Scribblings¶
28 The Mirror¶
[ Charlotte ]
The Pillar¶
[ Charlotte ]
The morning sky promised a bland spring day, a bit chilly at first, but otherwise: just the usual. When Celeste and I stepped into Wardrobe that morning, the coffee machine growled its usual objection to an early start, Lisa made her usual little flurry between irons and steam press and even Sarah wore her usual look of faint disapproval.
But Celeste—wasn't. She seemed to be physically in my space more. Was it my upcoming procedure? Something seemed to push her off-centre. Perhaps she'd booked it already, and was going to tell me.
That must be it, I decided, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Which it didn't, until Brittany walked in with Queensland's sunshine in her smile.
I felt my back stiffen as I stared at her.
"Well, are you just going to stand there, or give me a hug?" she said.
I ran over to her, my eyes still wide.
"Good, you're on time," I heard Mara say as I threw my arms around Brittany.
Our hug was a short one. Brittany gave one of her chortles.
"You haven't told her yet, have you?"
"Told me what?"
I heard Celeste's voice in the tearoom.
"Time for a meeting, everyone. And no barista coffee today, just tea."
There was something on Mara's face, in Celeste's smile, in Sarah's grin and Brittany's pressed lips that left me feeling like 'last to know'. I felt Mum's hands on my shoulders, as if to steady, reassure.
"We're moving Wardrobe," Mara said bluntly. "Our lease is up, and pencil-pushers in the Faire admin decided to be clever about renewing. Celeste has found us new accommodations and so we're moving there pronto."
My mind swirled—a million things to do. I tried to rise by my Mum's hands convinced me to stay put.
"I've put Celeste in charge of the move," Mara continued, gesturing to her.
Celeste cleared her throat.
"We've got tasks assigned for everyone. Sarah, you're in the new digs, setting everything up. Lisa: cataloguing, labelling, packing. Lucy: equipment. Tahlia, bits and bobs, like the tearoom."
She stopped and looked at me.
The kettle ticked at it cooled.
"And me?"
"You have an appointment."
“I don’t understand,” I said.
Celeste’s face softened. “Yes, you do.”
“No. I don’t. Why is Brittany here? And wasn't Lisa applying for design school in St Kilda? And now, suddenly Wardrobe is moving and I’m just supposed to—”
I stopped.
Brittany folded her arms. “Go and get your life in focus. Yes. It's not like you're indispensable.”
I looked at her.
“Because that bit,” she said, “has been cancelled.”
"We've done our triage," Mum said as she settled beside me. "Lisa is happy to wait to wait a semester to start. And You're appointment's been made, sweetie."
Celeste sat down on the other side, waving paper.
"Airline tickets. You and Brittany. On Thursday afternoon." Her smile came and went quickly. "I have to stay. And Brittany knows Thailand."
===
[ Charlotte ]
The morning sky promised a bland spring day: chilly at first, but otherwise just the usual.
When Celeste and I stepped into Wardrobe, the coffee machine growled its usual objection to an early start. Lisa made her usual little flurry between the irons and the steam press, and even Sarah wore her usual expression of faint disapproval, as if the morning had arrived five minutes before it was properly authorised.
But Celeste wasn’t usual.
She was physically closer to me than she needed to be. Not clinging. Celeste did not cling. But there was a nearness to her that kept brushing the edge of my attention: her hand at the small of my back, her shoulder almost touching mine, the way she looked at me and then looked away before I could ask why.
Was it Thailand?
My stomach tightened.
Perhaps she had made the booking already. Perhaps she was going to tell me. Perhaps this was the morning when something theoretical stopped being theoretical and acquired dates, flight numbers, hospital forms.
That must be it, I decided.
I waited for the other shoe to drop.
It didn’t.
Not until Brittany walked into Wardrobe with Queensland sunshine in her smile.
For a second, the room made no sense.
I stared at her. My back stiffened before the rest of me caught up.
“Well?” Brittany said. “Are you just going to stand there, or am I getting a hug before lunch?”
I ran to her, my eyes still wide, and threw my arms around her.
