The Year I Went Pear-Shaped (16 page)

Chapter 33: Letter to Daddy

Dear Poppa,

I’m writing this letter because my counsellor says that unless I face my issues, I’ll never move forward. She says that if I don’t face my demons I’ll keep repeating the same defensive patterns of behaviour that have kept me overweight, afraid of intimacy and angry at men for so many years. I mean, lets face it, there had to be a pretty big reason for why someone as gorgeous and charming as me hadn’t been snapped up by some handsome millionaire long before now! Only joking Pops. Anyway, what’s this got to do with you? Well, apparently you are one of my biggest issues. Yep, that’s right Poppa, you’re my demon! You and the fact that, as I see it, you walked out on me, Mum and Jim. I thought I was over this. I figured, ‘hell, just about everyone comes from a broken home these days; it’s no big deal. Plus it happened so long ago, it’s history now’. Well, it turns out that I was wrong.

Tobsha -- that’s my counsellor -- described it to me by saying that even if everyone I knew broke their leg at the same time as me, it wouldn’t mean my break was any less serious or painful than if I’d been the only person to break their leg. Get it? I hope so. All I’m trying to say is that I’m only now realising that your divorce from Mum had a huge impact on me and the scars aren’t healing. Just because lots of people get divorced nowadays doesn’t make it any less painful for me. Or anyone else.

And I have to tell you that although I love you very, very much, I’m also angry with you. Actually it’s bigger than that. There’s a ball of rage burning inside me. And part of me wants to lash out at you, to hurt you. There’s a seven-year-old girl inside me who has kept quiet for over 25 years. She’s been pretending that everything’s ok because she didn’t want Mummy or Daddy to get upset but everything’s not ok and now that little girl is sick of keeping quiet, she wants to scream the house down and yell at the top of her lungs, ‘what about meeeee?’ She feels let down, abandoned. She thinks she wasn’t loveable enough. She thinks she wasn’t pretty or clever or funny enough for you. Maybe if she’d been nicer, you’d have stayed. And, somehow, as that little girl grew up, it all got twisted into her thinking that if she wasn’t good enough for her own father, then she can’t be good enough for any man. So she may as well stay away from men because they’ll only leave once they realise she’s not good enough anyway. So, the girl decided she’d be
safe if she hid behind a wall of fat and attitude. She’s still there but now she wants to come out.

I want to ask you some questions that I should’ve asked you about 20 years ago. Why did you start the affair? Were things no good between you and Mum? Why did you leave us? Were you unhappy? What was the problem? How long did you think about leaving before you actually did? Did you think about the effect it would have on Jim and me? Did you think we’d get along fine without you or did you just not care at that point? And why did you move away to Perth so that we hardly ever saw you?  Sydney’s a big place, both families could have lived there. Or, if you had to move, why not somewhere closer like Canberra? Why the hell did it have to be Perth?

Anyway Poppa, I think that’s enough for now. I’ll talk to you properly about all this stuff later. Lots of love, Darla xxx

Putting my pen down, I wiped my eyes and went to the bathroom to blow my nose. When I came back, I folded the letter up, slid it into the envelope and licked the seal, pressing the triangular flap down on the back. Turning it over, I licked the stamp and pressed it in the top right hand corner with the side of my fist. I wrote Pop’s address on the front then put it in my pocket and headed out to the letterbox on the corner of the street. As it fell from my fingers and into the big red box, something very large had been lifted from my shoulders.

Chapter 34: The Shrine

A knock on the front door pulled Anita reluctantly back to reality. She’d had her first proper date with Adonis the night before and now he was all she could think about. God, he was a hunk! She was falling hard and fast which wasn’t like her at all. Standing in the kitchen in her fluffiest socks, she had been off in her own little world waiting for the kettle to boil. She’d gotten home from work about 20 minutes earlier and immediately changed out of her sensible Jacqui E office clothes and into her mini tartan skirt topped with a green t-shirt that screeched, ‘cover me in honey and throw me to the lesbians!’

Whoever it was knocked a second time.

“Shit,” she said under her breath, realising she’d fallen back into the daydream again. ‘Pull it together you love struck idiot’ she thought as she headed over to see who was at the door.

“Gordon!” She said, surprised to find the man of her flatmate’s dreams standing on the doorstep looking like he hadn’t slept for about a month.

“Hi Anita, sorry to bother you, is Darla home?”

‘Hell,’ thought Anita, clocking his dishevelled hair, the bags under his eyes and food stains down his t-shirt, ‘he looks like he’s having some kind of meltdown’.

