Part Five - Tainted Lip Stick

The late morning sun blazed overhead as Patty worked her way down the line of laundry, clipping each damp sheet with practiced precision. The rhythm of the chore was almost soothing—until a ripple of laughter drifted over the fence.

“Hello dears! It’s Patty! I’m busy getting everything done before my lunch date with Freddie. Gosh! It simply has been such a long time since we did anything together that didn’t involve making our kids.” She blushed momentarily, “We aren’t the most overly affectionate couple in the bedroom. It never was our thing until we wanted to start a family,” She stopped to smile sheepishly at her audience, “I’ve never had much of a libido. I blame the side effects of my happy pills, and Freddie, he just prefers to kiss and cuddle just like in those Rock Hudson movies.” She sighed, “But it worked for us.” Her brow furrowed, “But of late, I have been wanting more. I think this new batch of pills has awaken a need buried deep down inside me.”

She paused, her brow furrowing. Betty Knight’s yard was rarely silent, but this laughter sounded different—low, flirtatious, and punctuated by playful shouts. It would appear she had gotten over her outrage at being ejected from Patty’s house. She soon learnt that there is room for one queen in a woman’s kitchen. And that was Patty Love.

Curiosity stirred in her chest as Patty glanced toward the tall wooden fence that separated their properties. She hesitated, her eyes landing on the small knot hole in the wood. She knew she shouldn’t. It wasn’t proper. But something about the laughter tugged at her, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in, peering through the tiny opening.

What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Betty Knight was sprawled on a striped lawn chair, the picture of leisure with her wide-brimmed sun hat and a Mai Tai balanced delicately on the small table beside her. She wore oversized sunglasses and a one-piece bathing suit that hugged her curves, looking as though she had stepped straight out of a magazine.

Next to her, Tommy lounged on another chair, shirtless and sun-kissed, his lean body glowing in the heat. His charm was almost effortless as he grinned at the young man kneeling on the grass beside him—a sandy-haired stranger Patty didn’t recognize. The stranger laughed as he tugged on Tommy’s arm, his athletic build and easy confidence making him seem like he belonged in some glamorous city scene, not Betty’s backyard.

Patty watched as the young man pulled Tommy to his feet, the two of them breaking into playful scuffling. They shoved and darted around each other like boys on a playground, their laughter light and infectious. But there was something about the way they moved—the way their hands lingered just a moment too long on each other’s arms, the way their gazes locked—that made it clear this was no ordinary horseplay.

And then they both kissed. So brazen. Uninhibited. Patty’s jaw almost hit the ground.

Tommy peeled himself away from the other man. He spun toward Betty, his laughter fading into a mischievous grin. He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth, his hand resting on her shoulder with casual familiarity. Betty didn’t flinch—she leaned into the kiss as though it were the most natural thing in the world, her manicured hand brushing his cheek.

Patty’s stomach flipped. And her body began to warm up.

Before she could process what, she had just seen, the sandy-haired stranger turned toward Betty as well. He crouched slightly, his grin as wide as Tommy’s, and kissed her just as boldly.

The two men exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them, before turning back to their playful tussling. They resumed their circling, shoving, and mock wrestling, their laughter ringing out across the yard as Betty sipped her drink and watched them with an indulgent smile.

Patty’s knees felt weak as a tingling began to radiate from within her abdomen.

She stepped back from the fence, her heart pounding. The laundry forgotten. She pressed a hand to her chest as her mind raced. Tommy—Betty’s supposed nephew—was clearly not her nephew. That much was obvious now. But if he wasn’t her nephew, then who was he? A lover?

And who was the other man? Another lover?

Patty’s head swam with questions, her cheeks burning as she replayed the scene in her mind. Betty’s calm, casual acceptance of the two men, the kisses, the laughter—it was so utterly shameless.

And yet, she had smiled through it all, as though she knew anyone watching would be scandalized but didn’t care in the slightest.

Patty grabbed the edge of the laundry basket, steadying herself as the implications sank in. Betty Knight was a woman who lived by her own rules, and her perfect facade as Rosella Heights’ elegant widow was just that—a facade.

