The Memories We Hide

Chapter 2

2

Banyula was a typical country town, big enough to be more than a speck on the map, but small enough that it felt more like a community than a town. At least, that’s how Laura remembered it. Her mum had told her about the changing weather patterns and the effects on the local farmers, and there was growing concern about the lack of jobs in the area to keep people around, especially with the relocation of the textile mill to a more viable location. And there was, of course, the other mill that kept small towns running, and running hot: the gossip mill. Everyone knew everyone’s business, or at least they thought they did. That was something Laura liked about the big city. No one cared. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own lives to worry about anyone else’s, which Laura knew wasn’t a great thing either, but it had suited her, especially when she’d first moved to Melbourne. No one really asked where she was from. She was able to get away with brushing over details and waving things off, always turning the conversation back to the other person. You couldn’t do that in a place like Banyula.

The sun hung low in the western sky as Laura hit the outskirts of the township. A mass of clouds with undertones of dark gray gathered along the distant ranges. The gas station, which had once been a bright welcoming beacon with its large golden shell sign, was now boarded up, the sign faded and dull. There was a new electronics store a bit farther along, its hot pink façade almost insulting to the ranges and slopes on the horizon. Laura indicated, taking a left turn to avoid the main street. She wasn’t ready to be seen by anyone just yet, though she wondered how long she could remain unnoticed, then scoffed at the thought. No more than five minutes, probably.

Laura saw the railway line up ahead, jutting as always through the quiet streets, separating one side of town from the other. There was no way around it, only over. She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white and her chest feeling like it held a flock of panicked birds within, their wings beating at her ribs trying to escape. She almost closed her eyes as her Mazda 3 bumped over the lines and then onto the smooth asphalt of the other side. She pulled to the curb a hundred meters up the road and exhaled.

Laura’s heart calmed after a minute, and she looked at her childhood home. The weatherboards were not as white as she remembered, now tinged cream with age. The purple clematis bush had overtaken the front corner of the garden, stringy and overgrown, a willy wagtail dancing from side to side upon one of the vines without a care in the world. The pale, blue-front picket fence that Laura had helped her mum paint when she was eight was peeling and weather beaten, and the red tin roof was faded from too many relentless, hot summers that this part of the country knew all too well.

After grabbing her bags, Laura followed the concrete path to the front door, avoiding the cracks like she used to when she was younger. She glanced over her shoulder, feeling as if someone was watching her, and noticed Mrs. Hatfield peeking out from behind her curtains in the red brick bungalow across the street. She had to be at least ninety now. She gave Laura a nod from her worn face and disappeared behind the lace.

‘Mum?’ Laura called softly as she opened the front door, pausing before stepping across the scratched wooden threshold. She placed her bags against the wall and walked slowly down the hallway. Her old bedroom was to her left, the living room to her right, and at the end of the hall, the kitchen. Tears pricked at her eyes as she pictured herself running down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under her feet, as her mum called her for dinner. ‘Stop running down the hall! You sound like an elephant!’ her mother would call out.

The kitchen was just as she remembered. The old-style kettle, pale blue with a white dove on the end of the spout that whistled when it came to a boil, sat in its usual place at the center of the stovetop. Matching blue-and-white tea towels hung from the door of the wood-burning stove. The iconic blue-and-white willow-patterned dinner set was still proudly displayed on the wooden shelves. Below on the counter, Judy’s favorite teacup—the Wedgwood ‘Daisy’ blue—sat lonely on its matching saucer. Laura picked up the cup and ran her finger around the gold rim, which had faded due to accidental meetings with the dishwasher over time. ‘This teacup does not go in the dishwasher, Laura,’ her mum’s voice echoed in her head. ‘See! The gold is wearing away.’

A warm tear ran down Laura’s cheek. She placed the cup back on the saucer and walked through the back sitting room and toward her mum’s bedroom. She could smell a hint of White Diamonds—her mum’s favorite perfume—the subtle scent of rose, jasmine, and sandalwood ingrained in the walls.

