The Secret Ingredient (24 page)

Andie arrived at the building site, and called Joanna on her mobile from the other side of the cyclone fencing. She had contacted her yesterday to arrange a time she could drop off Christmas presents for the family, but with Joanna working days and Andie working nights, the only alternative in the end was for Andie to visit Joanna at work. At the moment she was on-site most days, as project manager of a medium-density residential development in the eastern suburbs. She told Andie she'd have to wait outside when she arrived, as she'd have to be escorted in.

Andie spotted Joanna coming towards her in a hard hat and a fluoro vest. She was carrying a second hat and vest, Andie assumed for her.

‘Hi,' said Joanna as she approached. ‘You're going to have to wear these.' She had to shout over the sound of machinery. ‘OH&S requirements, you know.'

Andie smiled, taking them from her. She put the hat on. ‘I feel like Bob the Builder.'

‘What's that?' said Joanna, cupping her hand to her ear.

‘Never mind!' Andie shouted back as she pulled on the vest.

‘Come on,' said Joanna. ‘I'll take you to the site office, at least we'll be able to hear each other there.'

They walked across muddy clay, past a series of structures of varying heights and dimensions. It was still largely skeletal, but the scale of the development was impressive.

‘This looks pretty big,' Andie shouted.

Joanna nodded. ‘Biggest project I've ever worked on.'

Just then they heard a loud wolf-whistle from behind and they both turned. A group of workers on an upper floor all waved.

‘You've got some fans,' said Andie.

Joanna smiled at her. ‘Oh, that wasn't for me.'

They arrived at a portable building which served as the site office, and Joanna held the door open for Andie as she stepped inside. It was surprisingly roomy; two men were working at computers at one end, there were several filing cabinets, a long couch, fridges, and a table in the centre, with plans spread out across it.

‘My friend, Andie,' Joanna announced, and the men gave her a nod and a ‘Hi'. She turned towards the other end of the office. ‘My desk is up here,' she said.

Andie followed her, pausing at a large print posted up on the wall, an artist's impression of the project. It was stunning; there were probably eight buildings of various sizes, each one unique, but complementary, tied together through the use of common materials, timber and corrugated iron mostly, and a harmonising colour palette of greens and greys. They appeared to be tucked amongst groves of trees, gardens, walkways and courtyard spaces.

‘This is amazing, Joanna.'

‘Yeah, it is pretty special,' she said. ‘Not that I'm responsible for the design.'

‘But you're responsible for making it a reality,' said Andie.

Joanna nodded. ‘I guess so. There are a few other chiefs on-site,' she added. ‘Engineers, the building supervisor, I have backup.'

Andie looked at her. ‘I wonder if a man in your position would be so quick to share the credit around?'

‘Probably not,' she admitted. ‘It's hard enough being a woman in this industry without blowing your own trumpet too loudly.' She walked around the desk. ‘You don't need to wear your hat in here,' she said as she removed hers and sat down, indicating a chair for Andie. ‘Can I get you something? Coffee? A cold drink?'

‘No, I don't want to take up too much of your time,' she said, setting the bag of presents down on the floor beside her.

‘It's fine,' Joanna assured her. ‘How are things with you, Andie? You're still at the restaurant?'

‘I am. They kept me on after my trial, which is great.'

‘So you're permanent?'

‘I'm on a six-month contract, same as everybody at my level.'

Joanna nodded. ‘Well, congratulations. I'm pleased for you.' She paused. ‘And Brooke tells me you're still living over the bridge? That's a bit of a commute.'

‘It won't be for much longer.'

The house was scheduled for auction next week, but the real estate agent had already had some serious offers; she didn't see it making it to auction. Andie had considered moving out before it went on the market, but the agent urged her to stay; empty houses lacked warmth, even one person in situ would give it a lived-in feel. So Andie resigned herself to wait it out until it sold, but rentals began to get scarce before Christmas, especially near the beach. She wasn't ready to buy, she wasn't really in the position until the estate was finalised anyway. But that was okay; Andie didn't know where she wanted to settle ultimately, so she wasn't in any rush.

‘Do you see Ross?' Joanna asked.

‘No, but our lawyers are on speaking terms.'

Joanna shook her head. ‘I honestly can't believe how stupid that man is, putting himself through this all over again. I can't help but think the girl must be pretty stupid too.'

‘Is that what you used to say about me?' Andie gave her a sly smile.

‘No, I didn't actually. But now there's a pattern of behaviour, doesn't this girl see that?' said Joanna. ‘I mean, who in their right mind would hook up with a man who has now left two wives for younger women? Does she think she's going to be the one to break the cycle?'

Andie shrugged. ‘So you think he'll do it again?'

