Chapter 16
22 September 2023
From: Brynn Wallace [email protected]
To: Jacq Cooper [email protected]
Subject: sorry but I can’t
Hi,
I know you’ve been waiting for me to reply, bustling on as though nothing has happened. I know you well enough to know you’re doing that because you want me to just get over what happened.
Thing is Jacq, I can’t.
It’s hard for me to write this, and honestly, I was going to try and just bustle on too and get on with my life here but at every turn there’s something that reminds me of Scott. The other day a lady who I’ve kind of become friends with at the local op shop pulled out a pink dress and I had a full-on panic attack.
I told you over and over that I wasn’t sure my relationship with him was healthy. It took me so much courage to tell you because you were my best friend. I didn’t expect you to do anything—that wouldn’t have been fair of me—but the way you just kept dismissing my feelings and pushing us back together was the thing that hurt the most. Even when Scott ditched me when Mum got sick, you stood up for him.
I was going to just get on and try and forget about it, but then you pulled that thing at the party. That’s when I knew you hadn’t been listening to me. But I want you to listen to me now.
My relationship with Scott wasn’t good. He dressed me up like his doll and made people look at me. He picked at me until I cried and then he made up to me so I’d feel guilty and confused. They call that gaslighting. He made me feel weak and crazy and when I asked the person who was closest to me for support, you sided with him.
You said I owed it to our long friendship to talk to you. I’ll counter that with: I think you owed it to our long friendship to listen to me.
I wish you well, Jacq. But I have to look after me now.
Brynn
On Friday, I arrive at work at the same time as Hilde and she watches while I struggle to shove my overnight bag and my backpack into the tiny locker space behind the reception desk.
‘Going somewhere?’ she asks. Today she’s wearing bright blue plastic hoop earrings, a pop of colour against her fair skin and short blonde pixie cut.
‘I’ve got a dog-sitting job,’ I say as Robert appears at the desk to clock in too.
Hilde frowns. ‘Don’t let Doug catch you doing that—it’s instant dismissal.’ She speaks in a low voice and I look at Robert for confirmation.
‘She’s right,’ he says. ‘We’re not supposed to take any dog-related jobs, on the record or off. Doug’s paranoid he’s going to lose staff to cushier gigs. That said, everyone does it when it’s offered. Hilde does it a lot.’ He takes off his black Panama hat and stows it gently in his locker.
She nods. Good—so I’m not the only one to do it.
‘That’s a relief,’ I say, ‘because looking after one little poodle called Daisy for two nights is paying enough to cover this month’s rent.’
Hilde frowns. ‘A boy poodle called Daisy?’
‘Yeah.’ I twist the combination on my locker.
‘That’s one of my jobs. Mrs Van Der Steen normally calls me when she’s going out of town,’ she says, the pitch of her voice raising, blue earrings shaking.
My heart sinks and I turn back to her quickly. ‘Oh Hilde, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. Do you want me to call her?’
‘It’s fine, Brynn,’ she says in a voice that tells me it’s not fine at all. She clenches her jaw and focus on the computer to obviously put an end to the conversation.
Hilde ignores me for the rest of the shift, and when it’s over, I see her leaving the store with Robert. It feels like a kick in the guts, watching my two best friends at Dogue’s leaving and knowing that they’re probably talking about me. I duck into the toilets to change and then walk over to Mrs Van Der Steen’s apartment a few blocks away.
She lives in a beautiful building on a tree-lined street that’s one of the quietest I’ve been on since I moved to Manhattan. The doorman lets me in and another attendant phones up to let Mrs Van Der Steen know I’ve arrived. Then he comes around and gets into the lift with me. ‘I have to swipe you in,’ he says. ‘And she likes me to announce her visitors. Are you a friend or relative?’ he asks, looking at my overnight bag. He presses some buttons and swipes his card before the lift jolts upward.
‘I’m here to sit for Daisy.’
‘For Daisy and the rest of the animals, you mean?’
‘There’s more than one?’
He grins. ‘You haven’t been here before, have you?’
I shake my head. ‘Well, if you need any help, just ring down to me. Press the “d” button on the intercom phone—for desk. My name’s Geoff and I’m on all night.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m good with animals and I watch lots of dogs every day.’
‘How are you with snakes? And spiders?’
‘Spiders?’ All of a sudden, this job does not sound like a good idea. At all.
