Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (book club reads TXT) 📗

weekend papers,’ says Gloria.

‘Doing homework,’ says Bella.

‘Sticking chewing gum under them,’ adds Sam.

‘Exactly. Timber, especially recycled timber like this,’ Dom thumps the table with his hand, ‘has so much history, mystery. If timber could talk . . .’

‘Go on,’ I say.

‘Too much?’ he asks.

‘Not at all. You’re passionate. I like that. I really like that.’

‘If I could interrupt,’ Gloria says, just as the kids disappear into the other room to watch The Suite Life of Zack and Cody. ‘I found an article in the paper this morning that might be of interest to you both. About Gracie. You remember Gracie Gardener, don’t you, Dom?’

‘Darlene, you mean? Yeah, she was infatuated with me at one time.’

‘You never told me that,’ I say.

‘See, you don’t know everything about me.’

‘Did you ever give her one?’ Gloria asks him.

‘Certainly not. When I told her I was saving myself for Lucy, she went ballistic.’

‘Did you really say that?’ I ask.

‘Yes, and I meant it.’

‘So that’s why the slut has hated me for years. I never understood until now.’

‘Do you want me to read this to you or not?’ Gloria says, busting her chops to reveal all.

‘Go ahead, I’m listening,’ I say.

‘Okay,’ Gloria says, getting all dramatic and clearing her throat. ‘Former Australian soap star Gracie Gardener was not let off lightly on charges of welfare fraud because she’s a celebrity, her lawyer says. Not let off lightly, my arse.’

‘Without the running commentary, thank you,’ I say.

‘Gardener, whose most recent role is as Seasons’ femme fatale, was sentenced to a six-month jail sentence and two-year good behaviour bond with a non-parole period of three months. The thirty-eight-year-old -’

‘Thirty-eight!’ I cut in. ‘I knew it. That lying bitchy witch. I knew she was older than me and now I have proof.’

‘Now who’s interrupting?’

‘Girls, enough. Gloria, keep reading,’ Dom says.

‘Gardener’s lawyer said the star was relieved to put a “long and arduous period of her life, which she regrets” behind her and that she urged others in her position to “come clean”.’

‘Yeah, right.’

Gloria glares at me before continuing. ‘Gardener was suffering from depression at the time of the offences, after the recent breakdown of her marriage to theatre critic and sometime celebrity spruiker Edwin Cassidy. The prosecution claimed the only reason Gardener stopped drawing the payments was because she was dobbed in by her former husband after she glued his genitals to his abdomen. The defence argued that Ms Gardener “had an inability to face reality” and had suffered a near breakdown after her fraud was brought to light.’

‘Any more?’ I ask.

Gloria raises her eyebrows and goes on. ‘Gardener, best known for her portrayal of the soapie siren Liv the Lush in the long-running TV series The Young Residents, won a Gold Logie in 1994 for the role, and five Silver Logies for other work.’

‘That’s it?’

‘What more do you want?’ Gloria asks.

‘I never knew Gracie loved you, Dom,’ I say.

‘I didn’t say she loved me. She harassed me. Once she came around wearing a full-length black fur coat and very little else.’

‘Charming. How could you resist?’

‘The point is I did resist. I ordered her out of the house, as I remember, and she went crazy.’

‘Excuse me, people. According to the evidence,’ Gloria waves the newspaper in the air, ‘I think you’ll find she’s still a loon.’

Afternoon arrives far sooner than it should. It almost kills me to pack the car for the drive home.

‘Before you go,’ says Dom, ‘I want to show you something.’

My gaze is instantly drawn to his crotch.

‘Not that,’ he says, giving me a nudge. ‘Though, on second thoughts . . .’

‘Okay, okay,’ I say, laughing. ‘What do you want to show me?’

‘My little workshop over here.’ He points to a large building close by.

‘I assume you keep cars, decrepit tractors in here, that sort of thing,’ I say when we arrive at the roller door.

‘Not quite.’

He opens the automatic door and turns on the light. Bella and Sam scurry in behind us.

‘This is so cool,’ Sam says. ‘So you make all this stuff, the chairs and everything?’

‘Sure do. I’m out here most days, making furniture - like tables.’

‘My table,’ I say, tears welling in my eyes.

‘Afraid so.’

‘Wow, I knew you were an amazing sculptor, but these pieces . . .’ I run my hand over a recycled hardwood sideboard.

‘They’re so distinctive. Original. I can’t believe it.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing. It’s just that when I knew you, you were working with copper wire and making plasticine models.’

‘Fair call, but then I decided I’d had enough of copper.

I wanted to work with wood, so I started doing bits and pieces of furniture. I find it incredibly soothing.’

‘It’s all so beautiful, Dom. I bet you can’t keep up with demand.’

‘Yeah. What I thought would be a quiet venture is turning out to be huge. Word of mouth in a small town is incredible. I started making tables, but now I’m making every piece of household furniture you can imagine - sideboards, TV cabinets, beds.’

‘Where do you find the wood?’

Dom coughs. ‘Timber.’

‘Timber,’ I say, smiling.

‘I search demolition sites, go to country yard sales, travel around Australia attending timber auctions. It’s fascinating -’

‘Because of the history and the mystery?’ Gloria interrupts.

‘Yes, brat girl, exactly. And I make practical, functional pieces that’ll hopefully be around well into next century -’

‘Unless there’s a fire.’

‘Gloria!’ I say.

‘Joking! Geez. I get it. Timber - it’s a living thing, one of a kind, yada, yada.’

* * *

Dom and I don’t get a chance to talk alone. So when we leave, I feel awkward, sad and confused. I’m torn, and hesitate at the car door while the kids pile in.

‘Come on, Mum,’ Bella says. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’

Why is Dom just standing there? Why doesn’t he hug me, say something, anything? But he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask me to stay. He doesn’t cry or throw a tantrum. He just calmly watches while I reluctantly get into the driver’s seat.

‘So, we’ll catch up in another twelve or so years?’ I say feebly and start the