The Lies We Tell (6 page)

Todd put the book down and followed his brother, expecting to have to move Maria. Instead, he found his mother sitting up in her bed, her arms actually folded over her chest. Her good eye was glaring at Paul.

“I am going.”

“No, you’re not. Tell her, Todd. Tell her she’s not well enough to go out tonight.”

“I will not miss this. I’ve never missed Sia’s exhibitions and I will not miss this one.”

Dammit, Todd thought. He’d managed to go at least an hour without thinking about her or the insight into his soul she’d unlocked.

“I know you love it, Mum, but you just can’t go,” Paul said.

“I can. You boys can take me. You’ll look after me. If I’m well enough to be taken to the doctors, I’m well enough to go see some paintings.”

“What exactly are we talking about?” Todd said.

“Sia’s exhibition.”

“The one in Sydney?”

“Yes,” Maria said.

“No.” Paul glared back at their mother. “A couple of times a year, Sia puts on an exhibition of her work and other artists in the area. Mum’s art group has been in it a few times. Tonight, Sia’s giving us a preview of the Sydney exhibition and Mum’s insisting on going.”

Todd wondered if the painting was going to be shown at the exhibition. It had been haunting him — both his dreams and his waking hours. The poor bloke on the canvas, consumed and trapped by rage. It resonated so deeply within him, it scared him.

Had he really been that bad? And if so, why was the first — the only — person to see it the person who had caused it?

Todd was suddenly sure that he needed to go to this exhibition. If the painting was there, he needed to see it again. And once he’d taken the time to let it sink in and accept the full reality of what he’d been, he needed to apologise to Sia.

“I think she should go,” Todd said. Paul stared. Maria smiled. “We can both look after her, make sure she’s comfortable and warm, and it must be killing her to be stuck in this house when she used to be such a social person.”

“Thank you, my boy.”

Paul cast him an evil look but Todd didn’t care. Tonight, he was going to take the first tentative steps in rebuilding his life into one in which Sia Collins was no longer cast as the villain.

Just who would take that role, he had no idea.

The exhibition was being held in the town hall. Todd was astonished by the crowd that was gathered outside the door — men and women from all over the district, dressed in their best. It seemed these events were an important part of the social whirl of Oberon.

Paul had sourced a wheelchair and while Maria wasn’t happy about being seen to be so obviously disabled, it had proved to be the instrument of compromise between the two.

Maria had a rug over her knees and a scarf around her neck to protect herself against the cool night. Otherwise, she was having a wonderful time, accepting greeting after greeting from people delighted to see her.

The doors opened to a cheer and people began to stream in. There wasn’t a ramp up to the doors — something that shocked Todd — and so he and Paul had to lift the chair up the half-dozen steps. Then he pushed the chair through the lobby and into the hall.

Yet another moment of surprise — he’d always considered the hall dingy and in bad repair. But the floors were beautifully polished and professional strips reached around the walls for the art to be hung on, each separately lit. The art-deco ceiling was clean and picturesque.

“Sia’s first few exhibitions raised funds for the hall to be renovated so it was suitable for more professional events,” Paul said. “Oberon actually won a travelling exhibition over Bathurst, and hopefully there will be more.”

As the crowd dissipated through the space, the organisation became clearer. In the far corner a bar had been set up, and in the centre of the space were chairs and tables. Most of the paintings were hung on the wall but at the far end there was one on an easel, covered in a black cloth.

It seemed the right size. Was it his painting?

“Push me around, Todd,” Maria said. “I want to see the paintings.”

Each of the paintings was rich, vibrantly coloured and compelling. Sia had an abstract style, preferring silhouettes and hazy shapes rather than painting reality, but that served to enhance the emotions that were being portrayed.

They were named with a sequence of numbers. Paul explained that rather than use words that might affect a person’s experience of the paintings, Sia used a code to title the paintings. It worked to divorce the viewer from expectations and just react.

At the top of the hall, he caught his first sight of Sia. She was standing by the covered painting, talking to people as they wandered past. It was hard to see her clearly — she was small and slight and he just got glimpses of her through the crowd. But he saw enough of her sleek blonde hair and a colourful dress to be sure that when he saw her properly, she’d stun him.

