Heart of Glass

HEART OF GLASS

Lindy Dale

Copyright 2010 Secret Creek
Press

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Prologue

1987

My life has been punctuated
by songs. Songs trigger memories that make me smile, or even cry.
Some people collect ticket stubs and place cards to remind them of
their life journey, storing them in a box of memories that becomes
torn and faded as the years pass. With me, it’s songs and my songs
never fade. They’re always as they were, the first time I heard
them.

Stored in my head is a bank
of lyrics, useless to anyone else. They live in their own mini
recording studio waiting to spring to life when a song registers in
my mind. Then they jump to attention, tormenting me with lines to
tunes I know, but don’t really. I know so many lyrics it’s
bordering on ridiculous, I even know words to songs from the
sixties, which were popular way before I was old enough to
recognise them. I’m always humming something to myself.

It was early one Friday
evening in 1987, when that song wormed it’s way into my brain for
the first time in years. I’d heard it twice already during the day,
which I suppose isn't unusual. If you listen to the radio
constantly, you’re bound to hear the same song twice in a short
space of time. Still it must have been a sign, I think. I’m a great
believer in signs.

The bar, that night, was
packed with young professionals. Later, I’d have to yell to make
myself heard over the sound of U2 siphoning from the sound system
but I didn’t care. This was my turf. The place where everybody knew
my name.

Sitting on a stool at the
bar, I hummed to myself as I took in the sights. Leaves from the
London Plane trees rustled in the sticky summer breeze. Fairy
lights twinkled against the twilight. Out in the alfresco, girls
were twittering and preening like pretty birds as the lights played
on their sequined tops. Testosterone swam around them in suits and
jeans. Content, I watched them come and go, greeting their friends
with a clasp of the hand or a slap on the back. I smiled to myself.
It was a veritable smorgasbord of men and if I’d been single it
would have been difficult to choose. But as it stood I had my
darling Coops. Current policy was one of perusal only. As Mum
always said, ‘there’s no harm in looking, Bella, as long as you
don’t eat the cakes.’ A gem of wisdom, but one I never understood
until I discovered the opposite sex.

Some men are there to be
looked at. Some should carry a sign ‘Look, but definitely don’t
touch!’

A friendly face stopped at
the bar beside me. I reached over and kissed him.

“
Jus,” I said, fingering
the deep red lipstick smear from his cheek.

“
Beer?”

Justin pulled up a stool and
sat down. “Shit yeah. I’ve had a hell of a day.”

“
Oh baby… client hell
again?”

His face looked tired. He
loosened his thin leather tie and settled on the stool.
“Yep.”

I motioned to the barmaid
for a drink and began to chatter away. My cigarette flailed in the
air as I talked and he ducked for cover, clicking his tongue in
disapproval. No matter how he chastised me, I continued to
smoke.

“
My day was utter crap,
too,” I said, “Trudy said we need to expand our audience so I threw
a whole heap of ideas her way, which she promptly dismissed as
droll and ‘been-there-done-that’. Looks like I’m up till midnight,
again, trying to come up with some new strategy that will appease
her. The woman is a bitch.” I stopped to take a breath but only for
a moment. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Your new flatmate coming
along? I’m looking forward to meeting him. From all you’ve said, he
sounds hunky.”

Justin shook his head in
resignation. He was used to my eternal perving and paid no heed.
“Back in the day he’d have been right up your alley, Bella. Where’s
Coops by the way?”

“
He’s helping a mate from
the footy team to install cupboards in his kitchen. He might pop
down later.”

Coops and I had been friends
since the Uni days and seemed to have fallen into coupledom by
default. Though the way it happened had been something of a
surprise to me, our relationship seemed as natural as rain falling
from the sky to the rest of our gang. They’d all agreed it had only
been a matter or when. And with the looks of Richard Gere and
muscles I’d never been able to resist? Well, I guess they were
right.

“
So… tell me more about
your flatmate, Jus’.”

Justin’s eyes crinkled with
amusement. My mind was an open book to him, most likely a copy of
Playgirl.

“
Um - tall, blonde,
athletic, intelligent. He used to be a professional footballer. Not
that it should be important to you.”

“
It’s not, but you know I
like to keep an eye on who you’re sharing your toothpaste with.
There’s way too many loonies in this world.”

“
I think I’m fairly safe
then. He’s an architect, just moved back from Melbourne. He’s
friendly and loves a beer, so he should be good value for after
work drinks, I reckon.”

Raising his left hand, he
signalled over my shoulder and swivelled on his stool. The new
flatmate had arrived.

“
Bella, this
is….”

I looked up into the steely
blue eyes of the man standing before me. “…Benjamin James,” I said,
finishing the sentence.

“
You two know each
other?”

“
You could say that,” was
the drawled reply.

You could say more than
that, I thought. God, what should I do? He looked so good. I didn’t
know if I wanted to stab him to death with my stiletto or take him
outside for a quickie.

Justin looked from Ben, back
to me. “How?”

“
From school,” Ben said,
staring at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

For the first time in my
life, I was dumfounded. Standing before me, smiling in a most
disarming manner was the first boy I had ever loved; the one I had
given my heart to. He was the reason I had been born, the reason I
was the woman I was. He was my knight in shining armour. The man I
adored but could not love.

