Chapter Eighteen
Christina isn’t that keen on visiting the charity shop her mother likes to go to at Mosman Junction.
Joni used to shop there fairly often when it was a boutique and she still visits now, just to see the lady who works there.
Joni thinks that second-hand clothes are for poor people, and she has spent many years trying to appear everything but poor.
Which Christina understands – after her father left, they were poor.
They had the house to live in, yes, but not much cash coming in, and her father wasn’t inclined to help with that.
He kept saying that his salary couldn’t cover two households, seemingly without any awareness that he was the reason there were now two households.
At that time Joni did buy clothes for her children from charity shops, because the girls grew so quickly and she couldn’t afford new clothes for them.
Christina didn’t care. Didn’t even know.
Her mother always chose carefully and the clothes were nice.
As soon as Joni could afford new clothes, though, she stopped going to the charity shops.
Except for the one at the junction. She’ll sometimes buy jewellery there – because you can find good pieces, she says – but never clothes.
‘Not that I don’t trust Daphne’s taste,’ she tells Christina.
Christina can’t remember ever meeting Daphne, although she must have when Joni took her to the boutique, as it then was. There’s nothing familiar, however, about the spry older lady with the sharp eyes who walks from behind the counter to greet her mother with open arms.
‘Joni,’ she says, kissing her on the cheek, then she puts her hands on her hips. ‘Well, Christina, didn’t you turn out to be a beauty. Look at you!’
There’s something in the way she says it – with no hint of agenda or knowing – that makes Christina think that Daphne isn’t aware of her acting career.
Hasn’t seen her in any movies or magazines.
She feels the relief of it – of not having to explain why she’s home; why she’s not in Los Angeles or New York or London being famous.
‘Thanks,’ Christina says shyly, as if she’s never heard this before.
It’s different when it’s said by someone who wants something from her: a man, an agent, a co-star, a fan.
When a person like that says she’s beautiful, all she hears is manipulation.
When Daphne says it, however, it feels like it’s the first time it’s been said without an ulterior motive.
It’s wonderful. Special. It means something.
She stands a little straighter, and it’s only as she does so that she realises she’s been subconsciously hiding – tucking herself in, dropping her head a little. Trying to make herself unnoticeable.
‘So you’re back in Sydney for a while?’ Daphne says to her. ‘Your mum’s been missing you since you moved overseas.’
Moved overseas. Is that all it was? In some ways, yes, of course – or simply in the ways that count.
To her mother – to Daphne – she wasn’t going off to have an amazing career.
She was ‘moving overseas’, away from home.
It stuns her in this moment that she could mean so much to anyone that her simply being in another hemisphere could affect them deeply.
She’s never felt that important. Not really.
Yet here, in this little shop in a little suburb, she realises she is.
There’s a strength in that – and she needs it.
‘I am,’ she says.
Her mother and Daphne exchange smiles, and Joni looks so happy – radiant, even. Did Christina do that – create that happiness in her mother?
Maybe she needs to have children herself to understand it. Or maybe it’s just that her mother is full of love, and Christina …
Christina doesn’t know what she has inside her any more.
Her work used to make her feel joy. But her relationships with other people, especially since she started to become famous – although she catches on that word – have always felt so difficult to navigate.
She’s slow to trust, even when a potential friend is also well known, because maybe they’re out to get something from her.
She’s never out to get anything from another person apart from hoping they will be themselves. No doubt that means she’s naive. It could go some way toward explaining how she ended up alone with the director in a room where he could do what he wanted to her, then tell lies about it afterward.
The memory produces tears and she has to turn away so her mother won’t see them.
‘This dress is divine,’ she says as a diversion, pulling out the skirt of a lime-green drop-waisted dress that looks like it was inspired by flapper fashion. It’s sleeveless, long in the bodice, with intricate beading across the hips.
‘Isn’t it?’ Daphne moves toward her. ‘This lass brought it in – her grandmother had it in a wardrobe for years. Probably wore it herself. The fabric has held up well.’
