The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  Four

  Natalie’s knees were like jelly as she put her feet to the floor. The room that housed the ultrasound was warm and airless. The sonographer had apologised. Their aircon wasn’t working properly and the day outside unusually warm for late May. Natalie had been lying on the vinyl bed for so long that perspiration had soaked the back of the gown they’d provided. In the small cubicle her skin was clammy and her fingers were useless trying to do up her bra. She gave up, stuffed it in her handbag and pulled on her loose-fitting shirt. All she wanted to do was get out of this place as fast as she could.

  She made her way along the corridor, past closed doors to other cubicles, other rooms with diagnostic machines, serious-faced technicians and specialists handing out life-changing diagnoses. She moved faster.

  Her anomaly had been a cyst, nothing sinister the specialist had assured her once the sonographer had called him to check her ultrasound results. A needle biopsy had also been done but he said he was confident the result would be the same. It wasn’t cancer. She felt lightheaded with relief. During the long drive to Adelaide, the wait for the appointment after they’d arrived far too early, the tests and the serious faces peering at screens, Natalie had lived her life over and over again, thinking about all the highlights: her childhood, her marriage to Milt – not all of it great but it had given her their three beautiful daughters – her teaching career, the work she did on the property and in her community. She halted and shot a hand to the wall to steady herself. She’d been lucky, with few major catastrophes, but lying on that vinyl table waiting for the specialist to come and give his deliberation, she’d been hit by a ghastly thought: was this all there was to life?

  She took a deep breath and straightened. She’d had a reprieve. The strength was returning to her limbs. She wanted to run along the corridor; to grab Milt’s hand and drag him out of this place before someone changed their mind.

  Natalie came to the waiting room entrance and paused at the pane of glass in the wall that allowed a view into the room. She froze, her few seconds of elation sucked away. In the far corner of the waiting area stood a man with his arms around a woman whose head was pressed to his chest. The man was Milt, her husband of thirty-three years, and the woman he held was Veronica Halbot, the creature he’d had an affair with twenty-seven years ago.

  Bree shut up the dogs and headed back to the house. It was only mid-afternoon but today’s mustering had been finished in good time. Graeme and the other two guys her dad had employed had been easy to work with, except for their regular breaks to have a smoke, and she’d sent them home, ready for an early start tomorrow.

  In the kitchen she paused to look around. The chairs they’d sat in that morning were pushed out, askew from the table, which was still scattered with the milk and butter, Vegemite and jam and the brightly coloured placemats Nat always set out for breakfast. Even the mugs and plates they’d used were stacked in the sink instead of the dishwasher. Normally her mother wouldn’t leave the house unless the kitchen was spotless, but she’d only made it as far as the sink when Milt had pushed his clean town hat onto his head and moved to the doorway, keys jangling in his hand. It was odd that they would go to Adelaide on the day mustering was supposed to start.

  Her phone pinged with a message. It was from her dad saying they were staying the night and would be home first thing tomorrow. She stopped thinking about her parents and selected Owen’s number.

  “What are you up to?” he asked. They rarely rang each other at this hour on a work day.

  “I thought I’d cook you dinner tonight, at the farm.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “It’ll just be you and me…you could stay the night.”

  “Sounds even better.”

  “Great! See you when you get here.”

  She pocketed her phone and dug in the freezer for something to take out for dinner, humming at the thought of having Owen here and the place to herself. She put a lasagne on the sink to defrost and checked the fridge for salad ingredients, tidied up the breakfast things then set the end of the kitchen table for two and glanced at the clock. She had time to finish a couple of quick jobs before she’d need to be back to shower and put the lasagne in the oven.

  Laura pulled up near the back gate and knew from the empty garage that her mum wasn’t home. The dogs weren’t there to greet her either so Bree and their dad must be off somewhere as well. It was a good chance to unload all her stuff and put it in her bedroom. She’d be able to pick her own time to let her family know she’d be home for a while.

  With her arms full of the first load she was met by Bubbles at the back door.

  “Hello, pussycat,” she crooned. The cat gave her a sideways look then stalked inside, tail straight up in the air like a one-fingered salute. Laura propped the door open and followed.

  She set down the box and bag in the bedroom she could now call her own. Bree had moved into the quarters and Kate rarely came home these days, and if she did it would be with Sean and they took the spare room with the queen bed.

  On her way back to the door she wandered into the kitchen. The table was set already and only for two. She looked at the casserole dish defrosting on the sink with lasagne printed in black texta across the plastic cover. Obviously some of the family were going to be out tonight. Once again she felt relief. She hoped her mum was the one staying in. It would be easier to talk with her on her own.

  Laura emptied her car and moved it out of the way to the old shed behind the house. She parked beside Bree’s ute. Wind ruffled the leaves at the top of the stand of gum trees that stretched along the yard boundary. The sliding door of the shed rattled and the canvas on a nearby trailer flapped. Laura hurried back to the house, the keenness of her isolation intensifying.

  An image of Kyle’s scowling face popped into her head. She banished it. Thankfully their relationship hadn’t gone on long enough for her to bring him home for a visit. Now that she thought about it, he’d never asked much about her family, certainly not where they lived. He would have thought their property the end of the earth, he was such a city guy.

