Picture Of Us

by Todd Alexander

Genres: General Fiction

Synopsis

A compelling novel about a regular, dysfunctional family and the secrets they live with, for anyone who has ever been confused by those they hold dearest. From the author of the critically acclaimed Tom Houghton

'one of this year's most anticipated local releases' - Sunday Telegraph
'compelling first novel' - Weekend Australian
'tightly crafted' - The Age

Life isn't meant to be planned, it's meant to be lived.

Maggie Apperton has always been a busy wife and mother. It suited her. She had never wanted to stop and really listen, to her children or her husband . . . or herself.

With the sudden death of her husband, Marcus, Maggie realises she doesn't know the adults her children have become. Her son, Patrick, has told his mother a little about his life in the city - but only the basics. Her daughter, Isabel, writes regularly, but her letters from Paris are polite and businesslike, revealing nothing.

As Maggie, Isabel and Patrick come together to say goodbye to Marcus, long-guarded secrets begin to surface. In confronting the past, the bonds of family are stretched to breaking point. They each must learn to listen and forgive, before it is too late.

If you loved the movie This is Where I Leave You or Lian Moriarty's The Husband's Secret, you will love Pictures of Us

Now featuring the first chapter of Todd's exciting new book, Tom Houghton.

Release date: October 21, 2011

Publisher: Hachette Australia

Print pages: 297

Sample

‘You have to be strong, Maggie. Just stay strong.’

Maggie was shocked to hear such a cliché and stared at her friend in disbelief. She thought it was a stupid thing to say to
someone whose husband might be dying. Strong? Strong? She felt like arguing, why do I have to stay strong? But outbursts of
that type were so unlike Margaret Apperton – she was a well-spoken woman who kept her emotions to herself. Why did no one
know what to say in moments such as these?


The table had turned completely silent and no one could look her in the eyes. Their lunches lay untouched in the warm sunlight.
It was almost as if she was the one who’d been hurt. Please, someone say something, she thought. I can handle anything but this silence.


She rose slowly from the table, the feet of her chair making a high-pitched scraping sound. Two or three of her friends made a half-hearted move to follow, but Maggie left them behind as she walked numbly from the restaurant.


The lunch had begun so beautifully with a bright blue sky, the harbour’s emerald green glimmering with the glare from the
sun and seagulls riding high on invisible currents of air. Once a month she and five friends took the train to Sydney and
spent the afternoon in a nice restaurant, drinking wine and chatting about their lives. Maggie started the club after spending
two years of retirement bored and lonely, placing an advert in her local paper seeking a ladies’ luncheon club. It’d been
so out of character that she feared what her children would have thought, had they known she was being so bold.


‘I just need some company while your father is at work,’ she would have defended herself weakly.

The first lunch was overly formal – six complete strangers meeting for the first time, asking polite questions about each
other’s lives and answering with reserve. Maggie thought about cancelling the club after its forced debut; at fifty-seven
she felt it was too late for new starts. Then Kathy called her the next day to say thanks and to help organise another lunch.
Kathy’s enthusiasm had overwhelmed Maggie and she had felt trapped into going again. It had, after all, been her idea.


Maggie woke at six as usual, the morning birdcalls serving as her alarm. She got up, went to the toilet and let the dog in.
It was Patrick’s dog really – a frumpy but lovable mongrel called Leroy. He followed Maggie everywhere unless Patrick came
home, then it was as if Maggie didn’t exist. In the mornings the dog was docile and affectionate, following her from room to room and standing at her feet as she cooked Marcus’ breakfast.


While the eggs were crackling away, she made herself some herbal tea and toast with marmalade. Together, she and Leroy looked
out at the Broadwater as two pelicans circled in to land. She could almost hear what the dog was thinking – if I could jump
that bloody fence I’d get amongst ya’s – and, as if sharing the joke, he turned to look at her and licked his lips. She threw
him the crusts of her toast, marvelled at his peculiar ability to smile, and went back to the stove to turn the eggs.


Marcus was still snoring when she went into the spare room to wake him. They only ever shared the same bed if they had company,
because his snoring was so pervasive it kept her awake and made her irritable. She stared a moment at his exposed foot, its
heel rough and scaly, the toes oversized and hairy.


‘Breakfast.’

He half grunted and came to instantly. ‘I was dreaming about plane crashes again,’ he mumbled. ‘Can’t seem to shake it.’ This
was one of his recurring dreams, along with the one where he lost his teeth, rotted out with decay. He read that dreaming
about losing teeth was a sign of sexual frustration but hadn’t managed to find out about crashing planes.


