‘You can tell me, Daphne,’ Christina says. ‘I know we’re not old friends, but we’re here together a lot. And I worry about you.’
There’s something so alluring about the idea of confessing to someone who is a stranger yet not. Someone who knows herso well in one way but not others. Daphne sees Christina more than most people in her life but they’ve never traded secrets. Maybe Christina doesn’t have secrets to tell. Probably a magazine would have dug them up if she did.
‘That’s kind of you,’ Daphne says. ‘To worry about me.’
‘Well, you’re terrific.’ Christina smiles. ‘You’ve been so friendly to me, for one thing.’
‘You’re easy to be friendly to.’
Christina laughs, and it’s so vigorous that Daphne is taken aback.
‘What?’ she says.
‘I’ve hardly had any friends. When you’re in the movies people pretend to be your friend but they’re not actuallyfriendly.’
‘Really? I would have thought you’d have met all sorts of beaut people.’
‘I’ve met a lot of …interestingpeople.’ Christina laughs again. ‘Sharks. Users. Fakes. I think that’s what happens when you put yourself out there for everyone to see. You attract the bad with the good. The problem is that the good people tend to hang back.’
‘Or the bad people become accomplished at pretending they’re good,’ Daphne says darkly.
She and Christina hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds.
‘I haven’t seen Adelaide for a while,’ Christina says, and Daphne feels it almost like a dagger to her ribs, the truth piercing her because Christina has perceived it so clearly.
‘Maybe our rosters just haven’t aligned,’ Christina goes on.
Daphne is aware that Christina’s giving her the opportunity to glide past the situation. Except she doesn’t want to.
‘She hasn’t been in,’ she says, then laughs. ‘Maybe you could make this story into a movie one day.’
Christina looks puzzled. Then Daphne tells her. About Hector and Adelaide. About the child, now an adult, whom Hectorhas not met. About Hector’s state of mind being so bad that he wouldn’t comprehend this even if Daphne confronted him.
A customer comes in and she halts the story, effortlessly switching into ‘shop mode’, then takes it up again once the customer has left. The switch is so seamless she thinks that maybe Christina isn’t the only actress on the premises.
She tells Christina that Adelaide has tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t want to have anything to do with her. That the lie has gone on for so long, and been so immense, that it feels like it will swallow her.
Then she tells her about the phone call from Ian, saying the shop will have to close. She’s been keeping this news to herself, too consumed with the other matter to deal with it properly, but she has to deal with it because it affects Christina and the other volunteers. And Lucy.
‘I shouldn’t have let Lucy work out the back,’ she tells Christina, ‘but she needed a place. There isn’t a new tenant for this shop yet … Maybe it will be all right?’ She can hear the false hope in her voice, but in this moment it’s the only kind of hope she has.
Christina looks thoughtful. ‘Maybe. If the rent’s high enough, they may not find anyone for a while. Do we have to close before then?’
‘Ian says no.’
Christina nods. ‘We can work something out for Lucy, I’m sure. When the time comes.’
Daphne must look shocked because Christina puts a hand on her arm. ‘Ifthe time comes.’
Daphne knows she’s kidding herself, though. Mosman is in demand as a retail precinct – the landlord will find someone. Then Daphne will have to figure out how to be at home all the time, because she won’t go looking for another position after this. She’ll be done.
Christina drums her fingers on the counter. ‘Would you forgive her?’
‘Lucy? Whatever for?’
‘Adelaide,’ Christina says, and Daphne is taken aback.
She’s considered forgiveness, of course. Raised a Christian, it’s been part of her philosophy of life since childhood. It’s just so hard to practise sometimes.