In last week’s instalment Annie comes very close to kissing Anton.
Now read On . . .
Anton kneels on the kitchen floor, digging away and pulling up the antiquated tiles with a metal tool and his bare fingers. The noise this makes sounds awful and feels as if he is ripping pages out of the story my family wrote within this very kitchen; the time Cat taught me to tap dance with silver buttons super glued to my plimsolls, the time she stomped from one end of the kitchen to another when Mum said she couldn’t go to Ann Beckett’s sixteenth birthday party because there were too many big boys going and Ann’s parents wouldn’t be home. The time Mum danced and sang ‘S Wonderful. She moved like Audrey Hepburn dancing with Fred Astaire after she and I had just watched him singing that song in Funny Face. Anton’s work is noticeably louder than Mum’s old CD player which he has on, a Sarah Vaughan album turned up full, making the speakers tremble with distortion. Anton had sniffed at the battered and aged CD player earlier but not at the take away meal I’d brought home for us to share.
‘You can’t play Sarah in this thing. It’s pre-war. It’ll ruin it.’
‘Don’t be such a snob. It works fine.’ I’d reeled kitchen paper off the holder for us to use as napkins. ‘I know it’s old but Mum was keen to leave it, and some of her music, to keep me company.’
‘Company or a bloody racket,’ he’d said, looking for a non existent equaliser to adjust the sound with when the player has only on/off, play/stop and volume controls.
Supper was nice. We’d sat quietly, neither mentioning the night before. I’d asked about his mother and discovered she had a heart condition that the doctor’s could do very little about apart from prescribing drugs and ordering her to get plenty of rest. She’d had to take early retirement from Hereford Hospital where she’d worked as a specialist nurse practitioner for fifteen years. She’d been a nurse for over thirty years. Anton’s eyes had glistened with sadness when he’d talked about her and the fact that she never ranked any higher in her career and would loved to have done. I could tell he loves his mum.
Now, as I sit in the living room, pretending to read a book, I listen to the ripping up of floor tiles, Anton’s puffs and sighs and his occasional expletives when the tiles won’t come up as they should and I’m hoping he’s being careful and won’t hurt himself.
The phone rings and I see Reef’s number come up. He’s been busy for days so I haven’t seen or heard anything of him or Noé all week. I’m coming close to finishing my painting of him. I’d mixed together the perfect skin tone and I was happy with the way I’d captured his dimple. When I felt overwhelmed by the painting process I sketched a picture of Noé from one I’d taken of him in the garden when he last visited. Noé sat crossed legged on the grass and Rosie was sprawled over his thighs looking like a huge fluffy cushion, one that purred and whose ears twitched towards me, warning me not to come too close. Noé was the one she wanted to hang out with.
When I answer the phone and say hello to Reef, I hear Noé chuckling and telling me in a giddy voice that it’s him and not Daddy speaking.
‘I can tell,’ I say with a laughter in my voice. ‘How have you been?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says as if he’s singing a line from a nursery line. Reef says something in the background. ‘I’m fine, Annie.’
‘Good. I’m glad to hear it. What have you been up to?’
‘I don’t know. Well, getting a teacher and getting pizza. Can you come to my house please?’ He holds the ‘ea’ in please as if it’s coming out of a long squeaky tube.
‘One day,’ I say, aware that Reef hasn’t called since Monday and I’m hoping against hope that he won’t cancel our date to Becs’ engagement party. ‘Can I speak to Daddy?’
There’s a shuffling sound and I hear Noé squeal at something and his footsteps thudding across the wooden floorboards.
‘Hey, you,’ Reef breathes down the phone. ‘I’ve missed you. I know it’s been less than a week, but still.’
‘I sort of have my hands full at the moment, anyway. They’ve started work on the house.’ And by they I mean Anton but I don’t want to let Reef know I’m alone with a man in my house. ‘And you must’ve been busy with Noé, right?’
