Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect (33 page)

He sounds desperate but, at the same time, mature, and I’m so impressed with him.  I hope he’s exaggerating – perhaps it’s not quite as bad as he thinks?  But when I think of Jake, I can imagine him being swept away by other kids and the ‘glamour’ and ‘excitement’ of drugs.

“Look, I’ll think about what you’ve told me.  I’ve got to work out how to approach it.  I don’t want to frighten Laura, when Jake’s so far away.  What’s he thinking of doing?  Is he coming home with you?”

“I doubt it.  He talks about applying for a second year out here.  As he’s got rich relatives, he can.  They could sponsor him or something.  But I really think someone should step in before then.”

“Have you thought of talking to his uncle?”

“Yes, I did … but I chickened out.”

We pay and wander back to Somerton Park with two cones piled high with gelato.  The morning has been full of revelations.  I feel closer to Adam than ever; the fact that he’s gay hasn’t changed a thing for me.  I think I love him even more.

Funny how something so big, can be small, in the grand scheme of life.

*

We go, the three of us, by train, into Adelaide.  We forget the morning’s conversations and just enjoy the outing.  We have a late lunch in a trendy little restaurant and then go to the gallery.  It’s not a huge space, but it’s dedicated to indigenous art and the walls zing with colour and patterns.  It’s not something I’ve been much aware of before – we’ve all seen representations of this kind of painting, but to be confronted with it, in reality, is an eye-opener.

I start reading information about the different patterns, the dots, the dreamtime stories and the culture.  Every painting is made up of symbols – concentric circles, which can mean campsites and rock holes; straight lines can be routes; wavy lines can be water or rain, I read.  I understand that they are full of meaning – from people who had no written language.  Before, I’ve always thought they were just pretty patterns. 

I read that the dots are often used to illustrate native berries and stars – I see the native people painting the wondrous world around them – the colours of the desert and the multitude of stars above them.  I can’t believe how ancient their culture is – the Dreamtime stories are maybe 50,000 years old.  It’s only forty years ago that they started painting on canvas and board, apparently; before then, they painted on what was available – rock, bark and even themselves.  When the white man came along, they started using the dots to hide meanings and stories from them.

Adam, too, is reading all the plaques on the wall.  He stops reading and turns to me and says, “I love them all, don’t you, Mum?”

“Did I tell you – when I went down to Cornwall to visit Laura, I bought a painting from her gallery?  It was the first time I’d ever bought a painting.  I have to admit, I’m tempted to get one of these.  I think they’re all stunning.  So primeval somehow, so … thought-provoking.  But I’d have to buy something I can fit in my case.” 

My eye is drawn to one in particular – its title is ‘Dreaming’ and it’s a mass of colour and dots in circles.  I don’t know what it means, but I love the ‘feel’.  It’s on unstretched canvas and I decide, on the spur of the moment, to buy it.  It’s 250 Australian dollars, but for some reason, I feel the need to have it.  The title is appropriate.  I know their Dreamtime is about when the world was made, but my dreamtime is about my future, my life.  Me against the universe; me against the stars.

I arrange my purchase, Jane and Adam looking on, somewhat aghast at my snap decision.

“Go, Mum,” says Adam.  “What a great choice.  I love the colours.”

“You’ve inspired me, Anna,” says Jane.  “When we get our new place, I’d like some indigenous paintings on my walls.”

“I hope it looks okay, once I’ve got it home to Bath,” I say, losing my nerve.

“Of course it will.  It sort of sums up Australia, doesn’t it?” says Adam.

“You’re right.  It does.  And we can all dream, can’t we?”  I say.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next day, we go up into the Adelaide Hills, as requested by Adam.  Jane has decided to take a couple of days off, while he’s here.  “I shouldn’t really, but I can’t sit in my office when you’re here, Adam – God knows when I’ll see you again.”

I’ve told Jane about Adam being gay and let him know that I’ve told both her and Marcus.  Adam’s relieved that it’s out in the open and that he hasn’t had to tell them.  Their reaction was great – “It really makes no difference to us – what people do in the privacy of their bedrooms, is none of our business,” says Jane.  “Good on him, for having the guts to tell you.”