“Ah, no, she’s going to be home late tonight, a dumb work thing she’s got to go to, the launch of some TV new game show called ‘Willing to Bet’ I think.”

Gordon smiled and for a second looked like his old self, “oh good, because if there’s one thing this country needs, it’s another game show,” he joked.

Anita laughed, “yep, that’s our Darla, helping make the world a better place... look, do you want to come in for a coffee? You look kinda beat.”

He checked his watch. “Actually yeah, I might stop in for five minutes if you’re not busy, the last two days would rate up there with the worst of my life.”

“Yeah, I could tell something was up to be honest. Well, come in then and if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”

Anita stood aside and motioned towards the kitchen. He stepped past her and walked through. Pulling up a chair at the kitchen table, he watched silently as Anita put out cups, teabags, milk and sugar. It took less than a minute for the kettle to reach boiling point again. Anita poured the hot water over the two teabags.

“Milk and sugar?”

“Yeah, both thanks. One sugar.”

After giving him his cup of tea and offering him a biscuit, Anita sat down next to him and took a sip of her tea then, putting the cup back on the table, she looked up at him.

“So, what’s the problem?” She asked gently.

In response, Gordon covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. Taking a deep breath, he held back the tears that had suddenly sprung up from nowhere.

“Look, it probably sounds stupid but someone killed my cat over the weekend.”

“Killed your cat? What, you mean hit it with a car or something?”

“No, I mean deliberately found my cat and -- to get at me -- cut his head off with a knife.”

Anita looked at him dumbfounded as the information sunk in.

“Oh my god Gordon, that is so fucked up. You poor thing! Jesus I can’t believe it. Did you phone the police?”

“Yep, all that’s done. They came around yesterday.”

He took another big breath and re-newed his fight with the tears. He didn’t want to embarrass Anita by breaking down in front of her.

Questions tumbled over each other in their rush to be the first into Anita’s head. “How do you know someone killed your cat to get at you?”

“I’ve been getting strange letters from some psycho fan for ages now. I’d just been ignoring them, thinking she’d get bored and go away but in her last one she said she was going to punish me for not having written back to her. Plus she rang my home after I’d found his body and was more than happy to admit it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. That’s awful Gordon, I’m so sorry. I hope the police catch her soon.”

“Yeah, well that’s not all to be honest. That’s why I needed to see Darla. This psycho has seen me in the paper with Darla a few times and thinks we’re an item. She hasn’t come right out and said it but she’s kind of threatened to hurt Darla.”

Anita recoiled as though she’d been slapped in the face.

“You are kidding me?” She asked, knowing full well he wasn’t.

“Jesus.” She swallowed hard. The two of them sat silent for a minute.

“Yeah, it’s pretty heavy,” Gordon finally said. “I think the police might come round and have a word with her...look, can you tell her what I’ve told you? I’ll fill in the details when I see her. Tell her to be careful but not to worry.”

“Sure, course, I’ll wait up for her tonight.”

Gordon threw back his last mouthful of tea and got up to leave.

“Ok, thanks for the tea and everything but I’d better get going...actually, do you mind if I just leave a note with all my contact numbers and home address in Darla’s room? She’s only got my mobile number.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” said Anita automatically as her brain continued trying to process what he’d told her. “It’s the door right at the top of the stairs.”

Gordon smiled his thanks and climbed the stairs two at a time, pulling a business card out of his wallet on the way and wondering about the best thing to write on the back. His home number of course but also a short message, enough to alert her but not enough to panic her. Hopefully.

‘Alert not alarmed’ as Johnny Howard would say, thought Gordon to himself as he turned the knob on Darla’s bedroom door and tentatively stepped inside. He always felt funny going into other people’s bedrooms when they weren’t there. He looked around. It was a big room with lots of light and a balcony overlooking the street. The curtains were wide open and the bed unmade. Clothes and shoes were lying all over the floor and a stiletto hung precariously by its spiked heel from the ceiling fan. Gordon smiled, shaking his head in disbelief as he surveyed the bedroom chaos. Then something in the corner of his eye caught his attention, it was a little table with some photos, incense sticks and other knick-knacks on it. Going over for a closer look, he stared in confusion at the collection of haphazard objects. There were photos, newspaper clippings, matchboxes and coasters from various bars, theatre and movie ticket stubs, a pen and more. It was a little shrine. The only problem, thought Gordon, was that it was a little shrine to him.

Thoughts and suspicions started whirling through his head. He started remembering snatches of conversation and suddenly they took on new meaning. Little things started clicking into place like pieces of a jigsaw and the face in the picture that was forming made him feel sick.

