The Girl in the Yellow Vest (33 page)

The following morning he rose feeling much rejuvenated but at the same time unsettled. He lay in bed staring at Kathryn’s list trying to work out how to approach her task.

Should he call first or just show up on Bill’s doorstep?

The problem with calling was that he might be told not to come. After all, he couldn’t blame the guy for not wanting to see him after he’d ignored him for two years. But now that he’d made the decision, he simply could not, not go. Even if he was rejected.

In procrastination, his eyes flicked to the next few items on Kathryn’s list.

8.   Give my stuff to the Salvos.

9.   Buy some new clothes, especially underwear.

10.   Read a book.

Perhaps while he formulated a plan he could tick a few other items off. He’d already half started on number eight. With renewed energy, he jumped out of bed and went into the wardrobe. This time her smell did hit him like a slap in the face and he felt tears smart in his eyes. But he grabbed the clothes, hangers and all, and threw them on the bed. When the wardrobe had been cleaned out he transferred the pile into garbage bags, not bothering to sort too carefully. He didn’t want to look at the dress he’d met her in. Or the chef uniforms she’d worn to work. Or, God forbid, her wedding dress.

He stuffed it out of sight and put it next to the door with the rest of her stuff.

There were some things he did keep, like her jewellery and photo albums. But he found a large box for these too and put them right at the back of the wardrobe to look at later. Much later.

After a quick shower, he loaded up his car and drove to the nearest Salvos store. A few minutes later the deed was done and he felt no pang. In fact, he noted en route to a department store, he felt nothing at all, except a strange stoic emptiness.

Shopping seemed like a good way to fill the void, though he barely registered what he purchased. A few shirts, a few pants and a stack of underwear. Yes, Kathryn had been right in her forward thinking. Shopping was so tedious and his tolerance for it so low that his current stash was full of holes.

Last stop was the library to find a book. This proved more difficult than he had first supposed. He had once enjoyed reading and read widely all different types of fiction and non-fiction. He barely had time for it these days, though. He worked such long hours that by the time he got home, had a meal and watched an hour of television, he just wanted to sleep and often did. Now faced with such variety he had no idea what he felt like. He ended up borrowing about six books with still no clear plan of which one he was going to attempt first.

As he returned to his car, books in hand, he realised that there was nothing left to do but make the visit he’d been dreading. All the same, he waited until after five. Bill could still be at work. It was a Tuesday after all.

At six o’clock, he was standing uncertainly on his brother-in-law’s doorstep. Before he lost his nerve he knocked. The door swung open and an extremely large man with Kathryn’s big brown eyes stared at him, dumbstruck. Eventually the man managed to croak, ‘Mark! What the hell?’

He was equally affected. This man looked nothing like the one whose phone messages he’d stopped returning two years earlier. Bill had always been a large man but now he was the size of a house and there were streaks of grey in his hair. He’d aged prematurely.

‘Bill! What happened to you?’

‘What happened to me?’ Bill repeated. ‘What happened to you?’

He supposed this was a valid question and scratched his head looking for the right words. As his brother-in-law watched him with raised eyebrows, he knew there wasn’t any point in beating around the bush so he went with the truth. ‘I’m sorry. I just needed to be alone.’

‘For two years?’ Bill snorted. ‘Pretty long time to sulk, if you ask me. I’m sorry you were having a hard time, Mark, but so was everyone else.’

‘I know, Bill, but –’

‘They call me Chub now,’ said his brother-in-law.

Chub? He could see why. He was twice the size of the man he’d known. He couldn’t help but repeat his earlier question. ‘What happened?’ Was this how Bill had dealt with Kathryn’s death? Comfort food?

Bill looked at him slyly. ‘Do I look different to you?’

Mark cleared his throat. ‘Yes.’

Bill snorted. ‘I had a hair cut.’

He then turned away from the open door and walked into the house. ‘I guess you might as well come in.’

Uncertainly, Mark stepped over the threshold. Bill, or Chub, had already disappeared down the hall connecting to the kitchen. When Mark entered this space, it was to be met with a very welcome array of smells. A round table near the door was laden with a variety of platters. Scones, cupcakes, freshly baked biscuits, mini quiches, sausage rolls and slices both sweet and savoury.

‘Are you expecting company, Bill?’

His friend looked up innocently. ‘No, why do you ask?’

