The Seven Steps to Closure (7 page)

‘She’s probably just working on that case she was talking about,’ said Dinah.

‘You mean the case she wasn’t speaking about,’ retorted Elaine.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Well didn’t you notice that she didn’t tell us anything about it? I know client confidentiality and everything, but normally she gives us a little whiff of what she’s working on. I think she’s up to something.’

‘What Nat? No,’ I said, ‘not Nat.’ I paused for a second. ‘Like what?’ I asked curiously.

‘I’m not sure. Have you noticed lately that she’s been super happy?’

‘It looks like she may get her promotion,’ I responded.

‘Not that sort of happy – more a suppressed, excited, I’ve got a secret, happy. And then that stuff she said the other morning after your birthday party.’

‘What stuff?’

‘All that stuff about changing the energy in your life. Oh and that bit about who says meaningless sex can’t become meaningful sex. It definitely triggered my suspicion bone.’

While most people have funny bones, Elaine has a suspicion bone. She is always the first to question something, find the hole in your story or confront you with a lie you’ve told. She’s really very good. Almost like a human lie detector. For quite a while now I’ve been saying the FBI should employ her to question suspects. When we first became friends, I used to think she was a cruel pessimist – always the one to accuse some poor woman of murder when her toddler went missing and was found floating dead in a nearby pond. The thing was – over the years – I realised she was normally right. And without question, a few days after I had accused her of being a heartless shrew, that woman would be taken in for questioning and charged with the murder. Of course I would then have to perform a seriously grovelling apology for the heartless shrew comments. So when Elaine said she thought Nat was up to something, you had to sit up and pay attention.

‘No not Nat,’ I said, more out of loyalty than conviction.

But in the cab on the way to the movie, as we chatted about our week, I found myself wondering. What was Nat up to?

Ahhhh, the joys of clothes shopping: the smell of the leather shoes, the feel of the fabrics under my fingertips, the sight of my dimpled white ass glowing in the fluorescent lighting. I was a vision to behold in the outfit I had just squeezed into. It had taken me a good five minutes to get the pants up. I had struggled and jumped up and down in the dressing room, until the sales assistant – hearing the moaning and groaning – had come to the door to see if I was all right.

‘I’m just great,’ I said in my best now-piss-off-and-leave-me-alone voice.

‘How does it look?’ asked Elaine brightly, from the other side of the door.

‘Fine and dandy, if you like muffin tops.’

‘How bad can it be?’

‘You have no idea.’

‘Are you ready to show me?’

‘Promise not to laugh.’

‘You know I can’t promise that,’ she said.

I undid the lock and opened the door just enough to give one of Elaine’s eyes access to the disaster in the change room.

‘Oh dear,’ she said on viewing the pants. I had pulled them up as far as possible but the zip was only one inch long. I mean seriously how were you meant to wear these? Exactly what body shape had they been designed for?

‘Jump up and down,’ she said.

I jumped about five centimetres off the ground a couple of times. I could feel the part of me flowing over the top of the waistband wobbling on when the rest of me had stopped. It was disconcerting.

‘Bend over.’ Elaine was obviously curious as to how far we could push the limits of the shiny, disco club material.

I bent over as far as I could without ripping open the back of the pants, which was not very far. When I stood back up, a small amount of pubic hair popped over the top of the pants. I saw Elaine’s eyebrows shoot up as she started giggling.

Unfortunately the shop assistant chose that exact moment to join Elaine, and pulled open the door to get a better look. I squealed in horror and held both hands over the offending tuft of hair. Elaine was doing her darndest not to laugh out loud. Her eyes were filled with barely suppressed mirth and her face was turning as red as mine felt. She probably would have made it, if the sales assistant hadn’t chosen that precise moment to say, ‘Mmmm. They look quite nice.’

Elaine started howling with laughter. She thumped the door with her hand as tears rolled down her face.

‘Are you serious?’ I asked the sales girl incredulously as I pulled the door shut.

Elaine was hanging onto the cubicle for support, struggling to get a breath around her laughter. Finally when she had it under control she asked, ‘Have you got them off yet?’

‘No,’ I replied sullenly.

‘Why ever not?’

‘Tried. Can’t.’

That set her off again, and I had to wait for another humiliating minute until she had gained enough self-control to come in and help me.

‘Tara, how did you get them up?’

‘Pure determination.’

She grabbed the top of my pants and started wrestling them down. Everything was progressing swimmingly, until she got them half way down my thighs. I had begun to sweat and they were sticking to me like the skin on a sausage. One minute I was standing there relatively calmly while Elaine huffed and puffed and pulled and pushed, and the next I lost my balance and started swaying on the spot like a tree about to fall.

‘Oohahoohaahoooa,’ I said, sounding an awful lot like a monkey, and then I toppled onto Elaine. We went crashing out the change room door and into the aisle, where I lay flopping around like a fish, with my pants half way down.