Finally, when he was ready to push his mother past the covered painting, the crowd cleared and there she was. Her light make-up accentuated her brown eyes and the sweet curve of her lips. She was wearing a dress in red and gold that hung from thin straps over her breasts and skimmed her hips. Her hair was a fall of shining satin over her back.

With the anger and hate gone, the attraction that he’d felt the first time she came to the house hit again, stronger and deeper than ever. In that moment, the past didn’t matter — he wanted her.

“Sia.” Maria held out her good hand. “The work is stunning, as always.”

“Thank you, Maria.” Sia leant to kiss his mother’s cheek and Todd drew in a breath as the dress moved to give him a wonderful view between her breasts.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. He only had nudge a strap aside and —

“What is this?” Paul brought Todd back from an ill-conceived fantasy. His brother was tugging on the black material.

“The centrepiece of the exhibition,” Sia said. “Something very special.”

Todd looked at her, saw her staring at him and realised he was right — it was his painting.

“From what I’ve seen so far, I’m sure it will be,” he said. “You’re incredibly talented, Sia.”

She blushed. “Thank you, Todd. I’ll be unveiling it in half an hour.”

“I look forward to seeing it.” Again.

Maria wanted to rest a while, so they found a table in the centre of the room. Todd got her an orange juice and himself and Paul a beer. Then he decided to spend some time looking at the rest of the paintings.

He’d arrived in Oberon, so clear about who Sia Collins was and what she had done. Now, nothing was sure.

He was standing near the last painting, a searing clash of calm and panic in shades of pink, when a couple came to look at the same work.

“Can you believe it? Little Sia Collins,” the woman said. She nudged the man with her. “Remember when we gave her those old oil paints we’d found, how happy she was? Who would have thought that would lead to this?”

Todd looked at them. They were both well into their sixties and their clothing was several years out of date. His police experience had him noting the bad haircuts, creased skin. The signs of being poor, combined with their talk of Sia as a child, had Todd guessing they were from Black Springs, the small timber town twenty minutes from Oberon.

“You knew Sia when she was small?”

The woman looked at him and smiled. “Oh, yes. The Collinses were our neighbours until they moved into town here. She was such a delightful child, so polite and respectful. The trouble was such a hard thing to believe.”

Todd recognised they were a font of information. He wondered if they would volunteer it. “The trouble?”

“Oh, yes.” The woman gave a quick glance over her shoulder, then leaned closer to him. Todd fought back a smile. He loved a born gossip. “Sia got into some trouble with the law when she was younger. Found guilty of break and entering and stealing, but didn’t serve time because of her good record until then. Never been in trouble again. Some folks can be scared good. But sadly, things for the Collinses were never the same again.”

Todd noted the husband staring into the distance, his face bland with boredom. He wasn’t going to be interrupted just yet. “Why was that?”

“Frank couldn’t handle his little girl being a thief, I guess. He made poor Sia’s life a living misery. There were times I was close to calling the police the yelling was so loud. And the drinking was out of control. So when I found some oil paints in the back of our shed, I thought I’d give them to her and see if she couldn’t find some respite from her life in doing a bit of dabbling. Who knew it was her talent?”

“That’s enough.” The husband grabbed her arm. “I want out of here.”

The couple left and Todd turned back to the painting, but he wasn’t really seeing it.

Instead, he watched the last desire to hurt Sia wash way. It was clear that her life had also been badly affected by what she’d done. He’d lost a father — she’d lost her reputation and the respect of hers. And from what Charles had said, the problems between Sia and her father had lasted to this day.

No wonder she’d so readily identified that he felt guilt over a bad relationship with his father — she was feeling the same.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” A voice called out over the crowd. “If you’d all gather, Sia is going to unveil the centrepiece.”

Todd was tall enough to hang at the back of the crowd but still see clearly. Looking around, he judged there were around a hundred people here. It was an impressive gathering for Oberon.

