Sweet Damage (29 page)

Lilla doesn't give up. Instead she uses her other hand to take his free hand and leans back hard so that he's forced to step forward. ‘I won't stop until you have one. And I'm not joking. If you think I am, just ask Tim how persistent I can be.'

Anna wonders if Marcus will hold his ground, and watches with interest as he gives in. He laughs and lets Lilla drag him down the hall, towards the kitchen.

‘I think I'll go and get a drink too,' Tim says. ‘Anna? You want one? And Fiona – are you sure?'

When Tim has gone, Anna turns, smiling, to face Fiona.

‘What on earth are you wearing, Anna?' Fiona says, looking Anna up and down. ‘You look completely different.'

‘Of course I look different!' Anna laughs. ‘Lilla dressed me. And I've got all this eye make-up on. It hasn't smudged down my face or anything, has it?' When Fiona doesn't answer she leans towards her and whispers, ‘Anyway. None of that matters. The important thing is . . . the thing I really can't wait to tell you is that I actually think I might be happy. Really, genuinely happy. Tim and I—'

Fiona jerks away, looks at Anna as if she has smelt something bad. ‘Don't tell me you're starting something with Tim. You're hardly in any kind of emotional state for a new relationship.'

‘But listen,' Anna says. ‘Fiona. I know what Tim's been telling you. He told me. And it's not what you think. The spiders, the paint on the walls, I didn't—'

‘Stop it, Anna. Just stop. Now. I refuse to listen to this . . . to this . . . ' She stops and turns away, starts following the others towards the kitchen. But Anna hears her last muttered words. ‘This insanity.'

75

F
IONA MARCHES INTO THE KITCHEN, LOOKING LIKE SHE
'
S PREPARED
for some kind of war. She pulls a seat from the table and sits down, folding her arms across her chest. Anna appears behind her looking flustered. I look at her quizzically, wondering what has happened, but she just mouths the word ‘later'.

Lilla makes another jug of drinks and forces a big glassful on everyone except Fiona. Anna holds her glass in both hands, and though she lifts it to her mouth, I don't think she actually swallows much. Like me, I know she wants to stay sober, alert. I take the smallest sip I can, barely wetting my lips. Tonight I have to be sharp. Fully present.

We all sit at the kitchen table. Anna sits opposite me and I stretch my legs out, press her feet between mine, a gesture of support, comfort. She flashes me a brief, tense smile.

I'm not sure what the deal is with Fiona, but her face remains dark and angry, and she drinks her water with a sour expression, as if she'd rather be anywhere else. She glares at Marcus every time he takes a drink, and deliberately ignores Lilla.

‘To Fairview.' Lilla lifts her glass in a toast. ‘The most beautiful house in Sydney.'

We all touch glasses. Drink.

Lilla grins across the table at Marcus. ‘Drink up. I want you to catch up to me,' she says. She takes a large sip of her own drink and sighs contentedly. She looks at Fiona. ‘Enjoying your water?'

Fiona glares at her, but doesn't respond. She turns to look at Marcus. ‘You're going to regret this tomorrow,' she says. ‘We're supposed to be meeting Frank Fletcher at eight. You really need to be in top form.'

Lilla splutters rudely into her drink. Then she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, leans forward slightly and looks at Fiona as if she's some kind of fascinating specimen. ‘So,' she says. ‘I know I don't exactly know you, and feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but I think it's safe to say that you're more than a little uptight. So – what's wrong? Anything you want to share? It might help to talk.'

‘I'm not uptight,' Fiona says coldly. ‘I simply find certain things tedious.'

‘Tedious? Really?' Lilla says. ‘And what exactly are these certain things? If you don't mind me asking.'

‘Leave it, Lilla,' I say, glaring across at her. ‘Just bloody drop it, okay?'

Lilla stares at me for a minute, her eyes flashing in anger, and I can almost see her wondering whether it's worth putting up a fight. She must decide it's not, because eventually she puts on a wide-eyed innocent expression. ‘No problem, Tim. I'll drop it. Though I don't know why you're getting so mad at me. I'm not the one being rude.'

76

T
HOUGH
T
IM HAS COOKED DINNER
, L
ILLA INSISTS ON HELPING HIM TAKE IT
to the dining room, and when everything's ready she takes charge, clapping her hands together bossily and telling everyone that it's time to eat
.

