Chapter 32
Lily: Flying home to Sydney today. Sorry everything turned into a mess. Good luck with the rest of your shoot.
Dorian: I’m sorry we couldn’t say goodbye properly. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.
Lily left it at that. Her farewell text exchange with Sigrid was similarly regretful, brief, and somewhat cool.
She was so deeply embarrassed. For the first time since she met Dorian, they’d finally been on good terms. She liked being around him and she thought he liked being around her too.
But Lily hadn’t been allowed to feel that way for long.
Just as she finally started to understand him and his world, Lydia had yet again demonstrated that Lily didn’t belong in it.
What made it ten times worse was that Dorian had seen it months ago.
Lily couldn’t blame him for wanting to steer clear of her family.
They were constantly being pulled into Lydia’s riptide and fighting to drag her out unscathed.
As Lily said goodbye to Kitty and Hanna, she wondered if this was part of the reason they had moved to Melbourne: to be farther away from Lydia’s mess.
When she arrived in Sydney, Lily went straight to Juliet’s house.
Rosie had arrived just hours before on a morning flight from Queensland, having spent the night in a fancy airport hotel courtesy of Aunt Lizzie’s loyalty points.
Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Fitz were happy for Rosie to stay there with them, but school was starting on Monday and Lily was determined to get Rosie back home to Pippi Beach in one piece, with or without her mother.
Lizzie opened the door, and at the sight of her beautiful, reassuring face, Lily let go of all the tears she’d been holding in on the journey home. Aunt Lizzie pulled her into a comforting hug on the doorstep. No words, just a warm embrace, and that was exactly what Lily needed.
Lizzie took her into the beautifully furnished living room, where Rosie was slumped on a midcentury couch. She sprang up at the sight of her sister and gave her a tight hug. With all Rosie’s tough talk and makeup and bravado, Lily often forgot how young she was.
“What took you so long?” Rosie said, her voice muffled by tears and Lily’s sleeve.
“I’m so sorry,” Lily said. “I should have been there.”
They broke apart and sat back down as Aunt Jane, who lived nearby and would never miss a family crisis, delivered cups of tea.
“You would have hated it,” said Rosie. “It sucked.”
“Well, you’re safe now,” soothed Aunt Jane.
“I wish I’d never gone.”
“You’ll feel better when we get home,” assured Lily.
“About that,” began Aunt Lizzie from one of the armchairs opposite them. Jane sat down in the other.
Uh-oh, thought Lily. This is starting to look like an intervention.
“Given that we don’t know when Lydia will be home,” said Lizzie, her voice tight with exasperation, “we—your aunt Jane and aunt Kitty and I—think it would be best for you girls to stay with Aunt Jane for the time being. We don’t want you living at Pippi by yourselves.”
Lily’s heart sank. She should have expected this. But after everything that had happened, Pippi was the only place in the world she wanted to be—the only place that could possibly make her feel okay again.
“Are you serious?” said Rosie, going all pink in the face.
Lily thought for a minute that Rosie would start screaming at Jane and Lizzie, and they looked prepared for that too. But to everyone’s surprise, Rosie just leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, defeated.
“I’m eighteen,” said Lily, with an urge to fight Rosie’s battle for her. “Legally, I’m an adult. I can take care of Rosie at Pippi until Mum comes home. We can do without the car. And I can work.”
Lizzie and Jane shared a glance. Though Jane was the eldest, Lizzie had always been the leader and she always had the final word.
“I don’t doubt your ability to be responsible and take care of Rosie and the house in the short term,” she said gently. “And I know that Pippi is your home. But we don’t know how long your mum will be away or what she might do next.”
Lily remembered Lydia’s voice on the phone.
“We’re getting married,” she’d said. “Suck on that,” she’d said.
Maybe she would never come home at all. Tears sprang to Lily’s eyes as she thought of all the times Lydia had ranted about the girls’ father—her ex-husband—and the freedom he had to do whatever he wanted.
Maybe she was walking out on them just as he’d done.
Lily knew this was what her aunts were thinking too.
“We want you close by so we can take responsibility for you.”
Lily didn’t push it any further. She knew they were right.
“Lily,” began Lizzie, pausing as if still undecided about saying whatever it was she was thinking.
But she took a breath and continued with resolve.
“Jane and I have been bailing Lydia out of scrapes since she was fifteen. And it’s just not sustainable anymore—for us or her.
This is Lydia’s choice. She has to deal with the repercussions and bear her responsibilities. It’s not for us—or you—to fix.”
Lily nodded, a lump forming in her throat again. How many times was she going to cry today? She didn’t know what to feel anymore. All her embarrassment, shame, fury, disappointment, pity, it all mixed together into an underwhelming numbness. All she wanted to do now was sleep.
On Sunday, Juliet drove Lily and Rosie up to the ferry to Pippi to retrieve as many of their belongings as they could fit in the car.
Aunt Jane had enrolled Rosie at the private school her own daughter, Kat, attended, “for some routine and stability,” she said.
Which seemed a little terrifying to Rosie, but at least her cousin would be there.
Lily felt a new wave of shame at the thought of how much a last-minute enrollment would cost. Yet another sum to add to the pile of debt they owed their aunts.
During winter and spring, Pippi was a much quieter place.
Few people came to visit and the locals kept to themselves.
Without the constant stream of visitors and outdoor activity, it seemed a little lonely.
Rosie and Lily packed slowly and sadly. Life as they knew it really did seem to be at an end.
The only person they saw was one they had absolutely no desire to see: Birdie-Round-the-Back.
She popped in while walking her dog when she saw the blinds up.
“So moving out, are you? Just as well, really, without your mum. I mean, I told her I’ll take over your clients, no skin off my nose, and if she wants to go start a new life in Queensland, good luck to her, I say.
And people are always on the lookout for cleaners, half of them don’t care where they’re from or if they’re reliable or anything, so it won’t even matter that she can’t get references.
And she’s got a new man anyway—one of the young backpackers, I hear!
What a cougar! Ha ha. So is she definitely not coming back at all?
Just that the clients have been asking and I do like to offer some certainty.
I know some people don’t go for that these days, call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always found people respond best if you do what you say you’re going to do. ”
“Thank you so much for stopping by,” interrupted Juliet. “Do you mind very much helping me? I’ve got to take these to the bins.”
Juliet very kindly and gently ushered Birdie-Round-the-Back away from Rosie and Lily before either of them got violent or burst into tears.
At sunset the girls stood at the end of the wharf with their bags at their feet and the wind in their faces.
The ferry appeared around the headland and Lily had never been sadder to see it, knowing that it was to take them away from the longest, best, and most secure chapter of their lives.
She could still remember other big shifts and escapes from the era before Lydia brought them to Pippi to stay.
Those were times of late-notice flights from rental houses and road trips across the country.
They always left without saying goodbye and arrived unannounced at strange addresses, either in pursuit of a man or getting away from one.
Lily had been too young then to know what was really going on.
Now she felt all the pain of an insecure existence and the pressure of an uncertain future.
“I don’t want to go,” whispered Rosie.
“Me neither,” said Lily, “but that’s what we’re doing and it will be okay.” She wished fervently she were old enough to make her own decisions, and protect Rosie and herself from the consequences of their mother’s.