Trick of the Light Read online

  ‘Okay. I’d better get back to work,’ she said, suddenly needing to escape their scrutiny and her own thoughts and past. ‘Will that be cash or card?’ she asked, annoyed at how her voice was suddenly devoid of the joy she’d been experiencing only moments before.

  ‘You really should consider teaching,’ Kayla said.

  ‘That’s very kind of you to say, but as I said, I’m sure there are plenty of online tutorials already.’

  As she watched them walk away again, Erica suddenly realised she’d completely forgotten to try to sell them anything. Usually she laid out everything she’d used for a client to consider. This time she’d got completely caught up and had forgotten. Oops. Matt might have been enticed into buying all the pencils and shades of eyeshadow she’d used. But then she reminded herself he was a full-time student. At least they’d paid for the session.

  ‘You looked like you were having fun,’ Louisa from across the way said. ‘What was that all about? You were like a busker with all that attention – people stopping and gawking.’

  ‘Oh. Just a bit of fun.’

  ‘Friends of yours off to some sort of dress-up party?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Erica hated sounding cagey, but her antenna was up. She suspected Louisa tended to be nice in case Erica had an enquiry for skin care, which her company didn’t do, in the hope she’d then send them her way. Seeing Louisa struggling and failing to keep the distaste and disapproval from her features confirmed Erica’s suspicion that her friendliness wasn’t genuine. People like Louisa became insecure when others got the spotlight, so she wouldn’t put it past her to make a complaint about the makeup session. On what grounds and to whom, Erica wasn’t sure. And she was probably being completely paranoid and ridiculous, but still … Louisa had a cold, hard edge Erica really didn’t like.

  Chapter Six

  For the first time since Stuart’s death, Erica really struggled against the will to stay cocooned at home and not get ready to go to work. Before the girls had left, being a homebody had been more about not wanting to leave the house; now she was beginning to feel she couldn’t. She’d walked every morning, and enjoyed it, but she hadn’t been able to make herself get up and do that either. She could almost put it out of her mind by telling herself it was just part of the grief process – what someone experienced was very individual, by all accounts – though she hadn’t felt this when she lost her mum. But then she’d had the girls and Stuart here … Thinking about all the gaping holes in her life now didn’t help, so she tried not to.

  Yesterday Paul had emailed to advise that unfortunately he and Toby hadn’t extracted any money from the organisations in receivership or found any other assets. But he also stressed they hadn’t uncovered anyone making claims on the estate, which was a good thing. That would have meant all sorts of issues, given the lack of assets. He also said probate had been granted so the house was officially in her name. Instead of relief at learning she could now sell, Erica had experienced a sudden rush of connection to the house and then the sort of fierceness to defend that had seen her march several times into the school principal’s office during the girls’ schooling and refuse to leave until the cause of her ire had been resolved.

  She’d spent her two days off alternately pacing aimlessly around the house trying to occupy herself and creating meals from ingredients found while rummaging through the pantry.

  As she’d packed the individually portioned food – all labelled with thick marker – she wondered how they’d be when defrosted. Some of the combinations of ingredients she wasn’t sure were even all that great together before freezing. Of course, she’d taste-tested everything and had been pleasantly surprised with the success of her creativity, but some she still wasn’t too sure about. Though she told herself food was food.

  She’d never liked kidney beans. Even as a small child. She’d always associated them with actual kidneys and despite being told there was no relationship between the two hadn’t quite managed to recalibrate her brain. She couldn’t remember why there was not one but two tins of them in the pantry and had stood for ages peering at them with her nose crinkled. Most likely Stuart or the girls had got them for a Mexican recipe or something before remembering her aversion. The date on the tins told her it was a few years ago. She’d almost used that as an excuse to ditch them, but couldn’t bring herself to be so wasteful. She might be going over the top with her frugality, but it felt the right thing to do. She’d also thought to leave them there for the next round of pantry clean-out but decided she’d rather get them out of the way. She’d always been the sort of eater to attack anything less palatable first and then move onto the more enjoyable items on her plate. It was how she tended to address life, too, she realised. Though she was starting to lose a grip on her gusto. For the first time ever, she’d left the clean dishes in the dishwasher and a pile of dirty ones on the sink for longer than twenty-four hours. This time last year she’d have been absolutely horrified at herself.