Mark cleared his throat as he searched for a point of reference.

Bill chuckled and his whole body seemed to wobble in amusement. ‘Just
kidding
, Mark. And call me Chub, by the way. It’s been too long since anyone called me Bill. I’m not used to it any more.’

‘All right, Chub.’ Mark straightened, determined to make an effort.

Chub grinned. ‘Still take yourself way too seriously, I see. Have a scone, it’ll make you feel better.’

Mark frowned. ‘Does it make you feel better?’

‘It’s a bit too late to worry about me, Mark.’ Chub’s jovial expression disappeared. Just for a second he did look incredibly sad. ‘I will admit, food does give me comfort. And, you know, Kath. Food was her thing. Every time I ate something delicious for one incredible bite I had her back. It was wonderful. But,’ he dusted his hands, ‘now I don’t eat for grief but for pleasure.’ He grabbed his belly like it was a trophy. ‘You’re actually very lucky to have caught me. A week ago I still would have been in Cape Lambert. Barnes Inc just moved me back to Perth.’

Mark nodded. ‘Is the project over?’

‘It’s getting there.’ Chub grinned. ‘You know how these things drag on. They’re definitely not hiring though, so a resident HR manager isn’t really warranted.’

‘I see.’

Just then a gorgeous-looking brunette entered the room. She was the embodiment of painted, polished and pampered. Dressed in a tight white top and floral skirt, her hair was a mass of coiffured curls piled on top of her head.

‘This is my girlfriend, Annabel,’ Chub offered by way of introduction and clearly enjoyed the way Mark did a double-take. ‘Annabel, my brother-in-law, Mark.’

She pouted, as only a woman of her physical appearance could. ‘Oh, I thought one of my girlfriends had got here early.’ She regarded Mark with a frown. ‘You can’t possibly be here for the Tupperware party.’

‘No,’ said Mark. ‘I won’t be staying long.’

Chub grabbed him by the arm and steered him towards the door again. ‘We’ll just go chat in the living room, sweetie,’ he said to Annabel, shoving Mark before him. Rather suspiciously, he also grabbed a plate of jam and cream scones just before he crossed the threshold.

‘Chub, we need that for the party,’ she called out after him.

‘Yes, I know. I’m just putting it on the coffee table,’ he threw over his shoulder.

‘Perhaps this is not a good time.’ Mark frowned as Chub waved him forward and then into another room halfway back down the hall. ‘Maybe I should go.’

Chub set the plate on the coffee table and shut the door. ‘And leave me entertaining ten giggling women? Not this week. Have a scone and tell me what the problem is.’

Mark sat down on the couch with a sigh, rubbing his hands uncomfortably across his lap to his knees. ‘What makes you think there’s a problem?’

‘I don’t see you for two years and then all of sudden you turn up on my doorstep without warning,’ he grunted. ‘There’s a problem.’

‘There’s no problem,’ Mark retorted. ‘I just wanted to reconnect.’

Chub let loose a bark of laughter and picked up a scone. ‘Denial is the first sign.’ He took a large bite and chewed happily.

Mark folded his arms and buttoned his lip. Bill/Chub had changed so much. Too much for his taste.

‘Oh, for Pete’s sake, it’s a woman, isn’t it?’ Chub sighed. ‘Are you riddled with guilt because of Kath?’

His words cut so succinctly to the truth that for a moment Mark simply looked at him in shock.

Chub picked up a scone and passed it to him. ‘Eat.’

Mark hesitated and then took the scone from him and bit into it. It was light, crumbly and buttery. The strawberry jam was a perfect foil for the cream, which was cool and refreshing. He closed his eyes as the sensation took him immediately into the past. Evoking all sorts of memories that made him want to cry like a child.

Kathryn.

Guilt lashed him like the flick of a whip as he realised how far he’d stepped away from her these last few weeks.

‘They’re very nice,’ he said with effort, more to fill the awkward silence than because he really wanted to pass on compliments.

‘Yes,’ Chub agreed simply. ‘Better than beer. Though I have some if you want it.’

Mark shook his head. ‘No thanks.’

‘So what’s her name?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mark snapped crossly.

‘Oh well,’ Chub chuckled, ‘we’ve got a whole plate of scones to get through before you need tell me.’ He rubbed his hands and took another. ‘I’m in no hurry.’

