With only a short time till lunch, she’d slipped away for a quick bathroom break and she planned to call Owen.
Ahead of her Kate hurried through the back gate towards the car shed. Bree let herself inside, went to the bathroom and arrived in the kitchen to find Laura lugging a box towards the back door.
Bree looked around the chaos that was their kitchen. “Where’s Mum?”
“Bloody hell,” Laura spat. “I don’t know. I’m not the mum police.”
“Steady up.”
Laura shoved the box at her. “Make yourself useful and take this to the car. Kate’s driving to the back gate.”
“Mum’s car’s not in the garage.” Kate had come in behind her.
“Perhaps she’s gone into town,” Laura said.
“Not without telling anyone, surely.” Kate’s brow creased in a frown. “Are you certain she didn’t say anything to you before she left, Laura?”
“I didn’t even know she had left.”
“Your mum’s gone on a holiday.” Milt stood just inside the kitchen door, his phone clutched in his hand. A grubby damp mark circled his brow where his hat had been. “She’s gone to Aunty Brenda’s for a break.”
The three of them stared at him as if he’d started speaking in another language.
“It’s not school holidays yet, is it?” Kate broke the silence.
“Does that mean I have to do all the cooking?” Laura gaped at him.
“But we’re tailing,” Bree said.
“Yes we are, and we’ve a hungry team to feed. Let’s get going.” He clapped his hands and they galvanised into action, carrying lunch to the car.
Bree was the last to leave the kitchen. Knowing her mother wasn’t there, hadn’t really been there for a while now, left her with a hollow feeling as if her mum had simply evaporated, gone for good. She shrugged away her unease and strode out the door, pulling it shut with a thud behind her.
A hundred kilometres south Natalie was sitting in a bakery making up for last night’s missed dinner and the breakfast she hadn’t eaten that morning. There was a glitch in her escape plan, well, there’d been two but she’d dealt with the first one. When she’d spoken to Paul he’d said it was short notice for her to take three days’ leave. She’d surprised herself and him by firmly declaring she had plenty of leave and she was taking three days of it and he’d have to organise it, whatever it took. That done, she’d tried Brenda again. She’d got her voicemail the first time. The second time she’d tried, a breathless Brenda had answered. She was on her way to the airport. Her daughter and son-in-law did business in Thailand and they were taking Brenda along as babysitter for their one-year-old.
“As if that would be a hardship,” Brenda had chortled. Her only grandchild was the centre of her world these days. “We’ll be gone a couple of weeks and there’ll be time to have a look around, see some sights. We’re going to finish up in a resort in Phuket before we come home.”
Natalie swallowed the gloom of her own disappointment and instead focused on the joy she heard in her friend’s voice. Losing her husband, selling the property and moving halfway across Australia had been such a tough time for Brenda. She deserved some happiness.
Trouble was, it had foiled Natalie’s escape plan. She hadn’t said anything to Brenda, of course. After she’d rung off she’d been close to the little town where she was now having lunch. She’d pulled in and sat a moment in her car. Her eyes had filled with tears for the loss of the opportunity to be with her friend. The visit had been whisked from her grasp and had taken the excitement of her escape with it. Heavy legs had carried her inside the bakery where the smell of pastries stirred her hunger.
Now as she nibbled carefully at the piping hot pasty she considered her options. She could simply turn around and go home again but a feeling of disappointment accompanied that idea. Or, she could keep driving and simply pick another destination. The thought of that both thrilled and terrified her. She’d never gone off on her own before, couldn’t imagine what that would be like.
The brochures were still on the back seat of her car but she took out her phone instead and googled holiday destinations. She added ‘escape’ and ‘winter’ and the first thing that appeared on her screen was Best Winter Sun Holiday Destinations in Australia and at the top of the list was Broome, Western Australia. Perhaps Google had read her thoughts, like it tracked her online history. She’d wanted to go to Broome since the article on pearls had piqued her interest along with the idea of a thirtieth wedding anniversary holiday. That hadn’t happened but she had only thought of it as deferred, and had imagined Broome would be a place she and Milt would explore together, but now…The doubt washed over her again.
Outside a shower of rain blew in along the street. Not enough to be of any use. She stared out at the bleak day. Several people rushed past, huddled against the cold. In the warmth of the bakery, Natalie was trying to make a decision when her phone rang. The sudden sound startled her. She stabbed yes to accept without looking to see who it was.
“Natalie?”
She stiffened.
“Natalie, are you there?” Nancy Phelps’s voice boomed in her ear.
“Yes.” Damn! Why had she answered without checking the caller ID first?
Nancy kept talking, her voice loud in Natalie’s ear. “You missed the netball meeting last week but I’ve still put you in charge of the catering. Young Bonnie said she’d do it but she’s so unreliable. I said she could help you. You’ve got more common sense than the rest of the committee put together.”
