by Gabrielle Blondell
He tried not to think on what was coming and put his mind to about other things. Julianna mostly. Her fine shoulders, the way they dipped midway and rose again to meet the joint of her arm. He had rested his own arm there when they rode the ferry to the mouth of the Brisbane River last September. They had lived there together in Brisbane’s thickened air until she was seconded to London. These days it was just him in the little old weatherboard with its long slim back garden. It was he alone, who sat on the back porch watching the flying-foxes fillet ripe mangoes. ‘I’ll be back,’ she had said and Alastair didn’t doubt it or that they would marry on her return.
Still, as Alastair pushed the hire car up the mountain range toward Medlow Bath, an old excitement welled in his stomach and groin. It hovered inside him, outside also, swirling around his head and seeping into his lungs like altitude sickness. He knew his reconnaissance of the Hydro Majestic Hotel should’ve been a solo affair. He could have soaked himself in some childhood nostalgia, booked it for the wedding reception or not, and left. Henry Keller, balding now and tending toward weight gain, had said, ‘By God, I can’t believe you’re tying the knot. We never thought it, not in a million years.‘
Alastair knew what they thought of him. He was the commitment-phobic. They had been friends for so long now, they had been assigned their own stories. Henry was good-humoured and steady. Sandra was efficient, logical. Gemma was the bleeding heart. Tavish was the athlete, full of daring and he was the one they all wanted to fix. None, but one knew the half of it.
Henry had sat quietly, taking in Alastair’s impossible shift and a smile spread across his face. ‘I know, let’s make a weekend of it, Al. Sandra would be in it and Tavish and Gemma, too, I’m sure. It’ll be like university days. Kind of an early send off into married life. It would be Sandy’s and my pre-wedding gift.’
Gemma. She would be there with Tavish. Alastair did not say yes to Henry’s plan, but he forgot to say no.
The whiteness of the old health spa was difficult to miss. It sprawled between the road and the very edge of the steep drop into the valley. It had been a yellowish cream when he had last seen it and a much shabbier version. Alastair had come to the Blue Mountains as a child to stay with his grandmother, who was on the Hydro Majestic Preservation Society. He’d loved the hotel, the grandness of it and had wished for ghosts while pressing his nose against the glass windows teetering over the valley below. In his mind, there was no better place to marry Julianna.
He parked the car and entered. All at once he was back in the deep cool of the spacious day room and the view to the blue and purple mountains beyond the glass windows. He stood watching the sun lower and the shadows form on the ridges below.
‘Can we help you sir?’ A middle-aged man in a perfectly pressed suit stood beside him likewise admiring the view.
‘I’m joining the Kellers and the McBrides,’ Alastair told him.
‘Of course sir,’ the man nodded. ‘I believe your friends are in The Red Room having a a few drinks before dinner. Why don’t I have your bag sent straight to your room, so you can join them directly?’ The manager slipped behind the reception desk and retrieved a coded room key for Alastair. ‘There you go, sir and welcome to the Hydro Majestic.’
Alastair wandered through the door and down a short hall, through another door and into the large room which sat beneath the doomed roof. He saw himself as a child again, running the length of the old hotel, sometimes making it into the old Belgravia Wing before a staff member caught him, sometimes playing a small tune on the grand piano which had stood right where he was standing now.
He continued on across the floor to the door in the wall opposite. The Red Room was more of a long salon stretching along the length of one wing. Alastair’s grandmother had told him of the fashionable young people who would wander up and down or sit smoking on lounges amongst potted palms. He had tried to imagine it then amongst the dusty old furniture and worn carpets, but he didn’t need to now. Gold. Red. Black and the green of the potted palms, and for added drama, a mural of a knight on horseback.
‘Al!’
A man rose from one of the lounges and waved. Alastair barely recognised him as Tavish McBride. Something around the eyes and the chin perhaps was still the same, but the athletic, tanned, young man from their university days had all but slipped away.
‘Come take a seat and tell me all about this Julianna,’ Tavish called to him. ‘Henry and Sandy will be down soon and I want to get the jump on them.’
‘And Gemma?’ Alastair asked.
Tavish smiled. ‘She was at the bar. Didn’t you see her on the way in?’