Her mind raced as she turned back toward the house, the scene still vivid in her mind. She needed to cool down this furnace that threatened to engulf her before she faced her husband.

*********

The Welcome Inn Café hummed with lunchtime activity, the clatter of dishes mingling with the indistinct murmur of conversation. Freddie sat in the corner booth, the folded Rosella Heights Gazette resting on the table beside his cup of tea. He glanced out the window, his thoughts elsewhere, until the familiar sound of Patty’s heels on the tile snapped him back to the present.

“Sorry I’m late,” Patty said, slipping into the seat across from him. Her face still flushed with what she had seen next door. “I lost track of the time.”

“Lots to do. No doubt.” Freddie nodded, “I’m sorry I didn’t keep a tighter ship while you were away. I don’t know how you do it. I was exhausted after the first day.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Patty laughed, brushing aside that scene of depravity. “I expected you spent most of your time fixing everything they managed to blow up or break.” She focused solely on her husband, “I’m sure that cubby house took a decade off your life.”

Freddie smirked. “Worth it. Lizzy thought we had built the Taj Mahal.” Freddie shook his head, his smile softening. “She’s something, that girl. Bold as brass. Teddy, though... he’s quieter. Always off with his imagination.”

Patty nodded. “I am so glad we had the summer we’ve had. Taking those weeks off work... it made all the difference.”

“They’re getting older. I didn’t want to miss it. Not like my old man did with me.”

Patty reached across the table, resting her hand lightly on his. “You won’t, Freddie. You’re here. Present and accounted for. That is what counts.” She smiled, taking his hand, “So how is work?”

“I missed a lot while I was away. Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista fled Havana, the Soviets sent the first man-made object into space and Darwin just became recognised as a city.” Freddie expression growing thoughtful. “Now, Phil’s pushing for that front-page photo on the new library plans, so we’ve been looking through his negatives all morning.”

“Phil’s got an eye for the moment.”

Patty remembering a front-page photo, that Phil had taken, of a young woman standing in front of the charred remains of her home, holding her two small children.

Her face was streaked with soot, and her hair clung to her damp cheeks, but it wasn’t the devastation behind her that held the viewer’s attention—it was her expression. There was sorrow in her eyes, but also an unmistakable resilience, as if she were daring the world to break her spirit. In the corner of the photo, one of the children clutched a tattered teddy bear, its fur singed but still recognizable.

“He sure does. He sees things that the rest of us don’t,” Freddie admitted.

Freddie couldn’t help but smile. Phil tugged at old feelings he tried desperately to bury. Those similar feelings he had for Marty. He had to cloak them under the guise of mateship. To protect him. His family. And the life he had created.

Freddie’s gaze drifted out the window, his thoughts pulling him back to the months after the war, “I wasn’t the same when I came back,” he said quietly. “Nobody was. I was a shattered mess. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Patty frowned, “You never talk much about those days.”

“You don’t need those nightmares keeping you awake as well,” Freddie sighed, before continuing, realising he had to open up to her just a little to appease her curiosity. “I was so lost. Trying to piece myself back together. Then one day, I started writing about it—the boys we lost, what it felt like to come back to a world that didn’t feel like home anymore. I sent it to the Gazette. Didn’t think they’d do anything with it.”

“But they did,” Patty said, leaning forward slightly.

“They did,” Freddie murmured. “Not just that—they sent it to some contest. It won an award. And then the paper offered me a job. I didn’t know what else to do with myself, so I took it.”

Patty smiled faintly. “And you’ve been building a life ever since.”

Freddie nodded, but his fingers tightened slightly around his teacup. “Building? Yeah.”

The warmth of the café faded as Freddie’s thoughts drifted further back, to a rain-soaked night hold up in a bombed-out refuge in a shattered town somewhere in France.

Marty had been laughing softly, his voice a rare comfort against the distant thunder of artillery. “You ever think about what comes next?” he’d asked, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.

Freddie hadn’t answered right away. “I try not to! I just take each step as it comes…never know when that Nazi menace will get ya.”