‘Tell me about it. I had to find him a tutor. I was getting to it but Natalia called to say she’d arranged interviews and the tutors, who incidentally have to speak Spanish, French as well as English to keep up with his language skills, were all lined up to come here. She gave them interview dates without checking with me so I had to stay here and sort all that out. I mean, I thought I was on it but turns out I’m dragging my heels.’
‘Natalia said that?’
‘I know, right? And she not only arranged the interviews with an agency she also arranged to be a part of them via Zoom. There was Natalia lying on a massage table in her hotel with a physio bloke rubbing her calves, the poor tutor sitting on the edge of the sofa trying to answer Natalia’s questions while little Noé had his face up in the camera asking his mum when she’s coming home? It was embarrassing. I agreed with you when you said it’s only weeks before regular schools pack up for Christmas holidays. I can’t see why she won’t let the kid have some time off. Have some fun. I’ve got practically a whole floor of new toys for Noé to play with. I know what I’d want if I was six years old.’
‘Maybe she thinks he needs consistency.’
‘Consistency? Consistency would be her staying in one country long enough for him to know where his socks are kept. She has no idea.’
This sounds like a well worn rant on Reef’s part and I don’t feel at liberty to comment. I just think that what Noé needs is a routine so he knows which parent he’s living with, when and for how long. Not to feel as though he is being left behind all the time. I remember the fat tears rolling down his cheeks, shiny even in the dim hallway and the despair of being left alone overnight with someone he’s known for two seconds. I swallow my opinion down hard. In the end it’s up to them to decide. I can hear running and playing in the background, Noé telling Reef to make Annie come for pizza and to bring Rosie.
‘Hey, Annie, I’m all done here. I’ll see you in the morning?’ Anton says and ducks out to gather his things.
‘Who was that?’ says Reef, in a not so casual way.
‘My builder,’ I say. ‘Finished for the day.’
‘It’s late,’ he says. ‘It’s evening not day.’
‘True but he wants to get a head start on tomorrow.’
‘So he’s there again, tomorrow?’
‘Yes. They are.’ I feel as though I should protect Reef from knowing that it’s just me and Anton.
‘Noé keeps asking to see you so how about we come to you tomorrow night? Bring pizza?’
‘Is that our thing, now? Us three and pizza?’
‘Well, why not? It’s the boy’s favourite food at the moment.’
‘Um …’ I hear the front door close and the house is quiet again. ‘Yes, that would be nice. Really nice. We could make our own pizza. I’ll make bases and Noé and I … well, the three of us could do the toppings together.’
‘That’s a brilliant idea.’
‘What time will you come?’
‘I don’t know, five o’clock?’
‘Perfect.’
After I end the call I send a message to Anton asking if tomorrow he could be finished, cleared up and gone by five. He answers in the affirmative and I feel a sense of relief that he and Reef won’t run into each other. I haven’t done anything seriously wrong. I didn’t give in to temptation and kiss Anton and I’m not exactly engaged to be married to Reef. So why I do feel like I’m in the throws of a wild affair?
Gripped by guilt and panic, I run a lavender scented bath and try to settle my rambling mind. I take deep breaths, put on some fleecy pyjamas, pull all my hair into a pineapple and tie a silk scarf around it. For good measure, I rub lavender on my temples and climb into bed. After some deep breaths into my stomach and some audible sighing I try to relax my body for sleep. How much of it or when it will come is anyone’s guess. I give up trying after fifteen minutes of pillow pummelling and rolling from side to side so many times to get comfortable. I suspect my pineapple bunch is a mess and my hair probably looks like a bird’s nest. I get up. Instead of heading out I sit up and start a video call to Mum. It takes a while for her to answer and when she does, Cat is beside her and her two children are running amok in the background.
‘Hey Annie,’ Cat says. ‘You look like Marge Simpson. When are you going to do something about your hair?’
‘Thanks Cat, not everyone can be blessed with your perfect hair.’
‘Whatever. How are you sis?’
‘Not bad. I can see the children are fine. No school?’
‘Teacher’s training, so no.’ Cat rolls her eyes and doesn’t turn to acknowledge her kids even though one of them is screaming and being chased out of the room by the other who is waving a foam sword.’
