Silver

Chapter 49 - now

I work seven days a week. The money piles up in my bank account. I could work Monday-Friday, but I have nothing else to do Saturday and Sunday, so I work. It will be worth it. When I find Jarvis, we can start our life together. We can build our house together. Casa Blanca. Sylvie's White House. Like he said. We'll have his bronze sculptures in the back garden and silver leaved plants in the front yard and back yard. The interior will be minimalist and functional - a neutral colour palette - timber and white, to showcase his sculptures, indoors and out.

Marion is on a business trip, pushing pharmaceuticals on GPs in Parramatta. She comes to visit. We meet in the garden, on a bench by the vegetable boxes.

'How's mum and dad?' I ask.

'They miss you, Sylvie. They wish you were still in Melbourne.'

'I know,' I say. 'I miss them too. But I had to make my own choices. You all know that.'

Marion looks off into the distance.

'How's Ruby?'

'Good. She's four now. I wish you could see her. She's going to kindergarten. We have a fabulous nanny. She does all the running around. Twelve hours of kindergarten a week is not nearly enough for working parents.'

Marion looks tired. She's let herself go a little. The pores on her skin look deeper and make her look older, there's a cream stain on her white shirt.

I want to ask her about her husband, but I can't think of his name. This happens sometimes. It must be the medication. It makes my brain freeze.

'How's ... ah ... how's ...'

'Lachlan.'

'Yeah, of course. How's Lachlan?'

'Good. He's working hard. We'll probably go to Europe for a month next year. The nanny might come with us, so the two of us can get out together in the evenings. We never had a proper honeymoon.'

'I thought you would've had another baby by now,' I say.

'I did too. But it's not happening, unfortunately. We've been trying for 18 months.'

'That must be hard for you,' I say.

'Yeah. I'd always wanted two children.'

'What does the doctor say?'

Marion shrugs. 'He says this is normal. The stress of working full time can do this to mothers. It's harder to fall pregnant. I mean, logistically, it's just harder.'

'Are they going to put you on any treatment?' I ask.

'No. We've had all the tests done. Lachlan and I are both perfectly fine. We're totally functioning. We just have to both be in the same room at the right time. That's it. It's simple. Except, it's not so simple.'

'How's work?'

'Busy. I'm now managing three people - as well as having to service all my existing clients. If I'm not travelling to Sydney, then I'm in Brisbane, or Adelaide. Next week I've got our annual conference in Fiji. I'm away for a whole week. And I'm meant to be ovulating. So, you know, it's impossible. Again.'

She doesn't ask me anything. My work here is of no interest to her. I have to keep the conversation going. However, I've exhausted all our usual topics. Marion comes to visit every time she's in Sydney which has been every other month lately.

'Are you going overseas sometime soon?' I ask.

'I just said, we're going to Europe next year. We haven't booked yet. But we will.'

I look around at the garden, at the wisteria growing over the rotunda. My old life, my whole upbringing, has been reduced to a series of distant conversations when my sister visits. I haven't seen my parents in four years. Their disappointment in my choice of career, when I 'had so much potential', keeps them away. There's the occasional birthday message or Christmas phonecall. Otherwise there is the silence of disappointment. The silence of we sent you to best school in the South of Melbourne and you chose this as your career. The silence of 'what the hell happened to your marriage?'. The silence of you are no longer one of us.

The grief is a slow abrasion on my heart. It's my father who I miss most of all.

'Where are you going in Europe?'

'England, France, Italy, Germany, maybe Spain.'

'I was reading a book on Italian futurism the other day,' I say. 'It was an art and design movement that intersected with the fascists.'

'Oh.'

'There's an amazing post office you should visit in Palermo, in Sicily. The staircase is amazing. You should look it up.'

'You should have stayed in your architecture course, Sylvie. You should have stayed if you loved it so much. I don't know what happened.'

I stand up. 'I have to get back to my clients,' I say.

'It's Sunday,' she says, tugging her pencil skirt down her knees.

'I know. Good luck in Fiji next week. And good luck with Lachlan. I hope you and he ... well, you know ... I hope you get some good timing together.'

She stands and collects her handbag from the bench seat.

'Give Ruby a kiss for me,' I say.

'She loves you,' Marion says. 'She wants to see photos of you all the time. Mummy's little sister.'

'You should bring her some time,' I say.

'Yeah, maybe.' Marion kisses me on the cheek and then I watch as she walks through the garden, back to the reception desk.