Call Waiting Read online

  Meg grinned. “No, I believe it was ‘Women who can’t bear hearing the truth from their best friends.’ Top-up?” she said lightly, jumping up from her chair.

  Ally hadn’t touched her drink yet, but Meg had drained hers.

  “Sure, if it’ll make you feel better. Actually, I think our boy might need a change.”

  “Oh here, give him to me.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Ally insisted. She walked up the hall to Harrison’s room. She loved this room. She had spent an entire July vacation sanding and painting and sponging it. It was her gift to Meg and Chris when they were expecting Harrison.

  The walls and ceiling were painted like a blue sky covered in tufts of white cloud, and she’d hidden those stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars in all the white bits so that with the lights out it looked like a country night sky. The light fitting was a cheap rice-paper ball, made over into a hot-air balloon for teddy bears. She’d painted an old wardrobe, some bookshelves, and the pine cot in Caterpillar, Divinity and Custard, while musing about the type of person who sat in an office somewhere thinking up these names. They probably had workshops with the people who made up names for nail polish colors. For the finishing touches, Ally had stencilled train tracks running around the edge of the wall, and a hopscotch pattern in the middle of the floor. And finally she’d made a Roman blind out of candy-striped fabric and matching bedding for the cot. The effect was gorgeous.

  “You have to go into business!” Meg had enthused.

  But Ally balked at the idea. It was not the first time Meg had suggested this, of course. Back in the days when they’d shared a rundown semi after college, Ally had achieved miracles with white paint, cheap bamboo blinds and meters of calico. But despite Meg’s grand ideas, for Ally it remained merely a hobby. She didn’t know the first thing about setting up a business. It sounded like a lot of stress, and a good way to spoil one of the only pastimes she enjoyed.

  She picked Harrison up from the change table and held him in front of her.

  “Kiss for Ally?”

  He puckered up determinedly and pressed his plump lips against hers. “Kith Ya-Yee!” he repeated delightedly, throwing his arms around her neck.

  Ally adored her little godson, but the time she spent with him was always bittersweet. She desperately wanted a baby of her own but had given up campaigning for one. Bryce had too much he wanted to “achieve” first. Meg was right as usual. And it made Ally feel hollow.

  Bryce had his own ideas about Ally’s future. She was wasting her time as a teacher, he believed, and she couldn’t really argue with him there. But he wanted her to go into real estate, with him. She supposed it was a sweet notion, his and hers matching careers, but the thought of it turned her stomach. She didn’t tell Bryce that of course, it might hurt his feelings. So he persisted with the idea, arranging relief work for her at the office every school holiday so that she could learn the ropes. She hated it. Despised it in fact.

  The only part she did enjoy was having the chance to look inside other people’s houses. That intrigued her. She always came out brimming with ideas. She could see the potential in the most desolate eyesore. Bryce appreciated this, and had let her show clients some of their worst properties, places even he would have trouble selling. But Ally wasn’t trying to sell anything, she just let her imagination go, and her enthusiasm was infectious. Clients had, more often than not, been swept away by her imagination and signed before they realized what a dump they’d bought.

  Bryce was adamant, she should get out of teaching and into real estate. So Ally’s only recourse was to make herself unavailable every school holiday. Doing up Harrison’s room had therefore served two purposes. Which reminded her. She wandered down the hallway back to the kitchen.

  “Meg, are we going to do the family room in January?”

  “Ally, you’ve renovated virtually every room in this house. I can’t keep letting you do this.”

  “You know I love it, and it will get me out of real estate duty.”

  “Why don’t you just tell him to bugger off?” Meg said with disgust. “You should be lying on a beach somewhere in your holidays.”

  “What, by myself?”

  “Why not? Just because that man won’t take a holiday, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Book yourself into a resort somewhere, you might even find yourself some gorgeous hunk!”

  Ally was about to protest that she already had a gorgeous hunk, but she knew Meg would never let her get away with such a wet comment. Especially as it would sound a bit forced.

