Chapter 33
33
Ruth
When I showed up at Elliot’s place on Monday afternoon he’d forgotten I was coming. Forgotten I had a follow-up doctor’s appointment the next day. ‘But I rang you on Friday night and reminded you.’
‘Did you?’ He was flustered and blustery because he hadn’t remembered.
‘You’d had a few red wines, I reckon.’
‘These days there’s not much else for a bloke to do.’
The townhouse was disgusting. Dirty dishes in the sink and the bin overflowing, and I counted seven empty wine bottles lined up by the back door. The place reeked of decaying food and unwashed old man. ‘You could try cleaning up,’ I said, flinging open the sliding door onto the patio to let in the fresh air. ‘You look as if you’ve lost weight. I don’t suppose you’ve been eating properly.’
‘Haven’t felt hungry.’ Elliot dragged a shaky hand across his stubbled jaw. His eyes were red and rheumy. He looked awful; a decade older than he had before Robert died. My heart lurched. ‘But now that you’re here I’ll shower and shave and we can go out somewhere nice to eat. That Italian place on The Parade. I’ll make a booking. Now where the hell did I leave my phone?’
I grabbed his arm before he stumbled off in search of his phone. ‘Should I be worried about you, Elliot? You’re all the immediate family I have left.’
His bottom lip quivered. ‘I’m sorry, Ruth. Losing Robert so suddenly … I feel as if I’ve been cut adrift. I’d counted on being the first one of us to pop off our perches.’
I closed my eyes, took a steadying breath and tried to put myself in his shoes. ‘You go and have a shower and a shave. I’ll start cleaning up the kitchen and what’s the bet I find your phone?’ I scanned the shambles in front of me. ‘Didn’t you have a cleaning lady once? What happened to her?’
‘Knee replacement. She’ll be back on deck in another few weeks. You are an angel, Ruth.’
Angel or not, I gritted my teeth, rolled up my sleeves and set to work, stacking the dishwasher first. Was this my destiny, to be forever cleaning up kitchens? I found the phone on charge beneath a newspaper and a half-loaf of sliced bread, dried out because the bag had been left open. At least the phone was fully charged.
We ate early and ended up having a pleasant evening. The food was excellent. Elliot limited himself to two glasses of red wine and I stayed with sparkling water. Alcohol would have put me to sleep and I was driving. Over the meal, I prattled on about the cafe, how my most reliable staff member had resigned and I’d spent the morning ringing around anyone who’d ever worked for me, enquiring if they were looking for a job. Erin Saunders, a cheerful young thing who’d briefly been on the payroll in the very early days of the cafe, had been the only one interested. I’d emailed her an application form and we’d arranged for her to come in for a chat on Wednesday, after the cafe closed. Elliot grunted every now and then to prove he was listening.
On the drive home, more his loquacious self after food and wine, he turned to me and said, ‘I don’t know why you’re bothering to waste time and energy looking for more staff, Ruth. Put the place on the market and come back to Adelaide. Move on.’
‘It’s not quite that simple, Elliot. The local estate agent advised me that the more robust the business is when it goes on the market, the more likely I’ll be to sell it. Now tell me, how’s Lana?’ I changed the subject because I really did need a break from all things Cutlers Bay. Wednesday would be the last day I’d work with Allie and I felt sad about that.
‘Lana? She was fine the last time I spoke to her. And how’s that bloke of yours? Hamish? Is he the reason you’re not that keen to sell up and come back to the city?’
‘He’s not my bloke . We’re friends, that’s all. And I am going to sell up.’
‘He seems like a good sort, pretty handy and not afraid of hard work. You could do a lot worse.’
‘Can’t we talk about something else?’
‘You know, Robert and I could never understand why you didn’t partner up permanently and have children when you could. I know you’re probably rolling your eyes the way you always do when I raise the subject.’
‘All right, I won’t roll my eyes, but have you ever considered that I didn’t partner up permanently because I didn’t want to?’
‘What about children? Didn’t you ever want a family?’
‘Not really and then my eggs ran out. You and Gloria only had Stacey. Didn’t you want more kids?’
‘Perhaps, but it didn’t happen,’ he said, a trifle sadly. ‘Gloria wasn’t well after Stacey was born, postnatal depression is what they called it. When she recovered, we half-heartedly talked about trying for another child, but I was forever working and Gloria didn’t push it. She admitted years later, around the time we split, that she’d been terrified of going through again what she’d been through after Stacey was born. Can’t say that I blamed her for that.’