  With the beans, she’d taken the same tack she had with the girls when they were young: hiding nutrients in meals and blending things before adding them. The colour was barely noticeable with tomato base, so hopefully when she later defrosted the several smaller portions she’d frozen – unable to face all of it now – she might have forgotten the kidney beans hidden within. Colour was the key – the notion of eating with one’s eyes. Just like makeup, really. Erica was proud of her efforts in being creative, getting together some meals and also emptying the pantry and avoiding having to leave the house, but was also very glad she wouldn’t have the girls turning up their noses at her food or trying to eat it while avoiding telling her it was terrible.

  She longed for fresh meat and fruit and veg, but she also longed not to spend money and, the biggest tug of all, to not leave the house. It didn’t help that it was winter and cold and windy outside. And while she tried to tell herself it was about saving on petrol and wear and tear on the car, she just really didn’t feel like heading out into the big wide world. As soon as she even thought about going beyond her perimeter, she felt a quiver of unease. Where the hell had that come from? She’d never suffered from anxiety – was she beginning to? Was she becoming like her parents? Her mum and dad had seemed to physically retreat into their home before shrinking back inside their minds and memories. Don’t be ridiculous! she told herself. It’s just a phase. Self-care after the jolt of the girls going. And it wasn’t long ago that she’d lost Stuart, too. She thought that’s what Steph and Michelle might say. Renee – the self-confessed hermit – would shrug and say, ‘Sounds normal to me.’

  On Monday Erica’s need to earn money propelled her out of the house, though not before she’d made herself late. She had to run the last twenty or so metres down the street to the bus and, far from being energised, just felt tired. She hadn’t been to a gym in years but often jogged and even added a few bursts of running to her regular brisk walk, but these last couple of days she’d been unable to go for so much as a stroll. As she’d sat on the couch with her tomato and bean stew the night before, she’d as good as heard the girls telling her not to drop her bundle. They’d walked together a lot in the mornings. Now she found she lacked the energy for that too. She’d laced her runners up to go after she’d eaten, but hadn’t been able to make herself leave and had taken them off again, deciding it wasn’t safe to go alone. She knew she was making excuses – walking around the well-lit street in this affluent suburb would be perfectly fine. Nonetheless, she’d plonked herself back onto the couch. One or two days without going wouldn’t hurt. She often skipped a day or two, though she hadn’t since Stuart’s passing. She and the girls had spurred each other on. It had worked well because one always had the energy one of the others was lacking. They’d all been a support crew, alternating between being the resister and being the urger, having agreed that exercise was essential for their minds and getting through the worst of the grief.

  As she threw herself into her bus seat, Alicia g
rinned and Erica gave a sigh and show of rolling her eyes at herself. Phew, she’d just made it.

  ***

  ‘Good morning,’ Louisa said, appearing beside Erica the moment she got behind her counter. Even coming in hadn’t lifted her spirits and today the wash of scents nearly made her gag. Am I coming down with something? she wondered, frowning. A part of her hoped so because that would give her a reason for how she was feeling. And the thought of tucking herself up at home for a few days with a hot water bottle … Though, why she felt she needed to be sick to do that was interesting. Except I don’t have any leave and can’t afford to not be paid.

  ‘Hi, Louisa, what’s up?’ she said, to the hovering woman. ‘What do you want?’ she said when Louisa didn’t speak, but just stood there scrutinising her stock.

  ‘Ooh, touchy,’ Louisa said, with raised eyebrows as Erica gently plucked a nail polish from her fingers and placed it back down in the display.

  ‘Sorry, I have a headache,’ she said to the other woman’s raised eyebrows.