‘No.’ Alastair sat across from Tavish, who slid a full scotch glass across the low table between them.
‘Drink up, boy-o,’ Tavish said, raising his own glass and taking a large swig.
Alastair drank and sighed. ‘I’ve missed you mate.’
Sandra dropped down on the sofa beside Alastair and pecked his cheek. ”So the man of the hour has finally arrived. He always was late, wasn’t he Henry?
‘Yes, always late,’ Henry agreed, taking a seat next to Tavish.
‘So where’s Gemma?’ Sandra asked.
Tavish ignored the question, still focused on Alastair. ‘Tell us about your bride-to-be. It’s Julianna, isn’t it?’
‘Yes it is,’ Alastair said quickly. ‘She works as a financial analyst.’
‘Good god, man. Then what’s she doing with you?’ Tavish asked.
‘His taxes,’ Henry answered.
Alastair laughed. Financial responsibility, amongst other things, had come late to him, it was true.
‘Here’s Gemma,’ Henry said, looking over Alastair’s shoulder.
Alastair swivelled in his seat and watched Gemma enter the room with a glass of wine. His stomach lurched at the sight of her. She was older, yes. Crows feet around the eyes. Frown lines. But still the same blue eyes, the dark brown hair. The legs. She came at him, like those who had paraded through the Red Room so many years ago. She was beautiful and the old grief returned.
Gemma stepped around the low table in front of Alastair and Sandra and bent to kiss him on the cheek. She took hold of his arm to steady herself and held her glass of wine aloft to keep it level. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ she said with a strange formality.
‘You too,’ he replied.
Gemma moved to stand upright, squeezing his arm to maintain her balance. Alastair looked into her eyes, but Gemma had already looked away.
She retreated to a single armchair beneath a potted palm.
‘So where were we?’ Sandra asked. ‘Oh yes, we were learning about the amazing Julianna. Did you know she is a financial analyst, Gemma?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Gemma said, taking a sip from her glass.
‘She’s in London right now, isn’t she?’ Sandra asked.
Alastair nodded.
‘So you will be organising the wedding, then?’ Sandra eyebrows were sky-high. ‘I don’t know if I’d be alright with that. What about you Gemma?’
Gemma looked up from beneath the palm and Alastair caught her gaze. Her round eyes widened further as if he’d stared too long. ‘I’m sorry. What were you saying, Sandy?’ Sandra’s attention flicked from Gemma back to Alastair and then to Gemma again and a small silence grew.
Alastair turned his scotch glass to and fro to catch the light and prayed for a miracle. A waiter appeared to tell them their table in the dining room was ready.
#
The sun was almost gone, a halo above the dark purple mountains. Tavis was enthusiastic. ‘Make sure you book this place for the reception, boy-o. It’s perfect! Do you mind if I take this seat?’ he asked, choosing the chair at the head of the table. ‘I want to see the last of the sun.’
Sandra and Henry took one side of the table and Alastair found himself in the remaining chair beside Gemma. She sat perfectly in her seat, her arms held in close to her sides.
‘Shall we try the three course meal, Al?’ Henry asked. ‘It seems like a good selection, don’t you think?’
Alastair brought his attention to bear on the menu, but he knew when Gemma took up her menu and slowly turned the pages.
‘We could try most of them between us,’ Sandra suggested. ‘I’m fond of scallops for a starter and I’d like the chicken breast for a main. I know Henry is mad for lamb, aren’t you love?’
‘Yes, I’ll have the lamb for sure,’ Henry said. ‘This will be fun.’
‘It will,’ said Tavish. ‘Just pick mine for me from what remains. I will literally eat anything. Isn’t that true, Gem?’
‘Yes that’s true,’ said Gemma. ‘I can try out the vegetarian selections if you like, Al?’
Alastair was relieved by the sudden warmth in her tone. ‘That would be great.’
‘I can’t think of when I’ve enjoyed lamb more,’ said Henry, once they had sampled almost everything. ‘I loved it and the eel starter was great too…and this….’ he said, pointing down to his chocolate mousse dessert,’….is amazing.’ Henry looked over to Gemma. ‘What about yours? How do you think the vegos will like it?’