‘Who knows?' said Joanna. ‘But his winning streak has to come to an end eventually. Ross isn't rich enough to nab a twentysomething when he's seventy. That takes serious money.'

Andie smiled at that. She had still felt so awkward around Joanna only six months ago, and now they were sitting here in her office, sharing war stories.

‘Do you mind if I ask, Joanna, how did you feel when it was finally over?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I guess I'm starting to get the feeling that I'm finally living my own life,' said Andie. ‘You were so young when you married, and you were together so long, I imagine that feeling must have been even stronger.'

Joanna seemed thoughtful. ‘Yes, but it took so much longer to get to that. When you have children together, you can never be completely free. Just as well you two didn't have any.'

She was right of course, but that didn't stop Andie from wondering what if. She still noticed babies in the street, though not as obsessively as before. There was just sadness now, regret, that she could no longer see a baby in her future. Of course it could happen, she wasn't too old yet, but it seemed highly implausible right now. There had to be a man involved, for one thing, and Andie wasn't even looking. And he would have to be a good, decent man who she could trust, and that was going to take a leap of faith in itself. It would take time to achieve that level of trust, time that Andie didn't have. So she was better off resigning herself to never having a family of her own. But the idea still stung.

‘Anyway, I can see you're busy, so . . .' Andie reached for the bag at her feet and set it down on the desk in front of Joanna.

‘This is really thoughtful, Andie, the kids will appreciate it.' Joanna leaned forward. ‘You know they would have liked to have you come over for Christmas.'

‘You don't have to say that.'

‘I know I don't, but it's true.'

Andie looked at her. ‘Even Lauren?'

‘Might be a case of the devil you know,' Joanna smiled. ‘She's not at all impressed that this one's younger than her. All the kids were threatening to boycott Christmas if she came.'

‘So what are you going to do?'

‘Compromise, as usual.' Joanna became thoughtful. ‘Funny how Ross has never had to compromise on what he wants, but somehow everyone else ends up compromising around him.' She shook her head, as if she was clearing that thought. ‘Anyway, he's coming for lunch, and then she'll pick him up afterwards, so that everyone can meet.'

‘Oh, you haven't met yet?'

‘No, we've been avoiding it,' said Joanna. ‘Did you ever end up meeting her?'

‘Ah no, not formally,' Andie said with a sheepish grin. ‘She was . . . indisposed at the time.'

‘Oh God,' Joanna closed her eyes. ‘I'd almost forgotten about that.'

‘I wish I could.'

‘Now, the kids asked me to give you this.' Joanna swivelled her chair around and picked up a flat box wrapped in Christmas paper from the cabinet behind her. She turned back to hand it to Andie.

‘Oh . . .' Andie felt a little overcome. ‘They didn't have to do that.'

‘They wanted to, even Lauren.'

Andie felt tears pricking her eyes as Joanna handed her the gift.

‘Of course Brooke organised it, but Lauren was happy to contribute.'

‘Please, tell them I'm really touched, and grateful,' Andie said, her voice thick with emotion. She composed herself as she got to her feet. ‘And now I'll let you get back to it.'

Joanna walked her out to the gate. ‘So what are you doing for Christmas, Andie? Will you spend it with your sister?'

Meredith did do the right thing, and asked her to Christmas lunch, but Andie had seen the relief on her face when she offered her apology – that she was sorry, but she already had a previous invitation. Which was true, in fact she'd had a number of invitations, only she wasn't going to accept any of them. Donna and Toby had asked her to their various celebrations, desperate to assure her she wouldn't be tagging along. But as they would be dashing between two sets of parents, as well as another extended family get-together, tagging along was exactly what Andie would be doing if she accepted. So she had politely declined. Jess had also invited her to her family Christmas, but Andie would have felt out of place. It was difficult to explain to her friends; she knew they wanted her to feel welcome, but Andie would have felt more alone knowing this wasn't her family, that she didn't really belong. Perhaps she was just being maudlin.

‘I haven't exactly decided what I'm doing for Christmas yet,' Andie said to Joanna. ‘Not that I'm short of invitations, you know how people are, they take pity on poor single girls spending Christmas alone.'

Joanna's expression became serious. ‘You won't spend it alone though, will you, Andie?'

‘Of course not,' she assured her.

Though she really didn't know what she was going to do. If she had the choice, she'd knock herself out for forty-eight hours and wake up when it was all over. She had been counting on work saving her, only to discover that the owner was a deeply religious man who never opened any of his many businesses on Christmas Day. Though some of the staff had suggested it was because he was too tight to pay penalty rates.

Andie slipped off the fluoro vest and removed the hard hat, shaking out her hair. ‘Thanks for everything, Joanna.'

As she walked through the gate, she heard another wolf-whistle.

