Chapter Thirty-One
Since that night at the shop, Lucy’s been keeping herself away from Russell when she can, taking off down the tracks that are part of the bushland that’s throughout Mosman, or exploring the beaches.
Russell doesn’t like the outdoors, so she knows she’s safe from him as she walks above Taylors Bay, watching people on their yachts enjoying their summer days, or swims at Clifton Gardens.
She can put out her towel and put on her sunglasses and rest.
Rest is in short supply at home. She keeps thinking Russell is going to disturb her in the middle of the night, telling her she’s stupid or ugly or whatever insult he can come up with.
So she has a restless sleep and gets up tired each morning, leaving the house before everyone else is out of bed.
Roaming the suburb, she’s grateful that it’s so pretty and there are so many places she can go.
If she naps on the beach, no one bothers her.
If she sits on a rock on a bush track for an hour, no one tells her she’s ridiculous.
Even the lizards sunning themselves nearby leave her alone.
She’s had to stop sewing, though, because there’s nowhere to do it that won’t cause problems. Her mother talked to her father about getting Russell to stop being mean about it, but Russell said he had a right to not be disturbed by her ‘stupid bloody sewing’ and her father didn’t push back.
There’s a feeling Lucy has, lodged in the pit of her belly like a lead weight, that her parents are never going to protect her. Russell is bigger than both of them, and angrier than anyone they know, and the combination frightens them. It frightens her. And she doesn’t know what to do about it.
Today her roaming takes her to the charity shop. She hasn’t been in since the night Russell menaced her but she misses chatting to Daphne – who is, happily, there when Lucy walks through the door.
‘Lovely Lucy!’ she cries, opening her arms for a hug. She’s never offered a hug before. Maybe she can tell that Lucy really needs one.
Lucy wraps her arms around a woman who could be her grandma, inhaling her powdery perfume and the smell of her shampoo. The scents are reassuring. They make her feel calm.
She squeezes tighter and starts to cry, not knowing why, but letting the tears flow because she can, here.
‘Lucy-Lu,’ Daphne says as she lets her go, ‘whatever is the matter?’
At that moment Christina the movie star comes out of the back room and Lucy wants to drop through a hole in the floor.
She’s crying in front of a movie star. This is possibly the most embarrassing moment of her life, and that includes when a boy in her first-grade class pulled her pants down in front of everyone.
‘Hi, Lucy,’ Christina says.
Lucy sniffles and can’t look Christina in the eye, although she sees Daphne and Christina look at each other. Great. They probably both think she’s pathetic.
‘Sit down, love,’ Daphne says, gesturing to the old-fashioned chair that’s always next to the counter. For the old ladies to take a rest, Daphne told her once, and Lucy thought that was funny because she’s pretty sure Daphne’s an old lady.
Lucy sniffles again and plops down on the seat, her shoulders sagging. Despite her embarrassment she feels tremendous relief to be here, of the kind that makes her want to close her eyes and sleep for a year.
‘Now, what’s going on?’ Daphne puts a hand on her shoulder.
Lucy looks up, sees kindness and concern, and starts crying again. ‘I can’t sew,’ she says.
‘Yes, you can!’ Christina cries. ‘I’ve seen evidence of it.’
It feels like a year ago that Lucy brought in the Christmas dress to show Daphne.
‘No,’ she says. ‘I mean … I’m not able to use the machines. I haven’t worked on anything for days.’
‘Why not?’ Daphne says.
A lady enters the shop and Lucy starts jiggling, not wanting to be seen here crying to two people she doesn’t even know that well.
The lady glances over inquisitively.
Daphne looks over her shoulder and says, ‘Hi, Prue – I’ll be there shortly.’
‘Just browsing,’ Prue replies and turns to look at the cabinet where they keep the earrings.
‘Now,’ Daphne pats Lucy’s shoulder again, ‘tell us what’s going on.’
‘My brother doesn’t like me sewing.’