  ‘That guy came back,’ Louisa said, practically slinking like a cat along Erica’s counter.

  ‘Sorry, what guy?’ Erica said, concentrating on straightening her stock in an effort to look busy and encourage Louisa to leave. Oh god, I so don’t have the energy for your gossip or another one of your crushes, Louisa, she thought. Louisa went on and off men like a light switch. Erica couldn’t remember her ever being in a serious, long-term relationship, she just seemed to enjoy the chase or attracting men and enjoying mutual infatuation and collecting memories, as far as she could tell. Not that she knew Louisa much at all outside of this place. One of the girls who had left used to refer to her as fly-paper because she seemed to attract and then discard. Erica had told the woman it wasn’t nice and so hadn’t tended to be included in much salacious gossip from then on, and hadn’t minded at all. But it had also meant she’d remained a little on the outer all round when the older women had left.

  ‘Your guy.’

  ‘Sorry? What? I don’t have a guy.’ Erica thought they all would have known why she’d been off work so much – had thought no secrets could be kept there, but maybe not.

  ‘The guy from the other day. You know, the one who wanted you to do the scar on his girlfriend’s face? Do you really think you should be doing that sort of thing? I’m sure your bosses wouldn’t like to know.’

  Erica opened her mouth to tell Louisa she needed to mind her own business, but the flash in her eyes must have conveyed her message well enough because Louisa held up her hands in a surrender motion and said, ‘All right, don’t shoot the messenger. Anyway, he came in yesterday asking for you. I said I’d tell you when I saw you and that I thought you’d probably be in today. Touchy, touchy,’ she said again, moving away.

  ‘Thanks,’ Erica called. ‘Sorry,’ she added in barely a whisper. It was high time someone put Louisa properly in her place, but it wouldn’t be Erica. And it probably wouldn’t be anyone else there – especially not Louisa’s bosses, because there was a rumour she was the daughter of the owner of the company for which she worked. There was also a whisper that Louisa was the niece of one of the centre’s owners or major shareholders or something. What was understood was that Louisa was untouchable – whether because of connections perceived or real. Erica didn’t mind; she just wanted to concern herself with her own little corner of the store.

  ‘Erica, hi.’

  Erica looked up to find the guy from the other day – Matt, was it? – standing in front of her on the other side of the counter. ‘Oh, hi. Louisa was just telling me you had stopped by,’ she said, nodding her head in her colleague’s direction. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Oh nothing. I just wanted to tell you your video – well, my video of your work – went viral.’

  ‘Oh?’ Erica wasn’t sure if she was pleased or concerned.

  ‘Well, not quite viral – I don’t know exactly what defines viral these days, but look,’ he said, holding out his phone for Erica to see. ‘Twenty thousand views and forty shares.’

  ‘Wow. Really?’ She peered at the screen. Shit. Did I do something funny or make a fool of myself? She could feel her cheeks becoming red and hot as she viewed the clip.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me putting it up. I probably should have asked. Sorry.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ I think. I hope. As she watched, Erica noticed it was only her hands visible with the camera trained on Kayla’s cheek. And, actually, her voice explaining what she was doing didn’t sound too bad at all. ‘I thought only videos with bloopers or whatever attracted shares. Is there …?’ She tried to remember what else might have gone on that day. She didn’t really want to stand and watch the whole thing.

  ‘Oh no, nothing at all like that. People just think it’s cool. Look at the comments.’

  Erica read plenty of comments of: ‘Cool.’ ‘Awesome.’ ‘Wow.’ Nothing negative, as far as she could see.

  ‘That’s great. I’m glad you liked it. I enjoyed doing it.’

  ‘I got some filler. Found out online what kind you need, and they had it at a costume hire store. Would you be able to do a raised scar on my arm?’ he said, pulling out a small bottle of clear liquid from his backpack and also a mini tripod. ‘I thought we could set up a tripod and film it again.’