Natalie’s insides churned and then two words popped into her head – After Anomaly. She’d never said no to Nancy in her life but this was Natalie’s AA life and planning to escape on a holiday on her own made her bold. “Thanks for thinking of me but I can’t do it this time.” She took a breath. “In fact I don’t think I’ll be on the committee at all any more.”
“But—”
“My girls haven’t played netball for years. I think it’s time to let someone else who’s more involved take a turn.” She bent to pick up her handbag. Her fingers trembled. Her initial strength in standing up to Nancy was fading fast. “Must go. I’m on my way to Adelaide.”
“But—”
“Nice to chat, Nancy.” Natalie pressed end, gathered her things and strode quickly from the shop. She’d said no to Nancy Phelps and it felt as if she’d won the lotto.
Sixteen
Thirty-eight thousand feet in the air, Natalie pressed herself against the back of her seat as the man in front flung his seat back, trapping her in the small pocket of space left between it and the men on either side of her. She glanced from one to the other. They’d both said hello then plugged earphones into devices and, apart from accepting refreshments, they’d hardly moved since.
She shifted in her seat, moved her legs up and down, scrunched her toes, and finally took the inflight magazine from the seat pocket and began to flick, disappointed there’d been no time at the airport to browse the bookshop. She still had nothing to read. She’d plucked a copy of the newspaper from the stand in Perth as she’d boarded the second leg of her flight to Broome but it was difficult to open in the small space and she’d given up.
The glossy magazine held little interest either. She flicked past ads for jewellery worth more than her year’s wage, cars that would be useless on rough dirt roads, watches that appeared to do everything but tell the time clearly and holidays to places overseas she knew she was unlikely to take. Opulence had never been her thing. She saw nothing her heart desired, except perhaps the holiday but it didn’t have to be fancy to fulfil that dream. Headlines urged her to ‘Be ready for tomorrow’, ‘Tap in and tune out’. There was even one urging her to buy a ‘sexy ceiling fan’.
She had to smile at that. There had been no ceiling fans in the farmhouse when she’d moved in. The summer they swapped with her in-laws from the quarters to the main house she’d organised ceiling fans to be installed in the kitchen, the main bedroo
m and the bedroom next door they used as a nursery. She’d paid for it from her own savings. Olive had declared it a terrible waste of money but by next summer she’d had fans installed in every room including the quarters. No further comment was made, and when Laura was a baby Olive had also arranged air conditioning for the bedrooms and the kitchen. Natalie thought of those fans now and contemplated the picture in front of her. She wondered about the advertising person who’d used the word sexy to describe a ceiling fan.
She continued to flick then paused at the section called ‘Travel Insider’. At the bottom was a picture of a beautiful beach with no-one on it and the heading ‘Exploring Dampier Peninsula’. She’d never heard of Dampier Peninsula but the article boasted unspoilt landscapes and the promise of a spiritual awakening. She put her head back and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure about a spiritual awakening but her heart and soul were in need of some kind of restoration and she hoped a holiday in Broome would do that for her.
She opened her eyes again at a change in engine noise. The pilot said something about seeing whales in the bay. Past her neighbour’s head, the tiny window was filled with the aquamarine of the Indian Ocean stretching to the horizon as the plane did a slow loop and lined up with the airport runway.
“There.” The young man stabbed at the window.
She leaned closer. She caught a glimpse of a tiny dark shape and a splash of foam but wouldn’t swear on her life it was a whale.
They zoomed lower over white sand dotted with beachgoers, next came glimpses of bush and vibrant red earth, and then the wheels shuddered onto the tarmac. She gripped her hands tightly in her lap. She’d done it. She’d left her family, her work and community, and the cold of a South Australian winter behind and flown halfway across Australia to Broome. She seesawed from excitement to disbelief to panic.
The heat hit her as soon as she stepped from the aircraft. She was totally unprepared and overdressed in jeans and a lightweight jumper she’d dragged on in the pre-dawn chill of Adelaide. She squinted into the mid-afternoon glare reflecting from the tarmac and hoped her sunglasses were in the bottom of her bag somewhere.
Inside the terminal there was no relief from the heat as she joined the press of people waiting to collect their luggage from the single carousel. Another flight had landed just after hers, adding to the crowd. She watched through a gap for her bag. The few times they’d flown, short trips for business or a wedding, she’d left the luggage to Milt. She was always the one to hold the tickets. It was odd being on her own with no-one else to think about and yet nerve-racking she had no-one to confer with; would her bag be there, was she in the right place, had she booked the correct dates for the hotel?