‘Breakfast is on the table,’ she repeated, not wishing to enter into today’s analysis.

Leroy came in and began licking between Marcus’ toes. ‘Hey, fella.’ He smiled and patted the bed. ‘Come jump up here.’ With
tail wagging, Leroy jumped onto the bed and landed heavily on Marcus’ chest.


‘Aw,’ he moaned, ‘you’re getting heavier, old boy.’

‘Marcus, you don’t want to be late for work,’ Maggie urged him to get up.

‘I’ll be right,’ Marcus said as he continued to rouse Leroy into an energetic frenzy.

So much for him being quiet today, she thought disapprovingly.

Maggie and Marcus owned a restaurant supply company that had begun as an operation from a friend’s garage and grown to have
a multi-million-dollar turnover. Maggie felt the stress of her office administrator role had steadily increased as the company
grew in size and eventually knew it was time to retire. The business looked after them well; they’d come a long way since
Marcus was working three jobs to support Maggie and their young children.


When Maggie announced her retirement plans to Marcus he was supportive and encouraging and told her that she deserved to have
time to herself, she had been integral to the company’s growth so retiring before him could be her reward. She thought that
he would find it impossible not to join her in retiring, hoping they could rekindle some of the friendship responsible for bringing them together in the
first place, but he insisted that he was still healthy enough to keep working and the ninety-minute drive wasn’t too taxing.
Now, almost seven years later, he was sixty-eight and still working a five-day week to retain absolute control of the business.


Marcus finished eating and went to have a quick shower. Maggie rinsed the breakfast dishes and fed Leroy some raw chicken
wings. Leafing through the cable television guide was a habit she was unable to break, but sitting in front of the TV for hours on end was something she refused to indulge in.


‘What’s on tonight?’ Marcus asked.

‘Not sure,’ she replied, without looking up. ‘I’ll probably be too tired after our lunch.’ The ‘our’ was used to exclude Marcus
and he detected it easily.


‘Ah, of course,’ he said, smiling in defeat. He pecked her on the cheek and walked out the door, slamming the screen behind
him. Every morning the loud bang of the screen made her clench her teeth but she’d long given up reminding him to close it
quietly. Maggie didn’t look him in the eye to say goodbye, she rarely did.


At eight o’clock she made the twenty-minute walk to Kathy’s house and joined the chaos of getting three school-aged children
ready. They all called her Maggie, which was a nice compromise between calling her Aunty or Gran (which she found too affectionate).
On lunch days Maggie always went to Kathy’s in the morning. The excitability of young children provided a welcome change of
pace to Marcus’ silent shuffling around the house.


The walk to Kathy’s was mostly uphill and it bothered Maggie that with each passing year she felt it becoming more difficult.
She found herself resting against the boot of a car at various stages to catch her breath, making her feel every one of her
sixty-two years.


There was no need to knock on Kathy’s door – it was always unlocked, if not ajar, and she had been given an open invitation
early in the friendship. As she opened the door, Emily ran out in front of her, screaming. David, her eight-year-old brother, followed closely.


‘Oh dear, hang on a moment,’ Maggie stopped them. ‘What’s going on?’

‘David put my Action Man in the toilet!’ Emily wailed.

‘Did not!’ David yelled.

‘Did so!’

‘Oh, I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose,’ Maggie said awkwardly.

‘I told you, Emily, Action Man was just looking for his enemies in the pipes.’

Quite ingenious of him, thought Maggie, best to diffuse the situation by playing along with him. ‘My son Patrick used to have
an Action Man and he was forever sneaking into my drains and toilets. I remember I had to keep all the toilet lids closed
and the plugs in all the sinks.’


Emily looked at Maggie inquisitively. ‘Really?’

Maggie nodded slowly so Emily smoothed over her sodden Action Man and walked away satisfied.

David chuckled. ‘Thanks, Maggie, she was gonna dob on me and Mum would’a lost it.’

Maggie watched as he went back into the house, deciding to leave the comment hanging. Disciplining other people’s children
wasn’t something she did. Maggie wasn’t very comfortable with children and had treated her own like adults. She couldn’t fathom
how their little minds worked and preferred not to risk getting close. She kept herself at a safe distance because she couldn’t
bear the thought of getting too attached to such fragile beings. She made her way into the kitchen where Kathy was buttering the top slice of a toast stack.


‘Hi,’ Kathy said. ‘You’re looking nice.’