  “What the hell is that?” Meg frowned at the electronic tune coming from Ally’s handbag. “Your bag’s playing the Lone Ranger theme.”

  “It’s the William Tell Overture,” Ally corrected, passing Harrison over to her. “Bryce programmed it into my mobile phone, he thought it would sound more insistent so I’d answer it more quickly.”

  Meg sniggered, “It’s a bit kitsch.”

  Ally was rummaging around in her oversized, overstuffed handbag. “The problem is not the ring, it’s the bloody size of the thing. They’re microscopic, I don’t see why they have to make them so small,” she muttered.

  “I thought you didn’t want a mobile?”

  “Bryce bought it for me—an early Christmas present.”

  “How thoughtful,” Meg countered. “Why didn’t he just get you a ball and chain?”

  The phone stopped ringing before Ally found it. “Damn! Oh I hate the stupid thing. Sometimes I feel like chucking it out the window,” she muttered, finally retrieving the slim black phone from the bottom of her bag.

  Meg considered her for a moment, before popping Harrison down on the floor. She stood up and put an arm around her friend.

  “There was an Ally I knew at college who would definitely have thrown it out the window. I wonder what happened to her? I miss her.”

  She gave her a peck on the cheek and followed Harrison into the family room. Ally missed that part of herself too, she was almost forgetting that it had existed. Coming to college in the city had made her a bit reckless and spontaneous. After an isolated childhood, it was like Pandora’s box opening before her eyes. All those exuberant young adults, their first taste at freedom, all wearing black and feeling terribly bohemian. She used to have fun. Lucky she had Meg to remind her now and then.

  She pressed a series of buttons on the phone and frowned at the number that appeared on the display.

  “What is it?” Meg asked, coming back into the kitchen.

  “Well, it’s not my grandfather’s number, but it’s the same area code,” she said slowly. Ally had an uncomfortable feeling. “Can I use your house phone?”

  “Of course, go into my bedroom, Harrison won’t disturb you there.”

  * * *

  Ally hung up the receiver a few minutes later, but remained sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. As soon as she went back out to Meg, she’d have to collect her thoughts, make plans, get her act together. She knew she was stalling, but she needed just a moment longer.

  Meg frowned at Ally as she came down the hall. “Who was it?”

  Ally took a breath. “Um, it was Lillian.”

  “Oh yes, I remember you talking about her. She’s an old family friend, isn’t she?”

  Ally nodded. “She tried to ring me at work, they gave her my mobile number.” She looked at Meg. “She was calling to let me know that my grandfather passed away this morning.”

  “Oh, Al. I’m so sorry.”

  Ally picked up her bag. “I have to go. I’ll need to pack tonight, call in to work tomorrow, before I leave.” Her thoughts raced ahead. “I guess I’ll miss most of next week at school. Lucky it’s pupil free. I’ll need to have my marking up to date, though.”

  “Don’t worry about all that,” Meg insisted. “When is the funeral?”

  “Monday or Tuesday.”

  “I’d like to come…”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ally shook her head. “It’s nearly two hours away.
You’ve got work, and Harrison. I don’t expect you to spend a day coming back and forward in the car.”

  “I don’t mind. I’ll do it, if you want me to,” Meg said plainly.

  Ally leaned forward and hugged her. She could feel Meg holding tight. Meg loved her like a sister. She had two brothers, but she said she’d always wanted a sister. And Ally, well, she had no one, especially now.

  “I’ll call, let you know what’s going on.”

  She crouched down and called to Harrison, who toddled eagerly over to her arms. She hugged him close.

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Meg suggested. “You’ll be all alone at home. Bryce is out tonight, isn’t he?”

  That was the first time she’d used his name all afternoon.

  “I’ll be fine. I have to get myself organized, and you know how long that could take!” She smiled weakly.