‘What did I tell you?' Joanna sang out after her.

Andie had set the alarm for eight, which was a bit undignified for any day off, let alone Christmas Day. And last night had been a particularly long and hectic shift. Management made up for not opening on Christmas Day by offering a six-course banquet, which included a gourmet twist on every conceivable festive food that had ever had any association with Christmas.

The staff only stayed back for one quick drink to exchange their Secret Santa gifts; many of them had small children and were going to have to be up again in a few hours, so they weren't keen to linger. Andie felt tired on the long drive home to Roseville, but even so, she diverted her route and meandered through the neighbouring streets, searching out a little Christmas cheer amongst the gaudy lights that decorated the surrounding houses. But all she seemed to be able to think about was the greenhouse gases that were being spent for the sake of the season. Bah humbug. She felt like Scrooge.

Greenhouse gases aside, when she got home she was glad she'd left the lights on inside the house. Although she had achieved quite a remarkable transformation – if she did say so herself – it was still a bit creepy in the dark. All the more because it was almost empty these days. Andie had been quite bemused by the whole selling process. As part of the contract the real estate agent provided an interior decorating service, complete with rented furniture, curtains, lamps, even vases and cushions as required. The decorator had been quite awestruck by the vintage of the existing furniture – and not in a good way. It didn't even have kitsch value for the most part, and so, with Meredith's consent, and in deference to her parents' Catholic background, Andie had contacted Vinnie's, and they sent around a truck. She was a little surprised to discover how picky they were. They wouldn't touch the beds, and they weren't particularly fussed on the wardrobes either, they took only one. But at least they were happy to take most of the furniture throughout the living areas. Though for some reason Andie wouldn't let them have the kitchen setting. The decorator had remarked that perhaps a ‘vintage' store – in the inner west most likely – might be interested in the laminex table and vinyl chairs. But Andie wanted to keep them, she didn't delve too deeply into the reasons why. She would probably pay to have them stored, along with everything from Brendan's room, because she couldn't bear to part with any of that either.

The house had promptly sold before auction, and settlement was slated for the last week in January. The buyers' children were enrolled in schools in the area, but they were happy to have one last Christmas in their old house. For her part, Andie was glad that a family was moving in, and they seemed very nice, they would make it into a home again. There were two girls and a boy, and Andie had made the mistake of mentioning that there were two girls and a boy in her family also. So of course they started asking questions about how old everyone was now, and what they were doing with their lives, and Andie had to brush over some of the details, she didn't want to talk about Brendan with these strangers.

At least the prompt sale had meant that Andie didn't have to worry about doing up the house for Christmas. The decorator had offered to handle it, she seemed quite enthusiastic about the prospect, she probably didn't get to do many Christmas makeovers. She suggested a huge tree and she showed Andie a whole catalogue of designer bling that she had at her disposal. Andie would have found it all a bit much with only her here.

Her mother had never been big on Christmas. She always displayed a nativity setting on the mantelpiece, and they did have a tree, but it couldn't have been more than four feet tall; Andie had outgrown it while she was still in primary school. Present-wise her parents favoured the sensible over the silly, function over fun. So they usually received clothes, educational games and books, though Brendan did get a bike when he was ten, and he used to let Andie ride it.

She came down the hall past the empty lounge room. The only things remaining now were her dad's armchair and the TV, which the decorator had installed up on the wall, making it less imposing. She assured Andie it was a plus, but warned that it would have to be included in the sale, as people expected it nowadays; it became a fixture of the house, like an oven. Andie was only too happy to be relieved of it.

She walked through to the kitchen and her eyes landed on the gift from Ross's children, where she had placed it next to the small Christmas tree centrepiece – her one concession to festive decorating. She dumped her bag on a chair and crossed to the fridge, taking out a bottle of wine she had opened a couple of nights ago. She never seemed to manage more than one glass when she got home from work, she was always so exhausted it would almost put her to sleep. Andie had reduced everything down to a single cupboard, where she kept a small stash of basic supplies – coffee, sugar, chocolate – and a couple of plates, cups and glasses. She picked up a wineglass and took a seat at the table, poured herself some wine and sat back. She pictured her family sitting around the table. They always had Christmas lunch in the dining room, which was only used for special occasions. But this was where they sat on Christmas morning, and every other morning and evening; their dad at the head, their mother on his right, and Meredith beside her. Brendan sat next to their dad, and opposite their mum, with Andie beside him. Their mother was strict about manners, no elbows on the table, no talking above each other, not much talking at all. Though Brendan usually managed to jolly things along, he always seemed to be able to make their mother smile.

Andie considered the wrapped box. She looked at her watch. It was well after midnight, going on one in fact. She might as well open it now.

