Page 21 of Birds of a Feather

She manoeuvred the box off the shelf and then carefully climbed down off the chair, exhaling deeply when her feet reunited with the carpet. She was well aware that balancing on a dining chair, while home alone, could result in a broken hip and mark the end of her independence. She’d seen it happen to many of her friends.

The box, which had held Elise’s most fiercely protected secrets since university, was about the size of a tissue box and had a heavy black combination lock. A thick layer of dust – a measure of how long it had been since she’d last retrieved it – coated its lid. As she wiped the dust from the top of the box, she tried to shake the feeling that Beth had betrayed her privacy. But it wasn’t Beth’s fault she’d discovered Gerry was a woman and unearthed the secret of their relationship, Elise reasoned. It was, after all, Elise who had volunteered her name. After sixty years of keeping their relationship hidden, she had become careless.

Elise had no trouble remembering the combination: 0–5-0–2 – the fifth day of the second month; Gerry’s birthday. However, the dial was difficult to manoeuvre; it had been years since she had last opened it, and her hands were stronger then. She jiggled the shackle until it popped open, then twisted off the lock and opened the lid. A thick musty scent escaped like a genie from a bottle.

Over the years, Elise had taken refuge in the box’s contents when she and John had had a fight, or when she felt irritated or melancholic. Fingering through the contents had felt like a silent rebellion; an escape to another life, without any real-world consequences.

She had thought often about destroying the contents to avoid the risk of John or Rosie opening it and drawing conclusions if she wasn’t around to explain. But she had never been able to bring herself to throw any of it away.

Elise lifted a small black-and-white photo from the box and ran her fingers along the scalloped edges. The image depicted Gerry looking directly at the camera, with her mouth smiling and slightly ajar as if captured mid-laugh. Elise was to her left, her face turned in profile as she gazed up at Gerry, partly because she adored her, partly because she was a full foot shorter.

Elise and Gerry first met during university orientation week at Camelot House. Elise was in the dining hall with her brother, Henry, and sister, Daisy, when Miss Turniss – the bristly house mistress – brought Gerry over to introduce her as the only other girl enrolled in botany.

‘It makes sense for the two of you to stick together,’ Miss Turniss said, glaring at Henry, whose body language suggested that he too would appreciate the opportunity to spend time with Gerry.

Elise didn’t need any encouragement; she had been instantly captivated by Gerry.

Gerry spoke the Queen’s English and oozed sophistication and refinement, but she enjoyed dropping a well-timed ‘fuck’ into a sentence, which always garnered raised eyebrows from people who didn’t expect it. She was quick-witted, well-read and could hold an informed conversation about almost anything. But she also reveled in salacious gossip, and she enjoyed trashy romance novels as much as high-brow tomes.

Her tall, slender figure seemed better suited to a Parisian catwalk than the provincial streets of Perth. And her eyes were a brilliant sky-blue. Elise thought she was absolutely beautiful. And she wasn’t the only one.

Men fell all over themselves to invite her to dances and to join them at the pictures. They would often ask Elise to put in a good word, or for advice on how to woo her. Despite their valiant efforts, Gerry swatted away their advances. She told them she planned to stay focused on her studies and respectfully suggested they do the same. Occasionally, they recycled their failed pick-up lines on Elise, but once you locked eyes on Gerry, it was hard to turn your attention elsewhere.

As the only two females in the course, it was assumed that Elise and Gerry would sit together in lectures and be lab partners. They soon became inseparable outside of their coursework too. Their bedrooms at the college were side by side. They ate together and studied together. They spent their spare time playing cards, watching TV in the common room, exploring the bush on the city’s fringes or taking the bus to the beach where they would tan and swim until they looked like lobsters. Most days, Gerry was the first person Elise saw in the morning and the last person she saw in the evening.

Elise’s sister Daisy teased her relentlessly about it. She would sing:

Gerry had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb

Gerry had a little lamb, she didn’t have a beau

‘Cos everywhere that Gerry went, Gerry went, Gerry went

Everywhere that Gerry went, Elise – the lamb – would go.

It irked Elise that Daisy’s taunts had some truth to them; she did follow Gerry around like a little lamb. She hung off her every word when they were together, and she thought of her endlessly when they weren’t. Elise often felt the urge to pinch herself that someone like Gerry – beautiful, dynamic, interesting and intelligent – would want to spend time with her. She was infatuated.

A few months after they met, Elise travelled home for the mid-term break. Elise had pleaded with Gerry to come too – she was dying to show her Woodside Ridge – but Gerry had insisted she didn’t want to intrude on their family time. Gerry later confessed that she had indeed wanted to come, she just couldn’t bear spending a week with Daisy.

Despite having the opportunity to soak in the country air and take long walks in the nature reserve, Elise spent the trip home in a state of irritation. She blamed the stress of university when her mother asked her what was wrong. But the truth was, even though she was home, she was homesick for somewhere else. Or, rather, someone else.

By the end of the week, Elise was aching to get back to the city. Back to Gerry. The journey back to Camelot House felt excruciatingly long. Even though Daisy and Henry had agreed to take an earlier train, they had to persuade Elise not to hitchhike the rest of the way after a delay added an hour to the journey.

When they arrived back at the college, Elise ran up the driveway and then flew up the stairs, two at a time, towards their rooms. She rapped on Gerry’s door and waited impatiently for her to open it. But there was no answer. As she knocked again, Miss Turniss (or Miss Too-Priss, as Elise and Gerry had come to call her) rounded the corridor.

‘Elise, were you away so long that you forgot which room is yours?’ she asked, nodding her head towards Elise’s door, her lips pursed like a cat’s anus.

Elise laughed awkwardly.

‘Actually, I was looking for Gerry. Have you seen her?’

‘I thought as much,’ she replied coolly. ‘I think she went into town. She’s been having a wonderful time this week, so who knows when she’ll be back.’

There was a mean smugness to her delivery.

Disappointment prickled Elise’s core. She had been counting down the seconds until she saw Gerry; it had not occurred to her that her eagerness might not be reciprocated.

Once inside her room, Elise set her suitcase on the floor and launched herself theatrically on her bed. Moments later, there was a banging on the door.

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