Abi’s face filled her screen, her blue eyes shining happily. “Hey! Why haven’t we done this before?” They had been texting and calling for months—mostly when she was in places with terrible Wi-Fi—and they had got so used to patchy connections that a video call hadn’t crossed their minds. When Abi was finally back in Edinburgh for a few days, Jen had hit the video icon on a whim.

  “It’s great to see you. You look really well.”

  “You too! How was Italy?”

  Abi propped her chin on her hand. “Who cares? Show me your view!”

  Jen walked out onto her balcony and reversed her phone’s camera, panning across the treetops. It was just before 6p.m., and the sun was throwing colour across the sky.

  “Oh my god, that’s gorgeous!” Abi’s voice crackled. “You get that every day?”

  “Yeah,” and she flipped the camera back as she walked inside. “It’s cold though. It’s only sixteen today.”

  “Celsius?” Abi’s face was a picture of disgust. “That’s summer in Edinburgh, thank you very much. I’m in a bikini as soon as it’s double digits. You look lovely, by the way.”

  Jen looked down at herself. She’d not long walked through the door and was still in her work attire, a crisp white shirt and navy pants. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, she smiled shyly. “Tell me about Italy. I’ve got itchy feet, and I need some inspiration.”

  Winter had been a mediocre term spent in Sydney, buried in lesson plans and assessment marking. Her days seldom offered anything to lift her out of her ennui after her return from France. The last days in Paris had gone by in a blur of activity as she crammed in as many experiences as possible to drown out her mixed emotions at leaving Abi behind in Avignon. Bastille day had been mad, but it had taken a national holiday to distract her from the ache in her chest.

  She had been at war with herself for weeks after, berating herself in one breath for not being brave enough to follow Abi to Spain, and congratulating herself in the next that she’d walked away in favour of putting her life back in order. Except her life was still a mess. She drifted, waiting for texts and emails, scrolling through Abi’s Instagram, hoping to keep alive some kind of connection for reasons she ignored with determination.

  The uncertainty of their relationship was exacerbated by her virtual absence from Abi’s world. Despite a flurry of photos of Provence by bike, in both her professional and personal feeds, Jen featured in only one, and her back was to the camera. She didn’t know what that meant when compared to the number of strange faces that seemed to accompany her on so many other trips. She watched Abi’s face flash with emotions as she told her about her Italy exploits, searching for something, anything that marked her as someone special to her intrepid friend. But the smile she saw bubbling away on screen was the same one that featured in images taken by so many others. Still, the gap between them seemed to shrink a little at seeing her, and they dropped into their usual banter. Abi had been touring the Lake Como area and her photos were stunning.

  “George Clooney is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Lake Como.” Abi smirked and rolled her eyes. “But honestly, when you come over, visit the smaller towns, they’re much more interesting. You’ll love Torno. It’s calm, and the people are charming. And you can ride right around the lake.”

  Every time they caught up, she talked as though Jen would be boarding a plane the next week to travel to the places she described. Six weeks in Spain, a month in Italy. All in stark contrast to two months in a classroom. The furthest Jen had travelled since her return to Sydney was Narrabeen by bike.

  “How’s your week been? Term ticking along ok?”

  “Yeah, yeah, all fine. France feels like years ago now. I suppose that means I’m well and truly back into the swing of things.”

  Abi looked disappointed for her for a moment.

  “But I’ve got a couple of things planned. I’ve connected with a women’s cycling group and this weekend’s my first ride with them, so that’ll be good. Expand my bubble a bit.”

  “Oh, a women’s group,” Abi smirked suggestively.

  “It’s nothing like that. I just prefer to ride with women.” Abi’s salty laugh echoed and Jen squinted, amused by her amusement. “Stop it, or I’ll hang up. Anyway, we’ll see.”

  “Good on you for doing something different. I’m glad you’re finally doing that.”

  Her efforts seemed insignificant and hardly worth mentioning, but given how thoroughly she had fallen back into her rut, the riding group stood out. The only thing she had really changed since her return from France was her wine choices.