“Good,” Mara said behind me. “You’re on time.”
The hug was short. Brittany gave one of her chortles close to my ear, but there was something careful underneath it.
“You haven’t told her yet, have you?”
I pulled back.
“Told me what?”
Celeste’s voice came from the tearoom doorway.
“Meeting, everyone. And no barista coffee this morning. Tea only.”
That was when I understood that the morning had been rehearsed without me.
There was something in Mara’s face, in Celeste’s careful smile, in Sarah’s grin, and in the way Brittany pressed her lips together that left me feeling suddenly, horribly last to know.
Mum’s hands settled on my shoulders from behind. Not hard. Just enough to steady me.
“We’re moving Wardrobe,” Mara said bluntly.
The words landed like a dropped iron.
“Our lease is up, and the pencil-pushers in Faire admin have decided to be clever about renewal. Celeste found us better premises in Torquay. Larger work area, better access, proper parking, less nonsense. We are taking it.”
My mind began moving at once. Too fast. Benches. Stock. Labels. Fittings. Half-finished garments. Steam press. Lighting. Client records. Transport. The ledger. The move schedule. The workflow.
I tried to rise.
Mum’s hands convinced me not to.
“I’ve put Celeste in charge of the move,” Mara continued, with a small gesture in Celeste’s direction.
Celeste cleared her throat.
“We’ve assigned tasks. Sarah, you’re at the new premises, setting up intake and workflow. Lisa, cataloguing, labelling, packing sequence. Lucy, equipment and transport. Tahlia, tearoom, consumables, bits and bobs. Mara has the lease handover and Faire correspondence.”
She stopped.
Then she looked at me.
The kettle ticked as it cooled.
I heard it because nobody else spoke.
“And me?” I asked.
Celeste’s face softened.
“You have an appointment.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes,” she said gently. “You do.”
“No. I don’t.” I looked from her to Brittany, then to Lisa, who had gone very still beside the steam press. “Why is Brittany here? Why is Lisa here? Wasn’t Lisa applying for design school in St Kilda? And now Wardrobe is moving, and everyone has a job except me, and I’m supposed to—”
I stopped.
Brittany folded her arms.
“Go and get your life in focus,” she said. “Yes.”
I stared at her.
Her expression softened by half an inch, which, for Brittany, was practically an embrace.
“Charlotte, love. You are not indispensable.”
The words hurt more than they should have.
Brittany saw it. Of course she did.
“I don’t mean you’re not important,” she said. “I mean that bit where the roof falls in if you step away? Cancelled.”
The room went quiet again.
Mum came around the chair and sat beside me.
“We’ve done our triage,” she said. Her voice had nurse in it now: calm, practical, impossible to argue with because it had already argued with reality and won. “Lisa is happy to wait a semester before starting. Brittany has bullied Fiona, rescued Lisa, and apparently left Queensland still standing. Mara has agreed to the handover structure.”
“And Celeste?” I asked.
Celeste sat down on my other side.
She did not wave the papers. She placed them on the table in front of me as if they were fragile.
“Flights,” she said. “You and Brittany. Thursday afternoon.”
The room tilted.
“Thursday?”
“Yes.”
“This Thursday?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the papers, but the lines would not become words.
Celeste’s smile came and went quickly.
“I have to stay for the move,” she said. “At least at first. Brittany knows Thailand. She knows enough Thai to be dangerous, she knows airports, and she has already informed me she is excellent in hospitals.”
“I am,” Brittany said. “I become very authoritative with clipboards.”
No one laughed.
Or perhaps they did, a little. I couldn’t tell.
I was still looking at the tickets.
Thursday.
A date was different from a plan. A plan could sit politely in the future and wait to be ready. A date moved towards you whether you were ready or not.
“I didn’t say yes,” I said.
Celeste went very still.
Mara’s eyes sharpened, but she did not speak.
“No,” Celeste said. “You didn’t.”
“You made bookings.”
“Yes.”
“Without asking me.”
“Yes.”
The honesty of it was worse than an excuse.
Celeste drew a breath.