“Could you say something similar to him, if it comes up?” I ask.  Adam’s gone to bed and Jane and I are drinking tea in the kitchen.  “It would be so nice for him to have a positive reaction from what he considers to be us oldies!”

“Of course.  I’ll think of something.  I hate the way our generation deals with it.  For God’s sake, love is love, isn’t it?”

What a brilliant thing to say.  She’s so right.  Love between two people, whether male and female, male and male, female and female, black and white, should be equal.  Look at me – love between Ben and I, ten years different.  Between David and Suzie, twenty years different.  Who cares?  I wish everyone had the same attitude.  Love is a connection of minds – not just bodies.

Jane was great – when we were travelling up the road to McLaren Vale, she said, “So, have you met any nice Aussie boys, while you’ve been here?”

Adam is in the back seat of the car and I turn round.  He grins at me and says, “Yea, a few.  They’re all so ripped and fit.  Puts me to shame.  No one special, though.”

“Oh well, it’s good to play the field, at your age,” says Jane.  “Well done for coming out, Adam.  I know it takes courage.  Now you’ve done it, life will get better.”

“Thanks Auntie Jane.  Yea, I feel better for telling Mum.”

I smile at him and Jane says, “Look, Adam, I think you’re too old to call me ‘Auntie’ Jane.  Just Jane is fine.”

“Thanks, Aun… I mean, thanks, Jane.”

And that was all that was said.  Perfect.  Well done, Jane, I say inside my head.  I look at him again and we share a conspiratorial smile.

*

We meander through the stunning landscape, where perfectly manicured vines flow like emerald rivers across the land.  As far as the eye can see, line upon line range up hills and into valleys.  Long straight driveways stretch up to beautiful farmhouses and barns, which are now dedicated to producing wine and entertaining visitors with food and wine tastings. 

We choose one particularly promising one and drive along the long tarmac road which takes us up a steep hill.  We park and survey the scene. 

The panoramic view falls away from us, the multitude of vines, too many to imagine.  The brown of the earth, the vines’ green and the sky’s piercing blue assault my eyes with their vividness.  We see wooden barrels lolling around the car park, roses in flower beds and a large wooden archway, inviting us through.

It’s warm enough to sit outside on the decking and we opt for the cheese platter, the olives and the tasting.  Jane has done this all before so to her it’s no big deal, but Adam and I relish the taste of the different wines and eat our fill.  Jane’s driving too, so she has just one small glass.

With the sun beating down, the air clear and pure, the far-reaching views and the wine, I realise that at this precise moment, I’m happy.  It’s not often that I am aware of happiness – it sometimes just happens to me and it’s only when I look back
,
that I realise that I
was
happy.  But as I sit here, with my wonderful sister and my brave son by my side, I know with absolute clarity, that life is good.  That life is worth fighting for … and that I’ll be okay.

I’m sure I will.

I know I’ll look back on this day with love and gratitude. 

I take lots of pictures of us sitting there, with the view around us.  Precious times, forever remembered by clicking a button.  But my own digital memory, my mind, has placed these images in my archive, filed them away to be restored, when necessary.  I know that one day in the future, I’ll be able to click on the folder marked ‘Happiness’ and open the memories I’ve stored there.

Australia – sub-folder – family – sub-folder – Happiness.

It might be the wine going to my head, of course it may be, but … I’m proud of myself.  This is me, post-David, a new person.  Bold and … happy.

*

Jane and Marcus have definitely decided to put their house on the market – the agent valued it at even more than they thought, so the photographer’s been round and taken all the photos and the brochure and web page is being prepared.  Together with Adam, we’ve been scanning the internet for smaller places round here and we’re going to see one – it’s a two bed house, back from the ocean, but in the same location.  We’ve looked at a couple of others, but they haven’t been right.

