The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  “Natalie?”

  She looked up in surprise, not sure how long she’d been sitting there.

  Paul stepped into her classroom. “I’d like to have a chat.”

  She stood up and began tidying her desk. She worked part-time. Thank God her week was over. Her colleague, Claire, taught the class Thursdays and Fridays.

  “Natalie?”

  She stopped, looked at Paul. He must have said something.

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m concerned about letting the children talk about the fires in such detail.”

  She stared at him, trying to focus on what he was saying.

  “It’s not part of the curriculum we mapped out at the start of the year,” he said.

  “It’s reinforcing the skills they learned for NAPLAN testing.” Her voice was a croak.

  He frowned. “Bushfires were not one of the examples we discussed for year three.”

  It was as if he was chastising her. Personal worry mixed with professional. “The similarities and differences between frogs and toads didn’t hold their interest.”

  “You’re uncovering issues better dealt with by a counsellor.”

  He was only voicing the very concern she’d had when the children had first suggested the topic. She lifted her basket, placed it on her desk and began scooping papers and pens into it. “I talked to Pat about it and we discussed possible scenarios and strategies. She thought it would be beneficial. Life doesn’t always fit easily into compartments. Anyway, it was one of the children who initially raised the topic of floods and fires and I let the parents know via our weekly class newsletter.” She was rambling, the words burbling from her mouth. She took a breath and stopped, her gaze meeting his. He looked back at her through large dark-rimmed glasses that gave him a scholarly appearance. In reality he was young enough to be her son and in spite of her earlier reassurances to Eloise, she wondered how much actual classroom experience he’d had.

  “I don’t remember okaying that letter.”

  Once more Natalie felt rebuked. “I send one home in their communication books each week to let parents know what we’ve been doing and what’s coming up.”

  “Notes home to parents should be approved by me.”

  Natalie gaped at him. “Even the notes in their communication books?”

  He shifted his feet and tugged at the knot of his tie. “Not every one but any that might be considered…controversial.”

  “Climate isn’t controversial…unless you’re a politician. Nearly all of the children in the class have been affected by fire or flood or both. It made more sense to go with a topic they were interested in.” She waved a hand towards the large map of their district pinned on the wall. “It’s become part of our maths, mapping affected areas. The children have written poetry, painted and even used the topics in creative writing. They’re all engaged and learning. Surely that’s the most important thing.”

  He stood straighter, his cheeks infused with pink. “I am asking you to follow the plan we agreed on.”

  Natalie felt as if her head was going to roll off her shoulders. She had a bloody anomaly in her breast and he was talking curriculum. She wanted to tell him where to shove his plan. Only she never would. A lump formed hard and tight in her throat. Penny would have told him in no uncertain terms what she thought of his plan and where he could put it.

  Penny had taught the class beside hers. They hadn’t been the closest of friends but they’d worked well together. She’d been so gung-ho and full of life and planning a great birthday bash in February to celebrate her sixtieth but the week before it she’d dropped dead from an aneurism. Instead of a birthday bash they’d had a funeral. The shock of it had swept the whole community. How could someone so vibrant be there one day and gone the next?

  “Natalie? Are you okay?”

  She turned away from Paul’s concerned look to pick up her basket and give herself a moment. Her mind was in turmoil and it frightened her to be reminded of Penny’s sudden loss and her own medical appointment. Would tomorrow see her facing a fight for her own survival? Paul watched her closely from the other side of her desk.

  “Something’s come up…a family matter.” She stumbled over her words. “You may need to organise a temporary teacher for me next week…I’ll let you know.”

  By the time she got into her car her hands were trembling so hard she struggled to insert the key in the ignition. She pressed her shaking fingers to her lips. Paul probably thought her past her prime and now he’d be thinking she was crazy after her dash from the classroom.

