Swooping my flouncy Alannah Hill skirt under my legs, I slammed the car door and backed out of the driveway. I raised the back of my hand to my face and wiped a lone tear. Farewell, adieu, auf wiedersehen, goodbye. I attempted to busy myself thinking of my favourite childhood movie, “The Sound of Music”. With grim determination, I refused to look in the rear view mirror.
Heading up Boundary Road, I felt a sense of leaving everything I knew behind, and although I had a hollow feeling in my stomach from nerves, I could not lie, there was also the slightest tinge of excitement. On the right, I farewelled my regulars - the convenience store on the corner, my nail bar, the Swiss Gourmet Deli and The Avid Reader bookstore. On the left, Jam Jar - my coffee haven, and Charlie and Liz’s Fruit.
The eclectic and dynamic suburb of West End was extremely popular with young professional couples, just like us, looking for a lifestyle close to the city. It was a suburb known for its strong local identity, high street cafes, ethnic restaurants, interesting bookshops and proud local communities. The positive vibe was palpable and the people friendly. Although only three kilometres from the city, I had always felt as if we were somewhat separated from the rat race of the CBD.
Driving along Vulture Street, I raised my left hand and mouthed a silent goodbye to Southbank Parklands. It had been our favourite training spot. Three mornings a week, rain, hail or shine, we would run from home and meet up with our trainer at a designated meeting spot, under the curling steel columns of the magenta bougainvillea covered arbour.
The sight of that arbour had always bought me a feeling of happiness. However, I now wondered if I would ever be able to roam through the parklands without thinking of my former life with some regret.
The fact was, counselling aside, I was still getting used to my marriage being over. Part of me was afraid that I never would. He had been my best friend, my business partner, my partner in life. Together we were going to conquer the world. Well, that’s what he used to tell me. I guess though, we could only conquer the world if I continued to dream his dreams, and not bother to have any of my own.
As little girls we were told we could have it all. Our feminist foremothers said so and even our mothers agreed, suggesting we could be loving wives, caring mothers and kick-arse bosses if we wanted. We could, they whispered, be superwomen.
So, I had this perfect life all set up. I wanted to find a partner of equal footing, one who made the good times doubly good and made the bad times better.
Davis was it. We had met at university. There were the three of us, Davis, Marty and me, the three musketeers. Even back then we had a business plan. While we studied, both of the boys worked for Davis’s mother, Eileen, in her real estate business.
I, on the other hand, worked at a prestige cupcake shop. They weren’t just any old cupcakes. They were glamorous, melt-in-the-mouth, special occasion cupcakes. I thrived on the creativity, and the nurturing of making edible love for people. I stayed on until I graduated from the University of Queensland with honours. I had a secret dream of one day owning my own cupcake emporium.
However, somewhere along the line I became side tracked. Davis had ideas and they sounded so big and grand, and mine sounded small and pathetic. I had to weigh it up: cupcakes or three million dollar properties. Hmmm? How many cupcakes would I have to sell to add up to three million dollars?
Before I knew it, Davis had me wanting his dream. That’s what happened to Marty as well. We went along with what Davis wanted. We opened a real estate business. He said it was time for some young guns to get into the industry.
Davis said the inner city suburb of West End would be our niche market, that it was about to hit its straps. He had done his research and felt that although it had originally been one of the poorer suburbs of Brisbane, the cottages that housed the working class and migrants all those years ago, were fast becoming coveted pieces of real estate.
It wasn’t the way I had seen my life going, however Davis painted a picture so perfect, how could I resist? The boys knew I had a great business head. They said they needed me. Well, Davis did.
We all want to be wanted, and I was no different.
When I look back on those heady days, I remember nothing but the best. I had loved both of the boys. Physically they were quite similar. In fact, with their blonde hair and blue eyes, they could pass for brothers. However Davis was the one for me. He had charisma, passion and energy enough for all of us. Tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped.
Davis had the power, and power is a very seductive thing. He revved us up and got the dream going. Back in those early days we worked our butts off. No one kept track of the hours, we just did it. We had an absolute blast.
There was little time for seeing other people, but when we got the chance we did.
Who am I kidding? I barely saw anyone, however I pretended I did.
The boys saw plenty.
After a couple of years we moved our business to larger premises right on a prominent corner in Montague Road, where we had phenomenal signage, with our name, Address, blazoned across the front. Our staff continued to grow. We were going somewhere. The boys bought in the sales and I grew the business.
The thing about being a passionate person is that they have their highs and lows. I always knew when it was my job to placate Davis. Marty would give me a look that said: Get in there and do something, Peach. At first I loved the power. I could pacify Davis Riding. Now you had to hand it to me that was pretty clever. To be honest, it was only in the last year or so that I really saw those highs and lows for what they truly were… tantrums! And tantrums aren’t all that attractive. However, I didn’t care.
They didn’t stop me loving Davis. I loved him. Totally!
It took years for Davis to wise up to the fact. Marty caught on first. I loved him too, but differently. I loved him like a brother, a mate, a best friend. Not like I loved Davis. But Marty was a great salesman and excellent businessman, and was also incredibly insightful and sensitive. Somewhere along the way he let me know that he had picked up on my feelings for Davis. However, we both said nothing. Marty goes down as being one of those few friends that you take with you throughout your life. On the female side of things, he did pretty well himself, there was no shortage of girls lined up and I certainly understood why.
We’d had the business for about five years when finally Davis and I became a couple. Six months earlier, I had caught him studying me with an unusual look on his face. It was as if for the very first time, he had seen saw me as a woman and not only as a business partner. Because let’s face it, with Davis, the business always came first. Unfortunately around that time, I also noticed Davis and Marty becoming snappy and argumentative with each other. It was a first in many ways.
I still shudder when I think back to a particular Friday night in the office. We’d had a gruelling week. We had been uncertain if a particular buyer, who we had spent months getting over the line, would settle on an extremely lucrative property. There we were, just the three of us, having a few drinks, when I came on to Davis. Glass of pinot noir in one hand, the other hand clutching a cheque with a sizable deposit scrawled across it. I pranced around gleefully waving the cheque at the boys. As Davis attempted to playfully take it from me, I quickly put it behind my back. As he leant closer, I went up on tiptoes and kissed his lips. Briefly!
I caught the look of fear in his eyes.
It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Marty coughed and quickly began searching his desk for some miscellaneous nothing. While Davis told me, and he did it nicely, that he didn’t want to spoil what we had. I agreed wholeheartedly, laughing it off, saying, ‘God only knows what the hell I was thinking. Totally bad idea! The absolute worst! Quite funny really.’
I asked if he’d spiked my drink, as I slung my bag over my shoulder and then left laughing, glass of pinot noir still in hand.
Pausing long enough to leave