into the oven, but still aware, with my back to them, I glanced at the mirrored splashback. I saw Felicity pick up Davis’s glass and seductively drink from it, the entire time her eyes on him. He took it from her, his hand touching hers. Smiling, he put the glass to his lips, where hers had been. Holding her eyes, there was a look flowing between them that no psychiatrist would need to glimpse to decode.
The intimacy of their pose took my breath away. I felt it deep in my gut. My face flushed. I spun around and looked at Davis directly. He caught my look although nervously glanced away. Casually, Felicity slid off the stool and sashayed through the house and out onto the terrace, proudly swinging her new Louis Vuitton handbag, a gift from an admirer she had told me earlier.
Just at that moment the doorbell chimed, heralding the arrival of another guest, leaving us no time to talk. The next morning when I bought it up, Davis waved it away reminding me how inebriated staff became at Christmas parties, and it was the one time of year when bad behaviour just had to be excused. He said it was normal for people to either love or hate the boss, generally the latter.
I honestly accepted his explanation. I wanted to. My focus was on getting pregnant. We had our romantic holiday all planned and nothing was going to get in the way, although, something about Felicity’s handbag kept seeping in to my consciousness, making me uncomfortable.
However now I knew, Felicity Best the girl who had everything, now even had my husband. Well I had fed her to him very nicely. Stupid me! And the handbag… I came to realise that was his calling card.
*
Lost in thought, I walked on until I had reached Oxlade Drive. I skirted down the side of the Merthyr Road Bowls Club and out onto the walkway that ran along the banks of the Brisbane River. I hadn’t realised New Farm was quite so liveable. Davis had always been so dismissive of it. However, it was similar to West End in the fact that they were both cosmopolitan, inner city suburbs, gracing the river.
Continuing along the riverside path, I paused briefly to allow a mother duck to pass as she protectively ushered her little family across the path. With delight, I watched as one by one they gracefully slid into the water. Not too much further along, I came to the Sydney Street City Cat terminal.
For years I’d often said when I had more time, I’d ride one of the City Cats from beginning to end. Well now, because of Emerald Green’s insistence on my personal weekly dates, I had done it. It’s interesting how you live and work in a city and mostly you never see what tourists see. Over the last couple of months, I had seen more of Brisbane than I had perhaps ever seen. And I had loved it.
In gaining awareness about myself and my values, I was fast losing the false sense of self I had been sustaining, and gradually I was meeting the truth, and finally I was meeting me. Where it was going to lead me, I still had no idea. However I was slowly becoming okay with that. Sorry Emerald Green, I was slowly becoming comfortable with that.
My mind ticking over, I headed up Sydney Street, and before I knew it I realised I was heading towards Frank Carmody’s house as if on auto pilot. Although I had been coming to my mother’s house for years I had never been to this part of New Farm. Now it intrigued me. I still couldn’t see much from the footpath, so I leant heavily against the gate, attempting to make a crack I could peer through, to no avail. It was locked – lock, stock and barrel. I could have brought the keys with me, however I hadn’t planned on walking this far.
From under the sturdy knotted branch of a massive Moreton Bay Fig tree, with more than a little interest, I admired the shady street, lined with the mature trees. The view of the neighbour’s mulberry tree soothed me, evoking memories of the huge mulberry tree in my childhood backyard at Johnny’s house. It had been the centre of many activities. There Lou and I had perched for hours in its branches eating an endless supply of the messy berries.
Most of the neighbouring houses were in the Queenslander style and definitely more modest than Mr Carmody’s. Directly opposite, I noticed a large, white, rather handsome cat saunter out of a track of some sort which was positioned between two homes. I hadn’t noticed the track earlier with Marty. Flanked heavily by trees, you would almost have to know it was there to see it. It must have led from the street below.
The cat nonchalantly continued across the road and then sauntered into some overgrowth right beside Mr Carmody’s eastern boundary. There appeared to be another track, which must have led down to the river, so unkempt I imagined it was inaccessible to all except those who knew about it.
Bea belonged to the New Farm Historical Society and occasionally told us interesting titbits, some harder to believe than others. Originally, the suburb of New Farm had been a huge farm. When the farmer divided the land to sell, he put easements in place so he could lead his oxen down to the river. Some of those easements still stood in place today, although there was, of course, not one oxen to be found. Some property owners saw no need to have the “Oxen Easement” clause removed from their title deeds, and every now and then they came up again. Perhaps that was what the track had been.
Hesitantly, I took a few steps towards the track. However, just then the white cat came bolting out, hackles raised, looking like he had seen a ghost, and scaring the living daylights out of me. Hastily stepping back, with one hand to my chest, I watched as he took off back across the road and disappeared into the overgrowth. Heart still pounding, I spun around as a bike shot out of the trees behind me.
Once again I jumped back, my hand to my thumping chest, crying out in fright.
By the look on the rider’s face, it appeared I had startled him.
Instantly he stopped, propping himself on one leg, turning to me. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone.’ He removed his sunglasses. And in that instant there was a flash of energy, almost a recognition.
Narrowing my eyes, I took another step back. ‘It’s… it’s fine. No problem.’ With my arms folded in front of me, I ran my hands up and down my goosebumpy arms, wracking my brain to see if I remembered meeting him before now. However, nothing came to me.
Curiously, I watched as he continued across the road and disappeared down the unkempt track opposite, the same one the white cat had vanished into. I daresay this was not the first time the rider had used the track, leaving me to wonder if it posed a security issue.
I turned my attention back to the house. Although I could barely see a thing in the late afternoon light, a wonderful sense of peace washed over me. There was something enchanting about this house. I walked back to Bea’s home somewhat slower than I had headed out.
It was almost dark when I arrived back at Bea’s. I was pleasantly surprised to see Lou getting out of her car with her two children, Lakshmi four, and Bob two. I remember when she was born, Bea saying, ‘Lakshmi? It sounds like the name of some exotic food. What sort of name is that for a child?’
And although I agreed with my mother, I could not help but wonder if my nan had said the same thing to her about my name. ‘Peach? It’s a piece of fruit. What sort of name is that for a child?’
Lou had explained she wanted her baby to be named after the Hindu goddess of fortune and prosperity. She wanted her child to be the embodiment of beauty, grace and charm. That was Lou for you. By the time she got to Bob, she chose his name because she liked it - go figure.
‘Aunty Peach, Aunty Peach,’ Lakshmi called.
‘Hello darling, what are you doing here?’ I cuddled the small blonde replica of Lou, kissing the top of her head before doing the same to Bob. I took in Lou’s face and instantly knew something was wrong.
‘Go surprise Bea-Bea, she’s in her studio,’ I urged the children, using their pet name for their grandmother.
Lakshmi ran off with Bob in tow. I frowned. ‘What’s up Lou?’
Wearing cut off denims and scuffed camel suede boots, she plonked herself down on the bottom step and crossed her long legs with a look on her face that said the world had come to an end. She was a gorgeous tall blonde, with a perfect lithe body - we still didn’t look anything like sisters. And I was still