Page 66 of Birds of a Feather

‘But that should never deter one from shouting who they are from the rooftops – if they want to.’ She directed this to Elise with a smile that indicated that, while she was tired, she still had a lot more fight left in her to ensure people could celebrate their sexuality.

‘Or from grabbing a second chance with someone you love with both hands,’ Elise added, after a moment’s pause and a lifetime of contemplation.

~

After a stopover in the Middle East – where the old conventions of not shouting one’s sexuality from the rooftops felt like a safer bet – the trio arrived at Perth airport in the middle of the night.

Elise spent much of the drive home trying to remember what state she’d left the house in. She wasn’t self-conscious that her home wasn’t as fancy as Gerry’s; she loved her house and Gerry was not a snob. But she was worried she’d forgotten to take the bin out before she left, which might have attracted a plague of mice, and regretted it had been a fortnight since she’d washed the sheets, and possibly decades since she’d got new ones.

‘Beth, I honestly don’t know how to thank you,’ Gerry said after the three women had arrived at Elise’s front gate, surrounded by suitcases. ‘It sounds so cliché, but what you’ve done for us has been life-changing.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Beth responded modestly. ‘I just googled your name and helped with the logistics.’

‘That’s not true at all,’ Gerry rebuffed. ‘I dare say your gran probably needed a bit of encouragement to reach out to me after all this time, let alone board a plane and travel halfway around the world to see me.’

‘Oh no, there was no way I was going to miss out on flying business class before I die,’ Elise joked.

Gerry opened her arms to Beth, who stepped into her embrace.

‘I mean it,’ she said as they parted again. ‘Thank you. And I hope you can see that opening your heart to love can lead to wonderful things.’

‘Trust me. You’ll never convince Beth of anything using sentimentality,’ Elise said, stepping in to hug Beth. ‘But Gerry’s absolutely right.’ Elise squeezed Beth tightly. When she let go, Beth was smiling. ‘Now, get out of here, for God’s sake, and give us some privacy.’

Beth laughed. She turned and picked up her suitcase, loaded it into her car parked in the driveway, and then backed out onto the road, waved to them, and drove into the night.

‘Your garden is absolutely stunning, Elise,’ Gerry said as they turned to walk up the path.

The water in the birdbath shimmered in the night, and the air was crisp and still. Elise paused to soak in the sense of relief one gets when one arrives home after being away, even if it’s been a marvellous trip.

‘Oh look,’ Gerry exclaimed in a whispered shout as she pointed to the electrical wire that led from the street to Elise’s roof. ‘Is this the welcoming committee?’

The two round yellow eyes of a southern boobook owl stared out from the darkness. Jack had told Elise the species went by several names, including mopoke.

‘His name is Liber,’ Elise whispered, relieved to see the neighbourhood owl didn’t appear to have gained weight from feasting on a plague of mice that had overrun the house.

The two women quietly edged their way up the path in an attempt not to frighten Liber, but the squeaking of the suitcase wheels startled it, and it took off silently into the night.

‘Welcome,’ Elise said, turning on the hallway light once they’d made it inside.

Elise paused to remember the moment John had carried her over the threshold when they’d moved into the house as newlyweds. He had been so proud.

Elise gestured to the first door on the right off the hallway. Her bedroom. John’s bedroom. Their bedroom. The room she would now share with Gerry, for a while at least.

‘We’ll put your case in here, for now,’ Elise said, noticing Gerry’s gaze land on a large framed photo of John, taken on his seventieth birthday. Elise had had the photo enlarged shortly after he died to keep next to her bed during a period of insomnia. It had helped her sleep when she felt like he was watching over her.

‘I can move that,’ Elise said, gesturing hurriedly towards the frame.

‘It’s fine,’ Gerry replied, putting her hand up to stop her.

‘Are you happy to unpack later?’ Elise asked, suddenly eager to move out of the bedroom. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on. Are you hungry?’

As the two women moved down the hallway, past Herrick hanging in the loungeroom and towards the kitchen, Elise saw her house through a new lens – Gerry’s lens – and became conscious that John was everywhere. His printed labels were still stuck on the doors, the gadgets he purchased from mail order catalogues filled the cupboards, and fifty-five years of memories were woven into every piece of fabric, painted into every wall and sealed into every surface. Being with Gerry in London, Elise had felt free of some of the strings that connected her to her marriage with John. He was never completely absent from her thoughts, but he certainly wasn’t staring at them from a framed picture on the mantle. Elise felt like her two worlds were hurtling towards each other, destined for a clumsy collision. She braced herself for the fallout.

‘Tea would be lovely, thanks,’ Gerry said, resting her hand on Elise’s arm and giving her a smile. ‘Your home is lovely, Elise,’ she said as she looked around the kitchen. ‘I can see it’s been a wonderful home and is full of cherished memories. It must feel a little odd to have me in it. I hope you feel okay with me being here. I realise it must be … a lot.’

Elise nodded. It was a lot, and the long-haul flight wasn’t helping her to process it.

‘I can always stay in a hotel if you’d prefer. There’s no pressure for me to stay here. This was all very spur-of-the-moment.’

---