‘Merry Christmas, Andie,' she said out loud, raising her glass and taking a drink. She slid the gift towards her. The card read, ‘To dear Andie, something to help you remember us. Love Brooke, Matty, Lauren and family xxx'

Andie tore back the paper to reveal a flat black box. She opened the lid, and moved back the tissue paper. It was a photo of all three of them, along with James and Emily. The word ‘Family' was embossed on the frame, below the picture. A sob caught in her throat and Andie started to cry.

She stayed in bed through two snooze cycles of the alarm, not actually snoozing, just reluctant to get out of bed. Then the message beep sounded on her mobile phone and she rolled over to grab it. She turned over onto her back again and held the phone up to read the message. It was from Jess.

Happy xmas beautiful! Wish i was going with u. Have fun. Ur doing a good thing. xJ

Hm. Fun? Andie thought that might be a bit optimistic. She was rostered on to serve Christmas lunch at a homeless shelter in the inner city. Jess had signed up soon after Christmas last year – apparently there were waiting lists for volunteers. It was something she'd always wanted to do, but when her mother got wind of it, she'd nearly had a conniption; it was simply not acceptable to miss Christmas dinner. So Jess had transferred her registration to Andie.

She got out of bed and trudged out to the kitchen to put on the kettle. She spotted the framed photo of the kids propped next to the miniature Christmas tree, and teared up again. It was just as well she had something to occupy her today or it would have been very grim indeed around here. She wasn't convinced that working in a soup kitchen wasn't going to prove a little grim as well, but at least she would be around people. And out of this house.

An hour and a half later, Andie was circling the block in Kings Cross, uncomfortably close to Ross's apartment. It was strange how she didn't even think of the place as hers any more; maybe because it had never really felt like home to her. She only thought of it when she went to look for something, and realised she'd probably left it behind at the apartment. Jess had told her she'd go with her some time to clear the rest of her stuff out, her share of the kitchen items, linen, that kind of thing. She maintained Andie would need it all when she moved into her own place. But Andie was inclined to leave it; she didn't really want constant reminders from her life with Ross. She would buy her own things when the time came, start fresh.

She eventually found a park, locked the car and walked the few blocks back to the shelter. She was to present herself at the front desk when she arrived to be assigned a work station. The place was a hive of activity already; Andie had read in the pamphlet Jess had given her that they served over a thousand meals on Christmas Day. Jess had been pre-assigned to cooking duties, naturally, and when Andie explained she was a chef as well, there was no need to change that. She stuck the name tag she was given onto her T-shirt as she walked through into the main area, where row upon row of trestle tables were being assembled. A makeshift commercial kitchen had been set up at one end behind a wall of temporary office dividers. They had asked volunteers to bring their own aprons, as they couldn't supply them for everyone, and Andie had also brought a chef's cap to keep her hair out of the way. She got ready in the secure change room provided, stowed her bag away and rejoined the fray. A coordinator directed Andie to the potato-peeling station. Joy. But, she had to remind herself, this was not about her, so she smiled at her compatriots, picked up a potato and began to peel.

‘Your first time?' asked the man standing on the opposite side of the bench.

‘Does it show?' she asked.

‘No, we're first-timers too. I'm Mitchell, my wife, Kirsty,' he said, cocking his head in the direction of the woman beside him.

‘I'm Andie.'

‘Mandy?'

‘No, Andie. It's short for Andrea.'

Mitchell and Kirsty's eyes lit up simultaneously, and they turned to look at each other.

‘Ooh, I like that, what do you think?' Kirsty asked her husband.

‘Andie's cute.' Mitchell looked at Andie. ‘You spell it with an i-e, yeah?'

‘That's right,' she said, increasingly bemused by their fascination with her name.

‘We're expecting our first,' Kirsty explained, giving her tummy a pat. ‘Not quite four months along, so you can't really tell yet.'

‘We don't know what we're having,' said Mitchell. ‘We think we're going to keep it a surprise . . . Not sure yet.'

‘So we have to think about boys'
and
girls' names,' Kirsty continued. ‘It's so hard. You want something unique, but not ridiculous.'

‘And we don't want weird spelling,' added Mitchell. ‘Then you're just condemning the kid to a lifetime of having to spell out their name.'

‘It's a minefield,' Kirsty nodded.

An hour later the potatoes kept on coming, and Mitchell and Kirsty kept on talking. Andie had been fully briefed on all their parenting dilemmas: birthing styles – to drug or not to drug; slings versus prams; whether to give the baby a dummy . . . They seemed like a lovely couple, if a little earnest. But two people committed to each other, so excited about bringing a baby into the world, Andie couldn't help feel a little envious. So she was relieved when the coordinator returned.