The Dressing Table

The dressing table is made of oak. The draw handles are silver, the mirror attached to the top, dusty. Bits of lace and ribbon hang from the corners of the frame. Pink and blue and even a vibrant yellow. There are strands of beads strung over the frame as well. Pearls and fake jewels sparkling in the golden afternoon light.

The woman runs her fingers over the scratched surface of the dressing table. Decades of use have given the once ordinary piece of furniture some character. The handle on the second draw is loose, a casualty obtained almost twenty years earlier, when the woman’s mother Elsie had owned it. According to her grandmother, Elsie had been in a blind rage and had ripped the draw open, meaning to throw it across the room, but the handle had fallen off. There was a large scratch, the woman remembered, on the back of the drawer, were it had collided with the window frame.

The woman turns her attention to the things on the table. A strange collection, all gathering much dust. She hasn’t touched them in years. Hasn’t been in this room for years. Wishes she weren’t there now given the circumstances. A large shell catches her eye and she smiles, reaches for it, feels its smooth texture. She holds it to her ear, hears the ocean and closes her eyes, drifting back twenty years.

* Twenty Years Earlier *

‘Come on, Lucy!’ called her mother from the water. The six-year-old Lucy stood timidly at the water’s edge, the small waves licking at her toes. The water felt cool, refreshing under the hot Queensland sun. Around her, there were happy yells from other kids splashing around in the Pacific Ocean. Lucy’s mother Elsie bobbed up and down in the water about twenty metres away, and further than her, surfers waited for the perfect wave. Lucy looked behind her. Up on the sand, her father Steven sat on a towel with her baby brother Ben, who looked a little bewildered by the brand new sight he was taking in.

‘Luce! Honey, come to Mummy!’ Elsie called again. Lucy gathered up her courage and sprinted into the sea, water spraying up behind her. Just when she thought she was in reach of her mother, she felt herself being pulled under. The strong undertow forced her under the surface and crushed her under a huge wave. Lucy panicked. Arms flailing, she tried desperately to get back above water. She was losing her battle with the mighty ocean when a strong pair of hands lifted her out of the water. Lucy clutched franticly at her father, her eyes streaming, shivering with the shock. Her father carried her back to shore and wrapped her in a fluffy towel, calming her down. Elsie appeared next to them.
‘Honestly, Lucy. What are we going to do with you?’ she chastised. Lucy looked up at her mother, disbelievingly. Her father glared at Elsie. He set Lucy down and stalked away from her and Ben, pulling her mother with him. Lucy watched as they exchanged heated words, cringed as her mother slapped her father, before turning on her heel and storming off to the car. Steven stood for a minute, hand to his face. Then he inhaled deeply and returned to Lucy and Ben, a strained smile on his face. He sat next to Lucy. Reaching behind him, he produced a large shell. He offered it to Lucy, who accepted it with shaking hands.
‘If you put it to your ear, you can hear the waves, no matter where you are. So when we go back home, you’ll be able to remember how much fun you’ve had here’ he explained. Lucy looked at the shell, then back at her father, a sceptical look on her face.
‘Fun?’ she asked under her breath.

When they got home, Lucy sat the shell on her dressing table and stared at it contemptuously, really wanting to just throw it out. But she was a hoarder by nature, and she knew she couldn’t discard of something so pretty that easily.

No matter how hard it was to look at.

* Present Day *

Putting the shell back in its place, the woman continues to sift through the assortment of things on table. She passes over an old hairbrush, a few discarded pieces of paper and, strangely, a toothbrush, before her fingers land on a perfume bottle. An antique-looking crystal affair, with a pearl set into the lid. She pulls open the stopper and lifts the bottle to her nose, breathing in the sweet scent. Immediately a thousand memories fly through her mind, flashing before disappearing altogether, as if never there. She puts her finger over the opening and tips the bottle slightly, a few drops spilling onto her finger tip. She presses her finger to her neck, brushing the sweet-smelling liquid onto her skin. She places the lid back on the bottle and closes her eyes remembering quite clearly the day she’d gotten it, fifteen years ago.

