Chapter 2
1529 Words
Chapter 2The fifteen minute shopping expedition lasted the better part of half an hour and in that time I found myself drawn to her. Sigrid was 28 going on 29, she’d worked in banking for over six years, two of them with Danske Bank in Denmark and HSBC in London. She did eighteen months at the State Bank before moving to Westpac. She’d bought a house in Olinda twelve months ago but got tired of travelling all the way into Box Hill every day.
“I met Melanie when her husband did my pergola, it was a matter of being in the right place at the right time. When she heard I was looking to transfer she called Human Resources and lo and behold my transfer application magically appeared.”
She was the second oldest daughter, the oldest was Agnetha. She was married had two kids and lived out in Mooroolbark, she was also a doctor out at Maroondah hospital.
“Then there’s Caroline, she’s twenty six and lives not far from you, she teaches fabric construction at Box Hill Tafe,” she leaned on our supermarket trolley, “so if you ever want the perfect party dress go and see her.”
“The perfect dress for the perfect man?”
“Yep,” she reached over and picked up some cheese, “I’ll find the man and she’ll make the dress, Agnetha will deliver the baby and if he turns out to be a bastard then Elke can put him in handcuffs, she’s a constable out at Maroondah,” she dropped the cheese into the trolley.
“So, we’ve got all the angles covered, leave it to beaver,” she giggled.
I smiled and Sigrid’s eyes narrowed.
“Ten o’clock, the redhead in the white tee shirt.”
I turned to look at a woman in her late twenties some distance away.
“You like her?”
“Yum yum, she’s only buying for one, I wonder if she’s straight?”
“You want to find out?”
“Lead the way.”
It was truly bizarre I reasoned to a girlfriend over the phone that night.
“I mean I was just chatting to her like I do with any other woman, but I was trying to steer the conversation around to s*x without coming onto her.”
“Sounds weird, she sounds weird.”
“But weird in a good way,” I decided, “it was all a bit of fun and we still didn’t find out but at least we know that Debbie is a fitness instructor and she lives in Wonga Park.”
“Rather you than me,” Tracey replied, “I’m not against them but I couldn’t hang out with them.”
“I’m not hanging out with them just one.”
“That’s how it starts,” she warned me, “but it’s up to you.”
Had it started already? Tracey’s words came back to me a few times that weekend as I caught up on housework and went through one of the boxes in Cathy’s old room. This box had a diary in it and I found myself flipping through it, recalling old memories.
Cathy was a prolific writer and this box was filled with diaries and notepads. Another box held her photo albums filled with pictures from around the world and in many of them she was with other people. It was in her nature to make friends, many of them sent cards to mum and as was typical for her, she tossed them in the bin the day she died. But I had her personal stuff and I contemplated changing my will just in case I suffered the same fate, I could just imagine mum’s glee at getting hold of some of Cathy’s souvenirs and consigning them to the flames.
I felt Cathy’s presence more than once that weekend and now and then thought of Sigrid and the incident in Coles. There was something about the woman that was both familiar and foreign and as I got ready for work that Monday morning I felt a growing anxiety as I thought about the promise I’d made to Melanie.
How the hell do I do this?
As chance would have it, a brooch Cathy had picked up in Egypt was sitting on my windowsill. It was dark green and often used to fasten a hijab, apparently. Cathy had been playing with it a day before she was taken to hospital for the last time and it’d been there ever since.
The uniform specified a silk kerchief but there were different ways to wear it and Melanie would never send me home for not wearing a kerchief. I fastened the top button of my blouse and pinned the brooch at the top and studied my reflection. My auburn hair was wavy and stopped just past my collar. I flicked at my hair as I recalled Cathy’s words.
I’m watching over you.
I closed my eyes as the butterflies rose in startled flight and then I heard Cathy’s voice.
“You can do this,” I told myself, “do it for Cathy or Melanie but do it.”