It turns out to be in a quiet road – the house is set back a little, with a front garden overflowing with flowers.  The owners aren’t in and the agent shows us round – in Australia, houses on the market are stripped of all personal things for inspections – so when we go round, there is nothing out cluttering up the worktops in the kitchen, no knick-knacks in the sitting room, no bottles of cream or perfume in the bedrooms.  It’s sterile, but at least it means that we can see the house clearly and imagine their stuff in it.

It’s about a sixth of the size of their present house, but the layout is good, the garden’s north-facing (a good thing in Australia if you like the sun and gardening) and it’s bright and cheerful.

“I like it,” says Marcus, quietly to Jane and me, not wanting to give too much away to the agent, who is hovering by the front door, clipboard in hand.

“So do I,” says Jane.  “What do you two think?”

“I can see you two here.  It will be so much less work for you and the good thing is, you’re not really moving as such, as it’s just round the corner from where you are now.”

“You don’t need all the space you’ve got,” adds Adam.  “This is perfect for you two, although you’ll have to get rid of most of your furniture.  Jane can use the second bedroom as her office most of the time.  One thing I’ve discovered is that Aussies hide away in their houses when it’s hot, pulling the blinds down.  It’s weird.  But I’m assuming you two aren’t like that?  This house lets in all the sunshine you could want and the patio will be in the sun most of the day – you two are surely still Brits at heart, rushing out to soak up the sunshine?”

“Definitely,” says Jane.  She turns to Marcus, “What do you think?”

“We’ll just have to hope ours is snapped up and this doesn’t get any offers,” he says with a grin.  I can’t get over how he’s changed in the last week or so.  His face looks younger and smoothed out and I’m sure there’s been a reduction in the alcohol intake too.

When we leave, the agent gives us his card and all the details of the property.  When we get back to their place, its sheer size hits us all.  True, the view is magnificent, but … it’s not worth it for the angst it’s caused Marcus.

*

As I said I would, I’ve emailed Holly about Adam and also asked her advice about Jake.  Her reply comes winging back:

Hi Mum, Well, it seems like you’ve had an eventful few days.  I have to admit I didn’t see that coming about Adam, although with hindsight, it all makes sense.  I did wonder why none of those pretty blond friends of his, ever seemed to be singled out.  I wish he’d felt able to confide in me, but it sounds as if he couldn’t tell anyone.  Poor Adam, I feel so sorry for him – all those years at school must have been awful.  Still, at least he’s ‘out’ now and can start enjoying his life.  It must be terrible carrying something around with you for so long and not be able to unburden yourself.  I’ll write to him after I’ve finished this.

As for Jake, what a nightmare!  I knew he was a bit stupid sometimes, but I never thought he’d be this stupid.  I honestly don’t know what you should do.  My only thought is that you should contact his uncle and talk to him … you’re going to have to tell Laura, Mum – she’d never forgive you if you didn’t.

Let me know how it goes.  Not long now till you come back – boo!  I bet Ben can’t wait to see you, though.  More news!  We’ve been discussing weddings and we’ve come up with a date – December 23rd!  I know it’s rather soon, but who cares?!  I love Christmas and it seems the perfect time.  What do you think?  We’ve already contacted the vicar at Stowchester (as we both come from there, we thought that was the right place – I hope it hasn’t got too many bad associations for you?) and the date’s ours if we want it!  We’re thinking of The Grange for the reception – what do you think?  So, it’s all systems go when you get back!  Love Holly xxx

I’m so excited for Holly and write her a quick text:
Just got your email – SO excited!  Of course I don’t mind about Stowchester, it’s the obvious place.  Really looking forward to coming back now and helping you plan.  Will try to sort the Jake thing. MUM x

I dread telling Laura but agree with Holly, it’s the only answer.  I resolve to sort it when Adam’s gone.

*

“Whatever happens with Jake, I’m going to come back at the beginning of July, Mum.  I’ve got loads to sort out before uni and maybe, if I stay with you in Bath, I could get a job for the summer – it’ll be a lot easier than when we lived in Stowchester.  Could you look around for me?”