* Fifteen Years Earlier *

‘You’re growing up so fast’ said Elsie sadly. Lucy rolled her eyes and turned back to her mirror, trying to fix her top over her eleven-year-old pancake chest. Elsie sighed and stretched herself out on Lucy’s pink quilt. Lucy tried not to watch her mother’s cat-like movements, her long legs sticking out of a rather inappropriately short skirt. She scowled at her own reflection. She looked like a little kid. Her denim skirt stopped well above scabby, dimpled knees, an off-the-shoulder top accentuated her bony shoulders and giraffe-like neck, and her fluffy hair would not do what she wanted it to. Pulling the hair tie out of it for the hundredth time, she ran a brush through it again, deciding to leave it out, mainly because she couldn’t stand trying to tame it again. She took one last look in the mirror before stepping into her platform shoes. She turned to see her mother snooping through her things on the dressing table.
‘Hey! Do you mind?’ she said sharply. Elsie turned away from the table, her face devoid of anything like guilt or remorse. She raised her eyebrows at her daughter and leaving the room.
‘I’ll go wait in the car. Don’t forget to grab a jacket’ she ordered over her shoulder. Lucy rolled her eyes. Like she was going to ruin the effect of her top with a jacket. She’d have to take it off before she entered June’s house. She heard the front door close and immediately ran over to her bedside table. Pulling tissues out of their box frantically, she stuffed them into her (pointless) strapless bra. She looked back at her reflection, standing side on and admiring her sudden curves. She snatched up her little bag and a jacket and headed for the front door. She slowed as she reached her mother’s bedroom door. Straining to hear, she picked up a hint of the car radio and slipped into the room.

Ever since her father had left, taking Ben with him, the master bedroom had become a very girly space. The once blue quilt was now purple. The curtains were now lacy and white. The large chest of draws which had once held her father’s clothes now had a top cluttered with makeup, hair products and various lotions and potions. She snuck up to it and picked up one of the bottles of perfume, pulling open the top a little too violently. The contents were upset and a large amount of the smelly liquid spilt onto Lucy. Cursing, she tried desperately to blot it off her skin with the scarf that had been sticking out of the top drawer. After about a minute, she was satisfied that most of the perfume had gone. She put the lid back on the bottle and fled from the room. She raced out the front door and jumped into the idling car. Her mother sniffed and gave her an odd look. Lucy glared at her for a moment and Elsie seemed to think better of enquiring after the overpowering smell. She put the car in gear and they sped towards the party, Lucy in a stony silence.

Later that night, Lucy sat dejectedly on her bed, rubbing her sore feet. The unbelievably immature Fraser Morris had teased her about how she smelt and then gotten punch all over her, which had unfortunately depleted her tissue chest, which had, of course, caused Fraser to tease her even more. Lucy muttered under her breath.
‘Stupid carrot-top. He’s just a freckly little twerp’ she spat. Elsie appeared at her door, holding something behind her back.
‘Feeling any better?’ she asked, sympathy stretching across her face. Lucy shrugged noncommittally. Elsie sat beside her daughter and proffered the perfume bottle to her.
‘You only need a drop or two on. But you can have it. I don’t use it any more. You like the smell?’ she said, opening the bottle carefully. Lucy leaned forward and sniffed at the bottle. It did smell good. A combination of sandalwood and musk and something mysterious that Lucy couldn’t pinpoint. Her hands closed around the crystal bottle and she put the lid back on.
‘Thanks. I won’t use so much next time’ she promised. Elsie smiled, lines etching around her glinting eyes. She ran a hand through her curly hair and left the room, closing the door softly. Lucy stood and set the perfume down on her dressing table, next to the wedding picture of her parents that she’d recovered from the fire.

* Present Day *

The woman picks up an old glass music box, ornate and delicate, filled with old jewellery, rings and bracelets and locket necklaces. She winds it up with the key on the side, and closes her eyes as Fur Elise plays gently, a twinkling melody that breaks the musty silence of the room. She blindly picks out a piece of jewellery from the box and runs the tips of her fingers over the chain. Her eyes flick open as she recognises the heart-shaped locket. Prising it open, she looks at the pictures inside wistfully, tugging her thoughts back ten years.