‘And you’re still up Annie.’ Mum pushes her face close to the screen, lines converging into the middle of her forehead. ‘No sleep for you again?’
‘Just take some drugs,’ says Cat and both she and Mum settle back into her wicker sofa. They look beautiful, dressed for summer, bronzed by the 22°C average temperatures for November. Cat’s long hair is plaited in one braid that sits in front of her shoulder. She looks younger than the last time we spoke, fresh, with no make up and one of her spaghetti straps dipping off the other shoulder. Mum wears a floral summer dress of dusky pink and cream. Her thick and wavy hair is mostly grey now and past her collar. There are laughter lines visible along her cheeks and the sides of her eyes. They used to look like worry lines when she was here but Mum seems to be in a much happier place now. Cat messaged me about the great medical care she is having, how good she is at keeping up her medication and how she finally talks about the future in a positive way and looks forward to things at last. One of those is me having a good long sleep.
‘It’s fine, Mum. Being up all night is kind of me now. But it might be nice to hear you sing again.’
There is a loud bang from elsewhere in Mum’s house. Cat leaps up and runs out through the open door to the kitchen demanding to know what on earth is going on. Mum pulls her phone closer and her sunny face fills my screen.
‘You look worried, my love,’ she says. ‘Are the ladies looking after you okay?’
‘They’re all amazing and they’re always there for me. Don’t worry about that.’
‘I worry about you. How are the renovations going?’
‘Really well. The builder Bea suggested is brilliant, just as she said. I’m definitely in safe hands.’
‘That’s good to know.’ Mum’s face freezes for a second as I begin to tell her about Anton coming into the studio and really liking my artwork, how embarrassed that made me feel and that I was short with him because, as she knows, that kind of attention never brings out the best in me. I told her that he and I are on much better terms but I don’t tell her about the almost kiss. That will pass. Both he and I will forget all about it. Anton will finish the work and leave and hopefully by then, whatever is happening between me and Reef will finally begin to happen.
‘By the way, Mum.’ I say as light and as casually as I can. ‘I went on a date.’
‘You did?’ The picture stutters again and I’m not sure if I’ve missed her next question. When I see her smiling I decide it better to play things down. The knitters had already shown concern about Reef leaving Noé with me overnight and I don’t want to give Mum anything to worry about.
‘He’s nice, good looking but it’s early days.’
‘That all sounds positive, darling. Keep me posted won’t you? What’s his …’
We hear Cat in the background shout that the pair of them have to sit quietly and drink some milk. ‘Maybe I need to intervene,’ says Mum with a sideways smile tugging her cheek. Mum’s accent is spread with a heavier helping of Adelaide than it was before, even Cat sounds Australian but then, with all her theatrical ways, it’s what I’d expect of her. She comes back into view now.
‘I don’t suppose you want me to package my two up and send them over to you for Christmas do you?’ she says as she flops into the sofa and Mum adjusts the position of her phone.
‘Only if you can come too. I miss you all.’
‘I miss you too, sis, but close your eyes now. Get some sleep. You look old.’
‘How did I get to have such a lovely sister?’
‘Just luck, I suppose.’ She blows a kiss and heads back to her children.
‘I love you, Annie,’ Mum says. ‘But do settle into bed and rest.’ Mum looks at her wristwatch. ‘It’s gone midnight. Put on some music and drift off.’
‘Will do.’
Lines appear on the screen and a jagged still of Mum blowing a kiss is the last I see of her. She’ll get back to the grandchildren. It must be their lunchtime.
In the YouTube search bar I type: Jazz Music for Sleep and click play on an eight hour recording which lifts me into a state of calm. Calm enough to smooth over the cracks left by my sleep demons. And as the sultry tones of a tenor saxophone plays Until There Was You I fall asleep with images of two men moving like clouds through the other thoughts in my mind. I manage three hours of a deep, heavy sleep until I awake in the wee small hours of the morning. Everyone on my side of the world is fast asleep.