Maggie always tried to make an effort on lunch days. The blue dress she wore was quite a snug fit but the colour highlighted
her eyes and made the most of her grey hair. ‘Thank you,’ she blushed, unable to accept compliments easily. ‘I think I’m putting
on a bit of weight. It’s a size sixteen and it seems to be getting tighter each time I wear it.’


‘Maybe it’s shrinking,’ Brett, Kathy’s oldest, charmed her.

‘Oh, I don’t think I can blame it on my washing machine,’ Maggie blushed again. Blushing in front of a fourteen year old,
for goodness’ sake.


‘Well, size sixteen is hardly enormous, Maggie,’ Kathy said.

‘I know, but I remember when I was a size twelve, would you believe?’ In fact, she had been a size eight when she had first
met Marcus.


‘Size twelve! Ha! Imagine being a fourteen through adolescence and ending up a size twenty,’ Kathy said, clutching a corner
of her oversized dress. Kathy wore her weight in a motherly kind of way. Maggie could see that the children loved cuddling
into their mother’s bulk; it was one sure way of calming them down.


Maggie’s mobile rang in her handbag. Brett chuckled to himself, sniggering at an oldie with a mod con. Marcus had given it
to her just last Christmas for emergencies, but it only ever rang when he called to ask her something related to the office
systems she’d put in place. She hurried into the living room, which was littered with toys and children’s clothing.


‘Hello, Maggie speaking,’ she said loudly into the small device.

‘Of course it’s you speaking, it’s your phone.’

‘Hello, Marcus, what’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ he sighed. ‘I was wondering if you were okay. You seemed a bit distant this morning. Everything all right?’

Maggie looked at the caller ID display. Was this her husband? He never asked her how she was, what she was thinking, why she was sometimes quiet.


‘Marcus, I, I …’ She was simply lost for words.

‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’

‘No, no!’ She felt embarrassed, hoping he wouldn’t ask her any more questions. ‘I’m surprised by your call, that’s all. I
was fine this morning, just thinking about lunch, you know how I get. You shouldn’t worry about me.’


‘I know, but sometimes I can’t help it.’

‘Well, no need to. I’m fine, but thank you for calling.’

‘I was just thinking about you, that’s all. I wanted to tell you I hope you have a beautiful lunch today. I … I … lo–’

‘Goodbye,’ she said quickly, uncomfortable with this level of emotion. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

He hung up.

Maggie was tempted to call him back to make sure there was nothing he was meant to be telling her. Did he really just say
those things? For the life of her she couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever showed any interest in her life. Maggie frowned
and shook her head. Foolish woman! To think that he may have said the L word! She realised hearing three simple words could
have had a profound effect on her. I love you. She could have said them to him, she supposed, but it had been so long since she had said them to anyone. Instead, she would surprise him with a nice meal tonight, then she would say, ‘I just
wanted you to know I appreciate you.’


‘Good news, Maggie?’ Brett asked as she re-entered the kitchen.

The colour rose again in Maggie’s cheeks. Why did children have to be so perceptive? ‘No, it was nothing.’

‘I bet,’ Kathy said. ‘You look like a schoolgirl.’

Maggie shook her head again. ‘That was my husband – just calling to wish me a beautiful day.’

‘Oooh!’ the children all chimed at once.

Maggie smiled inwardly, surprised that she should be so affected by Marcus’ call. When was the last time she felt needed by
anyone? She had wanted to feel it for longer than she could remember.


Maggie started making the kids’ lunches while the family sat down to eat breakfast. In all these years she had never sat down
to eat a meal with them. Maggie preferred to keep herself busy with the task at hand, any task really. She took their orders
for lunch and made sandwiches according to their individual specifications. Thin cheese slices for Emily, three slices of
devon for Brett.


Before too long, they had finished their breakfasts and were rushing about getting their bags packed. Maggie liked it least
when it was time to say goodbye because Kathy insisted all three of them kiss and hug her. Affection was a confrontation and,
in the face of it, she visibly tensed. Brett was first with his teenaged restraint and she could handle that because he disliked
the routine almost as much as she did. A taut peck near her ear and a nice pat on the back – easy. David was next, he was more into cuddling than kissing so she could easily
plant one on the top of his head as he threw his arms around her. Last, and most dreaded, was Emily, who planted three or
four wet kisses on Maggie’s lips, hugged her with tiny hands which travelled all over her back and then returned for one or
two more kisses. She went through this charade purely for Kathy, as a thank you for the friendship she’d provided all these
years.