‘Well,’ said Elaine, clambering up and grabbing the pants around my thighs, ‘you can’t say shopping with you is boring.’

I lifted my hips off the ground to assist her determined effort. The shop assistant hovered in the entry, watching us with a look of dismay on her face. Elaine swivelled around and smiled sweetly at her. ‘Nearly got them,’ she assured her before resuming her tugging.

‘That is why I hate clothes shopping,’ I informed Elaine, as we left the shop.

‘Rubbish,’ she said poo-pooing me, ‘you just need to try on the right clothes for your body shape. No more tight pants.’ Which I thought was pretty unfair, seeing as how the pants had been her idea in the first place.

‘I think we should start with the shoes.’ My stomach let out a huge gurgle.

‘Coffee first?’ suggested Elaine, turning into a café.

‘And cheesecake,’ I said, ‘although if those pants are anything to go by I’m going to have to do a killer session at the gym this afternoon.’

‘I might join you,’ said Elaine, patting her own perfectly flat stomach.

We ordered our coffee and cake and then relaxed at a booth while we waited.

‘Have you heard from Nat?’ asked Elaine.

‘Oh sorry, I meant to tell you. I had a text from her this morning.’

‘So, she’s alive.’

‘Yep. I still can’t believe she didn’t show the other night.’

‘I have a feeling all will be revealed tonight.’

‘Why?’

‘Because whatever it is, it’s coming to a head. If we were to graph the events we would note that the out of character occurrences are becoming larger and more frequent; a bit like a volcano working up to a full eruption.’

‘Or a serial killer,’ I suggested.

We looked at each other and laughed.

‘No, not a serial killer,’ I said.

Our coffees and cake arrived and we were silent while we added sugar and stirred.

Elaine took a sip of her coffee and sighed. ‘What are you getting Dinah for her birthday?’

‘I haven’t got a clue. I have however made a booking at a restaurant in Darling Harbour for dinner.’

‘It’s the Friday night right?’

‘Yep. I hope she’s better behaved on her thirtieth birthday than I was.’

‘That wouldn’t be too hard.’

‘You know she’s invited Creepy Doug?’

‘Uhhuh. She told me the other night. That guy gives me the heebie jeebies.’

‘Me too. I hope he doesn’t ruin her birthday.’

I placed a little bit of the cheesecake in my mouth and rolled it around, trying to coat as many tastebuds at once as possible. I sighed. Baked – my favourite.

‘Are you bringing anyone?’ I asked curiously. I wasn’t sure whom Elaine was seeing at the moment. They never lasted long, and to me they all looked alike; young and handsome with good bodies.

‘Most probably, I’m still considering it. I know what we can get Dinah,’ she exclaimed, waiving her fork around. ‘She’s been eyeing off this silver cutlery set. It’s lovely. Very simple and elegant, if the three of us go in together we can get it.’

‘Great. I’ll text Nat and see if she’s interested. Maybe we can get it on Thursday night.’

Elaine nodded and took a final sip of her coffee. ‘Hurry up and finish your cake,’ she said, indicating her own empty plate. ‘We’ve got a new wardrobe to acquire.’

In the end I bought three pairs of shoes (Elaine bought two). A fantastic pair of beige pumps with material that wound around my ankles a couple of times before tying in a bow, a pair of fire-engine red heels that I was secretly sure I would never wear, but Elaine had insisted I buy, and a pair of classy black evening shoes with a small chain of diamantes running around each ankle. We bought outfits to go with each of these.

For the pumps a flowy white dress that just oozed elegance. For the red heels a tight fitted, sexy little red number that had given me a squirmy belly at the thought of wearing it in public. And for the diamante shoes a classy black dress with no sleeves, a cinched in waist and a flowing skirt that came to just below my knees. It swished when I turned and I loved it.

I also bought a few casual shirts and two pairs of pants. Elaine was finally satisfied with my purchases – for which I was eternally grateful as my back had started to ache and I had a slight headache.

As she dropped me off she said, ‘Ooh. Don’t forget. Step number three on Monday night.’

‘Meaningless sex?’ I asked in alarm.

‘No silly, get a new hobby.’

‘Thank God.’ I breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘What are we doing?’

‘It’s a surprise. But you know those little, black exercise shorts you have?’

‘Yep.’

‘Wear them.’

* * *

When I got home, I opened the front door slowly and experimentally sniffed the air, sighing in relief when I detected nothing disgusting. We had had another pooping incident the other day and I was starting to get a bit nervous about what I would find when I arrived home. I had considered calling Dr Harry, but I didn’t want to be on T.V.

Princess was asleep on her bed when I walked in. Her toys were scattered, which was good as it meant she had been keeping herself occupied. I took a couple of Nurofen, gave Princess a pat and headed into my room for a sleep. I stopped, horrified. My bed was covered in big chunks of glass. I was so scared I couldn’t think or move. Eventually, I realised the glass was from the picture hanging above my bed. I looked around for a stone or something hard that had smashed the glass, and then realised that all my windows were shut. Whoever had done this had been inside my apartment.