  “How does that happen? I had every intention of doing things differently when I left, and looking at me, you’d think I’d never been away.”

  Abi looked sympathetic, her eyebrows drawn together. “Holidays are like New Years. No one keeps those resolutions.” The view on screen bounced as Abi walked through her flat, ending up on her bed. “Are you happy? You don’t talk about teaching like it’s something you enjoy.”

  “No, no. I love the job, don’t get me wrong. I guess I hoped my life would be different by now.”

  “I told you that checklist shit is rubbish.”

  “I remember,” and she played with the amethyst pendant at her throat. “I feel like I’m in limbo. I don’t know what to do next.…” She’d been trying to put her finger on the sensation for weeks, that she was missing something that would make things different. Something she was not doing or understanding that would change the way she lived. Not necessarily for the better, but in a way that would make her life make sense. “It’s like I have a decision to make to get my life moving again, but I’ve no idea what that is.”

  “What about teaching overseas? You said you were aiming for that.”

  “Hmm,” she rubbed her forehead, distracted.

  “Maybe you need some romance. You’re not exactly putting yourself out there.”

  “Oh god, Abi,” and she rolled her eyes. “Not the answer to everything.”

  “It solves a lot of my problems,” she laughed.

  “I’m not ready to settle down. I’m not ready for kids. School is enough of that at the moment.”

  “I’m not suggesting going on The Bachelorette to find your bloody soulmate,” she mocked. “But maybe a distraction or two would do you some good? Tinder is your friend.”

  Jen grimaced. “Good lord, no thanks.” They stared at each other down the phone for a long moment before Abi started laughing.

  “Right, we’ll be dropping you off at the nearest nunnery, shall we?”

  “I don’t see the point at the moment.” Jen shrugged.

  “Perhaps you need another adventure. Pack your bags and cycle around Europe like you said.”

  “I never said I’d do that. You said I should do that.”

  Abi sighed audibly, looking a little non-plussed. “I’ve got a gig in Iceland in October—northern lights and a driving tour.” She left the invitation hanging.

  Jen’s mind jumped to all the reasons joining her was impossible, racking up half a dozen before she took a breath. “That sounds amazing. Going on your own?”

  “Maybe…” Abi trailed off, her head cocked. “I met a girl in Bellagio I might ask along.”

  “Oh. Right, well…”

  The conversation wound up soon after that, the sudden awkward tension between them too difficult to navigate over video chat. When Abi’s face blinked out, Jen breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the balcony for some fresh air. A mix of emotions flooded her. Abi’s travels so obviously took her via the beds of women she met along the way, a fact that shouldn’t have bothered her, yet here she was, grappling with what she swiftly realised was jealousy. All of which, again, brought up the confronting turmoil she had left Paris with, and her limited choices. Shove herself back in the neat, prescriptive box her family and friends insisted she inhabit, or throw caution to the wind and follow the path her twelve-year-old self had been on all those years ago. Nothing would mortify her mother more, but as fed up with living by her unspoken rules as she was, Jen wasn’t prepared to live with the consequences of breaking them, either.

  Sydney

  Saturday, 14 April, 2018

  Jen had promised her parents she would visit for the holidays—a week in Bathurst to keep them happy and mollify their worries. But with Abi’s imminent arrival, those plans needed to change. Not that she’d told her family that.

  She spent most of the long drive home rehearsing what to say. No scenario ended well. Sally’s disappointment was a given, no doubt followed by a thousand questions about why Abi was staying in her home for two weeks. The arrangement would be impossible to explain. Her mother’s paranoia would ensure that. Every time she came up with something to say, it sounded defensive, obfuscating, and avoidant. And Sally was a bloodhound—she wouldn’t miss a clue that something was amiss.

  And then there was Abi. The excitement of having her in Sydney had faded by the time Jen got home from work the day after Abi’s announcement, replaced by all-consuming anxiety. What was she going to do with her in her house for so long? Two weeks, possibly three. Yes, she’d be back at work for at least half of it, but they’d be living together.