As Kathy showered, Maggie washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen. When that was done, she busied herself with tidying the
lounge room and was even able to make all of the children’s beds before Kathy was ready. Maggie knew Kathy wouldn’t notice
her tidying until later that night.


Maggie usually won their traditional game of Scrabble but Kathy could be lucky with her letters on rare occasions. Today was
one of those days. The secret, of course, was using all letters at once. Fifty bonus points could make all the difference.


They’d been playing for around an hour, sipping tea and passing time until they left for the train. Kathy was two points in
front of Maggie and had just placed a word worth twelve, ‘human’. Maggie looked at her letters for three minutes until out
of the blue, the word came to her. IERMOSE. She could intersect with Kathy’s ‘M’ to create ‘memories’, thereby using all her
letters. It was nearing the end of the game, there was no way Kathy could catch her now.


‘Memories,’ Kathy said, getting up from the table to stretch her legs. ‘And fifty points! Quite a fitting word, though. I
was just thinking about how our lunches began. How, when I first met you, I knew I’d get along with you. Remember? Emily had just been born; leaving her with my Mum once a month and doing
something for myself was heaven for me.’


‘Yes, I’m sure it must have been,’ Maggie said, not sure of where this was going.

‘You know, my mother wasn’t much of a grandma to the boys when she was alive. I think she was afraid of kids, worried that
she’d come to rely on them for something. When she died, I knew I’d never get over the grief of losing her, knew that I’d
always feel like picking up the phone just to have a chat. I also thought that I’d never have anyone anywhere near as special
as her. I just want you to know that I’m so glad you’re in my life. You’ve made these past few years so much easier on me
– and the kids adore you!’


‘Thank you, Kathy,’ Maggie said bashfully. ‘I’m glad to be with you too.’

‘Just so long as you know how special you are to us all,’ Kathy said, smiling. ‘Even Brett, though he’d never say it.’

‘Is there something in the air today?’ Maggie said jokingly. ‘Everyone I know is telling me how special I am.’

‘Well, I hate you for beating me at Scrabble, but aside from that you’re okay,’ Kathy said, followed by a sly laugh.

They finished their game (Maggie won by thirty-two), and drove to the train. They were met at the station by the other ladies
and there was something conspiratorial about the way they were huddled, and the fact that all four of them were there before
Maggie and Kathy.


‘Well, hello, Mrs Apperton,’ Cheryl announced. ‘The ladies and I have worked it out. Today marks our fifth anniversary of lunching and we owe it all to you, dear. From all of us, a big thank you for creating the club that brought us all together!’
She produced a bottle of sparkling wine from a cooler bag and a beautifully wrapped gift for Maggie. Val started handing out
plastic cups.


‘I, I … I’m totally stunned,’ Maggie began, tears welling in her eyes. ‘Today has been the most marvellous day. I feel very
special and this just takes the cake. Five years is hard to believe! I count all five of you as my closest friends and I thank
you for this. Who would have thought after our first awkward lunch we would be here celebrating our fifth anniversary?’


‘The even better news,’ said Cheryl, her voice raspy after a lifetime of smoking cigarettes, ‘is that Val and I pulled off
a bit of a jackpot last night. Today’s on us, ladies – no questions or arguments. Enjoy yourselves!’


By now they each had a cup of wine and were toasting toward the middle of the group.

Maggie led the cheer, ‘To us.’

Before the train arrived, Maggie opened the gift, relishing the moment. She was delighted to find a book signed by one of
her favourite authors, some tools for her garden and a small bottle of perfume.


The six of them got quite silly on the journey to Sydney as the train rocked along the track and the bubbly started to take
effect. The warm rays of the sun through the window and the alcohol had Maggie feeling particularly giddy.


Val had made a booking for them at a seafood restaurant right on the harbour’s doorstep. It was set back from the boardwalk but still provided a lovely view of the Opera House and the coming and going ferries. Although several school excursions
walked noisily past their table, Maggie couldn’t have been happier with this restaurant. She usually found something appealing
on the menu, the service was great and she always got a silent thrill knowing that the place purchased things from Marcus’
company. She felt so happy, so lifted by the unexpected events of the morning. Love was something she didn’t think about often,
something she no longer knew how to express, yet here she was, on a day like any other, but for some reason she felt more
loved, more alive, than since she was a young woman.