But Geoff doesn’t get a chance to answer. The doors open with a ding and we’re standing in a fancy lobby. It’s all marble with huge pillars and a thick gold door frame. There’s closet that has a carved door. I wonder if my coat goes in there. There’s also a plush cream chaise lounge that probably cost more than it would to buy my apartment. I take a tentative step forward poke my head through the door and see a living room filled with more heavy-looking furnishings. It’s kind of how I imagine a palace would look. Mrs Van Der Steen clearly has far too much money.
‘Mrs Van Der Steen? It’s Geoff from the desk. I’m here with Brynn Wallace, your pet-sitter.’
I hear a bark and then the skittering of nails against the marble floor. A moment later, Daisy comes running in.
‘Hi Daisy, how are you, boy?’ I say, squatting and giving the grey poodle a good hard scratch behind the ears. He licks my wrist. ‘Are you going to be a good boy?’
Behind me, Geoff clears his throat and when I look up, the lady of the house herself is standing in the doorway, watching me.
‘Mrs Van Der Steen, nice to see you again.’ I stand up and go over to her, holding my hand out to shake. But she looks at it as though I’ve just offered her a dog poo.
‘My car is downstairs.’ She stands completely still, clutching her handbag as she speaks. ‘The instructions for looking after each of the animals is on the refrigerator and the maid will be here in half an hour to show you what food you can eat in the kitchen and where you’ll be sleeping. You can leave your bag here and she will put it away when she arrives. You won’t need a key—the concierge will let you in. He’ll have to swipe his pass to give you access to this level. And now, I must leave.’
She heads towards the door. ‘Geoffrey, are my bags ...?’
‘They’re downstairs in the car already.’
They head back to the lift together and I keep wondering exactly how many animals she’s expecting me to take care of. The arrangement was for Daisy only. Even when Mrs Van Der Steen called, she didn’t mention more animals.
‘Um, excuse me, Mrs Van Der Steen?’
‘Yes?’ She looks annoyed. Clearly, I’m supposed to take her instructions and not ask any questions.
‘Exactly how many animals am I going to be watching? Because on the phone you said it was just Daisy.’
‘It’s never just Daisy, dear. The instructions are on the refrigerator.’
Geoff gives me a little grin as he goes over and hits the elevator button, leaving me to an unknown number of animals—one of which may be a spider—in a strange apartment.
I wait until I’m sure the elevator has definitely deposited Geoff and Mrs Van Der Steen downstairs and then I start exploring. I leave my bag in its assigned position and head through the first doorway I come to, Daisy trotting along beside me.
I wander around for a while, opening doors and going into rooms, running my hands over the linens on the bed and touching the furniture. The house is overdone, and I wish for about the millionth time that I had money. I promise whoever might be listening to my wish that I won’t squander my fortune on over-the-top opulence.
‘Your ma likes pretty things, doesn’t she?’ I say to Daisy and the dog cocks his head.
It takes me a few more minutes to find the kitchen. It’s enormous. Our apartment kitchen could fit into this room about fifteen times over. The fridge is one of those huge side-by-side aluminium ones with a freezer like caterers use. There’s a single magnet on one with a typed list on monogrammed stationery that has my instructions. Before I start reading, I can’t resist peeking inside the fridge. It’s crammed full of food—apples, oranges, watermelons. There are packages of expensive cheese, bottles of wine and jars that make it look like a deli. My mouth waters and I take out a little open block of cheese and cut a few slices. It’s amazing, and I let out a quiet moan. I haven’t eaten cheese this good since ... well, ever . I cut off a few more slices.
At the top of the list there are tasks to do with Daisy like feeding, medications and walks. There are no rooms that Daisy’s not allowed in, but he isn’t allowed on the furniture. He apparently has a bed or a blanket in every room.
Further down the list there are instructions for Bo-Bo (oh, my god , Bo-Bo) who is a yellow python. I shudder. Without having even seen him, I know that he’s going to be one of those creepy scaly snakes. But thankfully, the notes say Bo-Bo was fed a day ago and can go without while the lady of the house is away. I do, however, have to feed the mice that will eventually become Bo-Bo’s dinner. I shudder again. I don’t like mice at all.
On top of Daisy, Bo-Bo and the mice, there’s a rabbit, two cats, and a terrarium that houses a giant tarantula.
‘Daisy, the lady is strange. I feel sorry for you,’ I say around a mouthful of cheese.