* Ten Years Earlier *

He looked amazing. He hadn’t shaved and there was a five o’clock shadow of gold on his face. He laughed and the sixteen-year-old Lucy squirmed from her position on the sofa. Fraser nudged her.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked quietly, his arm tightening around her. She composed herself quickly, smiling up at the good-looking redhead beside her.
‘Nothing! Just, um, it’s kinda stuffy in here, you want to go outside for a bit?’ she said quickly. Fraser’s pale eyes lit up and he shot up from his seat like a bullet. He reached down for her hand and pulled her up and out of the crowded living room of her house. With a last look at the golden-haired Adam, she reluctantly followed Fraser out to the veranda.

He pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her.  He tasted of smoke and it felt like he was eating her face. Pulling away as gently as she could, she reached up and put her fingers on her boyfriend’s lips, stopping him. He gave her a weird look before leaning back on a wooden post.
‘Hey, actually, I wanted to give you something’ he said with a sheepish smile. Lucy resisted from rolling her eyes. He was always giving her expensive gifts, which she knew were solely to show off his family’s wealth. Not that she was really complaining. Making her close her eyes, Fraser dropped something cold and metallic into her open palm. She opened her eyes and gasped slightly. A beautiful golden locket sat in her hand, covered in intricate designs and hanging from a delicate chain.
‘Open it’, Fraser said, leaning over and kissing her forehead. Lucy was so pleased with her gift that she didn’t even cringe. She prised open the locket and smiled at its contents. Inside were two pictures. One of her, looking very coy, and one of Fraser, complete with his signature smirk. She almost laughed, but covered quickly with a dazzling smile at Fraser.
‘It’s beautiful, thank you’, she said, kissing him quickly and motioning for him to put it on her.

Back in the house, Lucy searched for Adam. Fraser had disappeared somewhere when they’d come back in and June was wrapped around some guy in the corner. Suddenly, Lucy felt someone behind her, warm breath tickling her neck.
‘Happy Birthday, Luce’ said a deep voice next to her ear. She turned quickly and came face to face with Adam. He smiled down at her, his bright blue eyes boring into hers. He was coming closer; she knew they couldn’t kiss, not here. She pulled him outside, away from the music and laughter and kissed him with every fibre in her body. After twenty minutes, they were abruptly interrupted.
‘Lucy!’ Fraser breathed, his face distorted with rage. Adam let go of her unceremoniously and disappeared into the night, leaving her to face Fraser on her own. She pulled at her skirt, trying desperately to put her clothes back in their rightful places. She looked up at Fraser, her eyes leaking, legs shaking. He glared at her, lunged at her, and pushed her to the wall. She gasped in shock as he gripped her shoulders fiercely and shook her.
‘This never happened. Understand?’ he hissed, his smoky breath making her screw up her nose. He shook her again.
‘Understand?’ he said again, his grip on her shoulders tightening. She nodded quickly, and he released her shoulders. They stood staring at each other for a few moments and Lucy felt her heart beating out of her chest. Fraser closed his eyes for a second, his face straightening. When he opened his eyes, the aristocratic smirk had returned to his face. He pulled Lucy back to him, one hand on the small of her back, the other supporting her head, and kissed her softly. Lucy kissed him back, trying not to think about him shaking her. Fraser pulled away and got hold of her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. He led her back into the house, smiling at everyone, laughing; acting like Adam didn’t even exist. Lucy, following his lead, returned a smile to her own face and played her part.

Later, in her room, she sat in the chair by her window, looking out into the darkness, turning the locket over in her hands. She opened it and stared at the picture of Fraser, feeling as though maybe everything he did was an act. Tears forming in her eyes, she threw it across the room with all her might, and watched it smash into the wall, fall to the ground. It lay open on the carpet, Fraser’s face illuminated in the moonlight.

* Present Day *

The woman runs her fingertip around the outline of Fraser’s face. She turns the locket over and traces the dent in the back that almost obscures the engraving – FJM & LSR forever. She smiles, wondering if Fraser actually knew they would end up together. She twists her enormous engagement ring around finger and fastens the locket around her neck, imagining Fraser’s surprise when he saw it.

She turns to the item next to the box, and her smile disappears as she recognises it. An old envelope, yellowed, the address on the front faded. She opens the letter and skims it, before lifting her hand to her face to wipe her tears away.