Lunchtime conversations began around what dish each one of them was thinking of choosing. They all read their menus aloud
and discussed what took their fancy. Maggie was a fish lover – light and tasty, she found it perfect for lunch. She felt that
red meat only went well with red wine and three or four glasses of red at lunch would have had her under the table. No, white
wine was a lunch drink and fish was the perfect accompaniment.


Today she chose grilled barramundi for her main and a potato and fennel soup to begin with. The waiter took their orders and
as he left they all began to giggle like schoolgirls. He was handsome in a manufactured way and they suspected he was gay.
Of the five of them, Maggie had told only Kathy about Patrick, and that she disapproved of the path he had chosen for his
life.


‘God, I love this city,’ Brigette said.

‘You know, I’ve never really been to another one.’ Maggie frowned as she took a bite of her bread roll.

‘What?’ Cheryl said in astonishment.

‘Well, outside Australia, I mean. I was brought up in Melbourne, but that doesn’t count.’

‘You ought to get Marcus to take you to visit Isabel,’ Kathy said.

‘No, he’d never take a holiday … only business trips and then he’s always gone alone. He once went to France for business
and he said it was a complete waste of time, that the French are far too rude. He doesn’t believe in expensive trips for leisure.’


‘How is Isabel going, Maggie? Have you heard from her?’ Cheryl asked.

‘Oh yes, she writes these very long letters that come straight from her diary. It’s strange, they read like a run-down of
her daily itinerary and she shares some very odd situations. I think she writes them for Marcus more than me. They seem to
share a special bond …’


‘Well …’ Cheryl chuckled, ‘do tell.’

Maggie noticed that the other conversations around the table had stopped and each of the ladies was focused on her.

‘She wrote about an exhibition she saw at the Pompidou.’ Goodness, I hope I don’t sound pompous, she thought. ‘It was called
“Masculine and Feminine”. In her letter, she wrote there were so many graphic depictions of genitals, or to use Isabel’s words,
“d’s and c’s and open a’holes” that she felt like a voyeur and had to run outside for fresh air for fear of throwing up.’
It embarrassed Maggie to even intimate the words that Isabel had written deliberately to shock her.


‘She uses words like that to her mother?’ Val questioned.


‘I think it’s great that she does,’ Cheryl said. ‘My kids are that open with me.’

‘Unfortunately, that’s the irony,’ Maggie sighed. ‘Isabel isn’t at all open with me. In her letters she never asks about what’s
happening here – it’s just “Dear Maggie and Dad”, and then she launches into a travelogue of events without saying how she
really is, and whether she’s seeing anyone … all those things a mother likes to know.’


‘Well, at least she writes,’ Norma said into her glass of wine. She was referring to her own son, a merchant banker living
in London.


‘You don’t hear from Hal at all?’

‘Christmas and birthdays,’ Norma sighed. ‘I suppose that’s better than nothing. Tell me, Maggie, has Isabel been over to London
lately?’


Maggie would have preferred to be in the conversation that was taking place between Kathy and Brigette. She couldn’t help
feeling a particular stab of jealousy at the sight of them giggling away while Maggie had to repel Norma’s fantasy. She had
been insisting Isabel stay for a weekend at her son’s cottage in Bath. This had been persisting for close to two years and
the only time Maggie ever mentioned it to Isabel, she’d slammed down the phone.


‘She seems so busy,’ Maggie said to Norma. ‘Most of the articles she writes for the magazine are researched on the weekend,’
she added a little unconvincingly.


‘Horny Hal still after Isabel, is he?’ Cheryl cackled from the other end of the table.

The rest of them burst into laughter – they all knew Hal had no interest in Isabel; this match-making was all his mother’s
idea.


‘Oh, sod off, Cheryl!’ Norma said, gulping some more wine.

There was more laughter as the handsome waiter delivered their entrees.

‘Strangest thing …’ Kathy whispered in Maggie’s ear as the waiter went to retrieve the other three plates from the kitchen,
‘I felt a flush through my body at the scent of his cologne.’


‘I don’t think he’d be interested in your type, somehow dear,’ Maggie teased.

‘How is Patrick?’ Kathy asked.

‘What?’ Maggie said, realising the connection Kathy had made between her son and the waiter. ‘He’s fine, he hasn’t come to
see Leroy for a few weeks but I know he’s always busy.’


‘So he does tell you what he gets up to?’

‘Oh my heavens, no! We don’t discuss those things. In fact, all he usually says is in disagreement with something I’ve said,
or to tell me he doesn’t like what I’m wearing, my perfume’s too strong.’


‘You should tell him to w. . .