  She drained the last of the water from her bottle then remembered it was Wednesday. She always called in on her mother-in-law on Wednesday. She glanced at the clock as she started the car. If she didn’t go, Olive would wonder why. Best to call in quickly.

  Natalie turned into the unit driveway and was barely out of the car before the screen door opened and Olive waved to her from the doorway.

  “I can’t come out. I’m in my slippers,” she called as Natalie approached. “I thought you were lost.”

  “I had to do a tidy up at school.” Natalie bent to kiss her cheek. “How are you?”

  “A bit weary.”

  “Oh?” She swept a quick look over her mother-in-law. Olive wasn’t usually one to complain about her health. She’d been stoic since her husband’s death but it was only a year since he’d died, after all.

  Olive stepped back to let Natalie through the door of the new unit she’d moved into only a few months after the funeral. It had an open-plan living area and two bedrooms and was spotless as always. Once a fortnight Natalie vacuumed, mopped the small kitchen and cleaned the bathroom. Apart from that Olive managed the rest herself. The kitchen bench was clear, no sign of the kettle and the two cups she would usually have ready for Natalie’s arrival.

  “I haven’t put the kettle on,” Olive said. “I hope you don’t mind but I’m feeling a bit too tired to do the shopping. Would you pop down the street for me? I only need a few things.”

  “Of course.” Natalie smiled while inside she was churning with a sudden desire to say no, but it wasn’t Olive’s fault Natalie was walking around with an anomaly in her breast. In some ways it was a relief. She wouldn’t have to make small talk for half an hour. She could drop back with the shopping and go home.

  In the supermarket she couldn’t move fast enough; every aisle was stacked with boxes or crammed with other shoppers. She knew most of them but apart from stiff smiles she didn’t acknowledge them. She was almost finished when she spied Nancy Phelps ahead of her. Nancy was one of those women who made up the backbone of the community. Only a couple of years older than Natalie, she was on nearly every committee and it was joked in the district that if Nancy didn’t know about it, it didn’t happen. She brought her trolley to a stop in front of Natalie’s. No-one avoided Nancy.

  “Hello, Natalie. Good to see you.”

  Natalie smiled with one eye on the packet of washing powder she’d been about to lift down before Nancy had blocked her way.

  “I haven’t seen you since the dawn service on Anzac Day.”

  “School’s busy and we’ve had lots happening on the property.”

  “Of course. You haven’t forgotten about the netball meeting next week, have you?”

  Natalie shook her head. She had but she wouldn’t admit it.

  “I’ve put your name down to organise the catering for the carnival. We need a level head in charge. Some of those new younger players—”

  “I’m sorry, Nancy…I’m not sure if I can be there.” Natalie couldn’t think past tomorrow.

  Nancy’s eyebrows shot up. “Surely you won’t miss it. You’ve been a stalwart ever since Kate started playing. How is Kate, by the way? Any babies yet?”

  “No.” She shook her head, and from the look on Nancy’s face it was another failure on Natalie’s part that her daughter hadn’t produced a grandchild.

  “Grandies are such a delight but I’ve told my gir
ls they can’t rely on me for constant babysitting. I love having the children sometimes but I won’t be a dogsbody. I’m far too busy myself. Next week there’s the community garden meeting as well. That’s something you’d enjoy—”

  “I have to get on, Nancy. Excuse me.” Natalie reached forward and tugged the box of powder from the shelf. “If I’m not there please don’t put me down for anything.” Nancy’s look of surprise was comical, though Natalie felt every emotion but humour. “Bye, Nancy.” She backed up her trolley and swerved away, almost running to the checkout.

  Back at Olive’s she put three bags of shopping on the kitchen bench. The list had run to more than a few things.

  “You’ll unpack it for me, won’t you?” Olive’s voice wavered from the lounge where she sat in a chair watching the end of a pre-news game show.

  Natalie bit back her sigh and set to work. The news was on by the time she’d finished. She bent down to kiss Olive on the cheek. It was a robotic kiss forged from years of polite greetings and farewells. “What will you have for dinner?”

