Page 17 of Love Is…?

“Shit, that’s really profound,” Cath said, her face indicating how impressed she was. Then she clapped once. “Okay. My turn. In my highly qualified opinion, love is that ah-ha moment.”

Jayde grinned. “Just what are these qualifications?

Cath raised her hand to the side of her mouth as if hiding her response. “Great sex,” she mouthed, and Grace promptly rolled her eyes; a gesture that was so spectacular, it needed a stage.

“I know you and Rica have sex, Cath. I’m not a child.”

Cath looked her up and down. “True. But I’m forever going to see you as that kiddo wearing pyjamas in a swanky penthouse when I turned up to rescue Sam from herself.”

Ah. That was the connection. Tessa stuck a pin into her mental bulletin board of who was who in the Taylor-Markson social network, then looked at Jayde.

“Okay.” No time like the present to dive into a dare. “We’ve all had our turn. What’s your answer?”

Jayde gave Tessa a long look, then turned to Cath, who was standing with her hands on her hips as if she’d asked the question and expected the answer yesterday.

Tessa smothered a smile, and wondered if Jayde would say something flippant, or something more personal. Not that Tessa assumed there was even a personal answer. Maybe Jayde simply was not?—

“Love is being brave because a heart that’s strong is a heart that can be held.”

Tessa blinked.Oh, Jayde. How much was buried in that answer? Is that why she found no-strings sex so appealing?

“Shit, that’s a bit full on.” Cath shrugged. “Abby and Sam can show you a pair of strong hearts. Those two are surrounded by one big infatuation cloud. I wouldn’t be surprised if the wedding planner has a fog machine just for metaphorical emphasis.”

She pointed to Grace. “Ready?” Then she turned to Tessa. “Sorry. Security found out five seconds ago. I’m commandeering your charge. Grace and I are op-shopping and I, being the most excellent bargain spotter that I am, volunteered to be a responsible adult.” She delivered a wicked grin.

Love Is…?

PART ONE

Abigail Taylor

Abigail Taylor is the subject of this profile; one of six profiles in which well-known people from all walks of life will define love. With her impending wedding to thirty-seven-year-old Samantha Markson, her girlfriend of five years, Abigail Taylor’s perspective of love is quite compelling.

By Jayde Ferguson

It is entirely possible that every second person walking the footpaths of Melbourne has a photograph of Abigail Taylor stored on their camera roll. The beautiful forty-eight-year-old actress has one of the most recognisable faces on the planet, due to a long and varied career marked by iconic roles inCopy/Paste/Kill,Two For Three,It’s Not You Or Even You,Guns And Desire,Discreet Liaison,performances in manyWest Endproductions,and multiple accolades including twoSAGawards and four Golden Globes.

With her captivating combination of ordinariness and ethereal beauty, Abigail Taylor has graced the covers of magazines worldwide. She is a chameleon—“Most of the time I don’t recognise myself at all”—inhabiting such roles as a hard-bitten war journalist through to an international spy through to many a romcom girl-next-door. Many have stated, on social media and in person, that people often naturally fall in love with Abigail Taylor.

So what does Abigail Taylor have to say about love?

It is an overcast day when we sit down together in the small living room of her townhouse in Melbourne to begin the first of twenty one-hour interviews. Abigail apologises for the weather. Her shrug and my nod synchronise; it’s a mutual understanding. Then she smiles indulgently, the skin crinkling slightly in the corners of her eyes.

“We only got back from London last week and already I’m discussing the weather. Everybody is completely obsessed, checking apps, not knowing whether to hang the washing out or not. It’s always four seasons in one day, isn’t it. But I do love it here.”

Her familiar husky voice fills the intimate space, and she sips at her coffee, holding the mug, decorated with dancing mice sporting top hats, with two hands as if she’s only now re-entered the house after battling the grey outside, and needed a warm drink as a reward. She is relaxed, her long legs, encased in faded jeans, crossed casually at her ankles, and she wriggles her shoulders to press deeper into the lounge chair. She looks for all the world like a cat settling into its favourite spot, and Abigail laughs at the analogy.

We chat some more about the weather—an entire conversation can be had based upon a single raindrop—then I deliver the half-sentence that forms the profile, and lean forward in anticipation. Abigail contemplates the light-blonde carpet, muttering the two words, and breathing deeply. The silence lengthens. Then she looks up, hyper-attentive, and delivers one of her trademark gazes, which, because it feels as if she is staring directly through the camera, has led to fans creating a hashtag simply for that one gesture.#ATLookAtMe

“It is entirely possible that love is beyond a person? That it can be a place?”

Her sentences end in question marks as if she’s asking the room and all residing in its space for acknowledgement. She taps the side of her mug, and hums.

“Oh, what is the word?”

She frowns at the wall behind me, shakes her head, then replaces the gesture with a nod, and brings her gaze back.

“Topophilia. That’s it. It means to have a love for a place. In other words, it’s the warm feelings you get from a place. Melbourne gives me warm feelings, despite the weather.”

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