‘There's a bit of a surprise in here for you,' she says to Anna, as she opens the dining-room door with a flourish.

The dining room looks beautiful, and though Anna hadn't even realised that it needed a clean, it has very obviously been scrubbed from top to bottom. Everything looks fresher and brighter. On the sideboard there's an enormous bunch of white gardenias from the back yard, their fragrance thick in the air. The curtains, which have been closed for as long as Anna can remember, have been tied open so that the garden is visible. The dining table, which normally sits tucked close to the back wall, has been shifted forward so that it sits in the middle of the room, directly beneath the chandelier. The table has been set elaborately: crystal glasses, white linen napkins, a fine bone-china dinner setting that Anna doesn't even recognise. A collection of white candles in a silver candelabra flicker in the centre of the table.

‘Ta-da!' Lilla beams, glancing only briefly at Anna before speaking directly to Marcus. ‘Doesn't it look fantastic? I've been spending hours in here over the last few days. The poor room needed quite a bit of TLC. I even had to get up there and polish the chandelier. It was a massive job, absolutely back-breaking because I had to hold my head up like this.' She tilts her head backwards to show them what she means, then straightens up, smiling, obviously pleased with herself. ‘It took hours, there was just so much built-up dust on it. But it was worth it. Such a beautiful old piece, such a pity to see it so . . .' She glances at Anna, then rushes to the table and picks up one of the napkin rings. ‘And I found these in a box in the junk room a few days ago. Real silver. I knew they'd be perfect. Sorry, Anna, but I knew you couldn't possibly mind. No point having beautiful things hidden away in boxes. So, anyway, what do you all think? Amazing what a difference a bit of elbow grease can make, isn't it?' She claps her hands together again and doesn't wait for an answer. ‘Come on, everybody. Sit down. Enjoy.'

It's easy to fake it when the person you're trying to deceive is getting drunk. Anna only pretends to drink the cocktails Lilla makes her. She barely swallows any. Whenever she gets the chance she tips some away – down the sink, into a pot plant, a small splash straight onto the carpet. She also tries her hardest to act as though all the alcohol is going to her head. She talks louder than she normally would, laughs more often. She sits heavily at the table, sighs, smiles at nothing.

‘Should you really be drinking so much?' Fiona says, staring at Anna's glass. ‘Do you think it's a good idea?'

‘I'm fine, Fiona,' Anna says. ‘Please. Don't worry so much.'

Lilla doesn't say anything, but she sniggers into her own drink, rolls her eyes.

It's obvious that both Lilla and Marcus are getting tipsy. Lilla's cheeks are flushed and her voice is getting louder. Marcus has a permanent small smile on his face, and all his careful control seems to have slipped away, leaving him open and relaxed, vulnerable in a charming way. Anna has only seen him like this once or twice before and it suits him – Lilla suits him – and the thought makes her suddenly sad. In a different situation she's sure they would have made a good couple. What a terrible shame that there have been so many secrets and lies, so much deception.

77

‘H
OW LONG HAVE YOU REALLY KNOWN
M
ARCUS
, L
ILLA
?' I
ASK
. ‘I mean, from the way you act together you'd think you'd known each other for a lot longer than a few weeks. In fact, you'd think you were in some kind of relationship.'

Everyone is startled into silence. Anna looks down at her plate, pretends to be preoccupied with eating. But I know that she's listening to every word, every sound and nuance.

‘What the hell?' Lilla says. ‘Where did that come from? God, you can be random, Tim.'

‘I'm just curious,' I say, my voice deliberately light, as if it doesn't really matter. ‘I was just wondering. You both just seem very . . . close. Anyone would think you'd known each other for years.'

‘We've known each other for a few weeks,' Lilla says quickly. ‘Since your birthday party. You know that.'

She's a good liar. She meets my eyes squarely, without wavering.

‘Yeah? You sure?'

‘Of course I'm sure!' she says, looking around the table with wide eyes, as if she's outraged that I'd even ask.

‘But there's just a few curious things, Lilla. Maybe you can explain them.' I put my knife and fork down. ‘You know when you and me broke up? Over that fight we had? Remember how I came over to your flat a couple of weeks later? I'd been surfing. I was still dripping wet. I had my board with me.'