  * * *

  Leaving Meg’s earlier than usual meant Ally didn’t hit the peak-hour traffic, and the drive to Edgecliff took only fifteen minutes. When she pulled up at the apartment block, she decided to leave the students’ prints in the car. That was a job easily handled by someone else, so she would take them back to school tomorrow. Upstairs, she sorted through her clothes, realizing she was going to have to call in to the laundromat before work and leave a load. It would still be a little cooler in the evenings down in the Southern Highlands this time of year, she’d need to take a couple of warmer things with her.

  Bryce would have to pack for himself. She knew he wouldn’t be able to make it down tomorrow. That didn’t bother Ally; he’d have to stay until Saturday. Saturdays were sacrosanct for a realtor, and fair enough. He’d probably come down Sunday, plenty of time before the funeral.

  Barely half an hour after arriving home, Ally’s suitcase was half packed and a bag of laundry ready to drop off. She could be organized when she needed to be. She didn’t procrastinate when there was something to do. Like every time she’d moved into another rental property over the years. While everyone else was still thinking about it, Ally had the walls half painted and had started on the window coverings. That was what attracted Bryce to her in the first place.

  He had still been a mere property manager when she and Meg had decided to look for a place together. Not having much in the way of funds, they had asked to be shown the cheapest places listed. They’d settled on a dilapidated little semi in Alexandria, long before the gentrification of the area. It was a dump, it probably should have been condemned. In fact, it was as soon as they moved out. But in the meantime, Ally transformed it, whitewashing just about everything and covering anything else with swags of cheap fabric or potted plants or any other interesting bits and pieces she could lay her hands on.

  Bryce was clearly intrigued, and he started to show up on the pretext of collecting rent, which he didn’t have to do. They were supposed to pay at the office, but he said he’d save them the trip. At first Ally wondered if he was just nosy. But he arranged to have her reimbursed for the paint, and had repairs done as soon as she so much as mentioned them. It wasn’t long before Meg started to make goggle eyes at Ally when his back was turned.

  But Meg was around less and less. She’d met Chris by then, and she was only sleeping one, maybe two nights midweek at their place. She didn’t even have to come home to do the washing because, unlike them, Chris actually had a washing machine, and a dryer, in his very own laundry. He was a catch. Ally knew they were serious, and that she wouldn’t have a housemate for much longer.

  Bryce seemed kind, and he was attractive. He didn’t excite her, she was not infatuated like she had been with the series of men she’d dated through college. She had lost her virginity, and a fair slab of common sense along with it. She seemed to have no discernment when it came to the opposite sex. Anyone would do, the flakier, the better. And art college certainly attracted some flakes.

  No, her heart didn’t race when Bryce appeared at the door. But she felt comfortable around him.

  So when she mentioned that Meg would probably leave when the lease was up, and she’d have to look for somewhere else to live, Bryce said, out of the blue, “Move in with me.” And Ally, just as unexpectedly, said, “Okay.”

  They became lovers, through convenience. They were like two orthodox Greek teenagers who found themselves in an arranged marriage and decided to make the most of it. She’d grown to love him, but she didn’t know that she had ever been in love with him. Ally had pretty much convinced herself there was no such thing anyway. It was an invention of Hollywood, she decided.

  Ally looked around the apartment. There was nothing else she could do this evening. She started to feel restless. She checked the time. Bryce would be another hour or so. She went to the fridge and took out the bottle of wine she had opened last night.

  Bryce only drank socially. It amused her how he could frown at her having one or two glasses with dinner, then quaff down straight tequila if the situation demanded. The situation being drinks with a client.

  Bryce was a chameleon: all things to all men, or women, or whoever, as long as there was a sale in it. He didn’t like football, but he never missed a State of Origin match. He didn’t follow the stockmarket, but he knew his Dow Jones from his All Ordinaries. He hardly had the time for television, but through the juniors in the office he kept up with the storylines of the most popular shows. He knew more jokes from Seinfeld than Ally did, and she was a fan. At least he seemed genuine about keeping fit. She supposed so, it was a bit hard to know what Bryce really felt about anything.