Behind me someone clearing their throat makes me jump and the slice of cheese that I’m eating catches in my throat. It takes a few coughs for me to dislodge it. When I turn around, I see a tiny lady staring at me. The housekeeper, I assume.
‘We do not eat from that refrigerator,’ she says, looking down her nose. ‘Mrs has filled the small fridge and freezer for you.’
She gestures at the island bench in the middle of the room and motions for me to open the cupboard. I’m shocked that the doors are much heavier than normal cupboard doors. When I open it, I see that it’s a fridge that’s a lot smaller, but equally as stocked. It’s just that the things inside are supermarket rather than deli brands.
‘You’re allowed to eat anything in there, but nothing in the big fridge. Your wage will be docked for the cheese.’
‘But, I didn’t know and I think I only ate like, two slices.’
She raises her eyebrow and I decide that it’s highly likely that she weighs everything before she puts it away and knows exactly how many grams of cheese I’ve scoffed in the few minutes I’ve been eating.
‘You’ve also been using the wrong knife and cutting on the marble bench top. Mrs would be mad.’
‘Do you have to tell her?’
‘I tell her everything. It’s my job. Shouldn’t you be walking Daisy now?’
I look at the schedule and then glance at my watch. I have ten minutes before Daisy’s walk. I take great pleasure in shaking my head. ‘I’ve got time. You should probably tell me where I’m sleeping. And if there’s anything else that I’m not allowed to eat or use. I can’t afford to keep having my wages docked.’
Her mouth opens and closes a few times and then she nods. I get a quick tour of the apartment (I don’t bother to tell her I’ve already been into half the rooms and mauled most of the furniture that I’ve been told not to touch). One of the bedrooms has been converted into some sort of an animal room. There are the mice, the spider and the snake, but there are also empty tanks and others full of tropical fish.
‘I feed the fish,’ the maid says.
‘But I’ve gotta feed the spider?’
‘I do not like the spider,’ she says and smirks. Clearly, she’s earned the right to pick and choose which animals she looks after. ‘I’m going now.’
‘When do you come back?’
‘In the morning, to clean. You leave your towels on bathroom floor and don’t make your bed—you won’t do it right.’
There are no instructions about where to walk Daisy and how far to take him, so I head towards Chelsea Piers. Despite the fact that Daisy is one of the tiniest poodles I have ever seen, he clearly thinks he’s big. Every time he sees another dog, he makes a massive lunge.
On the way back to the apartment, I stop outside a boutique carrying a gorgeous selection of bright-coloured, glittery high-heeled shoes. I’m like a moth dancing at a light bulb as I stand there with my nose pressed against the glass. But while I’m blinded by some suede turquoise pumps, there’s a tug on the end of the leash that catches me by surprise and, in a moment of pure horror, I drop it and Daisy takes off. Another thing about Daisy is that while he might have miniature poodle legs, he can run fast.
He is following an ugly-looking Rottweiler—who, I realise, doesn’t seem to have an owner in sight—straight down the tree-lined street and out onto the busy road. Then I see Daisy turn in the opposite direction to the wandering Rottweiler, his nose close to the ground on some doggy mission. I start running and try to resist the urge to scream his name, knowing that’s probably the worst thing I could do because it’ll only make him think it’s a game and take off faster.
I lose sight of him somewhere around the vet clinic and stand on the side of the road, panic making my body go cold.
Anxiety starts to claw at my chest just as someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn to find Mr Paris Review editor Lucas Bennett behind me. Of course, I’m all blotchy-faced and hysterical and he’s perfectly groomed, smells wonderful, and is not at all blotchy-faced.
‘Brynn? What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ he asks, reaching out and touching me lightly on the arm.
To my horror, the second his fingers land on my coat, the tears start falling and the whole story tumbles out. ‘I’m dog-sitting—well, pet-sitting, really—and the dog I was watching started chasing a Rotty and he got away. I couldn’t keep up with him. I’ve lost a tiny little poodle in bloody New York City. He’s got no chance.’
‘Hey, hey, don’t cry,’ Lucas says, bending a little to look me in the eyes. ‘It happens all the time, I’m sure he’ll come back,’ he says. ‘Mully got away once, but he managed to find his way home. You’d be surprised, a dog’s nose is a wonderful thing.’
‘I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should call his owner or what. She’ll probably call Doug and then I’ll be fired. Oh shit. Ooops, sorry, please, please don’t tell Doug about this—he’ll kill me.’