Another couple of minutes of horror induced paralysis followed. Feeling like a victim in a CSI episode, I slowly backed into the lounge, searching the shadows for an intruder. When I was sure there was no-one in the flat I sat on the couch to think. Princess meowed and made her way over to me. She was limping. Concerned I picked her up and found a small shard of glass in her front right foot. ‘Oh poor baby,’ I cooed, as I pulled it out.

I started to examine her whole body and found another cut on her head. Perplexed I examined the wound. The foot I could understand, she had jumped up onto the bed to sleep and stepped on the broken glass. But her head? Well that was another matter.

I thought about it for a while as I raided my first aid kit for betadine and band aids and then stopped as a possible cause for the broken glass occurred to me.

No, surely not.

I walked back to the bedroom with Princess and looked at the height from the bed to the print. It was doable, but why?

I rang Mum.

‘Yes Mum, I think she jumped up and broke the glass on the print above my bed with her head?’ I said a few minutes later.

‘That’s ridiculous Tara. Why on earth would she do that?’

‘I don’t know Mum, you tell me – you’re the one that rescued her.’

‘No sane animal would do something like that,’ she said.

‘That’s what I’m worried about.’

‘Maybe she hated the print.’

‘Mother!’

‘Well it is a bit weird. All those swirls and dots.’

‘It’s contemporary art,’ I replied coldly.

‘It couldn’t have been her.’

‘Well Mum, if she didn’t do it then someone broke into my apartment and did it. I’m actually not sure which one of those options I would prefer. Look, I’ve got to go and clean up the mess. Can you just ask one of the vets from work about it? Thanks, love you.’ I blew kisses down the phone and hung up. Princess was watching me with her big, innocent blue eyes. ‘Don’t you dare say anything,’ I warned her.

Wearily I started to clean the glass off the doona. In the end I carried the whole thing into the laundry and shook it very carefully out into the tub before putting it on to wash. As I was heading in to remake the bed my phone rang. I sighed – so much for my nice long nap.

It was my sister, Lily. ‘I hear you’ve got a psycho cat.’

‘Good news travels fast I see.’

‘I hope she doesn’t try to smother you.’

‘What?’ I asked in alarm, thinking about the chest sitting incident.

‘Well some cats have been known to try and smother newborn babies whom they see as competition. Seeing as yours is such a nut she might try to smother you.’

‘Cut it out Lily,’ I complained. ‘It’s bad enough imagining her jumping up to break the glass.’

‘I wonder how many goes it took her?’

‘I don’t want to even think about it.’

‘All right, so when do I get to see your new hairdo?’

‘What are you up to tomorrow?’

‘Well, I’m free up until lunch time, and then I have to have Rose at ballet at 2.30pm and then Lotus does tap at 3.00pm. Then I drop Petunia at Wing Chun by 3.30pm, which thankfully goes for 2 hours, so it gives me time to drop Tulip and Blossom off at gymnastics. Then I pick them all up again and feed them dinner.’

‘They do all that on a Sunday?’

‘No, Saturday.’

‘Lil,’ I tried to break the bad news gently, ‘today is Saturday.’

There was about ten seconds of deafening silence on the other end of the phone and then all hell broke loose.

‘Rose,’ she shrieked down the phone. I winced and moved the receiver away from my ear. ‘Lotus, get your stuff ready. I want you in the car in 5 minutes.’

I checked my watch. It was 2.20pm.

‘Martin, Martin. Oh damn it, where is he?’

‘Japan?’ I suggested helpfully.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone and then, very softly, she uttered some expletives that the girls were definitely not meant to hear.

‘Gotta go,’ she finally said. ‘This placenta brain thing really sucks. Brunch tomorrow?’

‘Sounds good. I’ll bring the food. See you then.’

I hung up and headed wearily back to my bed. My feelings of pity for Lil lasted the amount of time it took me to remake the bed and the sixty seconds beyond that. Then I was fast asleep.

* * *

In the end it was Elaine who cracked the Nat nut. Natalie was once again the last to arrive for dinner. When I say once again, I mean once again in recent events. I am usually the last one to arrive – although sometimes Dinah and I take it in turns. Elaine is always smack bang on time. Normally Nat is exactly 5 minutes early for everything. She says it gives her time to focus – which I guess is a handy thing when you are a lawyer.

We were onto our second glass of wine when she rushed in. Her long hair, normally perfectly coiffure, was tousled and her blouse was incorrectly buttoned.

‘What happened to you?’ I exclaimed in horror, thinking she’d been mugged on the way to the restaurant.

‘Problem at work, all sorted now,’ she mumbled as she took a seat.