Marty grinned, crooked and boyish, “You gotta have hope…or what are we all doing here?”

Freddie had wanted to believe it, but the weight of reality pressed too heavily on his chest, “It feels like we’re on the edge of oblivion…the whole stinking world.”

“Hey!” Marty had leaned closer then, his voice dropping to a whisper. He touched Freddie’s hand ever so cautiously, “We’re gonna make it back. And when we do, we’ll make something better than this hell.”

Freddie didn’t pull away. He was taken by the daring gleam in Marty’s eyes. His heart began to beat faster. His breathing rapid and shallow. There was a stirring deep inside. In the quiet darkness, Freddie finally gave in. He leaned into the other man's advances. They could be dead tomorrow. And they crossed a line that Freddie had spent the rest of his life trying to erase.

Freddie blinked, the memory fading as the clatter of dishes brought him back to the present. He glanced at Patty, her face soft with contentment as she sipped her tea.

“You okay?” she asked, catching the distant look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Freddie muttered, though the familiar unease crept back into his chest. Phil reminded him too much of Marty—his confidence, his quiet strength, the way his eyes lingered just a little too long sometimes. Freddie quickly shook the thought away. They were mates. That was all it could be. He had to stay firm about it no matter how much Phil’s behaviour challenged his resolve. Freddie set his cup down, his eyes meeting Patty’s. “Do you remember the night we met?”

Patty grinned. “How could I forget? You looked like a man trying to disappear.”

Freddie chuckled softly, “I suppose I was.”

He hesitated, his tone softening. “I’d just come from the cemetery. Visiting a…friend.” He smiled, “I wanted to see the late showing of Casablanca. He loved Casablanca.” He looked away almost embarrassed, “You made me laugh…probably for the first time in a long while.”

“You became a regular after that night,” Patty said, her voice teasing but warm. “You were there at every late show…you even offered to walk me home to Aunt Meg’s place.”

Freddie nodded, his gaze dropping. “You were a light, Pat. I needed that. I needed you.”

Patty’s laugh was soft, but there was warmth in her eyes, “And you found your steadiness.”

Freddie didn’t respond, his hand brushing hers briefly as a shadow crossed his face. Patty turned to the waitress to order her lunch while Freddie drifted off on another intangible thought.

*********

The late afternoon heat hung thick in the backyard as Patty carried a tray of lemonade and biscuits toward the cubby house. The boy’s laughter and chatter had been filling the yard since school got out, but this time, the cubby was suspiciously quiet.

She tilted her head, listening closely. The faint hum of hushed voices drifted through the wooden structure, punctuated by occasional snickers. Patty frowned, setting the tray down on the grass.

“Quiet means trouble,” she muttered, wiping her hands on her apron. She crouched slightly to peer through the partially open cubby door.

Inside the cubby, Teddy sat cross-legged between Syd and Angelo, the three boys hunched over a brightly illustrated comic book spread open on their laps. Patty couldn’t make out the exact drawings, but the exaggerated images of scantily clad women and shadowy, menacing figures were enough to make her eyebrows shoot up.

“That,” she said, stepping inside with a hand on her hip, “doesn’t look like the latest Superman.”

The boys jumped like startled rabbits. Angelo fumbling to close the comic book while Syd scrambled to hide it behind his back. Teddy’s face turned crimson as he stammered, “M-Mum! We didn’t hear you coming!”

“I bet you didn’t,” Patty said, folding her arms. Her gaze flicked to the comic still partially visible behind Syd’s back. “And what exactly are we reading today, boys?”

Syd glanced at Teddy, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and defiance. “Uh... it’s just a comic, missus.”

Patty raised an eyebrow. “Just a comic, huh?” She held out her hand. “Let me see it.”

The three boys exchanged panicked looks before Syd reluctantly handed over the book. Patty took one glance at the cover and sighed.

Seduction of the Innocent blared, the title in bold, lurid letters, with an illustration of a trench-coated detective holding a cigarette while a glamorous woman clung to his arm. Beneath them, sinister shadows loomed, and the tagline promised “Secrets Too Dangerous to Ignore!”

