Free Can You Keep a Secret? by Caroline Overington

and introduce yourself. He’ll have my address, and the doorman will let you in.’
    ‘What if the doorman’s not there?’
    ‘The doorman is always there.’
    There was more than a continent between them; there was an ocean of sophistication. ‘And I’m supposed to tip the driver, right? And the doorman. But how much?’
    ‘Two dollars,’ Colby said. ‘You tip everyone – the driver, the doorman – all of them get two dollars. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Have you told your mom you’re coming?’
    ‘Not yet.’
    ‘You better do it.’
    ‘I’ll do it,’ said Caitlin, but she was dreading it. She lived not six streets away from Ruby in Townsville, and they saw each other once a week, usually before the last of Caitlin’s shifts on Sunday, but their little chats, over tea and Madeira biscuits, never seemed to go all that well.
    ‘I think she’s losing her mind in there,’ said Caitlin. ‘You should see her wheelchair. She’s put a basket on the front for her dog, and she’s got these Australian flags fluttering behind, left over from when she was waving them at the Olympics on TV. She’s put on weight and she’s taken to putting her hair in these little ponytails that stand up like palm trees on the top of her head.’
    ‘At least I’m still having fun,’ she had told Caitlin. ‘Most of the other people in here have given up. They’re slumped all day in front of the soaps. The biggest drama of the day is what’s for dessert. I can’t stand it.’
    Ruby’s apartment in the assisted-living village had everything that her little cottage with the cyclone pole had not: the floors were smooth, beige and tiled; the walls were smooth, beige and painted; the kitchen bench was smooth, beige and laminated.
    ‘Is it not the most boring place you’ve ever seen in your life?’ Ruby said, the first time Caitlin had dropped around. ‘I’m going to have to paint the walls yellow to make it more like home.’ But that wasn’t permitted.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said Caitlin, ‘we can jazz it up with ornaments.’ They’d tried, with faux tiger throws and a plastic shower curtain with glitter fish.
    ‘It still looks like God’s waiting room,’ said Ruby, which was fair enough. That’s what it was: a place for people to spend their last few years before they died. It took quite a bit of Caitlin’s courage to tell Ruby that she was leaving town to have a summer romance in Manhattan. To her surprise, Ruby encouraged her to go. ‘You might as well have an adventure,’ she said. ‘God only knows, I’ll never have another one. I’m guessing it’s his money?’
    ‘He’s buying the ticket,’ Caitlin said. ‘Where would I get that kind of money? It costs more than $2000.’
    ‘Good for him, if he wants to splash his moolah around. But it sounds a bit like prostitution.’
    ‘How does it sound like prostitution? He’s not paying me to stay with him. He’s paying for the flight .’
    ‘I wish some young bloke had offered to fly me to New York when I was your age,’ Ruby said. ‘Your father never offered me so much as a trip to the mainland.’
    Caitlin was in the kitchen, searching through the cupboards above the sink for teabags. The kettle started to whistle.
    ‘So, how long will you be gone?’ Ruby asked.
    ‘Six weeks. I leave on July 30, and I’m due back on September 14.’
    ‘I hope you know New York’s dangerous. You can’t just wander around there like you do here. You’re too young to have heard of the Central Park jogger. A woman got raped there. It was all over the news.’
    ‘Women can get raped anywhere,’ said Caitlin. She pulled up the teabag and squeezed it against a spoon.
    ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Tea.’
    ‘You’re not having one?’ asked Ruby.
    ‘Not today,’ said Caitlin. ‘I’ve got one more shift to do. Then I’m gone. But don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.’

Chapter 9
    ‘What the hell is she playing at?’
    It was 6 pm on 30 July 2001 –