We were home. I stopped the car and we sat in the semi-darkness, neither of us moving, as if we didn’t want to destroy the fragile cocoon of closeness we’d created through the sharing of confidences.
‘I didn’t know she’d had postnatal depression. Are you ever in contact with her these days?’ I said, my voice loud in the quietness.
‘She lives in Melbourne now, she moved after Stacey left home. Corrine keeps in touch but I don’t. No need, not after Stacey left the nest.’
‘Gloria knows about Robert?’
‘Corrine told her. I thought she might have come to the funeral. She always had time for Robert, more than she had for me, as it turned out in the end.’
‘I haven’t seen her for decades.’
‘You were always off travelling, having a splendid time in exotic places that we could only ever dream of.’
‘I made my choices, Elliot, and you made yours. And you eventually visited some exotic places.’
Elliot laughed, a mellow sound that warmed me. ‘Ah, Barbara, what a year that was. Barbie was an exotic place, in and of herself.’
‘Enough,’ I said and held up my hand. ‘There are things about your life I do not need to know.’
‘Every man needs a Barbara in his life, somewhere along the line.’
‘And every woman needs a summer in Paris and an Alexandre,’ I said, goodness knows why.
He nudged me with his elbow. ‘Tell me more!’
‘Most definitely not,’ I declared, pulling the key out of the ignition and climbing out of the car. He followed suit and I said, ‘That is all I will ever say on that subject, Elliot. But just because I didn’t partner up permanently, as you so eloquently put it, doesn’t mean I haven’t had my moments.’
I slammed the car door and the sensor light on the porch blinked on in time for me to see my brother gawping at me over the expanse of the car roof.
* * *
The two-plus hour drive home on my own after my appointment and early dinner with Elliot provided the perfect opportunity to overthink what the doctor had said and pick over my concerns about my brother. I desperately did not want to do either of those things, so I slid a CD into the player and listened to Carole King belting out old favourites. Music got me as far as Port Wakefield, where I stopped to use the public amenities and of course that brought back the memorable trip home with Elliot following Robert’s funeral. After that, not ruminating on current problems was out of the question.
Ten minutes from Cutlers Bay, I summarised my mulling: While I felt a certain obligation towards my older brother, the more time I spent with him, the more convinced I was that I could never pick up where Robert had left off. Nor did I want to. Not that Elliot had in any way hinted that was what he expected. Being a much younger sister was a huge leap away from being a twin brother and it would get messy only if I let a sense of obligation skew expectations—mine and Elliot’s.
It was after ten when I drove into my carport and I’d barely made it in through the sliding door when my mobile rang. Hamish. And there were two earlier missed calls from him.
‘Are you home yet?’ he said and yawned.
‘Only just.’ I dumped my bags onto the sofa. My head still thrummed with the noise of the road.
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘That I’m reasonably healthy and the headaches are most likely stress related. She said I need to seriously reconsider my work–life balance.’ I laughed but without any real humour and flicked on the kettle. ‘At least I could tell her I’d been for two walks. How are you?’
‘Good. The rainwater tank arrived today and I’ve hooked it up, just in case it rains. Had to get PVC pipe and a few fittings from the hardware. Bloody expensive.’
‘Is rain forecast?’ I took down a mug and dropped in a chamomile and spearmint teabag.
‘Nah, I’m just forever hopeful.’ He yawned again.
‘Go to bed, Hamish. Thanks for the call.’ I meant that. Check-in phone calls had ended when Mum died and I hadn’t realised I’d missed them.
‘Goodnight. Glad you’re home safely. Oh, before you go, how was Elliot?’
‘A bit of a mess when I arrived, much better when I left. The test will be if he can sustain it. I really don’t know if grief’s the reason he’s not coping, or if he’s genuinely losing the plot. Hard to determine when I’m so far away. I feel like I should go back next weekend.’ My shoulders sagged. I already had so much to do.
‘Suggest to Elliot that he drives across to Cutlers Bay for the weekend. I’ll happily put him to work.’
‘That’s an idea. He might be up for it.’ After a second round of goodnights, I put the phone down on the table and rubbed my eyes. I felt as if I’d been run over by a truck. Tea, hot shower and bed, in that order. Unpacking of the overnight bag could wait until tomorrow.