“Good heavens,” Patty muttered, flipping through a few pages. The inside illustrations were just as dramatic—heavily muscled men in fistfights, women with impossibly tiny waists and provocative poses, and a story dripping with melodrama.

Teddy squirmed under her gaze. “We were just curious, Mum. It’s not, like... bad or anything.”

“Curious, huh?” Patty closed the comic, her lips pursed but her tone softening. “Curiosity is all well and good, but there’s such a thing as being too curious. Don’t you think?”

Patty flipped through the pages once more, her eyebrows climbing higher with every lurid illustration—masked gangsters, chain-smoking detectives, and women in tight dresses that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

“Good heavens,” she muttered, closing the book with a snap. “Where on earth did you boys get this?”

Angelo looked like he wanted to melt into the floorboards, “It was mail order. We were just curious. We weren’t being perverts.”

Patty narrowed her eyes, “And you thought it would make for good reading material?”

“Well... yeah, missus,” Syd said with a shrug. “They are giving the finger to the old establishment.”

“Listen, I get it. You’re growing up. You’re starting to wonder about things—things that aren’t in your schoolbooks or your comic collections. That’s normal.” Patty said, holding up a finger, “But there’s a big difference between healthy curiosity and getting swept up in things you don’t fully understand.” Syd opened his mouth as though to protest but quickly shut it when Patty fixed him with a look. “I’m not mad,” Patty continued, her tone softening again. “But I am going to say this once: there’s plenty of time for grown-up things, boys. Right now, you’re better off sticking to the good stuff. Superman, Tarzan, maybe even a nice encyclopedia if you’re feeling ambitious.”

“An encyclopedia?” Angelo mumbled, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yes, an encyclopedia,” Patty said, standing back up. “It won’t give you nightmares or get you into trouble with someone else’s mother. Think about that next time you’re tempted to read something like this.” She gestured to the comic.

“But it’s just a comic,” Teddy muttered, his cheeks flushed.

Patty shot him a look. “It’s not just a comic. Do you boys know what this is?” She held up the cover again.

“Uh... a cool story?” Angelo offered weakly.

“Sensationalized, dramatic, and written specifically to stir up trouble. Do you know why it’s called Seduction of the Innocent?” The boys shook their heads, their wide-eyed expressions making her stifle a smile. “It’s because the people who publish this kind of thing want you to believe the world is full of nothing but crime and corruption. They want you to believe the world is going to hell so you will want to fight back.”

Syd frowned. “But isn't it?”

“No, Sydney! Not while there are good people in the world, the same people who stood up to a dictator,” Patty said firmly. “This material makes the world out to be full of violence, fear, and... well, let’s just say the way they draw women isn’t exactly respectable.” She flipped the comic open to a particularly melodramatic panel of a woman fainting dramatically into the arms of a scowling man in a trench coat. Teddy squirmed before her. She softened her tone, ruffling her son’s hair. “I’m just saying you need to be careful about what you let into your mind. There’s nothing wrong with being curious, but you have to draw the line somewhere. Okay?”

The boys nodded, though they still looked sheepish.

“Now, before I forget, I don’t think we’ve officially met.” She smiled, glancing at Syd and Angelo. “I’m Patricia Love—Teddy’s mother. And you two must be Syd and Angelo.”

“Yes, missus,” Syd said, his usual confidence dimmed under her watchful gaze.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Angelo mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Patty’s smile warmed. “Well, Syd and Angelo, I’m glad Teddy has friends who like to read—even if it’s not exactly what I’d prefer. Why don’t you boys come out and have some lemonade? You can help me finish these biscuits before Lizzy finds them and eats the lot.”

The boys exchanged a quick glance, their expressions softening as they nodded. Patty tucked the comic book under her arm planning to get rid of it later.

*********

Patty had accepted the invitation weeks ago. It would be improper behaviour to cancel at the last minute. She just wanted to curl up on the sofa with a book, but Freddie seemed awfully keen to attend. The newspaper was touting the host for business, so she had to put on her perfect smile, tossed back a couple of happy pills, and dress to impress.