  “I’m not that hungry.” Olive dragged her gaze from the screen and stood up. “A sandwich will do now that I have fresh bread. Thanks, Natalie. I’m feeling much better.”

  There was a beautiful arrangement of roses on Olive’s buffet. They were too perfect to be from someone’s garden.

  “What lovely roses.”

  Olive glanced around. “Constance called in. She knew I’d be specially missing her father this week.” She forced a smile. “So thoughtful of her to bring me roses. They were Clem’s favourite.”

  Natalie pressed her lips tightly together and swallowed a lump of guilt. She and Milt had done nothing to mark the occasion. Trust Connie to turn up bearing gifts. Milt’s only sibling was married to a farmer and they lived just over an hour away to the south, and to Natalie’s knowledge this was probably only the third visit she’d made to her mother since she’d moved in to the unit.

  “We went out for lunch at the hotel.”

  “Today?” Natalie couldn’t help the sharpness of her response.

  “It was good of her to spend time with me when she’s so busy. We had a lovely afternoon.”

  “Sorry I missed her.” Natalie gritted her teeth. Why hadn’t Connie done the damn shopping?

  “She had to get back by four,” Olive said as if reading her thoughts. “They’ve got something happening on the property next week, some kind of farm day out, and their place is on the list. She was in the middle of cooking for it.” Olive looked Natalie up and down as if for the first time. “You’re looking tired. Perhaps it’s time you gave up the teaching.”

  Natalie sucked her lips tightly over her teeth. How often had she heard that over the years? Olive had not been happy that Natalie had kept teaching after she’d married Milt nor when she’d returned to it once Laura had started school. Of course, Connie hadn’t worked outside the property. She’d had three sons and was on hand to help on the farm at all times.

  “I’m fine.” Apart from some kind of breast anomaly, but Olive was the last person she’d tell about that. Natalie’s head hurt from trying to contain the whirl of thoughts going round and round. Perhaps it would spin right off her shoulders. Then Olive would have a definite reason to tell her to stop teaching.

  Olive studied her closely. “You haven’t forgotten the church trading table on Friday morning? I told them you’d make a couple of your orange cakes.”

  Natalie pressed her fingers to the side of her head. Who knew where she’d be on Friday or what would be happening? Would they start treatment on her straight away?

  “When did I agree to that?”

  Olive’s head jerked back, her forehead creasing in a frown. “You always make cake for the trading table. The families come in a couple of weeks. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

  “I’m sure it’s in my diary,” Natalie squeaked. Their church raised money each year to give several city families who were doing it tough a country holiday. “But it’s not till the holidays, is it?”

  “No, but there’s an extra group. I’m sure I told you about them. Several young mothers coming overnight without the children. They’ll be here before the holidays. It’s only one night but I haven’t put us down for home hosting this time.” Olive was still eyeing her closely. “A picnic day at the creek will be our contribution.”

  Natalie grabbed her car keys from the counter. “Not this time, Olive. I’m sorry. I’ll see you…” Her voice dwindled away as she rushed to her car without looking back. She wasn’t sure when she’d see her mother-in-law next and what state she’d be in when she did and she certainly wasn’t up to hosting a barbecue out on one of their creeks.

  On the long drive home Natalie’s thoughts leaped from one scenario to another. The anomaly could turn out to be nothing, or an early detection requiring minimal intervention, or one of those aggressive cancers that she’d heard about that would need radical treatment. God, she could lose her breast, or both breasts. How would she deal with that? How would Milt? By the time she pulled the car into the garage her hands were trembling again.

  She struggled out of the car with her basket and followed the cracked cement path to the verandah, where she paused. The back light was on, casting a pool of dull light which in turn gave the stone walls a grey appearance. It matched her mood.

  Their cat mewed, rose from its position on an old chair and jumped to the ground.

