The Quilt Page 12

  “Thank you.”

  Joanne continued.

  “Carol, I need a favour and I need you to be discrete.”

  “Of course, Joanne.”

  “I have some things that I need to organize today. If Stephen rings please tell him I am in a meeting or at lunch. If he was to actually turn up at the office, please tell him I am either in court filing documents or having the car serviced.”

  “I would prefer not to explain myself but it is important that Stephen is not aware that my employment has ceased with this firm.”

  A wave of physical sickness settled in the pit of Joanne’s stomach. She looked down at her hands. They felt clammy and cold. Her whole world had imploded in a matter of hours. She needed to get away, she needed to think constructively.

  Stop indulging and pull yourself together. There was nothing to be gained by crumpling into a sobbing heap in the firm’s car park. Losing rational direction was not going to help her navigate the way through what still promised to be a difficult and draining day.

  Joanne had just put the key in the ignition when her phone rung abruptly and vibrated across the passenger’s seat.

  Predictably it was Stephen, his mobile number illuminated in the tiny screen. He would only be slightly concerned at this stage. His vanity would lead him to believe she would be home as usual tonight, eager to listen to his excuses and find security in his reassurance. The wine would be uncorked and the music soft and seductive. Joanne reached across and turned her phone off. At least the call confirmed he was away from the studio.

  The drive back to the studio she had shared with Stephen only took a few minutes without the back log of traffic to contend with. How could a place you called home for months suddenly feel cold, soulless and unfamiliar?

  Joanne stood in the doorway listening to the waves as they crashed on to the sand below. The sea was rough and unsettled; stirred up by the promise of an approaching tropical storm. The air carried the familiar sting of salt. Her walk tonight would have been brisk and refreshing. She loved the feel of the ocean when it became angry and her hair was whipped away in the wind. Would she ever experience living like this again? A dull regret held her fixated for a few more minutes.

  Joanne gingerly walked into the studio. She was an intruder entering the home of a stranger. Is this what a burglar felt just before he robbed someone of their possessions and security? Silence enveloped her as soon as the front door clicked shut and locked out the sound of the waves.

  She jumped as the landline rung twice before being connected to the answerphone. She stood silently and listened to the frantic voice.

  “Joanne, are you there? Please pick up. I have been to the office and Carol said you were at the court. I went there, but no one has seen you. Why is your mobile off? Joanne, I need to explain things. It’s not what you think.”

  He cursed again just as the recorder switched off. The answer machine was full.

  Joanne quickly packed up a few basic and personal belongings. Ironically, her life when she had initially moved to Nelson crammed into two tidy suit cases, today she stood holding the handle of one tatty bag.

  She slipped off her engagement ring and placed it carefully on the dresser. For a moment she allowed herself to indulge in memories. She picked up the charcoal, still lying on the pillow where it had fallen that morning. The face stared back with sad almond eyes, its single tear mirrored her emotions.

  Joanne turned and walked away from the home she had created.

  “Do you require a return ticket?” asked the woman in an Air New Zealand uniform at the airport.

  “No just one way,” Joanne replied a little too firmly.

  “Here are your tickets. You will have to be at the check in one hour before the time of departure.”

  It was one thirty in the afternoon. She had three hours to sever her ties with Nelson city.

  For the third time in an hour her cell rung out its desperate plea to be answered. Caller ID confirmed it was Stephen ringing from his mobile. She played back his desperate message with detachment.

  “Joanne, where are you? I went to your office again and that fat boss of yours told me you had gone to hell. What is that supposed to mean? Come on please pick up or ring back, we need to talk!”

  His voice then became silky and smooth.

  “I’ve gone to The Cellars and purchased two bottles of that 2003 Pinot you are so fond of.”

  She turned off her phone.

  “I would just like to clarify. You would like to cancel the automatic payment described as rent? Including the one due to be processed next week?” the bank teller smiled but looked uncertain.

  “Yes, that is correct. I would like it to be cancelled immediately. I will also be organizing for my account to be transferred to another branch within the next few days.”

  Joanne returned the teller’s smile, trying to convey confidence.

  Joanne signed the necessary forms.

  The rental agreement, telephone and power account were lodged under Stephen’s name but the payments had always been drawn directly from her personal account. It was a simple formality to have them cancelled prior to any further deductions being made.

  By nature, family law often resulted in bitterness. Occasionally, anger was directed at the solicitor responsible for the actions. It was good practice to keep traceable amenities unconnected to the lawyer’s personal address.

  With satisfaction, she realised Stephen would now have to meet his own financial responsibilities.

  Joanne went into the local newspaper and placed the following advertisement in bold print in the personal column.

  ‘Due to sudden and unforeseen family circumstances it has been necessary for me to resign from my current position as a solicitor in the practice of Wade, Hulme, O’Donnell and Associates.

  I sincerely apologize to my clients for any inconvenience this may cause and thank them for their business, loyalty and trust.

  I can assure you your affairs will continue to be handled with discretion and professionalism by an alternative solicitor.

  Please contact the office if you have any questions or concerns.