“I made bookings we can cancel. I reserved a path. I did not make your decision for you.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No,” she said quietly. “It isn’t.”
My throat tightened.
I wanted to be angry. Anger would have helped. Anger would have put the floor back where it belonged. But the room was full of women who had moved pieces into place with such care that I could not find the cruelty in it.
That was almost worse.
Every obstacle I had been holding in my hands had been taken from me.
Wardrobe was moving.
Mara had a plan.
Celeste had a plan.
Lisa was taking the chair.
Brittany was standing there with Queensland still on her skin and a travel bag at her feet.
And I was left with nothing to hide behind except the thing itself.
“I thought there’d be more time,” I said.
Celeste’s hand found mine under the table.
“To organise?”
I shook my head.
The words came out smaller than I wanted.
“To be brave.”
Brittany’s face changed.
Not much. But enough.
“Oh, love,” she said. “Brave isn’t a mood. It’s what people call you afterwards because they didn’t see the shaking.”
I looked down at the tickets again.
Thursday.
The paper did not care whether I was ready.
Neither did my body.
Neither did the ache I had carried for so long that it had become part of my posture.
Celeste squeezed my hand once.
“Do you want me to cancel?”
The word sat there with teeth.
Cancel.
Not postpone. Not rearrange. Not later.
Cancel.
I tried to imagine saying yes. I tried to imagine the relief of it: the room loosening, the papers gathered back into Celeste’s folder, Thailand sliding away into the safe distance where it could become hope again instead of a date.
For one breath, the relief was enormous.
Then grief rose underneath it.
Immediate. Furious. Mine.
“No,” I whispered.
Nobody moved.
I swallowed.
“No. I don’t want to cancel.”
Celeste closed her eyes for half a second.
When she opened them again, they were bright.
“Then we make the next step smaller,” she said.
Mara nodded once, as if that settled the matter.
“Good. Lisa, chair.”
Lisa blinked. “Now?”
“Now.”
Lisa crossed the room with the expression of someone approaching a horse that might bite. She sat in my chair slowly, as if the chair itself might object.
It didn’t.
I stood beside her and placed the ledger in front of her.
My hand shook only a little.
“Don’t start with the stock,” I said. My voice sounded strange, but it worked. “Start with the exceptions. The ordinary things behave better once the exceptions are named.”
Lisa nodded too solemnly.
Brittany leaned against the cutting table.
“Listen to her,” she said. “She’s unbearable, but she’s right.”
For the first time that morning, I smiled.
Not because I was ready.
Because the roof had not fallen in when I moved my hand from the beam.
===
Celeste sat down on my other side.
She did not wave the papers. She placed them on the table in front of me as if they were fragile.
“Flights,” she said. “You and Brittany. Thursday afternoon.”
The room tilted.
“Thursday?”
“Yes.”
“This Thursday?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the papers, but the lines would not become words.
“I knew you were booking it,” I said slowly.
Celeste nodded. “Yes.”
“I knew there’d be a date.”
“Yes.”
“But I thought—” I stopped, because I had no sensible end to the sentence.
I thought there would be warning.
I thought the future would have manners.
I thought wanting something for years meant I would recognise it when it finally stood in front of me.
Celeste’s face softened.
“I know,” she said.
“No, you don’t.” The words came out too quickly. Too sharply. I saw them touch her, and hated that. “I’m not saying you did anything wrong.”
“I know.”
“I asked you to book it.”
“Yes.”
“I agreed.”
“Yes.”
“So why does it feel like someone just pulled the floor away?”
No one answered at once.
Brittany’s arms folded, but her voice, when it came, was gentler than I expected.
“Because a date is heavier than a plan, love.”
“I can move it,” Celeste said. “The flights can change. The appointment can change. Nothing happens because paper says so.”
Brittany made a small sound. “Well, hospitals do rather like paper.”
Celeste did not look away from me. “Nothing happens because paper says so,” she repeated. “Only because you say so.”
That should have helped.
It did help.
It also made everything worse, because it put the choice back into my hands, where it had apparently been all along.