The centrepiece of the shrine was a photo of himself cut into a love heart. Someone had kissed it while wearing bright red lipstick and the lip print covered the lower half of Gordon’s photographed face.

Feeling bewildered, angry and dizzy, he sat on the edge of Darla’s bed with his face in his hands and tried to slow down the tornado of thoughts flying around his head.

‘No, I’m being stupid and paranoid. Darla will have some simple explanation for this,’ he reasoned, repeating it to himself over and over. Feeling slightly better, he put his hands in his lap and looked up to see a wall of bookshelves full of videotapes. He hadn’t seen them at first because they were covered by loosely pinned sarongs. There were several floor-to-ceiling bookshelves pushed up side-by-side that took up a whole wall of Darla’s bedroom. They were packed solid with videotapes. Standing up to step forward, he saw that every one of the tapes was carefully labelled and, according to the labels, each one contained about six episodes of Love on the Wards. Gordon realised that every single episode of the show from the last ten years must be in this room.

The doubts and suspicions that he’d managed to push back for a few minutes came flooding back like a torrent.

‘No, no, no. Please God, not Darla. It can’t be Darla.’ Suddenly he couldn’t get the hell out of that room fast enough. He ran down the stairs and out through the front door.

Anita watched with surprise as he hurled himself out of the house and slammed the front door behind him. Shrugging, she figured a little strange behaviour after the weekend he’d had was justified. Anyway, she was more worried about Darla and wished her flatmate would hurry up and come home.

Chapter 35: Getting Rid of It

“What do you mean I’m in danger from some psychobitch who killed Gordon’s cat? Slow the hell down Anita, you’re not making any sense.”

I’d hardly had my key in the front door before Anita had ambushed me in the hallway and started gibbering about a dead cat.

“Would you bloody well sit down and listen to me then? Christ, you can be infuriatingly superior at times Darla,” she fumed.

“Ok, ok, sorry Neets, look, I’m walking into the lounge...” I turned to check that she was following me, “...I’m sitting on the nice sofa and I am listening to you 100 per cent...I am also having a cigarette if that’s ok?”

She nodded. “Yeah and give me one while you’re at it.”

I held out the packet, she took one and put it between her lips. I flicked the lighter for her before lighting my own.

We both took a long drag and exhaled at the same time.

“Now, what’s the problem?”

“Ok, Gordon came around this evening...

“Here? Gordon came here?”

“Yes! He came here, now shut up and listen, that is not the important thing here!”

“Sorry, carry on.” She looked like she was about to hit me.

“He was upset, really upset. Someone cut his cat’s head off with a knife over the weekend. He’s positive it’s some crazy bitch who’s been writing him love letters for ages...”

“What? Someone cut his cat’s head of? Jesus H Christ! That is totally sick! Poor Gordon.”

“I know, it’s unspeakably sick but, listen, like I said he thinks it’s some crazed fan...”

“Yeah,” I interrupted again, “he was telling us about her the other night round at Sonya Rider’s. She thinks they’re soul mates or something.”

“Yeah, well apparently this psychopath has turned up the heat. Now she’s ringing him at home and murdering his pets in the hope that this will make him suddenly realise that she’s the one for him. Talk about your fucking looney women!”

Bloody hell. Poor Gordon. Anita now had my full attention.

“Ok, that’s bloody awful, yes, but what’s it got to do with me?”

Anita, calmer now that she could see she’d gotten through to me, took another drag before answering.

“Well, this chick has kind of threatened you. She’s seen all those pap photos of the two of you in the social pages and thinks you’re an item.”

“Really? Excellent!” I said, getting a small rush of pleasure that anyone, even a psychotic feline killer, would think Gordon and I were together. Anita threw me one of her testicle-squeezing, ‘are you out of your tiny mind?’ looks, that even worked on women.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Sorry Neets. Carry on.”

“Jeezus! Isn’t that enough? A psychopath has threatened you with bodily harm Darla! You need to take this seriously. Apparently the cops might be around to have a word with you and Gordon has left every single one of his contact numbers in a note on your bed. He wants you to call him.”

Suddenly the warning bells in my head were sounding loudly.

Gulping, I closed my eyes and pressed the space between my eyebrows.

“Um. Nita.” I said, my voice up two octaves. “Um, did Gordon go into my bedroom?”

“Yeah, why?”

Oh God.

“Ah, did he say anything to you afterwards? I mean, did he...did he see the bloody shrine?” I finished with a shriek.

“The shrine? I thought you’d taken that stupid thing down?”

Ohhhh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“I meant to, I just hadn’t got round to it.”

A light went on behind Anita’s eyes. “Ah.” She said flatly.