  Sincerely Joanne Kyle,

  Attorney at Law’

  Would this day ever end? Was there any other part of her life left to unravel? Joanne felt emotionally drained when she drove on to the forecourt of Baker and Phillips, the largest car dealer in the Nelson area. The company did not have the best reputation but Joanne knew they would be happy to do a deal and she had originally purchased her car from them so the transaction would be quick. She glanced at her watch; there was no time to shop around for the sake of gaining a few dollars.

  “Do you want to trade?”

  The salesman pointed hopefully a late model sedan.

  “No, thank you. I am leaving the area.”

  She accepted the ridiculously low offer for her immaculate and sensible, little car.

  The salesman dropped a forlorn looking Joanne and her one sad little bag at the departure doors of the airport.

  Joanne settled into the comfortable chair and sipped a chilled glass of wine to calm her rattled nerves. As soon as she had arrived at the airport Joanne had checked through to the area designated for passengers only.

  She wanted to avoid any possibility of being confronted by Stephen. Joanne felt she could relax for the first time that day and switched on her phone. The screen illuminated numerous messages of desperation. She pressed erase without even a passing interest in listening to the excuses.

  Sandy picked up almost immediately.

  “Sandy, it’s Joanne. I am sorry to ring with such short notice. Too be honest it’s been a hell of a day and I have only just realised I hadn’t contacted you. I’m at Nelson airport. Can I have a bed for a few nights?”

  “Hell, yes. You don’t have to ask you know that. What’s up?”

  Joanne didn’t answer. She had a quick sip of wine before she spoke.

  “What did you think of Stephen?
”

  Sandy stiffened, what a strange time to be asking that question again.

  “He is alright. We have had this conversation before you know. Are you alright?”

  It was unlikely her mother would have contacted Joanne regarding the tests. No, she would never have chosen Joanne to ring? If she had, Joanne would have been in touch to ask questions and offer support, to make it better. Sandy dismissed that idea. Her mother considered Joanne was involved, if not responsible, for Sandy being expelled from school. She was hardly likely to confide in her.

  “I think I’d better tell you something before you arrive.”

  It would have been much easier if Joanne had returned her calls. She had left enough messages on the answerphone and with Stephen. Now, with an unexpected visit and appointments in the next few days, there seemed little option. What a thing to have to tell her best friend after weeks of not speaking, but it would be easier over the telephone.

  Sandy crossed herself, shuddering, as she realized her actions were imbedded so deeply this had been done automatically.

  “Joanne. I have breast cancer.”

  “Shit, Sandy why didn’t you ring me! Are you sure? That can’t be right. Have you caught it early?”

  The words spilled out without thought.

  “I did call and left messages for you to call me back. Yes, of course I’m sure. Well, not exactly. Yes, I’ve caught it early.”

  Joanne downed the last of her wine hoping it would sooth the fist that grabbed and twisted in her stomach. Why the hell hadn’t she taken the time to ring Sandy?

  Joanne’s entire world had just collapsed. No home, no career, no fiancée, limited savings and the one shoulder she had to cry on was battling problems far worse than her own.

  The mobile dropped on to the table with a clatter. Joanne felt the colour drain from her face. She picked it up, hoping Sandy was still connected.

  “Sandy, I’ll be there soon. I promise we will get through this thing together. I’ve got to go. They are calling my flight.”

  Joanne fled to the rest rooms where she slid down the wall and sat heavily on the cold hard tiles.

  Twenty minutes later she walked on to tarmac and boarded the plane without glancing back.

  Sandy put down the telephone and shrunk down into her chair guiltily. Years ago she had lied to Joanne when she had been caught scanning her roommates study notes.

  She still remembered the empty feeling and the vow she had made. This was the one person she would never intentionally deceive again. Within the last few minutes she had blatantly lied to her friend twice.

  Alright was not the term she would use to describe Stephen.

  Had she caught the cancer early? Something in the doctors eyes had told her no.

  When the telephone rung, Sandy knew it was Stephen. She had no idea how but she did. He spoke casually.

  “Hi Sandy, is Joanne there or have you heard from her?”

  Sandy smiled and slowly placed a cigarette between her lips.

  Joanne had left him. She smiled, savouring the moment.

  “Sorry, who did you say was calling?”

  She played with the cable as she toyed with Stephen.

  “Sandy, it is Stephen.”

  “I can’t imagine why you would have to ask me where your fiancée is. Have you misplaced her under the pile of other woman?”

  She heard him suck in his breath.

  “Stephen, you would never have held on to a woman like Joanne. She was bound to see through your extraordinary arrogance. You have nothing to offer her, nothing.”

  She smiled, not giving him enough time to respond.

  “If I had heard from Joanne I would never tell you. You, Stephen, are a manipulator and could never be good enough for her. You lay claim to success but that comes with more than one canvas.”

  “Never ring this number again! Do you understand that?”

  Her silky voice had risen to a shrill screech.

  “Stephen. Fuck you!”

  He seemed to have been stunned to silence, his breath was clearly audible through the phone and was coming in short, agitated gasps but his mind was not operating quickly enough to find a retort in response to Sandy’s outburst.

