Miss Spelled (8 page)

The alarm goes off at 6:20. Even though tiredness has invaded every part of my body, I am desperate to find out if the spell worked. If it did, then that’s the best news ever. If it didn’t, then…well…that’s not so good.

‘Rodney? Rodney, are you taking the dog for a walk this morning, darls?’

‘Yes, Dee. I’m just finishing my cuppa, love.’

I jump out of bed like a Jack in the Box.
Mum?

The act of plunging my brain into unexpected motion is against my laws of nature. A slow unravelling of my mental faculties is always my preferred method of starting the day, particularly after such a late, stressful night.

‘Don’t forget we’re going to the travel agents at ten. Will you be back by then?’

‘Love, I’m taking the dog for a walk, not a bloody hike. ‘Course I’ll be back by ten.’

Hopefully the boundary between dreaming and wakefulness will be dissolved by shaking my head and rubbing my eyes. This must be the vivid dream that Majique’s website had stated would happen, because what on earth would Mum and Dad be doing here with the dog?

Hang on! What dog? They don’t have a dog. What’s going on?

‘I’m thinking a cruise this time, darls. Perhaps the one around the Mediterranean. What do you think?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Or maybe the one around Alaska and the North Pole?’

‘Sounds great.’

They’re going on a holiday? Mum and Dad have never been away on holidays, except to Sorrento for two weeks each Christmas. They’ve never been able to afford one, or the time away from their small businesses.

‘Rodney! Which one? Help me choose.’

‘I am perfectly happy with either one. Just as long as I’m with you,’ Dad says.

‘Aww, Rodney,’ Mum’s voice softens. ‘You’re such a romantic.’

‘Happy wife, happy life, love,’ Dad says and then whistles loudly. ‘Gonzo! Gonzo, come on boy, let’s go for a walk. Back soon, love.’

There is a loud kissing sound, a delighted squeal and some quiet mumbling.

‘Ohh, Rodney! You’re such a devil!’

Urgh! The dream has shifted into nightmare territory.

My eyes travel around the room. It’s familiar, too familiar. My old bedroom had been transformed into an office when I moved into my cottage, but here it is, in its former state. What a dream! It feels so real.

I launch off the bed, open the door and walk outside.

‘Ah, there you are, Lou. I thought I was going to have to come in and wake you up. It’s nearly six thirty, darls. You’d better get a move on. You’re normally fed and watered and out the door by seven.’

My eyes continue to travel around the lounge room and kitchen. It’s been renovated and now looks less of an 80s hangover and more like something from
Belle
magazine. The colour palette is beautiful, similar to my own cottage with whites, browns and aquamarine. The floors are covered in high gloss white tiles, the walls adorned with beachy abstract art and a sense of calm prevails, which is odd because calm is not an adjective that could be used to describe Mum.

God, this is so surreal! There must have been some mighty powerful magic released last night to make me feel so floaty and real at the same time
.

‘Love, did you hear me?’ Mum asks and grabs my upper arm with her cold, wet, sudsy hand.

The sensation snaps me out of my dreamy fog. I reach out to touch Mum. Is she real? No one is supposed to feel anything in dreams, particularly not the wet, soapy hands of their mother. Soap suds rest on my arm and tickle as they pop.

‘Mum?’

‘No, it’s Duchess Kate. Who else would it be?’

Well, it certainly sounds like Mum.

‘No, I mean…’ I try to gather my thoughts but they were scattered around me in so many pieces that it would be impossible to pick them up again. ‘This isn’t a dream?’

Mum cackles with laughter. ‘Livin’ the dream. Yes, Dad and I certainly are. But you are not. You have to get ready for work. Mr Fancy Pants Executive won’t like to be kept waiting, I’m sure.’

I freeze, not wanting to ask the next question, but it falls out of my gaping mouth anyway.

‘What job?’

I’m a teacher, second grade at St. Andrews. I’ve been there for six years. How could I have a new job and not be aware of it?

Mum continues, ‘That agency sure keeps you busy. You must be a favourite of theirs for all this work to keep falling in your lap. Anyone would think you’d be in your own place by now with all the money you’ve made…’

The need to sit down is overwhelming. As is the sudden violent swirling in my stomach and head.

‘But then again, apparently your generation is renowned for living at home into old age. I guess it is important to have a lovely shoe collection, but Lou, for God’s sake darls, you need to do something with your life.’