‘It was scrumptious, Henry. The vegos would be very happy with it,’ she said, laughing at Henry.
Alastair heard the alcohol in her voice.
‘Really it was lovely,’ Gemma said directly to Alastair. She squeezed his hand under the table and then left it resting lightly on his thigh during the rest of the dessert course. Alastair dared not move. It was electrifying. He fought the urge to grasp her hand and bring it to his mouth.
‘Al….Al.’
Tavish had said something. ‘Sorry, you lost me there,’ Alastair said, as Gemma’s hand retreated to her own lap.
‘I was just saying,’ said Tavish, ‘that you could give us a bit of a tour.’
‘Yes, that’s right. You used to come here as a child, didn’t you?’ asked Henry.
‘I did,’ Al said. ‘Let me fix the bill and I’ll show you of as much as I can remember.’
‘No way. You won’t be paying. We’ve already decided, we are all going to cover it,’ said Sandra standing with her purse in hand.
‘That’s right,’ said Tavish, also rising from his seat.
Henry, Gemma and Alastair remained at the table looking out at the view. Alastair found Gemma’s hand close by again. His palm lay open in his lap and she very gently grazed her fingers across it. It astonished him, more than any other thing she had done in all the years he had known her. This was the first seductive caress and he wanted to be angry. He wanted to pull his hand away and tell her off. He wanted to reject her in the way she had rejected him, but he didn’t. His mind had gone and his blood fizzed in his veins.
‘Right then,’ said Tavish, approaching the table, ‘I’m considerably poorer.’
‘Oh shut up,’ said Sandra. ‘You’ll make Al feel bad.’
“No, I won’t. He knows I’m only joking, don’t you boy-o?’
Beneath the table, Gemma snatched her hand away. ‘Sure,’ Alastair said, more gruffly than he intended. ‘No really, I know you’re joking,’ he said, smiling at Tavish.
‘Good-o then, let’s get this tour on the way,’ Tavish said.
Alastair stood on shaking knees.
‘You okay, mate?’ Henry asked him.
Gemma rose from her chair and looked away.
‘No, I’m good. Just a bit much to drink, I think,’ Alastair said.
He walked them through to the room under the domed ceiling. ‘This used to be called the Casino,’ he said, ‘although it was never used as one. My grandmother told me it was where the big bands played and the sopranos sang.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Sandra.
‘It wasn’t the last time I saw it,’ Alastair said. ‘It was pretty shabby back then.”
‘Do you think your grandmother would approve of the renovations?’ Henry asked.
Alastair thought on this. ‘I think so.’
They wandered back past the bar into The Red Room and Alastair told them how the wealthy sat about or took walks of the long salon in the latest fashions.
‘So they were just showing off then?’ Tavish asked.
‘Yep. Just showing off,’ Alastair agreed.
‘Well, I think I might shuffle off to bed,’ Tavish said. ‘I’m not the party boy I used to be, I’m afraid.’
‘We will say goodnight too,” said Henry. “I was never a party boy.’
Alastair nodded goodnight. He watched as the three of them moved off past Gemma who was standing in front of the mural of the knight on horseback. He studied her while she studied the painting and he knew she was as aware of him as he was of her. He felt the memory of her fingers on his palm. Instead of moving on past her to find his room, he took the door leading out to the balcony and stood in the cold, cold air.
#
Alastair braced himself and stared into the night sky. The fresh air cleared his head and he felt more himself than he had since the weekend had begun. He brought to mind Julianna’s face, her long fingers, the one with his ring encircling it. She would be home soon, he told himself. They would marry and start all over again and it would be as if none of this had happened.
He followed the path of tiny car headlights in the deep valley below. They disappeared, hidden from his view behind tall trees or on a tight corner perhaps, only to appear again exactly where they should be. It was strange to feel relief for those strangers in the car, but he did feel it. He took a deep breath and exhaled and the tension he had built up over dinner loosened its grip. That was when he heard the door to the balcony open. Gemma was there kissing him in the way he had always wanted her to. His arms curled around her body and drew in her warmth. She was more familiar than he had ever imagined.
She drew back from the kiss and out of his arms. ‘I wish I were happy for you,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t be. I’m sorry.’ And she was gone.