* Five Years Earlier *

‘Any mail for me, Mum? I was expecting some news from June’ Lucy called as she entered the kitchen. She was surprised to find the kitchen completely empty. She was twenty-one and still living with her mother, but only for convenience. In fact, she was only a couple of months away from moving out and in with Fraser. She went into her mother’s room, searching for Elsie. Nobody. She roamed the house, her bag still on her shoulder, still in her coat. Finally she concluded that she must have gone out, and checked the fridge door for the usual note. There wasn’t one. Puzzled, she went into her own room and set her things down. She noticed that she hadn’t opened the curtains that morning and went to do so. She glanced at her dressing table on her way and stopped instantly, seeing an envelope standing up against the mirror. She hurried over and ripped it open. She read the first few lines and fell to her knees, hand over her mouth.

My darling daughter, the letter read.

I never expected to do this. But you know as well as I do that I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy for a very long time. Not since your father left, to be honest. You can’t understand the way I feel about losing Ben to him. He took my life when he left with my son.

So I’m leaving. For good. You’re old enough to be able to understand that I have to get away. I’m not sure where I’ll go. Maybe overseas. Maybe up North. But please, Lucy, don’t try to find me. I know this might seem like me abandoning you, but really, I’m just trying to find myself.

The house is yours. Maybe you and Fraser could live in it? If not, please don’t sell it. I don’t want anybody else in this house. It holds to many memories, it’s been in our family since my grandmother lived here. Don’t sell it, and don’t rent it out. Just leave it empty if you have to.

Well, I have to go now.

I love you. Remember that.

Elsie.

How could she do that to me?

* Present Day *

The woman sits on the floor, rocking slightly. She remembers that day, how lonely she felt. There was nobody around. Fraser had been in the city. June had been in France. Her father and Ben had moved to England a year after her parents had split. She remembers that she hadn’t stayed in the house for more than a day after Elsie left. She’d made Fraser come back, she’d packed up some clothes, cleaned out the cupboards and the fridge, closed up the windows, shut up all the doors, covered the furniture. She’d left her room almost exactly like it had always been. She didn’t want the memories. She’d left everything on the dressing table, save for her makeup and hair things. She’d put the letter next to her jewellery box after reading it once again and then closed the door to her room for good.

She’d gone to live with Fraser on the other side of town after that. If she had to go past the house, she would avert her eyes from it, the memories too painful.

Nobody went near the house for more than five years.

Until now.

* Three Days Earlier *

‘Hello?... I’m sorry, she can’t reach the phone right now … I’m her fiancé … What? … Oh, God … Yes, yes, I’ll tell her … Arrangements? … Uh, yes, of course, we’ll sort that out, I’ll ring you back … Thank you, bye’ Fraser hung up the phone as Lucy came into the kitchen, a towel around her head.
‘Who was it?’ she asked cheerfully. Fraser stood, hands in his pockets, staring out the window. He turned to face her and she saw a tear slide down his cheek. She rushed over to him, placed her hands on his face, looking searchingly in his eyes. He looked away from her for a second before taking a breath and placing his hands on her shoulders.
‘It’s your mother. They found her. She’s … she’s dead, Lucy. I’m so sorry’ he said softly. Lucy’s mouth fell open.
‘What?’ she said, stunned. Tears spilled out of her eyes as Fraser held her tight and cried himself.

Lucy felt her heart break the same way it had the day she’d read that letter.

This time though, she knew she’d never get over it.

* Present Day *

‘Lucy, honey?’ Fraser says, knocking on the door to the woman’s old room. Lucy looks up at him, her face wet with tears, her hair dishevelled and a letter clutched tightly in her hand. He sits down next to her and puts a supporting arm around her shoulders.
‘It’s okay. Lucy, its okay’ he says.

Later, Lucy stands at her dressing table alone. She puts the letter back in its place and puns her fingers over the collection of memories for the last time. The shell, the perfume, the jewellery box, the letter. She looks in the mirror and runs a hand through her messy hair. She picks up the old hairbrush and runs it through her hair. She straightens her clothes and her hand stops on the black silk scarf she has looped around her neck. Pulling it off, she lets it slip through her fingers for a moment, marvelling in its fluid blackness. Finally, she holds it up and hangs it over the top of the mirror, covering the bright ribbons and lace off cuts with the solemn colour. Steadying herself with her hands on the table top, she breathes deeply. Then, composing herself, she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her.

Leaving the memories to gather dust for ever.