  ‘Kayla’s not with you, then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I really can’t, Matt, I’m sorry,’ Erica said. She searched for a more palatable excuse to offer than the truth, which was that she simply didn’t want a career teaching, whether on YouTube or in person. She had spent far too much time watching her parents exhaust themselves doing all the out-of-hours planning, marking and report writing to want that. She was also still scarred from the years of trying to get the girls to do their homework at the dining room table. Thinking of going through anything like that again made her want to crawl under the counter and hide. And that was before she’d hit middle age and still could be considered patient. She, Michelle and Steph all regularly complained about how much shorter their tempers were these days and declared it another symptom of menopause.

  Erica was sure it also wasn’t really appropriate to do more special effects there at work and arranging to do it somewhere else at another time would turn it into ‘a thing’, as Renee would say. Or ‘a palaver’, as Michelle would say. And regardless of whether Matt could be trusted or not, Erica realised she definitely didn’t want random people in her home. The house had hosted many functions and loads of people over the years, but now she just wanted it to herself.

  He might understand all this if she explained – he seemed nice enough. But she just didn’t have the energy that required, and certainly didn’t for all the back and forth if he didn’t. Getting herself to work, being here among all the noise and energy and making her way home again was about all she could manage. Renee was always talking about taking care of your mental health and how for some it meant not looking at any images of the recent massive bushfires around the country and for others it meant cutting ties with toxic family members. Michelle, who by all accounts had always been prone to being overly helpful, had confided that the best things for her, and possibly the most important life skills she’d learnt recently, or ever, were saying ‘no’ and not following up with a reason. She said it was empowering and also fun to see how disconcerted people became, especially when the delivery was devoid of emotion. ‘I’ve got to be available in case …’ Erica was annoyed to hear herself say.

  ‘I can pay. I’ll pay. And I can come back later. Can I make an appointment?’

  Oh god. Why couldn’t I have just been firmer? ‘Sorry, Matt. No. It was a one-off. A bit of fun. I got caught up in the moment – in nostalgia. I have a client due any minute, too, so I’d better get ready for that.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, sorry. I should have thought …’

  Seeing the dejection in his flushed face and the slump of his shoulders tugged at Erica’s heart.

  ‘Please think about setting up
a course or doing some online videos for people like me who can’t afford or get to the proper course.’

  ‘Have you tried amateur theatre? You might find someone there who can train you.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll see. I’ll leave you to it. Thanks again for the other day. It meant a lot.’

  Erica watched as he picked his way along the walkway dodging the staff trying to offer scent samples every few steps. She knew she’d made the right decision, but still there was a layer of guilt coating her insides.

  ***

  Erica was desperate for a nap and very close to ditching work for the day when her eleven o’clock appointment appeared.

  ‘Hi Doris,’ she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes and her tone a little flat. ‘Lunch with the girls – usual look?’ She waved to indicate the stool and encourage Doris to sit.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Doris said, hoisting herself onto the seat.

  ‘It’s a lovely shade of green you’re wearing. It suits you.’

  ‘Thank you. How are you, dear? You look a little peaky. Not coming down with anything are you?’ Doris said, peering at Erica intently.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Erica said. ‘A bit tired, but don’t worry about me. It’s your day.’

  ‘Fiddlesticks, let me feel,’ Doris, long ago retired nurse, said and beckoned Erica forwards. Erica longed to stand there all day with her head dropped and the comforting cool of Doris’s hand on her forehead. She felt just like Erica’s own mother.

  ‘A little bit warm, though it could be all the lights,’ Doris concluded, looking around.

  ‘You might be right,’ Erica said, reluctantly standing upright again and preparing to get to business. She longed to be pulled into a tight and lingering hug.

  As she did Doris up, working on autopilot, thanks to knowing what the dear woman liked and knowing the contours of her face and textures of her skin so well after all the weekly sessions together, she thought about her parents. Helena was gone, but in some ways she was grieving for them both. How long would she do it for and how would she be when her dad departed physically too?