Daphne frowns. ‘And? My son didn’t like my daughter playing the violin, but that didn’t stop her.’
For a brief, treasonous second, Lucy wishes Daphne could have been her mother instead.
‘My brother – my stepbrother … he’s older.’ She stops, thinking of Russell at the dry-cleaning business, the way he used his size to menace her. ‘Bigger.’
Christina looks as though she may be about to cry. ‘Did he hurt you?’ she says.
‘No,’ Lucy says quickly. ‘But …’
‘He doesn’t have to,’ Daphne adds.
‘No,’ Lucy whispers.
Daphne nods slowly. ‘I understand. You can’t sew when he’s not around?’
‘He’s always around.’
Daphne sighs and rolls her eyes. ‘Sounds like he needs a hobby. That’s usually the problem with menaces – they have too much time on their hands. If they just had a hobby they’d be too preoccupied to menace anyone.’
She sighs again and glances at Christina, who is biting her bottom lip and looking away.
‘You all right, love?’ Daphne asks gently.
Christina shakes her head slowly. ‘No. I’m not. I’m sick of men getting away with things like this.’
Lucy sees something dark cross Daphne’s face, but it’s gone quickly.
‘So we need a solution,’ Daphne says, her forehead wrinkling. ‘Wait here.’
She goes to the back of the shop and disappears through a doorway, then pops her head out, smiling mysteriously.
‘Come and have a look,’ she says.
Christina raises her eyebrows at Lucy, who stands up slowly and walks over to the doorway, from where she can see a room with a long bench that’s mostly clear of objects. There’s a stool next to it and shelves above it, some of which are empty.
‘Could you bring a sewing machine here?’ Daphne says, gesturing to the bench. ‘I could give you a key to the place. You could come and go.’
Lucy is agog. This is really nothing she could have expected, and she’s not sure she’s ready for the responsibility.
‘But … you … you don’t know me,’ she says breathlessly.
‘Don’t know you?’ Daphne cackles. ‘Love, you’ve been in here plenty of times. And I’m a good judge of character.’ That fleeting darkness appears on her face again. ‘Mostly.’
‘Oh, do it, Lucy!’ Christina urges, grinning, showing her perfect teeth. ‘I’d love to be able to watch you work.’ She gasps. ‘Not in a creepy way!’
Lucy laughs. She can’t help it. This is all so unreal.
‘But why?’ she says. ‘Why would you do it?’
‘Why not?’ says Daphne. ‘I’m in charge, pretty much. I can do what I want. And Ophelia would approve, I think.’
‘Ophelia?’ Christina asks.
‘Original owner of the frock shop. She created stunning clothes.’ Daphne smiles dreamily.
‘Made many of them right here in this back room. So she would likely think that young Lucy being here means the shop’s being put to its rightful purpose.
’ She looks at Lucy seriously. ‘So I don’t think you can upset Ophelia. ’
Lucy laughs again. Is this really the solution? Can it really be so simple?
‘I’ll have to ask my parents,’ she says.
‘Of course,’ says Daphne. ‘Bring them by to say hello. But the space is yours if you want it.’
Now Lucy is smiling so much her cheeks hurt, and she grabs Daphne in the biggest hug she can muster.
‘Thank you,’ she whispers into the powdery-perfumed neck.
‘My pleasure,’ Daphne says as she squeezes back. ‘Now go home and ask them.’
As Lucy leaves the shop, her relief is so light she feels like it could lift her into the air and float her home. Surely her parents won’t object? They must see that she’s solving a problem – one they should have solved, yes, but they haven’t.
She’ll need her dad to move the machine from home to the shop, if her mum will let her have it. She hopes they won’t mind. And if they do, she’ll just have to find a way to manage something else. Or ask Daphne for help. Or Christina.
It’s astonishing, she thinks, how quickly things can change. For bad and for good. She’s going to hold on to the good for as long as she can.