Christina rubs it through her fingers. ‘Is it silk?’ she asks.
‘Yes. No label, of course, because most ladies who wore clothes like that had a dressmaker.’
Christina places her hands on the back of the skirt and pushes it, to give it air. To imagine how it would move on a body.
She’s always loved the costume part of her job. The decisions about what the character would wear. The fittings.
Once, an older, more famous co-star told her to stop spending so much time in wardrobe, chatting to the women who worked there. ‘Be more aloof,’ she advised, ‘if you want to win an Oscar.’
Christina isn’t interested in being aloof when it comes to the crew of a movie. She’s even less interested in winning an Academy Award.
She thinks about what she could do with a dress like this. The parties she would wear it to – if she still had parties to attend. It’s likely that those days won’t return, so … maybe she could just wear it around the house. It’s not as if there’s anyone to stop her.
‘Would you like to try it on?’ Daphne says.
‘No, thank you. I won’t need to.’ Christina has been in enough fittings to know on sight which clothes are likely to fit her. ‘I’ll take it.’
‘Just like that?’
Christina’s eyes meet Daphne’s and they exchange a smile.
‘Just like that,’ she says.
Daphne takes the dress to the cash register. ‘Was she always this decisive, Joni?’
‘I think so,’ Joni says softly, and Christina is touched to hear what sounds like pride in her mother’s voice. ‘She’s determined when she knows what she wants.’
‘And you want this green dress!’ Daphne looks delighted as she rings up the purchase and wraps up the dress.
Christina thinks it would be lovely to be so pleased. She’s not sure she’s ever been that way inclined. Dissatisfaction – primarily with herself – has been the engine of her art.
‘Come back and show me how you style it,’ Daphne says after Christina’s handed over cash and received the dress in exchange.
Christina finds herself agreeing, even though she has no idea whether she’ll be staying in Sydney long enough for that.
Her mother takes her arm and they walk toward the car.
‘She’s a marvel, that Daphne,’ Joni says. ‘She’s been in that shop for decades and still looks like she loves it.’
‘Is that her full-time job?’
Christina’s curious about Daphne, about the older woman’s energy – there’s something powerful about it. Something almost irresistible. Star quality, she might have said once, even if it’s contained in a small shop at the bottom of the world.
‘Not any more – the place is run by volunteers,’ Joni says.
‘Oh – of course.’
Joni stops and turns toward her daughter. ‘You know …’ She looks thoughtful. ‘You could do a day a week there.’
Christina is taken aback. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Volunteer at the shop. Just one day each week.’
‘Um …’ It’s been years since she’s done any work other than acting. Will she even know how?
‘Darling, you know I love having you at home, but …’ Joni puts a hand on Christina’s cheek. ‘You’re too gorgeous to be a caged bird.’ Her smile is wistful. ‘You belong in the world.’
Christina blinks. She’s never thought of herself – of anyone – in terms of where they belong; rather, she accepts where they are.
Except, if she thinks about her life, she can see quite clearly that she has always looked out, to the world.
Recent circumstances have forced her in, but she doesn’t belong there.
Then she thinks about how Daphne treated her like she would treat anyone else, and about how it’s been a few days since anyone recognised her, and about how calm and pretty this whole part of Sydney is.
It may be okay to stay here for a while longer – especially if she has a purpose in her days.
She can simply be Christina here, with no scandal, no failed career, no past to outrun.
‘All right,’ she says, starting to stroll again.
‘All right?’ Joni sounds gleeful.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll call Daphne when we get home.’
‘No, that’s all right – I will.’
They could, of course, turn around and go back to the shop, but Christina doesn’t want to put Daphne on the spot like that. It would be easier for her to say no in a phone call – in case she doesn’t need anyone, or doesn’t want Christina.
And if she doesn’t, that will be fine, because Christina knows she’ll find something else to do with her days. She needs to. She wants to. She belongs out in the world.
Sighing out a breath as they reach the car, her shoulders drop and her face relaxes and she has the strangest sense that she is arriving here, in her body, for the first time in a very long while.