She looks like someone who looks like Christina Clarke – someone who might be approached on the street and asked if she is Christina Clarke, and she can say no and have the inquisitor believe her. So, still herself but not enough of herself that she can’t hide. Which suits her at this point in her life.
When she arrived home from the salon, Joni had told her that Duncan had called, and Christina had to think who that was.
‘Duncan from the shop?’ Joni had prompted.
‘Oh. What did he want?’
Joni had given her a smug look. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, waving a piece of paper. ‘Here’s his number. You could call him and find out.’
Christina will do no such thing, she thinks, as she leans on the counter in the frock shop. Just because she knew Duncan in her teens doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy now, even if he did help her that day in the shop. For all she knows he has a friend who works for a newspaper and wants some kind of scoop.
‘Now,’ Daphne says, fossicking under the counter, looking for who-knows-what.
Since Christina started volunteering at the shop she’s learnt that Daphne has pockets of treasures hidden all over this place, and in quiet times she’ll go through them to find something to jazz up a display, or some piece of jewellery that’s worth more than she thought when it came in. The other day she found a ring that looked like it may have real gemstones in it, and had marked up the price accordingly. The next time Christina was in the shop Daphne told her that the ring had sold to a young man who couldn’t afford a flashy new piece for his girlfriend but wanted to give her something special.
‘Would you like to go through these?’ Daphne says now, as she puts a box on the counter.
‘I don’t think I’ll know what’s good and what isn’t,’ Christina says.
Daphne gives her a funny look. ‘All those premieres and whatnot and you don’t know the difference between real jewellery and fake?’
Christina laughs. Part of what she appreciates about Daphne is her matter-of-factness about the life Christina used to live. She doesn’t ask breathless questions about movie stars she’s met, or what it’s like going to the Academy Awards – which Christina did, three years ago, as the companion of an actor who is moderately well known and hoping to be better known, and thus trying to hide the fact that he’s gay so it doesn’t, in his agent’s words, ruin his career. His agent was also her agent, which is how Christina found herself at the Shrine Auditorium, ingenue enough to enjoy the spectacle and Australian enough to take it all with a grain of salt.
It’s only now that she realises how odd it was that she didn’t think twice about being someone’s fake girlfriend for a night. She play-acted for a living, and that was just another role. At a certain point she had to presume that everyone she met in Los Angeles – agents, busboys, drivers, nannies – was play-acting. They all wanted to act themselves into a version of their lives that was more vibrant, more fulfilling, morenoticedthan the one they were leading. Christina had never thought of herself as an attention-seeker but why else was she doing that job? Of course she wanted people to notice her. To fill some kind of hole she didn’t even know she had.
The psychiatrist she was seeing – because everyone in LA had one – told her she had a ‘father wound’ that she was trying to heal. Christina retorted that she’d healed it by never talking to her father again.
‘And that,’ said the psychiatrist, nodding gravely, ‘is the wound.’
Maybe. Is that wound the reason Christina walked into the director’s trap? Because she wanted his attention?
She will never know and it’s too late to change it. But if it is, that wound has led her indirectly to be here with Daphne and her box of random jewellery.
Christina starts to pick through it. ‘There are a few single earrings here,’ she says.
‘Fashion statement!’ Daphne says.
‘What?’
‘Doesn’t that Madonna wear just one earring in a pair?’
‘A few years ago, yes. She’s moved on now. She’s wearing diamonds in both ears.’
‘Have you met her?’ Daphne says it the way she’d ask if Christina has met the new postman.
‘Briefly. The way everyone meets everyone in LA.’
Daphne nods and glances around the shop. ‘Needs a bit of a tidy.’
‘Really?’ Christina laughs. The place is always neat.
‘Mm.’ Daphne frowns and nods. ‘I think so. I’ve been on my own a few days. Fallen behind.’
‘The other volunteers didn’t turn up?’
‘My friend Adelaide has been unwell.’
There’s a quaver in Daphne’s voice that makes Christina think something bad has happened.