“Thank you.” Sia pitched her voice so all could hear. “I’m so happy you could all join me tonight. Having a solo exhibition in Sydney is an achievement I’ve dreamt of for years, and I’m glad I can celebrate it with all of you.”

Close to her stood Mary and a man Todd thought must be Jim, and Charles. On the other side, a taller blonde woman that looked enough like Sia to have to be her sister. No sign of her father.

“This is a painting that I struggled with for a long time. It called on every part of me, and for a long time I was scared I wasn’t good enough to create it. But finally it’s here, and it’s my greatest work. I give you, Nine One Seven Five.”

The covering was pulled away and again, Todd was transfixed by the perfect representation of the emotions that drove and captured him.

The crowd gasped then broke out into applause. He heard people murmuring around him, talking about the fierceness, the sadness of the work.

It was the fierceness and sadness of him. Something Sia could recognise because she felt it too.

Well, he knew one thing for certain. He was going to own that painting.

It was nearly midnight when the last painting was safely secured in the back of Mary and Jim’s station wagon for the trip to Sydney the next day.

The evening had been a remarkable success to Sia’s mind. The feedback from the crowd to the works had been overwhelmingly positive and it was always nice to see people laughing and having a good time.

Best of all had been Todd’s reaction — not any anger in his voice as he spoke to her, and he’d again been captivated by his painting. Maybe his animosity toward her was finally over.

Now, she could only hope that the reaction in Sydney would be as strong.

“We have to celebrate.” Sienna slipped her arm around Sia’s waist. The sisters stood with Jim, Mary and Charles outside the town hall. “Let’s go to the pub for a few drinks. Unless you oldies can’t hack staying out this late.”

Sia laughed. “The kids —” she began.

“Say no more,” Jim said. “I can see my beloved wife is hankering for more social time. I’ll take the car home, release the babysitter and Brock and Ebonny can continue to sleep soundly with our kids.”

“You are a treasure of a man.” Mary gave him a kiss.

“I’m only letting you stay cause I know you can’t get into trouble.”

“Yeah. There are times that pregnancy sucks.”

“I was talking about Sia controlling you.” Jim winked, gave Mary a smacking kiss and got into the car whistling.

“Come on.” Sienna began to drag Sia across the road.

The pub was buzzing with young and old enjoying the beginning of the weekend. Sia excused herself to the bathroom, directing her sister to order her drink. When she found her friends in the main bar, she saw they were on the table next to her father.

Frank was bent over an empty beer glass, expounding something with great enthusiasm to his fellow drinkers, who Sia didn’t recognise.

She hesitated. She had invited her father to the exhibition, hoping the free alcohol would entice him to come. That he hadn’t come told her he wasn’t interested in seeing her at the moment. Being this close to him might ruin both their nights.

But she couldn’t explain that to her friends without either humiliating herself or her father, so she sat down and took a long, deep sip of her wine with the hope it would relax her.

“A toast,” Sienna said. “To my fabulous and talented sister. May you knock ‘em dead in the big smoke.”

“To Sia.” Charles lifted his glass high.

Sia smiled and sipped on her wine and hoped they’d keep the noise down so it wouldn’t draw her father’s attention. If they could get through one drink, Sienna and Mary may be satisfied and they could leave without Frank even knowing.

“Can I join you?”

The deep voice startled her. Sia looked up and tried to think of a reason why Todd Lansing would suddenly appear.

“Sure, if you’re buying.” Charles grinned.

“You all look pretty good to me. I’ll get the next round,” Todd said, and went to the bar.

“Who is that?” Sienna hissed across the table. “He is seriously hot.”

Sia didn’t want to answer. Thankfully, Charles did. “Todd Lansing. Back to help Paul look after their mum.”

“Wow. Paul doesn’t look like that. Those shoulders are incredible.”

“He’s a cop,” Charles said. “Unfortunately, he looked like that in high school too. Right, ladies?”

“Todd was the cutest guy in school,” Mary confirmed. “But I only had eyes for you, remember.”

“Yeah. Why was that again?”

“Cause back then you were nice.”

Todd returned and Sia was grateful he was stepping into the ex-lovers’ bickering and not Sienna’s homage to his beauty.