  He’d been a member of a fitness club for as long as she had known him, and he worked out religiously. Every now and then he’d motivate Ally to join him. Well, the motivation was usually that morning’s despair at not being able to do the zipper up on a favorite skirt. Ally had never really struggled with her weight, but she couldn’t resist a Tim Tam, and she yo-yoed like most of the women she knew. So about every six months she would become very determined and start going to the gym with Bryce. She’d trim down, feel energized and make all sorts of vows about exercising more, eating healthy food and using cleanser every night. But then it would turn cold, or worse, rain, and she wouldn’t feel like going to the gym one night. Or she’d get her period. Or there’d be a Brad Pitt movie on Foxtel. Or she’d buy a packet of Tim Tams.

  Ally searched through the cupboards, pushing aside Bryce’s vitamin supplements, his protein powder and something in a jar labeled “macrobiotic” that looked scary. At home he was puritanical, claiming he had to make up for all the unhealthy lunches he was obliged to eat with clients. So Ally kept her stash of junk food hidden. She knew she should tell him to bugger off, to borrow Meg’s expression, but it was easier to hide it than put up with a lecture.

  She found a bag of Twisties and a Crunchie. Perfect, covering at least four of the main food groups—chocolate, cheese, sugar and salt. She could feel particularly guilt-free because the sugar in the Crunchie was technically derived from honey, not that she checked that too closely on the label. She poured herself a glass of wine and looked at the TV guide. She had to keep her mind occupied. She didn’t want to think about what lay ahead of her over the next few days.

  * * *

  Bryce arrived home about half past nine, just as ER was finishing. Ally had tossed her wrappers and made herself a cup of tea after her two glasses of wine. She was glad to see him.

  “Hi,” he called absently, putting his gear away in the hall cupboard. Ally didn’t expect him to run in and embrace her. They were well past that phase of the relationship. In fact, they’d skipped that phase altogether. But she needed to feel close to him tonight.

  She switched off the TV and stood expectantly as Bryce came into the room. He pecked her on the cheek, but she put her arms around his neck, hugging him. It caught him by surprise.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” he said, though not unkindly, loosening her grip.

  “I had some bad news today. My grandfather died.”

  He looke
d a little bemused. “You’re upset? I thought you weren’t very close?”

  “Still, he virtually raised me,” Ally reminded him. “And he was, you know, my only relative.”

  Bryce had moved away from her and was looking in the fridge. “Mm. But your mother’s still alive?”

  Ally shrugged. “Who knows?” she paused, watching him pour himself a glass of water. She walked over behind him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I just feel strange, you know? I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”

  He looked at her. “Just let me have a quick shower, and I’m all yours, okay?”

  She nodded. She followed him into the bedroom and sat on the bed watching him. He started talking about the game, then some new client at work, but Ally wasn’t listening. She knew Bryce wasn’t good at dealing with anything too intimate, he never had been. Not that it bothered her most of the time.

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head. He had a nice body. Not overly pumped, he was careful to avoid that. And he didn’t want to get too thin either—that made you look gay, he’d told Ally once, quite seriously. That was okay when he was selling real estate in Darlinghurst, but not now.

  He had an average build. Firm and fit, but average. He was average height. His hair was light brown and he had it cut carefully and often into a simple, generic style. Meg said that he was bland, but Ally thought he was good-looking. Though she sometimes wondered how she would describe him to the authorities, should she ever need to. He didn’t have any distinguishing features. And that’s precisely the way Bryce wanted it. Part of his everyman appeal, he said. Not so good-looking as to make husbands jealous, but enough not to turn women off. Pleasant, not threatening. Okay, maybe a little bland.

  Ally was getting restless. She forgot that Bryce never had a quick shower. She changed into a nightie, washed her face and unravelled the loose plait that kept her unruly mane in place. Bryce had never liked her hair. Early on he’d talked her into getting it cut like Meg Ryan. Ally had been dubious. The only person who looked good with Meg Ryan hair was Meg Ryan. On anybody else it was just a bad haircut. On Ally it was a disaster. Short tufts of hair stuck out at right angles from her head, and stray curly tendrils pointed every which way. Even Bryce had agreed she had to grow it out again.