Page 67 of Birds of a Feather

‘No,’ Elise said urgently. ‘Absolutely not. I’m happy to have you here. I want you here. It’s just that you’ve been tucked away in my heart, and in a trinket box I stored in a cupboard, for a long time. And now here you are, standing in my kitchen.’ Elise’s words crackled.

‘Of course,’ Gerry said calmly, taking the box of tea that Elise had been holding in one hand and the teapot she’d been clutching in the other for the past few moments. ‘I understand.’

She spooned the loose-leaf tea into the teapot, poured in the water from the kettle and set it on the table.

‘I’m just going to use your bathroom,’ Gerry said.

Elise explained where it was and then flopped down into one of the dining chairs. She felt lightheaded again.

‘Seems I have been here in this house all along,’ Gerry said, grinning as she returned from the bathroom.

Elise looked to her for clarification.

‘The Gouldian finch painting at the end of the hallway,’ she said.

‘You’re absolutely right. You most certainly have been.’

~

Elise and Gerry spent the next two days enveloped in their own private cocoon of nostalgia; Elise wasn’t ready to share Gerry with anyone just yet. A trip up to a national park and a tour of the caves had them giggling like young girls again. Walks around the river and through the university brought back memories of the time they’d spent together. Gerry wanted to take a dip in the Indian Ocean again, but neither of them made it past their ankles; the years had stripped them of their immunity to the cold.

Seeing Gerry again made Elise feel like time operated on a spiral coil rather than a linear plane. On the one hand, it felt like a million years had passed since her days at university, while on the other, it felt like the last sixty years had been nixed altogether. Elise could hardly believe that after all this time of keeping Gerry and their relationship a secret, she was preparing to introduce her, as one of her two great loves, to the world, starting with her family.

Chapter 30

Beth

‘Yia sou,’ my father bellowed from the front door as Gerry, Gran and I made our way towards it. I hadn’t warned Gerry about my family’s penchant for themed events, which tonight appeared to be Greek in nature.

I could feel a familiar sense of embarrassment rising from the pit of my stomach; the same one I had felt when I brought my school friends home. I was usually diligent in providing newcomers with a disclaimer about what they might be exposed to and, as I glanced up at my dad standing in the doorway with his hands outstretched, wearing a white linen shirt and shorts, with a wreath fashioned from olive leaves atop his head, it seemed like an oversight of monumental proportions. Gerry was probably used to formal English dinners, with dress codes and silver cutlery. What would she make of this circus? And, worse, what would Nick think, if he were here?

‘Yia sou,’ Gran replied warmly, kissing my dad on both cheeks.

‘Yia sou, Gerry!’ my dad exclaimed as he reached for her and brought her in for an all-encompassing bear hug – another thing I should have warned her about. But Gerry did not seem phased. In fact, she seemed amused, and she leaned her whole body in to reciprocate. Perhaps Gran had warned her, I thought.

‘It’s so good to have you here, Gerry,’ my dad said with the familiarity that you might expect of someone who was welcoming a long-lost friend back into the fold.

‘Thanks, Thorn. It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. To be honest I’m dying to know if you live up to the hype.’

Dad smiled broadly. ‘I like her already, Elise.’ He ushered Gran and Gerry inside and then turned to me. ‘Bethie.’ He drew me in for a hug. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

Mum appeared, embraced Gerry warmly, and then held both her hands as she told her she was glad she and Gran had reconnected. Jarrah and Elijah appeared and greeted us with hugs.

I was happy my family didn’t know about Nick and what had happened between us. Being chronic oversharers themselves, they would have wanted to know every single detail. I was pleased the Spanish Inquisition had been directed at and about Gran.

Since leaving London I’d had an irksome twinge in my gut that I struggled to name. Sadness? Disappointment? Regret? Longing?

My phone had chimed with a WhatsApp message from Nick as soon as I switched it from aeroplane mode when we landed.

Hope you had a good flight. Say hi to a quokka for me if you see one.

We had exchanged messages about a range of things ever since, including the weather, how Gerry was enjoying her visit so far and our favourite sexual manoeuvre the other had performed on the last night I was in London.

Our exchange of banter flowed even more freely by text than it had in person. We enjoyed a funny, witty repartee and, in spite of myself, I felt a rush when I heard the chime of my phone to say I’d received a new message. Dopamine and serotonin had a lot to answer for.

But even if Nick was here, I wouldn’t have wanted to bring him here. It would be mortifying to subject him to my family’s antics. On the one hand, there was the risk he would find them ridiculous, which might make him question my character since I was genetically linked to them. But, considerably more concerning was the danger he would be captivated by the Dwyer charm and find me boring and uninteresting by comparison.

‘Right,’ Dad said, once Gerry had been introduced to everyone, and we’d settled into the loungeroom. ‘Who’s for a shot of ouzo?’

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