#
Alastair woke to knocking on his hotel room door. ‘Just hang on,’ he groaned, struggling into shorts and a T-shirt. When he opened the door, he discovered an envelope sitting neatly on the hall carpet and glimpsed Gemma hurrying away down the hall toward the stairs. He crammed the envelope in his back pocket and caught up to her as she reached the breakfast room.
Alastair took hold of her elbow and steered her toward the large glass doors leading to the garden. He walked her rapidly along the path toward the tennis courts. They entered onto the playing surface behind an old stone wall and he took her to the very edge of the ridge. All that was between them and the valley below was the diamond mesh of the court fence. He released her then and they both gripped the fencing with clawed fingers, flirting with the drop.
‘I wanted to say I was sorry for last night,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘Did you read the letter?’
‘No.’
‘I guess not,’ she sighed.
Alastair looked at Gemma in profile. He’d loved her all his life. First there was him and her and then there was Tavish and he’d let it happen. He’d stepped aside because that’s what friends do. He’d run away, more like it, not knowing how to compete.
She was quiet. Her face didn’t move for a while. Then she turned to him with her fingers still looped in the fence, so close to his own. ‘You know, I have only one regret, but it’s a big one.’
He nodded. He had meant to tell her to fuck off out of his life or something similar, but he was off the rails somehow and crashing seemed inevitable.
Gemma tossed her long hair to one side and a couple of strands brushed his cheek. ‘I would have left him had you fought to keep me, you know.’
The way she’d flicked her hair checked him. ‘No, you wouldn’t.’
‘I would have.’ Her chin was raised and pointed out beyond the abyss.
Alastair wanted to call bullshit. He saw how she had loved his need; how she wanted him to want her. At her best she was unaware, fragile, and at her worst, she’d been playing him. But this he knew, no matter what she did or why, he couldn’t hate her. She had been too long in his life.’You know you and I are each other’s fantasy. We always have been.’
‘I know,’ she whispered, sounding as if she were winging back in time.
‘It’s not real, though,’ Alastair said, bringing her back. ‘Tavish and Julianna are real.’ He looked down through the fence and the last of his younger self fell away. Tavish, Henry and Sandra saw a man afraid of commitment, but it wasn’t true. He’d been more committed than most and would be again.
Alastair unlaced his fingers from the fence and turned to her. ‘I need to let you go or I won’t make a proper go with Julianna.’
She dragged her gaze from the valley and pushed back from the fence. Her eyes were pools of unshed tears. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I know that from experience.’
He knew this was true, but she was already gone. He hurried back through the gap in the stone wall and searched the path for her. He walked around the corner of the hotel and onto the asphalt car park facing the road.
Tavish was loading overnight bags into the boot of their car. ‘We need to get back to the city by lunch, so I guess this is goodbye, Al.’
Both men stood apart.
‘I’m glad to see you, boy-o, and I’m happy for you,’ Tavish said, stepping in to shake hands with Alastair and then hugging him instead. ‘You’ll make a good husband, Al.’
Alastair had to ask, ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because you are a good man,’ Tavish replied. He pulled away from Alastair and turned to shut the boot of the car, but not before Alastair saw the truth of it. Tavish knew. Perhaps, he’d always known.
‘Goodbye mate,’ Alastair said, gripping Tavish’s hand.
Gemma slipped on her dark sunglasses as she came out through the reception doors. She circled the car and pecked Alastair quickly on the cheek. ‘Good luck,’ she whispered.
Alastair nodded, seeing only himself in her dark glasses. ‘Good luck to you too.’
He watched as Tavish backed the car out of the park and turned onto the road toward Sydney. Once it had disappeared into the stream of city-bound traffic, he pulled Gemma’s crumpled letter from his back pocket. He looked at the envelope, the curve of her writing. He ran his fingers over the letters tracing their path from beginning to end.
Henry and Sandra waved to him from their breakfast table as he entered the hotel. ‘Won’t be a minute,’ he called to them.
The same concierge was in attendance at the reception desk. ‘Good morning, sir. I hope you enjoyed your night.’
‘I did,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ll be checking out soon, but I was wondering if you could dispose of this for me?’ Alastair handed him Gemma’s unopened envelope.
‘Certainly sir.’
THE END