  Sandy inhaled deeply on her cigarette. She then placed the smouldering end directly under the smoke detector. It omitted a high pitched shriek. She held the receiver as close as possible to the offensive noise. Protectively, Stephen put a hand over his ringing eardrum at the same time as the line went dead.

  Stephen hunched forward in frustration and turned towards a black framed photograph. It showed the couple embracing. They were standing barefoot on the deserted sand. Behind surf kicked up by a summer storm broke in towering lines on to the shore. Cradled by the pillow, Joanne’s charcoal watched him from its canvas. The sad, accusing, almond eyes bore deeply into him. He slammed his fist into the wall and addressed the picture in a voice raised in anger.

  “Your friend is a bitch! Thank goodness, I didn’t waste my time sleeping with her.”

  The face stared back.

  He picked up both the photo and charcoal portrait and as he placed them in the drawer his eyes fell on the tiny, discarded engagement ring.

  Panic ripped at his throat and he pulled back the wardrobe doors. Joanne’s personal belongings were gone, everything.

  Stephen’s throat constricted and he stared in disbelief. Joanne was never coming back.

  Chapter 13

  “Lucky Lady”

  Sandy couldn’t remember, exactly, when she had first noticed the pea-shaped lump in her right breast.

  Perhaps it was two, or maybe three, months before she had visited Joanne and Stephen in Nelson last summer. It could have been, and it probably was, even longer.

  She hadn’t been particularly concerned and therefore she hadn’t bothered to make any record of timeframes. After all, there was no family history of breast cancer and it was a disease that primarily affected elderly people. She was in her twenties and so there would only be a negligible chance of anything sinister.

  Although she didn’t have the ideal lifestyle as far as diet or habits were concerned she felt healthy – nothing had changed apart from the appearance of the tiny, hard lump. She took a long drag on her cigarette. When she was much older she would reduce her smoking and alcohol consumption.

  She had listened to and read the stories about lumps during hormonal changes or fatty cysts and the woman who had over reacted to them. That had resulted in uncomfortable biopsies for no reason.

  She certainly wasn’t about to worry herself unduly or schedule an appointment specifically to have a tiny, annoying defect examined.

  Although Sandy managed to put the little intruding lump to the back of her mind it did occasionally play on her thoughts and imagination. When Sandy felt stressed or concerned she reverted to several habits none that were healthy and some that were clearly dangerous.

  She had rung Joanne on several occasions. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to discuss the offensive lump with her. It seemed a little neurotic to involve someone else when there really wasn’t a problem. She guessed Joanne would be one of those woman that would over react and march her into a doctors surgery.

  For the last few months the phone calls had been less frequent than any other time in their friendship. Joanne was hardly ever at home and when she did occasionally answer the telephone, it was obvious she was busy. Although, of course, she tried not to make Sandy feel as though her calls were an intrusion.

  Their recent conversations were always short and crammed between clients and deadlines.

  Without the familiar reassurances and advice from her friend, Sandy vented emotions in a diary. The pages were covered in barely legible sentences expressing fear and thoughts of needles and doctors in clinical white coats. Somehow it helped, it was always available and it didn’t judge her for the nightly chain-smoking, binge drinking, large quantities of dark chocolate and the one night stands with whoever was availab
le at the various Auckland bars she frequented.

  Impulse buying was another tactic that had always served her well. It took her mind off the adult realities that were proving too large to deal with. She normally restricted her purchases to clothes, shoes or beads which she added to her already cluttered wardrobe.

  It was raining outside, water ran down the door and pooled on the pathways. There were hours left before she was required at work and although Stephen had taken a message he had obviously not relayed it to Joanne.

  Sandy broke off another piece of chocolate and focused on the article in front of her. Reading was still difficult and slow but the word breast cancer seemed to stand out and dance in front of her eyes. The pictures were easy to understand. They showed terrifying surgical images, options and diagnostic procedures.

  Since the lump had intruded on her life Sandy had purchased magazines and medical books and often sat morbidly thumbing her way through the endless pages of information and interviews with the woman affected.

  Sandy slammed the book closed. She needed to stop looking at those pictures. She needed to find something positive and new. She needed a distraction that would deny the lump importance. Why did she keep thinking about it? It was like an invisible enemy that had taken over her thoughts and sent her to a dark unfamiliar place. Why hadn’t Joanne rung her back?

  Sandy bit off another piece of dark, bitter, cooking chocolate. It was cheap and hard but the only sugary treat she could find in her understocked pantry. She washed it down with a gulp of cold sauvignon blanc that caused the pasty substance to congeal on the roof of her mouth.

  There was no doubt the ugly little lump had made her re-evaluate her life. She had found nothing of permanence to mark her twenty four years. No relationship, no possessions and no one that would be impacted for any period of time if she was to die tomorrow.

  Her parents would find solace in their beliefs. She had no doubt Joanne would mourn her passing more than any other human being. The only other breathing creature that would notice Sandy’s passing would be her little dog. Critter was wire-haired with bulging round eyes, a pushed in black nose, a foul smell radiating constantly from his compact body and a unendearing habit of humping any available leg or object that remained still long enough.