  Bubbles miaowed at her as she approached the back door.

  “Thank goodness for you, Bubbles.” She scooped the old cat into her arms and he reluctantly stayed as she carried him with her to her bedroom where she sat him on the bed and flipped open the large case that held most of her clothes. There was also a garbage bag stuffed with coats and jackets, another two full of shoes, and a box of scarves, belts, t-shirts and assorted caps.

  Bubbles recovered from his burst of annoyance and made himself comfortable on her bed. Laura had a sudden urge to join him. She’d been tense over the whole Kyle break-up and hadn’t slept well since she’d quit her job, even though she knew she was doing the right thing. Once she’d told her parents and her dad got over the shock of her hair, life would settle and she’d have time to ponder what next.

  She stretched out on the bed, one hand behind her head and the other scratching the cat under the chin. Lined up on either side of hers were two more beds, Kate’s on the fireplace side and Bree’s on the other. Laura had been in the middle between her two older sisters, and not just with her bed. She was always the mediator between Kate and Bree, who could easily rub each other up the wrong way. This room had seen many things, fun and fights, laughter and tears, the pandemonium of three sisters sharing its huge space, and yet even with other bedrooms available none of them had ever moved out, not permanently. They’d said they would, of course, threatened to on several occasions after one falling-out or another, a few times one of them had actually gone through with it, but when it came to the crunch they’d always come back and stayed, sharing the room.

  Laura’s eyes felt heavy. The drive was a long one and tiring if you hadn’t slept well the night before. She rolled over and cuddled Bubbles in closer. The reassuring sound of the cat’s purrs and the soft comfort of her childhood bed soon had her drifting towards sleep.

  Natalie put a hand to
her mouth. The sight of Veronica in her husband’s arms took her back to that terrible time, and the events that had rocked her very being. The cancer scare and her relief were forgotten in an instant. Milt eased Veronica away from him but the image of his arms around her was burned into Natalie’s brain.

  Milt saw her over Veronica’s shoulder. She blinked, forced herself to move. His look changed from sad to questioning.

  Veronica must have sensed her approach. She turned, her eyes red, her face pale, and Natalie knew immediately what she was going to say.

  “I’ve got breast cancer.” Veronica’s words were studded with sobs as she reached for Natalie. “Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here. Not you too?” She pushed her face into Natalie’s shoulder and clung to her. Natalie stood stiffly, arms at her sides.

  Over Veronica’s head Milt watched her closely.

  “I’m okay,” she mouthed.

  They both looked at Veronica. Natalie gave her two crisp pats on the back. “I’m here for a check-up, that’s all. I’m fine.” There was no joy in saying the words now.

  “Veronica’s here alone,” Milt said. “She’s rung Bob but it’ll be late by the time he gets here. I said we could stay with her…so she’s not on her own.”

  Veronica pulled away from Natalie, blew her nose on a soggy tissue and swept her hair from her eyes. She was doing her best to pull herself together. She drew a deep breath and looked steadily at Natalie. Her eyes, which had once been a sparkling blue, were cloudy.

  “The staff have been so kind. They’ve made an appointment for me to see a specialist in the morning and then a breast care nurse.”

  “That’s good.” Natalie knew the words were wrong but what did you say in these circumstances? It would have been hard enough with a friend but with a woman she abhorred the right words were lost altogether. Even though they lived in the same community, they’d managed to avoid each other as much as possible for twenty-seven years. Natalie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to Veronica. Deep lines creased the other woman’s temple and eye area and her neck skin was creping. Natalie had seen the same signs of ageing in her own reflection but not as pronounced. She felt a flash of pride instantly followed by contrition at having vain thoughts at such a time.

  “I appreciate your support.” Veronica’s tone was firm now. She turned to Milt. “I’m assuming you’ve other business or need to head home.” Her shoulders began to shake and Milt reached out his arms and drew her into a hug again. Natalie bit back a ‘For God’s sake’ and resisted the urge to wrench the woman from her husband’s arms. She was ashamed of herself for the strength of her dislike for Veronica when she was so vulnerable but Natalie couldn’t stop her barraging emotions.

  “We’re staying with you, Vee,” Milt murmured over Veronica’s head, looking straight at Natalie. “We couldn’t leave you alone at a time like this.”

  “Of course not.” Natalie managed to squeeze out the words but the air had left her lungs at his use of the endearing nickname everyone else in the district used for Veronica. Not that her name was ever mentioned much in the King household but she was strictly Veronica if it was.

  “Is your car nearby?” Milt asked.

  Veronica nodded and dug in her bag for another tissue. “I’d planned to stay at the unit for a few days. I didn’t truly think there was anything to worry about. I was going to go shopping, see a movie…” Her words trailed off as more silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

  How weird life was, Natalie thought. She’d been beside herself with worry and her lump had been benign and Veronica had obviously been relaxed enough about her recall to plan some free time in the city.

  “Give me your keys.” Milt held out his hand to Veronica. “I’ll drive you and Nat can follow in our car.”

