I’m surprisingly nervous about showing Leo the work I’ve been doing for the past three years. I don’t do this for him – I do it because I want to make a difference in the world. But it feels so much as if old Leo has travelled forward in time to see where I wound up, and regardless of anything else that’s happened between us in the years since, that version of Leo changed my life: I want him to be proud of me.
When we round the corner to the street to the Redfern Sport and Recreation Centre, I watch for Leo’s reaction. I see the deep-set frown that crosses his face, and then I see his eyes widen as he realises what he’s seeing. The rundown, ramshackle auditorium that once housed Leo’s gym is gone, as are several buildings that surrounded it. In their place is a new multi-building community centre and behind it, the ultra-modern office block that houses my foundation staff.
When the van pulls to a stop in the disabled parking space at the front of our campus, we’re right next to a series of signs guiding visitors through the maze of modern buildings.
Redfern Sport and Recreation Centre – Sponsored by the Declan Torrington Foundation
‘Holy shit,’ Leo whispers, and he turns to face me. His eyes are wide. ‘You did this?’
‘Not me,’ I say automatically, then I flush. ‘I mean, I run the Foundation but I have a whole team – they did it.’
‘Molly,’ Leo drags his gaze back to the buildings beside us, then back to me. He is as shocked as I have ever seen him. ‘But – how? Why?’
‘Do you remember that first night when you brought me here?’ I ask him. Leo frowns as he concentrates, and shakes his head. The driver has stepped out of the van and I see him walking around to open the door. ‘Let’s go inside and look around. Maybe that will prompt some memories.’
As we enter the sports centre I keep a close eye on Leo. He surveys the lobby, and then moves immediately to the room directory near the door. As he reads it, his expression is guarded. I follow him, standing beside him to cast my eye over the facility list.
‘So you said I brought you here?’ he says eventually.
‘Yes. I’d just left TM, and I was pretty upset about the state of things with my parents. I’d been quite depressed for a few weeks… You told me I needed some perspective.’
Leo is still staring at the room directory.
‘You were upset about your job.’
‘My job? No, I was upset because I’d spent years trying to keep my father happy, and in a single night I lost both him and Mum from my life completely. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. Is this ringing any bells?’
‘Well, I’m starting to remember you being upset, but I don’t think I understood why,’ Leo says. His voice is low, and he’s still staring at the facilities list as he concentrates.
‘Maybe that’s my fault. I didn’t want to tell you what I was thinking – I was worried you’d feel guilty,’ I sigh and shrug. ‘Anyway, however it came about, I needed to leave. And faced with a choice between that life and a life with you…’ I stop, because I’ve been so focused on watching for Leo’s reaction that I have been speaking without thinking. As I think about the words I have just spoken, a lump forms in my throat. It’s true – there wasn’t a thing in my life I wouldn’t have sacrificed for Leo. Why didn’t he feel that way about me?
‘So… you were upset,’ he says. ‘And I brought you here to give you some “perspective”? I remember saying that,’ he says, then he glances up at me and winces. ‘God, Molly, I’m sorry! What a jerk.’
‘Actually, it all worked out very well, as you’re about to see.’ I turn back to step further into the lobby, and Leo sighs as he follows me. As we approach the basketball courts, automatic doors slide open to let us through. Leo follows me inside and looks around the immense and empty room. ‘You brought me here that night, and I met some of the kids and suddenly my own problems did seem embarrassingly small.’
‘Tell me about that first visit here,’ Leo murmurs. He’s looking around the hall, his face still set in a frown. I see his gaze linger on the electronic scoreboard and the huge air-conditioning vents in the ceiling.
‘Well, that night doesn’t actually matter all that much, Leo. There’s a lot to see…’