‘Is this a Dogue’s job you’re on? Maybe you should check back there? The dog might have headed there, thinking it’s home.’
I scuff my boot along the salted sidewalk. ‘No, he’s not a Dogue’s dog. I met the owner at the vet surgery on 34th. I’m not supposed to take non-Dogue’s jobs. Well, non-Dogue’s dog-related jobs. I suppose I can take ordinary jobs ...’
He ignores my rambling and squeezes my shoulder. ‘How about I walk over to the vet with you? They might know the dog and give you an idea of where to look. Or what to do.’
‘Really? You’d do that?’
‘Well, yeah, I don’t like the idea of a little Australian girl wandering the streets of New York lost. It’s a big city, you know.’
I’m touched enough by his offer to help that I let him calling me a little girl pass. As I nod he puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me down the street towards the clinic.
I have to ring the after-hours bell and Sienna comes to the door. ‘Hey, Brynn,’ she says, her eyes bright, but I watch them slide to Lucas and a tiny muscle flickers along her brows. ‘What can I do for you?’
I do a double-take when I see that she’s wearing nice black jeans and a white blouse and not her scrubs. She’s obviously on her way out somewhere: her hair is down, her blonde curls shiny and wild, and her makeup is as heavy as it was the night I saw her dancing at Hilde’s apartment. I take in the high, glittering silver pair of heels on her feet and I wish more than anything that I was heading to wherever she’s going instead of looking for a runaway poodle.
‘Daisy,’ I say. There’s panic in my voice and my chest is getting tight in that pre-asthma attach way that it does. ‘Have you seen Daisy Van Der Steen?’
She sighs, her smile fading. ‘Oh honey, are you looking after Daisy this weekend?’ I nod. ‘And Rosemary didn’t tell you that Daisy has a habit of running away?’
Rosemary. That must be the housekeeper’s name. ‘It wasn’t Daisy’s fault,’ I say, the hysteria coming out as a wheeze. ‘I was distracted by shoes ... I was distracted. I wasn’t holding the lead properly.’
‘And if you were holding the lead properly, he probably would have gotten away anyway. He’s good at twisting his way right out of his collar. Didn’t Hilde tell you? That’s why Mrs Van Der Steen doesn’t want her sitting any more. Daisy has escaped from her one too many times.’
‘See,’ Lucas says and pats me on the shoulder again. He’s very touchy-feely and it’s only now that I’m calming down a bit that I notice the warmth that spreads through my body with every touch. ‘It’s not your fault and it’s happened before. Hi, I’m Lucas Bennett,’ he says, holding his hand out to Sienna and turning that thousand-watt smile on her.
‘Sienna,’ she answers. ‘Have you got asthma, Brynn?’ She looks at me with concern on her face and I nod in reply. I lift my empty arms to show her I don’t have my puffer. My chest’s too tight for talking now.
‘One sec,’ she says and disappears inside the surgery. She comes back a moment later and hands me an inhaler. ‘It’s albuterol,’ she says and I know that’s the same medicine that we call Ventolin back home. ‘It’s from our first aid kit. Take it and I’ll get another one ordered tomorrow.’
I take a few puffs and the squeezing on my chest loosens. I feel almost normal.
‘So, Sienna,’ Lucas says kind of loudly. He reaches out and puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, as though we know each other much better than we do. ‘Any ideas what Brynn should do? I don’t want her to lose her job,’ he practically croons at her, seemingly oblivious to her indifference.
‘Seriously, he always comes home,’ Sienna replies. ‘Don’t worry, Brynn, he’s done this a hundred times, so just go back and feed the other animals. I bet that by the time Bo-Bo the snake is digesting, Daisy will be curled up on one of those lounges that he’s not supposed to sit on. And if he’s not, give me a call later and I’ll come and help you look for him.’
I give her a grateful smile and the one she returns to me warms something in my body. ‘Thanks again for being so nice,’ I say, and feel a bit sniffly again now that I’ll have to leave her side.
I turn to Lucas. ‘You can go home now too. I just can’t thank you enough.’
He shakes his head. ‘Oh no, I’m coming with you. I’ve never seen someone feed a snake.’
‘Well, Bo-Bo doesn’t need feeding,’ I say. ‘But, how do you feel about spiders?’ I turn to Sienna. ‘Thanks again for your help,’ I say.
She smiles, but it doesn’t light up her whole face the way it usually does. ‘You’re welcome, Brynn. Good luck with Daisy.’