Nevertheless, as it turned out my anxiety was unfounded and I felt somewhat deflated at the morning briefing as Melanie read out a statement from H.R that laid out their equal opportunity policies, which stated in no uncertain terms the penalty for harassing staff.
“It’s come to my attention that certain members of my team have crossed the line with a certain member of staff. Consider this your first and final warning,” her eyes flickered from one to the other, “I will not tolerate this kind of poison. Our jobs are hard enough without certain individuals harassing their colleagues.”
She smiled at me.
“And I would like to welcome Louise back, we’ve missed you,” she nodded at the door, “now let’s open the doors and try to be a little bit nicer to each other.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. One or two people looked at Jane and then Sigrid stepped forward.
“I’ll open the doors.”
I followed her to the doors to tidy up the deposit and withdrawal slips. It felt as if Melanie had pulled the rug out from under me or maybe she just didn’t want to put me under too much pressure, but either way I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.
“Do you want to have lunch together?”
I looked up. Sigrid was pulling out slips that had been doodled on by children.
“Lunch.”
“Yeah, it’s a meal usually taken in the middle of the day. Do you want the Danish word for it?”
“No that’s fine,” I replied, “and yes.”
“Good,” she smiled and glanced over her shoulder as the first customers entered the bank, “I’ll explain it all later.”
“Okay,” I replied as she reached out slowly and in full view of the staff, touched the brooch.
“That’s pretty, where did you get it?”
“It belonged to Cathy, she got it in Egypt.”
“Very nice,” she smiled as a customer started filling out a deposit slip.
As I followed her back behind the counter I noticed Melanie looking at me and she had a crooked smile on her face.
“You can help me today,” she inclined her head, “when are you lunching?”
“When Sigrid takes her lunch.”
“Good,” she inclined her head, “let’s make it look like we’re working.”
It was a busy morning and we don’t get a lot of time for small talk but at about one o’clock Sigrid signed off her terminal and Melanie nodded at me.
“Go on, be back in an hour,” she stared at me and winked.
So far she hadn’t given me a hint about why she’d taken the step of openly warning the staff about the way some of them had treated Sigrid instead of letting me do the dirty work, but as we walked up the alley between the bank and the cinema, Sigrid let it all out and her explanation was a lot simpler and more moving.
“Melanie told me what she’d asked you to do,” Sigrid looked across as we passed in front of the cinema, “I think she wanted to warn me in case I thought you were coming onto me.”
“Which I wouldn’t,” I sighed, “honestly.”
“I know and at first I was angry, not at her but the others. I’ve been dealing with this kind of s**t off and on for years but as Melanie put it the other day, haven’t we gotten past this yet? I didn’t want her to put this on you because you’re going through a lot of s**t. I can handle myself but I don’t want you getting involved.”
“I kind of volunteered,” I tightened the grip on my handbag.
“I know and that gives me hope,” she nudged me, “which is why I went out and got this from a little craft shop near my house.”
I took the paper bag and came to a stop as I read the familiar inspirational quotation on the laminated A4 card.
Don’t walk in front of me I may not follow.
Don’t walk behind me I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend.
A tear slid down my cheek. How could she have known? It had hung above the wall of Cathy’s bedroom for years. I looked up and wiped the tear away.
“Yes, I really need a friend.”
“Good because I need a lover like a case of crabs,” she gave me a hug, “as the song goes, I’ve looked for love in all the wrong places,” she released me.
“Come on, I’m starving.”
The poster went up on my lounge room wall that night in a frame I’d picked up at the Sunday flea market a while ago. I sat looking at it for a while, drinking in the memory of that lunch. I’d opened up a little more about my life, offering up titbits that would have embarrassed me a few months ago but having Cathy totally dependent on me had forced me to suppress things. Sigrid listened without interrupting and as I drove home that afternoon it occurred to me that Sigrid was the only person apart from Cathy and Melanie to listen like that.
- Writer
