by Cassie Hamer
She checked her watch. Only 10.17? Her heart shrivelled a little more. How had she forgotten that minutes passed like dog years at a child’s party.
Where was Heather? Where was the Wonder Woman she’d promised?
Only a superhero could save this party now.
CHAPTER THREE
‘Mummy, are you coming in with me?’
Ellie was wide-eyed and wriggly as Missy removed her keys from the ignition and folded her daughter’s wormy fingers into her own. ‘No, El. I won’t come in but I’m going to walk you right to the gate.’
For the past fifteen minutes they’d sat in the car and watched a procession of shiny-shoed and glossy-haired children stream through the front gate to the Wheeldons’ house. While the children were beautifully primped and preened and trotted happily down the side path to the backyard, their parents looked harried. Un-brushed hair. Un-ironed shirts. It was the weekend, after all. None of them stayed inside the Wheeldons’ for long. Just a drop-and-go, and out they hurried with a little glint in their eyes that said, Yes! Two hours to read the newspaper and have a coffee in peace.
Missy sighed and her stomach did its thousandth revolution for the morning. The thought of what she was about to do made her feel sick. Sicker than even the drive over to the party. It was strange, to be behind the wheel again and she spent the entire journey checking the rear-view mirror. Please, no police, she’d prayed. Getting caught driving without a licence could ruin everything.
Missy played with Ellie’s braid. The end of it was like a soft-bristled paintbrush and she stroked it gently across her cheek.
‘Ellie, we talked about this.’
The child nodded miserably. ‘But I won’t know anyone at the party!’
Missy reached over the gearstick to pat her daughter’s leg. ‘I have a plane to catch, remember? So, I have to drop you now.’
She hated lying to her daughter and what shocked her was how readily Ellie accepted the untruths. She had full faith in her mother, and Missy hated herself for exploiting it.
‘Honey, the Wheeldons are a lovely family. They’ll take care of you, I promise.’ Missy took her daughter’s finger and crossed it over her chest. ‘Cross my heart. You’re going to love staying with them and this is going to be the best party you’ve ever been to.’
Missy could say that with full confidence, for it was also the only party Ellie had ever been to. There had been no choice. It was the only way of keeping her safe. Stay detached. Never get close to anyone. Never let them know who you really are.
‘Will there be a cake?’ Ellie asked, wiggling her finger out of Missy’s grip.
‘For sure! The most delicious cake you’ve ever eaten, and there’ll be games and …’ As Missy described every child’s fantasy party, she visualised Lisa Wheeldon, floating serenely about her home, a beacon of calm and organisation. Having watched her closely over the past few weeks (undetected, obviously) Missy had come to realise that the perfect mother did, indeed, exist. Her name was Lisa Wheeldon and Missy knew that any party organised by this woman would be perfect as well.
‘Can I go in now?’ Ellie tugged at Missy’s sleeve and pulled at the door handle. ‘I don’t want to miss anything.’
Missy’s speech had done the trick. The fear in her daughter’s eyes had been replaced with excitement.
She looked at her watch: 10.20. All the party guests would have arrived by now. Missy double-checked out the window. The street was quiet. Perfect. ‘For sure. Let’s go.’
She let Ellie out of the car and walked her across the road, gripping her hand a little more tightly than usual and feeling for her daughter’s knuckles. Only eighteen months ago, it would have been impossible to feel the bones. At the age of five, Ellie’s knuckles had been nothing but starbursts of chubby flesh. All squish, and no hardness. But her daughter was six going on seven now. Lengthening out, developing angles, and losing the softness that Missy had never imagined her losing.
They stopped at the gate.
‘This is a nice place, isn’t it, Mummy?’ Ellie looked around at the giant fig trees that overhung the street, providing a cool canopy on a day that was shaping up as another hot one.
‘It is a nice street, El.’
‘Nicer than ours.’
‘I agree.’ She leant down. ‘But I think you’d better go inside before you miss too much of the party.’
‘Okay, Mummy. I’ll see you soon,’ said Ellie happily, her arms not quite reaching all the way around her mother.
