, knowing I’m probably going to be leaving it forever. I unlock the door and step into the hallway to find the house in a state of disarray.

‘Richard?’ I call. I poke my head into the living room, but he’s not in his normal place on the sofa, and then I see him outside on the deck, staring at the garden. I go to the door, trying not to notice my surroundings – the surroundings that I love and that I have made my own. ‘Richard?’ I say again more quietly so as not to startle him. I’m not successful because he jumps out of his skin and regards me with wide eyes.