The thought of eating that many scones did not appeal to Mark at all. So he said, rather tight-lipped, ‘Her name’s Charlotte.’

‘And you like her.’

‘No,’ Mark barked, ‘I definitely do not like her.’

‘Oh,’ Chub’s eyes widened as he nodded, ‘that bad, is it?’

‘You’re not making any sense.’

Chub held up a hand. ‘Bear with me.’ He took another scone and bit into it before saying, ‘I’m actually rather good at this. I’ve already been responsible for one couple getting together . . . well . . . sort of. The point is –’

‘The point is,’ Mark interrupted, ‘we’re not getting together.’

Chub looked at him and said gently, ‘Why not?’

‘Because –’ Mark opened his mouth and then it shut again, putting his half-eaten scone down on the table, the crumbs in his mouth turning to dust.

‘Kath is dead, Mark,’ Chub said bluntly. ‘She’s been dead for two years and she’s not coming back. It’s sad but it’s reality.’

He flinched at the unfeeling way Chub announced it but his companion continued unheeded. ‘The world has moved on without you. You need to catch up. She would want that. I know she would. All she ever wanted was your happiness.’

It was true. He reached into his pocket and clutched the list she had written for him. He even had it in black and white. So what was holding him back? Why couldn’t he leave this limbo? Why couldn’t he move on?

‘All that’s standing in your way now is fear,’ said Chub as though Mark had asked these questions out loud.

Fear.

Yes. He was
afraid
. Afraid of putting this heart on the chopping block again and waiting for that knife to fall . . . as it always did. Nothing good in his life ever endured for long. He swallowed hard, seeming to stare into the deep dark chasm of his own demise.

‘You know,’ Chub picked up another scone, ‘when we were friends, back when I spoke to you and you used to speak back –’

Mark winced.

‘– you gave me a lot of interesting advice. Much of it was about risk taking. I guess ’cause you’re a project manager, everything was always about the big picture. The finish line, you used to call it. Without your advice I never would have gone to Cape Lambert. Never.’ He took another scone and grimaced. ‘They don’t sell donuts there.
But
my life was stagnating and I just had nothing to look forward to in the city any more. I remembered what you used to say about the big jobs so I took a leap of faith.’ His tone grew low and serious. ‘It was the best thing I ever did for myself. And that’s what you need to do.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Mark responded, once more retreating behind his haughty mask.

‘Okay, to summarise,’ Chub ticked off his fingers. ‘I’ll say it again: big picture, finish line, leap of faith. That’s what you need right now. And maybe a donut or two.’

Just then Annabel walked in carrying two other platters to set on the coffee table – one of cupcakes, the other of mini quiches.

‘
Chub
! Half the scones are gone.’

Chub stood up and kissed his girlfriend. ‘Sorry, honey. I couldn’t stop him.’ Then he looked sternly back at Mark, who stood up.

This was probably a good time to leave, so instead of calling Chub’s bluff he said, ‘On that note, I should go.’ As he turned to head for the front door, his brother-in-law stalled him.

‘Don’t let years go by before I see you again. But next time call first.’

He gave a reluctant smile in response. ‘All right. And thank you.’

Mark spent the next couple of days in Perth trying to read those books he’d borrowed from the library without much success. He’d start one, get bored and then start another until that one lost his interest as well. He was just too distracted to focus.

He’d actually booked himself the entire week off work. But ever since he’d spoken to Chub, he was just itching to get back to the job. Or, if he was truthful . . . back to Charlotte.

He felt as if Chub had released his shackles and he wanted to test this new emotional freedom. He wanted to see how she was doing in her new role. He wanted to enjoy her company without feeling guilty about it.

The more he thought about it, the more he just wanted to head back to Hay Point. Finally, he quit merely pondering and brought his flight forward a few days. Then he returned the unhelpful library books and, in one last attempt to get a good read, went to a bookstore in Perth city and browsed the shelves.

Something had to catch his fancy so he could cross another item from Kathryn’s list. Before his mind knew what his feet were doing he was standing in the Self Help section.

He might have known he’d end up there.

Even miles from Charlotte, subconsciously he still wanted to make a connection. Reading one of her books seemed like a good way to do it, given Emily had said she tended to write about her own experiences. It was almost like discovering a hidden window into her life.