‘Bye-bye, my Elle-belle.’ Missy squeezed hard and swallowed back the tears forming in her throat. ‘I hope you have the best time ever.’
‘I will,’ she said confidently, one hand swinging the bag that held the gift and the other clutching her little overnight bag which contained a toothbrush, some clothes, and her favourite books.
‘I love you so much.’ Missy hugged her daughter again.
‘I love you too. More than you love me.’
Missy laughed. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘Yes, it is,’ said Ellie over her shoulder as Missy opened the gate to let her through. Down the side passage she could hear high-pitched squeals of delight. Ellie paused once more and looked to her mother for reassurance.
‘Off you go, hon.’
The little girl raced away. ‘Enjoy your trip, Mummy,’ she yelled.
Missy watched as Ellie ran towards the Wheeldons’ backyard, heels and plaits flying. Then, she was gone and Missy slumped against the gate.
She allowed herself a thirty-second cry and pulled herself together. The plan would never work if she allowed herself to fall apart.
Ellie was safe. For now. That was all that mattered.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jamie hung up the phone, threw off the sheet and cursed herself. Poor Lise. Her voice—so tight and stretched. She sounded completely overwhelmed, despite her claims to the contrary. Why hadn’t the alarm gone off? Damn phone! Of course Lise would have freaked at her non-appearance. Jamie sat for a moment, fiddling with the settings as if discovering the cause of its failure might rid her of the guilt. She prided herself on always answering within the first couple of rings. ‘Call me, any time, and I’ll answer,’ she always told her clients, and she did. She was renowned for it. Even at two o’clock in the morning, which is when the worst PR crises always tended to happen. Her football-playing clients had proved it time and again. But that was okay, it was her job, and a little lost sleep was a small price to pay for being a senior account manager at Spin Cycle—the hottest PR agency in Sydney.
‘Oh good, you’re awake! Here you go.’ Jamie’s boyfriend, Jared, set a coffee on her bedside table.
‘Thanks, babe, you’re a lifesaver. I’ve gotta move.’ She took a sip. Strong and hot, just how she liked it.
Jared grinned and stood in front of the bed, hands on hips. ‘Like the new gear?’
Jamie rubbed the crust out of her eyes to get a better look. Jared was a great-looking guy—blond hair, tall, muscly without being scary, hazel eyes—but when he wore his cycling gear, he reminded Jamie of a pork sausage, all squished-in and likely to burst at the first sign of heat.
‘You look great, J.’
Jared turned on the spot to give her a better view of all his angles. ‘Pretty cool, huh. It’s the latest kit from Clincher.’
‘They’re one of my clients, aren’t they?’
Jared looked sheepish. ‘Angel sent it to me. She knows I cycle.’
And she’d be drooling right now, to see you in your skin-tights.
Jamie’s boss, Angelica (Angel for short) was a complete workaholic and assumed everyone who worked for her was as well. But she was also an unabashed cougar. She’d had two marriages and one child (and famously answered a few work emails while in labour) and wanted no more of either, thank you very much. ‘Marriage is sooooo last century,’ she would say when any of the girls at Spin got engaged. ‘Why don’t you just bonk until you’re sick of each other and move on to the next
one? Hmmm?’
Jamie drew her knees up. ‘Please don’t get too close to Angel. You know it makes it hard for me.’
Jared put his hands on his hips. ‘Sorry, babe. Should I send it back?’ He gave a sweet, mournful look that made Jamie feel like she’d just yelled at a puppy. How could he help it if people, like Angel, loved him? He was so cute! So what if he made the occasional mistake and urinated on the floor, or accepted gifts when he shouldn’t. You couldn’t love someone for their sweet appeal, and then punish them for it. Jared was the same age as her—but he was a young thirty-five. He’d grow up, eventually, and ask her to marry him, hopefully.
Staring at him, she allowed herself to follow her thought trail—proposal, marriage, a house, babies, first birthdays …
Oh shit! Ava’s birthday. She really needed to get moving.
Jamie leapt up, sending her precious mobile flying. ‘What time is it?’ she said, scrabbling round on the floor to find it again.