  Only Milt’s boots sat on the rack against the back wall. Beyond the screen, the internal door was open and Natalie could hear sounds from the kitchen. The cat nudged her legs and mewed again.

  “Hasn’t anyone fed you?”

  Milt turned to her from the drawer he’d been rummaging in when she entered the kitchen. She stopped, remembering she’d shoved The Model Wife in the other drawer. She’d be embarrassed if Milt saw it now. With its photos and clippings it had become almost like a diary, highlighting the highs and lows of her life, and so personal. Sometimes she wished she’d thrown it away the moment Olive had given it to her.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “A new notebook.”

  “Second drawer.”

  She set her basket down while he took out one of the small spiral-bound pads that fitted his pocket. Her knees trembled at the thought of explaining.

  “Are you all right?” He moved towards her.

  The anticipation of his big strong arms wrapping her in a hug brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back as he came to a stop in front of her.

  “Did you pick up the stuff from Landmark?”

  “Oh, no, I forgot all about it.”

  “Damn it, Nat, I needed the wire first thing tomorrow.”

  Her hand went to her head. Was she losing her mind as well as her breast? She gasped. Why had she even thought that?

  “Mum rang and said you were short with her.” Milt was frowning at her still. “I know she can be a bit demanding but she’s still pretty fragile.”

  Natalie spun away from him and put her basket on the floor in the corner. It was the unexpected shopping trip for Olive that had made her forget Milt’s list.

  “Then I had an odd call from Paul,” Milt said. “He was checking to see if you were okay.”

  Natalie sucked in a breath. Normally no-one cared what she did but now they were all studying her as if she was a specimen under a microscope.

  “Nat?”

  She took another breath and glanced around. “Where’s Bree?”

  “Shutting up the chooks.”

  “I have to go to Adelaide tomorrow and I need you to come with me.”

  “Hell’s teeth, Nat, we’re about to start mustering. I haven’t got time to—”

  “I’ve got an anomaly,” she blurted.

  He shook his head. “A what?”

  “The breast cancer clinic rang today. There was an anomaly with my mammogram. I have to go down tomorrow for further investigation.”

  “When did you have
a mammogram?”

  “Last week.” She’d told him. Perhaps she hadn’t. She couldn’t remember. Every time she tried to concentrate on something the thought slipped away out of her reach. He took a step towards her but she busied herself at the fridge, taking out the food she’d cook for dinner. When she’d first walked in, the strength of his embrace was what she’d yearned for but now she knew if he took her in his arms she’d fall into an abyss she mightn’t get out of. Bree would return at any minute and this was something she didn’t want to burden her daughter with. Not yet. She sensed Milt standing close behind her.

  “I don’t want to go alone but I don’t want anyone else to know about it.” She fumbled the lid of the carrot crisper. “At least not till we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Bree’s voice carried from the back door, talking to Bubbles.

  Nat glanced back at her husband. “We’re going to Adelaide to do paperwork for Clem’s estate,” she whispered. “We might even need to stay overnight.” She didn’t like lying to her daughter but it was the first thing she could think of and in reality a job they did have to do soon.

  Milt nodded his head. “You’ll be fine, Nat. I bet they’re just being cautious. It’ll be nothing. Don’t worry.”

  She turned back to the bench and this time managed to wrench the lid off the wretched container. The ever-practical Milt had determined all would be well. How could he know that? The words bubbled inside her, wanting to come out, but she swallowed them as Bree arrived in the kitchen.

  Later, in bed, staring up at the ornate rose in the centre of the ceiling, all she could think of was the bloody anomaly and Milt’s assurance it would be nothing. An assurance he had no authority to give, but she accepted now that he was trying to be positive and she appreciated the sentiment. Tonight he didn’t read as he usually did before sleep. He flicked out the light, slid his hand into hers and gripped it tight. They lay side by side, enveloped in silence, thinking about tomorrow.