Oh fuck!
My head falls into my hands and the desire to squeeze it like a vice is too tempting to refuse.

‘I know we’ve talked about it before, but both your father and I are getting worried. You’re just so…stagnant. You’re not getting any younger, you know. It’ll be slim pickings for you after you hit 31, believe me. The only men who will be left will be the ones no sane girl wants. Or you’ll end up as a stepmother to kids who will never accept you.’

‘The agency? The teaching agency?’ I ask, blocking out Mum’s rant.

‘No, the temp agency. Lou, are you alright?’

I feel the blood pool in my feet.

‘I’m not a teacher?’

‘You were, for a few years. Lou, what’s happening, darls? You’ve gone all pasty,’ Mum says, grabbing my hands in hers, ‘and cold. Lou?’

‘What about Aiden?’

‘Aiden who?’

‘My fiancé Aiden.’

‘You’ve got a boyfriend? A fiancé?’

‘You’ve never met Aiden?’

Oh no! Please tell me I’m dreaming
.

Mum shakes her head from side to side.

‘Mel?’

‘Of course I know Mel. She’s part of the furniture around here.’

‘But not Aiden? Tall, gorgeous, handsome, man of my dreams?’

‘Never heard of him, darls. Sorry, but if anyone answering to that description knocks on the door, I’ll be sure to let him know you’re available.’

My bum hits the couch and my head hits a cushion. My entire body prickles and tingles. It’s like being jabbed by hundreds of acupuncture needles all at once, but without any of the therapeutic benefits.

I grab for my mobile on the coffee table and scroll through the contacts but Aiden isn’t there. Jesus! My breath catches in my throat as my brain attempts to kick-start itself. Maybe he’s under something else, like F for Fiancé or L for Love of my Life?

I search under every entry there is, but there is no Aiden. Stuff it, I’ll just ring him. I punch in the number and wait. It starts to ring. My heart thumps so loudly I am afraid of not being able to hear his voice when he answers.

‘Hello?’ the female voice says, ‘this is Aiden St. James’ phone.’

It must be Tina, his personal assistant.

‘Tina?’

‘Yes, who is this please?’

Oh, thank God. One quick phone call and all of this can be put to rest. Everything’s going to be okay. But why is my breath still rasping?

‘It’s Lou, Aiden’s fiancée. Is he available, please?’

‘Sorry, Lou who?’

‘You know me, we’ve met heaps of times. Aiden and I just got engaged.’

The silence on the other end of the phone is long enough to induce nausea.

‘Ah, I’m sorry, Lou, but I think you’re mistaken. Perhaps you were after someone else?’

‘No! No, it’s Aiden I’m after, is he there? Please, this is a…an emergency.’

Another spell of silence and then muffled voices.

‘Aiden, there’s a woman on the phone. She says she’s your fiancée, Lou,’ says Tina. I listen intently, desperate to hear every word. It is definitely Aiden’s voice and my spirits lift with a mixture of apprehension of what is to come and relief that he is alright.

‘Lou? I don’t know anyone named Lou. Can you take a message, please?’ says Aiden.

My heart plummets towards my feet.
How can he say he doesn’t know me?

Tina removes her hand from the phone and speaks in a very professional tone, ‘I’m sorry Lou, but he’s not available right now. Can I take a message for you?’

‘He is so available. I just heard his voice. Please, please put him on. Please.’

More silence and then a muffled, ‘She’s very insistent, Aiden.’

‘Okay…hello, Aiden speaking.’

‘Aiden! Aiden, it’s me, Lou. I don’t know what happened, but I woke up this morning and everything was different…I don’t know where to start…’

‘I’m sorry, but how do I know you?’

‘It’s me, Lou, your fiancée. You proposed to me last Friday night, in the Edge, on the Eureka Tower. We’ve been together for one year and we’re so in love, although your mother isn’t too keen on me…’

Aiden lets out a small laugh.
Oh, thank God, he recognises my voice. He knows me! It’s all going to be alright
.

‘My mother doesn’t approve of anyone. Look, I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are. I’ve never met anyone by the name of…’

‘Lou,’ I say, my mouth barely able to pronounce the word.

‘Ah right, Lou. You’ve probably got me confused with someone else. I can put you onto reception and perhaps they can help you,’ he says.

He’s still so nice, wanting to help a nutty stranger.

My voice is gone.

‘Hello? Are you still there?’ he asks.