Jared checked his watch. ‘Just gone 10.30. Why?’
‘Ava’s party.’ She checked her phone again. A text from her assistant, Ben. How had she not heard it? Just reminding you that Ava’s party is at 10. That’s right. It’d been such a crazy week at work she’d joked to Ben that she was in danger of losing the ‘Best-Aunt-Ever’ status by forgetting her niece’s birthday.
‘I won’t let that happen,’ Ben had replied seriously.
But that was exactly what was about to happen if she didn’t get her butt moving ASAP. Jamie started opening drawers as Jared sat on the bed, watching her. She stopped. ‘Aren’t you coming to the party?’
Jared’s face fell. ‘The party’s today?’
‘I did tell you, didn’t I?’
‘I don’t think so.’ He shook his head. ‘And you know I’d love to come …’
‘Never mind,’ Jamie sighed. It was only her niece’s birthday party. Not worth causing a fight over. She resumed drawer opening. Her wardrobe was full of naughty-but-nice pencil skirts, peek-a-boo camisoles and sharp blazers. Not exactly fifth birthday party attire.
‘I’m actually meeting up with Tom to talk about Dubai,’ said Jared.
‘What about Dubai?’ Jamie held up a pair of bleached jeans. The designer tears in them sat a little high on the thigh, but nothing that would totally scandalise a kindy kid or their parents.
‘You remember, don’t you?’ Jared reclined on the bed. ‘There’s a job coming up that I applied for.’
Jamie stopped. ‘You applied for a job in Dubai and you didn’t tell me?’ She let the jeans drop to the floor.
‘I did tell you.’ Jared put his hands behind his head. ‘But I think you were texting someone.’
‘Then I didn’t hear you!’
Jared rolled off the bed and clattered in his cleats towards the bathroom.
Jamie followed him. ‘Shouldn’t we talk about this?’
‘We did talk about this.’ He started peeling off the cycling gear. ‘I told you about the position, and you said “Go for it”. So I did, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got it.’
‘Wait! What? A minute ago you said you applied for it. Now you’ve got it?’
‘It’s about ninety per cent certain. The CEO just has to sign off.’
So tight was Jared’s cycling top, his head was now stuck inside it, which meant Jamie couldn’t see his face. ‘What about me?’
‘What do you mean?’
Jamie strode towards Jared, yanked roughly to free his head, grabbed his chin and looked him directly in the eyes. ‘Am I supposed to come with you, or stay here?’ A chill wrapped around her stomach as Jared’s eyes dropped to the floor.
‘We’re not breaking up, are we?’ she asked in a quavering voice.
It couldn’t be happening. After all these years of waiting, he could not be leaving her now. She was too old to start again with someone new. Just last month when Jamie was renewing her contraceptive prescription, the doctor had gently suggested that if she was thinking about having babies she needed to start putting thought into action. After thirty-five, a woman’s fertility didn’t just go into decline, it fell off a cliff. Right now, that’s how Jamie felt, like she was falling, with no safety net beneath her.
Hearing the tremble in Jamie’s voice, Jared snapped his head back to meet her gaze. ‘I just assumed we’d do the long-distance thing.’ He turned away again to put on the shower taps. ‘The contract is only going to be for a year. Two years max. I didn’t think you’d want to leave your job. I know how much it means to you.’
Jamie sat on the toilet seat. Her job. She worked hard at it, that’s for sure. But did she really love it? Occasionally, when she bought her double-shot cappuccino from the cute barista at the entrance to her office building she experienced a momentary sense of doom. A feeling that she was actually walking into a prison. Once she was in, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, she loved it. Maybe it was a case of Stockholm Syndrome—that thing where prisoners fell in love with their captors. Maybe keeping busy was her way of deluding herself into pretending to love the job, when in actual fact, Angel was simply her captor, albeit one in Jimmy Choo shoes.
Jamie leant against the basin. ‘You know what? I think I’m ready for a change. I’ve been at Spin for eight years now.’
And if I wait for you for two more years, I’ll be thirty-seven before we can even get a start on having a baby!