  Natalie did as he’d asked. It was the last thing she wanted to do but how could she refuse? She wanted to be celebrating her good fortune with her husband but none of that would happen tonight even if they did have time to themselves. Veronica had stolen that moment just like she’d almost stolen Natalie’s husband all those years ago.

  They left the building together. Outside the sky was grey, the temperature had dropped and a gust of wind stirred the leftover autumn leaves in the carpark. Veronica gave her the address and Natalie put the directions into Google maps in case she lost sight of the other car but the traffic was heavy and they remained locked in tandem. They arrived in a quiet leafy street and Natalie pulled her car in behind Veronica’s at the Halbots’ Toorak Gardens unit. They’d bought it when their children had been moving to Adelaide for university and now it was kept as a family overnighter when needed – a luxury Natalie had often wished her own family had but Milt had never thought necessary.

  Natalie shivered as she followed Veronica inside. The warm day hadn’t penetrated the brick walls shaded by leafy trees and a breeze had sprung up that made her drag a cardigan over her long-sleeved shirt. Veronica went into another room. Milt took a step towards Natalie but they had no time to talk before Veronica was back. She’d thrown a camel-coloured jacket over her navy-and-white-spotted shirt and navy pants, and swapped her heels for flats. Her face and hair might be dishevelled but her clothes were stylish.

  She looked around as if not sure what to do. “There’re a few things in the fridge but I’d planned to eat out. I could make us a cup of tea.”

  Milt strode forward and gently guided her to a chair. “Sit down.”

  Veronica did. Milt waved Natalie to another chair. Once again she wondered what she would have done if she’d been on her own and met Veronica. Offered sympathy and left the other woman to her despair or stepped in and taken over like Milt?

  It was Milt who found his way around the little kitchen and made them a cup of tea. It was Milt who spoke again to Bob, gently taking the mobile from Veronica’s shaking hands, to let him know they’d stay with her until he got there, and it was Milt who rang up for takeaway. He put the heater on low when he noticed Veronica shiver. The unit felt chilly and not just because of the weather.

  Natalie watched him find his way around the sparsely furnished rooms. Perhaps intentionally devoid of clutter, it was probably deemed minimalist. She thought impersonal a better description but even so Milt’s big frame seemed to crowd the space. He brought them both a glass of the wine he’d found in the fridge. It was moscato. Natalie shuddered at the sweetness of it but took another sip all the same.

  “Can I do anything else?”

  They both looked up at him and shook their heads, mute, or in Veronica’s case numb perhaps.

  The food came. They moved to the table. Natalie was surprised to see it was only six o’clock but she was ravenous. She’d not eaten anything since breakfast and then she’d only picked at some toast. Milt tucked in to the gourmet pizza as well but Veronica barely touched hers. Natalie could only imagine what must be going through her head.

  The other woman punctuated their all-but-silent meal with short bursts of what the doctor had said. An aggressive cancer but found early. Several treatment options to be discussed. Possible mastectomy. Natalie had found it hard not to look at Veronica’s breasts then. They filled Veronica’s t-shirt to full stretch, at least double the cup size of Natalie’s bra.

  She glanced down, remembering she’d stuffed hers in her bag, and made an excuse to use the bathroom and got herself re-dressed. She left her cardigan off, gripped the handbasin with both hands and pressed her forehead to the mirror. The cold was a relief from the living room, which was way too warm now but she didn’t dare ask to turn the heater off.

  Cancer was a blow Natalie wouldn’t wish on anyone, not even the person she felt she disliked more than any other person in the world. Veronica may be a bitch but she didn’t deserve this. Her son, Jack, was only three years older than Laura. Natalie hadn’t seen him for years. She wondered if there were photos of him in the unit, then pushed the thought away. She couldn’t face that old worry now. She thought instead of Veronica’s t
wo daughters who were younger. Back then she and Veronica had nearly ended up in the local hospital together when the Halbots’ first daughter was born only a few days after Laura.

  Natalie lifted her head and stared at her reflection. Bloody hell, Laura! She’d forgotten her youngest daughter was coming home today.

  Five

  Bree pulled a brush through her tousled hair, studying herself in the mirror at the same time. There was a glow in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes, and the reason for that was now taking a shower. Owen had got away early from work and arrived at the farm by six o’clock. She’d been going to give him a guided tour of the house, but they hadn’t made it further than her bedroom in the quarters.

  All that activity had reminded her she was hungry and then she remembered the lasagne she’d popped in the oven when she’d heard Owen’s ute pull up. She hurried out along the narrow quarters’ passage, smiling as she passed her bathroom and the happy sound of Owen singing, and into the main house and the kitchen.

  She was greeted by the delicious smell of food cooking, not burning as she’d feared. Peering through the glass she could see the top layer of cheese bubbling to a nice golden brown. She removed the lasagne from the oven, put the radio on and immediately the kitchen was filled with the sounds of Ed Sheeran singing ‘Shape of You’. She moved her body in time to the music as she put together a green salad.

  A pair of strong arms slid around her waist drawing her backward. She rested against Owen’s bare chest, savouring this rare time alone.

  “I forgot to bring a clean shirt,” he murmured.