Patty glanced in the mirror, adjusting her hair just so and adding a touch of rouge to her cheeks. She chose a dress that Freddie always admired, a floral pattern that felt just right for a late summer occasion.

“Betty Knight isn’t the only one who can dress to impress,” she mused, turning to give the camera a wink, “And now for something sentimental.” She said fastened a pearl necklace around her neck. A wedding gift from her husband.

She padded back to the bedroom, slipping on her favourite pair of heels and adding a spritz of her signature perfume. Satisfied with her appearance, she took one last look in the mirror and gave herself a tick of approval.

The house was already buzzing with activity when they arrived. String lights twinkled in the backyard, casting a warm glow over the guests mingling and chatting. The sound of jazz music filled the air, and a delicious aroma wafted from the grill.

Freddie spotted Phil and made a bee line for him leaving his wife greeting familiar faces. She groaned as Betty Knight sashayed toward her, looking like an ageing beauty queen, “Patty! My dear! We’ve finally managed to get you out of that kitchen. I trust you’ve left your broom at home tonight?” The woman scanned her up and down, an amusing glint in her eyes, “Oh! Last year’s fashion! You have been out of service.” She placed a hand behind her back and began ushering the woman toward the drink’s table, “No matter! What you need is a Mai Tai after the distressing business of your dear late papa’s funeral.”

Patty felt a warm glow take over her face as she flashed backed to that scene in Betty’s back yard. The images of those two young men frolicking, almost naked, made her tingle once more. And the Mai-Tai wasn’t helping. The second drink made things even more unsettling. And by the third drink, she was buzzed.

At one point, Betty’s eyes flicked over to Patty, a mischievous glint in them. She purposely led her ‘nephew’ over to where Freddie was in deep conversation with Phil. The two men let them into their conversation as they all become animated by the alcohol they were consuming.

Patty gritted her teeth when she spotted Betty’s hand slide up and down her husband’s arm while they chatted about something. She began to see red. Even the alcohol couldn’t tame the loathing for this woman.

Yet Freddie seemed oblivious to her antics. Patty wanted to shake him. Why could he not see her ploy? He had become too invested in a story that her nephew was sharing with them. Freddie seemed to purposely move closer to the young man, a small, private smile playing on his lips. Betty looked disturbed as if she had been jilted.

Patty smirked, “See, my dears! My husband isn’t interested in a soggy old tart.”

Phil, on the other hand, didn’t seem pleased. His expression darkened, and he stepped closer to Freddie, making his presence known.

As the conversation between Freddie and Tommy continued, their voices lowering and their physical space becoming a little too intimate. Phil’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Phil stomped away. Freddie seemed to notice his upset and followed him.

Meanwhile, Patty mingled with friends and neighbours trying to keep light-hearted despite Freddie’s sudden disappearance. And his failure to see Betty Knight for the devious jezebel that she really was. I mean the woman had no shame. Cavorting with young men in the middle of the day like some wanton harlot. She really was obscene. Everyone should know.

Patty wandered out to the patio to clear her fuzzy head and calm down the rage inside. She leaned against the railing, staring into the darkness. “I expect Freddie and Phil are knee deep in discussions on all things cod fish and double exposures," she said, a pang of loneliness hitting her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Dick Witting, who sauntered over with a grin. If you squinted, he could almost pass as Elvis Presley, “Hey there, little darlin. You look like you could use some company.”

Patty sighed, “Just feeling a little abandoned.”

He chuckled, offering her another drink. “Well, consider yourself found,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.

As the night wore on, Patty found herself wilting into Dick’s arms, his comforting presence a balm to her alcohol fueled melancholy. The sounds of the party faded into the background, the crickets’ chirping growing louder in the stillness, and before she knew it, his lips found hers. His taste upon her tongue was cigarettes and whisky. His touch upon her body lighting a fire within her.

Patty gasped, in shock, her face recoiling in horror. She had tainted her lips. What had she done? Patty ran off into the night in search of her husband.

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