A fabulous thought popped into her head. ‘Maybe I could set up my own consultancy in Dubai? There’s got to be plenty of companies there who need a little PR help.’
‘Sure.’ Jared closed his eyes and lathered shampoo into the blond curls that Jamie so loved. ‘But I think the company only pays for spouses to relocate. And there’s the cultural thing too. I think it helps in those countries if you’re married.’
Jamie had another fabulous thought. ‘We could get married!’ Certainly, they had discussed marriage, albeit in an abstract kind of way, as something they both wanted at some indefinable time they referred to as in the future …
But that conversation was at least two years ago, so Jamie figured the future probably had arrived.
‘We could get married,’ said Jared in a neutral voice, as if weighing up dinner options. We could have Thai … or we could have Japanese. In the end it was usually Jamie that decided. But this was bigger than dinner. This was marriage! She needed to know how he really felt.
She paused. ‘Do you want to get married?’
Finally, he turned off the tap and looked at her through the shower screen, still spattered with tear-like drops of water. ‘You know I want to get married.’
Ugh! It was like a poker game, with Jared still refusing to show his hand even though Jamie’s cards were already on the table. Time to call his bluff. ‘Then why don’t we just go ahead and do it? As long as it’s what you want.’
Jamie offered him a towel. Jared took it and started rubbing it through his hair for what seemed like minutes, but was possibly only a few seconds. Finally his head emerged. ‘I think that’s an awesome idea.’ While Jamie squealed and clapped her hands, Jared flashed her a quick smile and a wink. ‘It would have to be quick, though. The job’s supposed to start in six weeks, assuming I get it.’
‘Six weeks?’ Jamie stopped clapping.
‘Yup. Tenth of April.’
Jamie started scrambling together a list in her head—venue, invitations, cake, flowers, dress, photographer, music … Her mind went on, tripping and tumbling over itself in excitement. It was crazy. Impossible. Weddings usually took eighteen months to organise. The best venues booked out usually two years in advance. But hey! She was a PR professional. If there was one thing she could do in a hurry, it was organise a fabulous party. That’s what a wedding was, wasn’t it? A fabulous party where you signed a very important piece of paper that bound you for life to your partner. For life! How amazing! They’d have babies but how many? It wasn’t something they’d discussed in concrete detail. Hopefully he wouldn’t want any more than three. Two seemed
sensible. Maybe three if they were financially secure. They’d call the first one Henry if it was a boy, and maybe Charlotte for a girl. She’d always loved those names. Wonder what names Jared would like? He’d probably go along with whatever Jamie wanted. He was pretty good like that, letting her have and do what she wanted. Maybe he was a little too good at it. Sometimes, she wondered if anyone could really be that easygoing—or if maybe he just didn’t care? No, of course he cared. After all, he was willing to marry her.
‘Your smile is starting to scare me.’ Jared was now out of the shower and towelling himself down in front of the vanity. He watched Jamie in the reflection, leaning against the shower screen and grinning like a goofball.
‘I’m just thinking about baby names.’
‘Whoa! Hold on there, babe. We haven’t even worked out if we’re getting married yet.’
‘But you said—’
‘I said that if we were going to get married, we’d have to do it in less than six weeks.’
‘I can do that!’ She circled her arms around Jared’s waist and kissed his strong, soapy smelling neck. ‘You do want babies, don’t you?’
‘Sure. Eventually.’
‘Great! Let’s do this.’ She squeezed his waist and squealed. ‘We’re getting married!’
Jared disentangled himself from her arms. ‘You really are happy, aren’t you,’ he mused.
‘Of course I am. This is, like, the biggest thing ever.’ She grabbed his hands and drew him in for a deep kiss.
‘Oooh, I like it when you’re happy,’ he murmured, letting his towel slip to the floor.
‘Me too,’ she breathed back as her hands explored the muscles she knew so well, and now seemed even more of a turn-on to her. Jared led her towards the bed, but as he went to lay her down, Jamie felt her head touch something hard. Her phone.
‘Oh shit! Ava’s party. I’ve gotta run or Lise will kill me! She’s probably stressed out of her head right now.’
She pushed Jared away.
CHAPTER FIVE