  The knot of tension in the pit of her stomach grew hotter with every passing kilometre. By the time she arrived at her parent’s home, she felt nauseated. Her brother found her sitting in her car in the driveway.

  Knuckles wrapped on her driver’s window. “You coming in, or are you expecting everyone to come out and usher you in?”

  Startled, she gave Michael a forced smile. “Long drive. I’ll be in in a sec, Mike.”

  He glowered at her and walked back towards the house. “It’s only Sydney, for fuck’s sake. Not like you’ve come from bloody Perth.”

  Jen took a few minutes to pull herself together before grabbing her bag from the boot and heading in. Her brother’s malice chased away any thoughts of Abi.

  “Hello Jen, darling,” her mother’s voice echoed down the passage. “You’re only twenty minutes late. We’re all in the living room. Lunch is still warm.”

  “Hi mum. Sorry, traffic was manic.” She stopped by her old room to leave her bag, buying herself a few extra seconds to steel herself. How passive aggressive her mother’s first comments were served as a barometer for how the day would go. Between Sally and her brother, Jen suspected she was in for an extra special weekend. She took a minute to straighten herself in the mirror, smoothing her hair and tucking in her t-shirt. Best to narrow the scope for criticism.

  “There you are.”

  “Hi mum, dad,” and she sat. Five empty plates ,and bowls of cold potatoes and veggies waited on the table.

  “I checked the traffic,” Michael declared, lifting the lid off a large Dutch oven to reveal a sweaty haunch of meat. He took to the pork with a carving knife, sawing off chunks, butchering their mother’s handiwork. “I didn’t see any traffic alerts. If you’d left by eight, you should have been here on time.”

  Jen glanced at her watch. It was just past noon. She’d made exceptional time given she’d overslept and hadn’t left until 9:30 a.m. Not that she’d ever admit that to him. He didn’t need more ammunition.

  “She’s here now,” her dad offered. “How are you, love? Mum says you sounded a bit stressed when she spoke to you last weekend.”

  “Work is busy.” As Caroline handed her a bowl of limp green beans, she gave her that look, the one warning her their mother was on the warpath to disappointment. “Term one is always busy, especially for my Year Twelve girls. HSC’s on the horizon.”

  “They’re lucky to have such a dedicated teacher, love.” Her dad smiled at her. “And how are things at the store, Mike?”

  Crafty. Nothing distracted their attention like her brother ranting about his Red Rooster franchise. Under normal circumstances, having to listen to him lambaste his staff, boast about manipulating rosters to avoid pay-related entitlements, and rotating expired stock back into production would have been the death of her. But today he was a welcome distraction. Though how he’d not been shut down by the local health inspector remained a mystery.

  “Still contemplating getting your own franchise, Jen?” Caroline mocked as they cleared the table.

  Family weekends worked like clockwork. Sally cooked all morning, Jen and her sister cleaned up, and the men of the family retreated to the backyard to fix the lawnmower or tinker on her dad’s old Ford. Her family was such a cliche she sometimes found them hard to stomach. The only thing that bumped the rhythm was Sunday church—the pastor could throw a curveball or two in his sermon that could set Sally off on a moral tirade.

  At least Caroline provided some levity. As much as she followed Sally down the matriarchal church route, she didn’t put up with Mike’s crap. “Ange told me he’s sleeping in the spare bedroom. He hardly even talks to the kids now.”

  Jen shook her head as she rinsed the dinner plates under the tap. “Why does she stay?” she sighed. “I get he’s trying to punish her, but why is she putting up with him?”

  Caroline shrugged. “She tried to take the kids to Adelaide for a holiday last month, but he put the breaks on that. I get the impression she’s waiting him out til the split’s his idea. He’ll make things too hard otherwise.”

  “Jesus,” she muttered, ignoring Caro’s frown at her cursing. “No wonder I’m single.”

  “I figured that’s because you’re having too much fun at St Mildred’s Lady Lickers College,” Michael snarked as he walked in.