‘Yes, I’m still… wait! I can prove that you know me. You live in a two-bedroom apartment on Southbank. Your parents live in Toorak. You attended Geelong Grammar with Hunter Wincott, who you hated at school because he was a bully to the other kids. We both love Rocky Road ice cream and drinking raspberry cordial mixed with lemonade. You hate pistachios. You see? I do know you,’ I plead.

‘And you say that you are my fiancée?’ he says.

‘Yes! Yes, I am. Oh Aiden, I’m so glad you remember me now!’

‘How did we meet?’

‘At a charity fun run around Albert Park Lake. I was dressed as a fairy, running with a silver wig, big red nose and a pair of sparkly wings’ I said. ‘You had finished the course and came back to help keep me going because you said that I ran like a duck and looked like I was in pain. It was to raise money for children suffering heart complications, remember?’

‘Why would a fairy have a big red nose?’

‘Because the kids loved it, you loved it. Please tell me you remember.’

Aiden lets out a cross between a sigh and a small laugh. ‘I almost wish I did. It sounds like fun, but no. I am really sorry but I have never met you.’

‘How would I know all that stuff about you if we’d never met? About Hunter Wincott. You hate him, don’t you?’

‘I can’t explain how you know all of that. In fact, it’s pretty disturbing that you know so much about me, so maybe it’s best if you don’t call again. Okay? I’d hate to have to call the police on you.’

‘But…’

‘Goodbye, Lou. Please don’t call me again.’

The phone goes dead, as does my heart.

‘The spell,’ I mumble. ‘It worked, but…not like it was meant to.’

‘What spell?’ Mum asks.

‘It looks like the spell did more than just erase Hunter’s memory.’

A sole tear runs down the length of my cheek and my chin starts to quiver.

‘Lou, darls, what is it? Did another man break your heart?’ Mum asks.

‘Maybe, but hopefully not yet. I’ve got to call Mel.’

Mel answers on the fourth ring.

‘Thank God you’re there,’ I say. ‘Something’s happened, something bad, from the spell last night.’

‘The what?’

‘The spell. The one to erase that rat-bastard’s memory,’ I blurt.

‘What spell? Lou, what are you talking about?’

The muscles in my chest contract. This blunder is bigger than I’d first thought. It isn’t just Hunter’s memory that was affected, it’s everyone’s, except mine.

‘Where are you? I need to see you. Now,’ I say.

‘I’m at home.’

‘Great. Where is that exactly?’

‘Look out the back door, Lou,’ Mel says.

I make my way to the back door, open it and am gobsmacked to find a small self-contained granny flat in the backyard. Mum and Dad had toyed with the idea for years but Dad had never found the time to build it because he was so busy trying to earn a living building for other people.

‘Oh…it…when…?’ My mouth fumbles around the abstract thoughts floating around in my headspace. There she is, Mel smiling and waving from inside the flat.

‘You live here? In the backyard!’

This is too strange. Just what the hell happened with that spell?

The spongy grass cushions my journey across the backyard to Mel’s oversized cubby house.

‘Are you alright? You look kind of…mentally disturbed,’ Mel says.

‘What did we do last night?’ I ask.

Mel scrunches her mouth to the side and says, ‘I was here, watching television and sipping on cold wine, and you were out and about.’

I deflate. ‘We didn’t go to the Crown Towers or cast a spell?’

Mel shakes her head and tilts it to the side, the way a dog does when it can’t make sense of something. My voice has begun to rise in pitch and my speech accelerates as the words throw themselves out of my mouth.

‘It was a spell that you found on the internet, from Majique, to erase me from the memory of the rat-bastard, so that he wouldn’t tell Aiden that we’d had a relationship 11 years ago,’ I prattle away, without any regard as to how much of a loony this probably makes me sound.

Mel gives me a look that screams ‘crazy lady’, and it’s clear that she is just plain confused by all of this. And a bit scared.

‘Why don’t you come and sit down and…rest for a little while. You’ve been under a bit of stress lately, maybe it’s all come to a head. You know, been too much for you to cope with. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, we all have our breaking point.’

She takes my hand, drags me across the room and plants me on the floral upholstered couch. She sits down, but not as close as usual.

‘I’m not at breaking point, it’s just that…’ How can this tale be relayed to Mel without me being mistaken for a right raving loony?

A large breath fills my lungs and restores a fraction of calm. A tranquil mind is the only way to start, just like on the days of a high wind at school when the kids are scatty and driving me to insanity.