Suddenly, I knew why I’d
kept hearing that song all day. Shit.

Chapter 1

1979 - ONE FINE
DAY

One fine day, you’ll look
at me

And you will know our love
was meant to be.

One fine day, you’re gonna
want me for your girl.

The Shirelles

On the day I met Ben James,
The Shirelles were singing that song from the sixties, One Fine
Day. I heard it in the car on the way to the football and I hummed
along as we drove. It stayed with me for the whole day, a psychic
prediction of a meeting that would change my life
forever.

Lucy, Prue, Jen and I had
donned our warmest clothes and school scarves in honour of the game
that day. We were much like any other group of fifteen-year-old
schoolgirls. We thought we were highly individual but we all looked
the same. We were thin, well, except Prue who’s life was a fad
diet. We had clear skin and straight teeth. We wore Levi jeans - in
cord of course - with the obligatory brown suede desert boots and
woollen duffle coats. The others had hair styled in the latest
permed fashion. My hair hung long and straight, in the most boring
shade of brown known to man, the way Mum liked it. Our look was our
uniform, the uniform we wore when we weren’t at school; the one
that we needed to be part of the “cool” gang.

The outlook over the
mountain that day was grey, promising rain later. Heavy clouds
loomed and there was an icy chill to the air, but we didn’t want to
miss the game, not even if the weather bureau had predicted
snowfalls down to one hundred metres and maximum temperatures of
only eight degrees. Football on a Saturday afternoon was all we had
to do. Football was the social highlight of our week.

It was bitterly cold
standing on the sideline with a clipboard and a pen but we recorded
the stats and cheered on our friends. We all had our reasons for
being there. Prue was there to see her brother. Tim was a good
player, tipped to make the seniors in the local competition the
next year. He was in Year 12 at St. Peter’s College, the boy’s
school on the next block to our own school. Prue and Tim were part
of a close family and their parents were so cool. Their house was
decorated in the latest interior style, right down to the cream
shag pile carpet and chocolate timber veneer. They drove the latest
car and Prue always had the newest clothes, even before they hit
the shops, courtesy of her mum’s boutique. Not only that, but Prue
was allowed to go wherever, whenever. Compared to my boring parents
with their rules and regulations Prue was living in a wonderland
and I was envious of everything she had and did. Her life looked
perfect.

Jen, the quiet one of our
foursome, wanted to see Tim play too. She had a real thing going
for Tim; we all knew it. Jen spent most weekends at Prue’s house,
mooning in a lovesick fashion whenever Tim walked into the room and
spoke to her (or even when he didn’t). ‘Tim this, Tim that’... was
all we ever heard. Jen was so shy, though, she could never tell Tim
how she felt. She would blush at the mere thought. So she figured
it was better to love from afar than not at all.

Lucy, of course, didn’t care
who was playing football as long as they were male. She was often
termed ‘boy crazy’ by adults who knew her, especially my mother,
who used her behaviour as an excuse to launch into one of her
famous ‘how to behave like a lady’ speeches.  Lucy’s long,
blonde hair fell down her back and around her face in tiny
ringlets. She had curves and bumps in all the right places, which
made me feel inadequate at the sight of what could only be
described as goosebumps where my breasts were meant to be. Boys
loved the way Lucy looked. They hung on her every word and were so
blinded by the sight of her enormous breasts that the rest of us
were all but invisible.

Lucy looked like an
angel.

Which automatically meant
Lucy was the queen.  Of everything.

At the final siren, we
closed our clipboards and handed them over to the coach. The match
had been close but the opposing team, St Michael’s - a school from
the other side of the state, had come out winners. Despite the loss
we were feeling buoyant as we hiked up the hill for afternoon tea
in the hall. We reached the door and stepped inside out of the
chill, dawdling past the tea table where Prue grabbed a muffin and
began to nibble. The hall was cold as usual. So, finding an empty
corner, we huddled together.

“
It’s freezing in here,”
Lucy moaned. “Move over, Jennifer, and keep me warm.”

Jen snuggled next to Lucy,
rubbing her hands. “Better?”

“
Marginally.”

“
I’m getting a hot
chocolate, anyone else want one?” Prue asked, as she wandered off
in search of the drinks.

“
No, thanks,” I
said.

“
I’m fine.”

“
I’ll have one, Prudence,
but only if it’s skim milk…” Lucy called.

Prue turned back with a
smirk and a mock bow. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“…
. And NO
sugar.”

While Jen and Lucy discussed
the shopping they had done in the city that morning, I stood
watching the other kids around the room. Groups formed, dispersed
and reformed; an ebbing sea of bodies and faces. They all looked
happy and relaxed, the complete opposite of how I felt most of the
time. I’d have chewed off my right arm to be popular like the rest
of my friends but I was a mouse around people I didn’t know. A
little mouse with mousey hair.  Sure, people invited me to
parties as part of the gang, but I never went to sleepovers at
their houses. I never went shopping with the girls or on dates and
on the weekend the only exciting thing in my life apart from the
school football was dinner at Grandma’s on Sunday. I didn’t fit in.
And even though my older brother Toby’s football wizardry had sort
of garnered me a spot in the gang, I was still at a loss as to how
I’d ever been accepted into the ‘cool group’. It was so not
me.