“What ‘ah’? What do you mean, ‘ah’?” I demanded with an edge of hysteria.

“He did leave very suddenly in an awfully big hurry. He almost flew out of your bedroom and down the stairs, then threw himself out of the front door, slamming it so hard behind him that the house shook. He didn’t even wave at me. I thought it was odd but figured he’d just had a bad couple of days.”

Nausea clutched at my intestines as my stomach did sickening flips. He’d seen the shrine. He’d seen the bloody stupid childish shrine. How the hell was I ever going to explain that? That is if he ever let me speak to him again.

Throwing myself forward into the position they told you to get into on aeroplanes when you said you were feeling ill, I spoke to Anita through my knees.

“Nita, what am I gonna dooooo? He’s gonna think I’m as mad as that psycho who killed his cat!

She tapped the ash off her cigarette into the ashtray.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t have looked good, that’s for real. Especially when some other chick who’s also obsessed with him is trying to ruin his life.”

I shot up straight in my seat.

“Don’t lump me in with that psychopath! I am not obsessed with him, I genuinely like him based on having spent a lot of time with him!”

“Now you do but what about before you got to know him properly? Not so long ago you were straight out obsessed Darla. You might not have been quite as tragic as this sicko but you were in the same ballpark. And, like her, it had nothing to do with the real Gordon, you were just making your idea of him fill something inside of you that was empty.”

Anita could be harsh. For a minute I hated her but she was right. I fell forward again into aeroplane position.

“All right, all right,” I mumbled into my knees. “I was a pathetic starfucker, so sue me. But now what Neets, how do I fix it?”

But she wasn’t going to let me have it easy.

“What do you think you should do to fix it Darl?”

I groaned and sat up again to face her. She stared right back at me without flinching.

“Jeeze, you’re playing hardball aren’t you? Ok, Dr Freud, I’ll play your game. I’ll tell you something, you’re totally right. I was obsessed with Gordon for my own stupid reasons and insecurities. But I’m past that, seriously...well, ok, I’m getting past that. And how am I going to fix things? Well, the first thing I’m going to do is go upstairs and pull down that stupid shrine then I’m going to burn it in the backyard. Next, I’m going to put every single one of those videotapes in a big black rubbish bag, maybe three rubbish bags, and I’m going to donate them to St Vinnies. I’m not going to bed tonight till all that is done.”

Anita smiled. “That’s my girl! Hell, maybe you really are coming back to join the rest of us on Planet Normal.”

I lit another cigarette.

“Ha!” I said, deciding I’d eaten enough humble pie for one night. “That’s rich coming from the woman who right now has a book by her bed titled, ‘Feng Shui Your Way to Love’ and a CD in her stereo that promises wealth will flow into her life if she just listens to its ‘positive affirmations on prosperity’ once a day. You’re as flakey as me Nita.”

She grinned. “Mock all you want non-believer but I’ll have you know that just a couple of days after I’d Feng Shuied my bedroom for love, I met Terry, the man I intend to marry and bear a flock of children with.”

“Terry? Oh, you mean Adonis. God Neets, are you in love all of a sudden? I’d presumed last night’s date was a dud since you came home alone?”

A soppy smile hijacked her face.

“No,” she said dreamily, “it was fantastic. I am so into him Darl, I can’t tell you. We deliberately didn’t have sex last night because we wanted to start over, get to know each other over a few weeks then jump into bed and shag like rabbits.”

This was a most unusual situation.

“You’re kidding me? No sex till you know each other better? May I remind you Honey that you’ve already seen that man stark-bollock naked from every imaginable angle? And a few unimaginable ones?”

“I know! I told you, we’re starting afresh.”

“Wow. Well I’m really happy for you, I hope he turns out to be someone special, you’ll have to have him round one night so I can meet him properly...”

She put her soppy face back on and gave me a lopsided smile.

“...but anyway!” I continued, getting purposefully to my feet, “enough chat for now, I’ve got a date with a shrine that’s way past it’s use by date. I’ll worry about how to explain things to Gordon later. Hey,” I said, changing the subject, “are you around for dinner tomorrow? I’m thinking of making lentil lasagne.”

“Ah, no, I’ve got the rest of the week off work, remember? I’m going to stay with Gran in Ashfield, she’s having her op tomorrow so I’ll be outta here first thing in the morning and back in a week or so.”

“Oh yeah, god, sorry Nita. It slipped my mind. Good luck eh, I hope your Gran’s ok.”

I went over to hug her.

“Thanks Chick,” she said, when we pulled apart. “And good luck with Gordy.”

I nodded ruefully and headed up the stairs. We’d both forgotten for a moment about the threats from the crazy woman.