  “Fuck off Mike.”

  “Oooooh!” he crowed. “Mum! Jen’s swearing!”

  “Oh good lord,” Caroline groaned, shaking her head. “Mike, give it a rest.”

  “Stop playing mother, Caza.” Her sister scowled, hating the nickname. “I have a wife, kids and a business. What have the two of you got to show for yourselves?”

  “What’s going on in here?” Their mother walked in, a tea towel in hand. “Mike? What did Jen do?” Mike, the blue-eyed boy who could do no wrong.

  Jen forced a smile and turned back to the sink. “Nothing mum, we’re having a bit of a laugh.”

  Sally’s knowing silence followed, punctuated with a huff of annoyance. “I’d like a peaceful weekend, please. Your father has been enough the last few days, and I’ve a lot on my mind, what with the Rotary fair coming up. I’ll need you both on hand this week to get all the jamming done.”

  Mike snickered as he sidled out of the kitchen, snagging an apple on the way.

  “About that.” Jen gave her sister a sideways glance, an apologetic grimace. “I need to leave first thing on Monday.”

  “What? Why, dear? It’s the Rotary fair. You’ve known for months.”

  “I know mum, and I’m sorry. I really am. But I’ve got a friend coming to stay at the end of the week, and I have to get all my lesson planning finished before she gets here.”

  “A friend? From where? What friend are you talking about?”

  Jen kept her focus on the dishes, avoiding eye contact with her mother. “A friend I met last year on holiday, mum. She’s coming over for work.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with the Rotary, Jen. You promised you’d help. That’s an important commitment.”

  “I know, mum, but she’s coming from overseas.”

  Caroline stopped mid-wipe and stared at her, a pensive scowl on her face.

  “Do you owe this young person something, Jennifer?” Once her mother used her full name, any chance of a rational conversation was over.

  “She’s not a young person, mum. She’s a grown woman, and no. I don’t owe her anything. But I would like to be a good host.”

  Caroline turned back to the dishes, keeping an eye on her as she absently dried one plate after another.

  “Well, that’s admirable, dear. But I need your help. I’m relying on you. The competition for top stall is stronger this year, so I need to make sure we put in the extra effort.”

  “Sorry mum.” More silence followed and eventually Jen stopped washing and turned around. Her mother stood rooted to the spot, a panicked expression on her face, the tea towel twisted in her grip.

  “You don’t understand, dear. We have to win this year.”

  Jen looked at Caroline. “What’s going on?”

  “Let’s go for a walk.” Caro dried her hands and put her tea towel down. “I’ll fill Jen in, mum. Why don’t you make yourself a cuppa.”

  They’d walked half a block before Caroline said anything, making sure they were well out of earshot. She shook her head in pique. “Right. So, there’s a bit of drama at church.”

  “Church? But mum’s talking about Rotary.”

  “We’ve got a new couple in church, a couple of men.”

  It took Jen a minute to understand what she meant. “A couple as in together, a couple?”

  Caroline nodded. “Father Jenkins is attempting to be more inclusive, apparently. Whatever, really, each to their own,” and she shrugged, exasperated. “But mum and a bunch of the oldies are getting their knitting in a knot over them. The boys, as they are now affectionately known, are quite the domestic gods, apparently. They bought the old Star Cafe and are converting it into a hipster coffee house or something. They make all their own pickles and preserves.”

  “Oh. I see where this is going.”

  “It’s the battle of the pickle,” Caroline jested, shaking her head again. “Mum’s on a crusade to get them ousted from church, and Rotary’s this symbolic battleground. She thinks she’s saving the town from a gay invasion.”

  Jen jammed her hands in her pockets, quiet for a while. She imagined the kerfuffle her mother was causing easily enough—her moral outrage, her intolerable intolerance. “I might be able to stay till Tuesday.” She ran through her plans in her head, how much work she needed to do, what she could get away with regurgitating without impacting students’ learning too much. She’d have to work all the hours available and there’d be no time for interruptions or hiccups, but hopefully she could get everything done.

 

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