‘Mum?’ Laura pushed open the door slowly to see her mother lying peacefully under the rose-patterned quilt. Although the room was dim thanks to the blinds, Laura’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Judy. Her face was soft, but the fleshy cheeks Laura used to love kissing were now sunken into her angled cheekbones. And her mum’s hair, once thick and shiny, fell limp and dull beside her head. Laura was torn between wanting to hold her mother and sob or running away. She looked away, blinking back the tears.

‘Laura? Is that you?’

‘Yes, Mum. It’s me.’ Laura turned back, smiled, and then fell onto the bed embracing her mother, the tears falling freely.

‘Oh, darling. I’ve missed you.’

‘Me too, Mum. Me too.’

That evening Laura fell into her old bed and pulled the covers to her chin. Seeing her mother like this had caught her more off guard than she’d expected. Guilt weighed heavily on her heart, regret cutting into her chest for being so selfish the past ten years. For letting her self-centered problems come between her and her mother, rendering Laura paralyzed and unable to return home all these years. Judy had made the effort to visit Laura in the city a couple of times each year, including every Christmas—except the last one. Now Laura had to make up for all those years. She had to cram a lifetime of memories into whatever time they had left.

Laura swallowed her emotions. She’d be strong for her mother. She’d put aside her past and focus solely on Judy. She’d make sure of it.

Laura woke early the next morning, the quiet surroundings both familiar and strange after being in the city for so long. She looked at her phone. It was only 7:30 a.m., but Laura decided to get up and get a head start on the day. While preparing some pancakes, Laura looked up to see her mum appear in the doorway of the kitchen.

‘Mum, should you be up and about?’

‘Oh, Laura. Stop fussing. But I could use a nice hot cup of tea.’

Laura helped her mum into a chair at the table and poured her tea from the pot she’d just made.

‘It’s so good to have you here,’ Judy said, reaching her hand across to Laura’s.

‘It’s good to be here.’

‘Now, I don’t want you fussing over me, okay? Just having you here is enough for now. There will be a time …,’ Judy sighed and stared into her tea, ‘soon, when, well …’

‘Mum. It’s okay. I’m here, and that’s all that matters for now.’

Judy looked up at Laura and smiled. ‘You’re right. That’s all that matters.’

Laura spent the next few days reminiscing with her mum, recalling times of both joy and heartbreak, but most of all just being with each other. Laura hadn’t ventured out, apart from sneaking down to the supermarket first thing yesterday morning in her baseball cap and sunglasses, like some sort of celebrity wanting to slip under the radar. And it had worked. She hadn’t run into anyone who had recognized her. But she also knew that wouldn’t last long.

‘Mum?’ Laura said, poking her head around into the living room, which smelled like a fresh spring day thanks to the late autumn roses Laura had picked from the back garden and arranged into a vase on the mantle.

Judy opened her eyes from her chair by the window. The dated Jason recliner, with soft pink velvet fabric that was now faded and worn, had a reclining action that would cause a screech louder than car tires when it reclined.. It had always been Judy’s favorite. To Laura, the chair was as much a part of the family as anything.

‘Just resting my eyes,’ Judy said as she slowly edged herself up. ‘It’s lovely here by the window in the morning, even though there’s not much sun.’

‘This came for you,’ Laura said, handing her mum an envelope with a beachscape printed across the bottom. ‘I think it’s a postcard inside.’

Judy took the letter. ‘Can you pass my glasses, honey?’ Judy motioned toward the floral glasses case on the side table. Laura opened the case, pulled out the bright purple frames and handed them to her mum.

Judy slid them onto her face, twitched her nose to adjust them, and ran her finger underneath the seal of the envelope. As she pulled out the postcard, Laura saw a line of camels parading across sand in front of a burnt orange sunset, the words Broome – The Pearl of the North emblazoned on the front in bold block letters. Judy flipped the postcard over, and Laura watched her eyes scan the short message.

‘Who’s in Broome?’ Laura asked, puzzled.

‘Janet and Mac Gordon.’

Laura shifted on the couch, smoothing down a frayed piece of fabric. Tom’s parents. Guilt crawled down Laura’s spine like a spider as she thought of Tom. Of how, after what happened to Ryan, she left so suddenly, cutting off all ties with Tom, her closest and oldest friend.

‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’

Laura stood up. ‘What’s wonderful?’ she said, adjusting the roses.