‘Of course I remember,' Lilla says. ‘What about it?'

‘You said you were seeing someone,' I say. ‘And later that person turned out to be Patrick.'

‘So?'

‘So I was surprised. Surprised that you were going out with someone like Patrick. A plumber, a tradie. I expected you to be going out with someone who wore a suit. The kind of bloke that carries a satchel.'

‘Why? I went out with you, didn't I?' Lilla sneers. ‘And you're not exactly the suit type.'

‘Exactly. So why was I surprised? It doesn't make sense, does it? But just the other day I remembered what it was that gave me that idea in the first place.'

Lilla shrugs as if she couldn't care less.

‘I didn't see Patrick the day I came to your house, I didn't actually see anyone. But I saw a satchel in your hallway, and a tie draped over it.'

‘God, Tim,' Lilla groans. ‘So there was a satchel in my house and you thought I was going out with a businessman. What has that got to do with anything? What is your point?'

‘The satchel had these fancy red initials in one corner. H&H. I remember thinking it was some kind of royal crest or something.' I look at Marcus. ‘It was yours. You were at Lilla's house that day. And that's why I was surprised when I met Patrick. I was expecting someone like you.' I turn back to Lilla. ‘I think you've known each other since then. I think you've known Marcus all along.'

Fiona turns to stare at Marcus.

Marcus doesn't say a word. He keeps his eyes down on the table. I waver between feeling sorry for him and wanting to shout at him to look up, be a man, face up to things.

Lilla laughs, her eyes flash. ‘Don't be ridiculous. I know a lot of men with satchels, Tim. And that was years ago. I think you might be confused, and probably jealous knowing you.'

‘I'm not confused at all. It's a distinctive engraving. I recognised it as soon as I saw it,' I say. ‘Anyway, that's not all, Lilla. Remember that day we went to Manly? On the ferry?'

‘What about it?'

‘I told you about Anna. I told you a bit about Marcus and Fiona. The weird thing was that you knew they were lawyers even though I never told you what they did. How did you know?'

‘Don't be dumb,' Lilla scoffs. ‘You've got a shit memory and now you're trying to blame me for it. Not fair. Of course you told me they were lawyers. You just can't remember. God, Tim. I thought we were supposed to be friends.'

‘I thought we were too. But you're bloody well lying to me.' I look at Anna. She nods and rushes from the room.

‘Where the hell is she going?' Lilla asks.

‘Wait a minute. You'll see.'

Anna returns a moment later with my laptop and puts it on the table. We left it in the living room earlier. It is open and booted up, ready.

I turn the computer so that it faces the middle of the table, so that everyone can see. I double-click on the image and Lilla's face fills the screen.

‘You're standing in front of Harrow and Harrow,' I say, pointing to the letters R, O and W that can be seen in the sign above Lilla's head. ‘Anna recognised it.' I click to the next tab. It's the Harrow and Harrow homepage. There's a photo of the building from the street, the sign that sits over the front windows. The green lettering against the gold background is distinctive, unmistakable. ‘And your photo was uploaded to your Facebook account a long time ago. Way before you even supposedly met Marcus.'

Lilla pulls the laptop closer, leans over it. Then she pushes it away, straightens up, glares at Anna. ‘You went through my Facebook photos?'

‘I looked at them, yes,' Anna says. ‘But you've made them all completely public anyway. Any stranger with the internet could look at them.'

‘A bit creepy though, isn't it? You looking at my stuff? Considering we're not strangers.'

‘Come
on
,' I say, almost laughing at Lilla's nerve. ‘That's a bit bloody rich, isn't it? Considering the lies you've obviously been telling.'

Lilla shrugs dismissively. ‘I have no idea when this photo was taken. Or even what I was doing there. It's as old as the hills. I haven't had my hair like that for ages. Think what you like. I couldn't give a shit.'

‘Stop it,' Marcus says to Lilla, looking up suddenly, his voice sharp with impatience. ‘Stop lying. What does it matter anyway? Just tell the truth.' He sighs, turns to face me. ‘Yes. We know each other. We've known each other for a while. And I apologise for being less than straight about it, but it was a private relationship. Just between me and Lilla. Nobody else's business as far as I'm concerned.'