‘That Tom’s taken over the farm and Jan and Mac are off traveling. They always wanted to. As much as ol’ Mac poo-hooed the idea for so long. And now, they’re having the time of their lives, at least according to Janet. I’m sure Mac’s still pulling on his grumpy pants now and then, though.’ Judy chuckled warmly.

‘How is Tom doing?’ she asked, attempting to make her voice light.

‘Tom? Busy on the farm, of course, but that’s what he’s always loved. He calls in once a week or so to say hi.’

Laura turned to face her mother. ‘To see you? You never told me that,’ she said, frowning.

‘Really? I’m sure I did.’ Judy sighed as she leaned the postcard against the windowsill. ‘I’m sure he’ll call around any day now.’

Laura stiffened.

‘You know, you should call him or send him a Chatsnap or whatever it is you do these days,’ she said. ‘He’s always asking after you.’

‘He is?’

‘Whenever I see him, yes.’

‘He’s just being polite.’

‘You know very well it’s more than that, Laura. You and Tom were such good friends. He’s a nice boy, well, man now. I’ve always liked him.’

Laura shrugged the weight off her shoulders.

‘It hit him badly too,’ Judy said with a quiet voice, as if preempting Laura’s reaction.

‘I know, Mum. Please, just leave it.’ Laura leaned against the wall, wishing she didn’t have to take this trip down memory lane again. But it was hard. Everything, everyone, in Banyula screamed her past.

‘Anyway,’ Judy continued. ‘Like I said, I’m sure he’ll be around soon enough.’

Laura recognized the resignation with a touch of distaste in her mother’s voice, and again the tingle of guilt pulsed through Laura’s nerves. ‘Yeah,’ was all she could muster, preferring to cross that bridge when she came to it.

Later that afternoon, as the breeze picked up outside and the trees rustled against the roof, Laura stirred a pot of chicken soup on the stove while Judy rested in her bedroom. Laura had spent the day making a list of what needed to be done around the house. The backyard and front garden needed tending to, the laundry tap was leaking—probably just a washer—and a few of the kitchen cabinet doors needed readjusting. There was, of course, cleaning and packing to be done, but Laura wasn’t ready to tackle any of that. That could wait.

A sharp rap on the glass beside the front door jolted Laura from her thoughts. She turned the gas down on the pot and wiped her hands on a tea towel, glancing at her watch—almost four p.m.

When Laura opened the door, she saw Tom, and it felt like she was transported back in time. Although it had been nearly ten years since she’d seen him, he didn’t look a day older, save for some manly stubble and a few crow’s-feet bordering his sky-blue eyes.

The look on his face also told her he wasn’t expecting Laura to answer the door, as much as she wasn’t expecting to see his face on the other side of it.

‘Tom!’ Laura gasped almost breathlessly.

‘Wow. Laura. I … I didn’t realize you were … I mean …’ Tom fumbled over his words as he turned his Akubra hat in his hands in front of him.

‘Ah, yeah. I’m back. I’m here to look after Mum.’ Laura swallowed.

‘Of course. Yeah. Um …’ Tom ran his hand through his dark curls, his eyes darting from Laura to the ground.

‘You here to see Mum?’

‘Yeah. I usually call around when I’m in town. You know, just to see how she’s doing.’

Laura nodded, opening the door a little wider. ‘Um, come in. She’s just resting.’

‘Oh, no. Don’t wake her. I’ll come back another time.’

Laura’s heart began to settle. ‘You sure?’ She wanted to add something more, like, ‘I’ll make you a cuppa’ or ‘We can catch up while we wait for her to wake.’ But her tongue was caught on the roof of her mouth, something in her tightening chest preventing her from offering.

‘Yeah. I’m in town again in a few days. I’ll call back then.’ Tom put his hat back on his head and nodded.

Laura forced a thin smile. ‘Okay then.’

The air was thick with unspoken words as Tom stepped down the porch before turning back to Laura. ‘It’s good to see you, Laura. Really good.’ And without waiting for a response, he turned and walked down the path.

Laura closed the door and leaned on it, listening as his Ute pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the neighborhood. Her heart thumped, and her eyes spilled fat tears down her cheeks. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.