Her blue case with its vivid red name tag burst from the flaps, halting her wayward thoughts. She squeezed her way forward to grab it then, bags in hand, she found the complimentary transport to her hotel.
Once settled aboard a minibus with several others, the cheerful driver entertained them, pointing out the sights and telling them all to relax, they were now on Broome time. She did her best but the last twenty-four hours had exhausted her and even though the bus was air-conditioned, she was generating an internal heat that overwhelmed her. Perspiration dampened her back and her chest felt tight. She drained the last of her water bottle and glanced at her fellow passengers, all couples. She was the only one travelling alone. The drive from the airport was through an alien landscape of red dirt and unfamiliar bush, adding to her apprehension. The further they got from the airport the more she thought how stupid she’d been to have come all this way on her own. A spur-of-the-moment whim fuelled by her husband’s infidelity twenty-seven years ago come back to haunt them, and instead of facing it head-on like she’d done most crises in her life she’d run away.
The previous evening, after she’d settled into her room at the airport, she’d sent Milt another text. Arrived safely at airport, flying out first thing tomorrow. She’d owed him that at least, and she’d sent the girls a good night message, generic for all three with an extra request for one of them to take her green folder back to school for her first thing Monday. She hoped Claire might be able to take her class again, or one of the more experienced relief teachers as Natalie hadn’t touched the folder to update or elaborate on her program. The girls had each replied immediately, quick messages of goodnight, very brief except for Laura, who added she’d make sure the folder was delivered.
Much later, when she was in bed and almost asleep, Milt had replied. First day tailing went well. Have good flight. His texts were always brief and left out the little in-between words. She’d only realised that morning she hadn’t told him about her change of plans, that she was flying to Broome instead of Brisbane. And now here she was and feeling so foolish that, if she wasn’t so tired, she would jump on the next plane heading south and go home again.
The bus followed a long curving road then swung into a driveway lined with tropical plants. She caught a glimpse of the brilliant blue ocean she had so recently flown over and then they came to a stop at the grand entrance of the hotel. The luggage was unloaded as Natalie walked over the wooden footbridge. Beneath her, water trickled softly and as she stepped up to the huge wood-and-glass doors they swung open and the relief of cool air rushed out to meet her.
Inside the lighting was subtle. Vibrant artwork adorned the walls, the wooden floor was polished to a dark rich hue and the plush leather lounge chairs looked deep and inviting. Beyond a second set of glass doors on the other side of the room she could see lush green plants and the backs of pool chairs beside a large water feature. Natalie took another breath and approached the smiling young woman behind the check-in counter with a sense of relief.
“Welcome,” the woman said. “Checking in?”
“Yes.” The weight slid from Natalie’s shoulders. Perhaps it was possible to escape reality. It would be silly to turn around and go home now when she felt as if she’d just stepped into paradise.
The cavernous farm bedroom was like an igloo. Kate had forgotten how hard it was to keep the old house warm. She should be under the covers but then she knew she wouldn’t want to get up again and she still had to face dinner. Instead she lay on top of the bed, a blanket over her legs, hands clasped across her stomach, staring at the ceiling.
They’d knocked off early on the second day of tailing and she’d made straight for the house and the shower. It had been a bitterly cold day and that, along with the doctor’s diagnosis from the previous afternoon, ensured she’d stayed chilled to the bone. She’d dug out a pair of trackpants from the drawers of her old bedroom chest, pulled on a long-sleeved t-shirt, a windcheater and a pair of thick socks, and then added the blanket before she began to feel warm.
Last night and today she’d run on autopilot, with her head full of swirling thoughts and her body, her betraying body, numb. None of the others seemed to notice. Her mother would have but she wasn’t here. Gone off on a sudden holiday with Aunty Brenda. Dad had muttered something about her needing a break.
A tear rolled down Kate’s cheek and she batted it away. She badly wanted her mother here, to tell her what the doctor had said, to feel the reassurance of her mother’s arms around her.
Dr Strauss had gone over her with a fine-tooth comb and had thought there was little wrong with her but had ordered blood tests and taken a urine sample. That had produced the shock. The doctor was sure the blood test results would confirm what the urine test had revealed: Kate was pregnant. Dear, kind Dr Strauss had been delighted for her and Kate had been in too much shock to ask any questions.
Now her head was brimming with them. Why, after years of infertility, would her body suddenly decide it was fertile? She and Sean had accepted a childless life and even though she doubted his commitment to that plan she was in no doubt how she felt. Her life was satisfying; she had no longing for a child. Kate did not want to be pregnant, did not want to be a mother. She had not one inkling of maternal feeling towards this clump of cells growing inside her.
Sean wouldn’t understand. He’d think her reaction totally mad. She knew what his response would be to the news.
“Kate, dinner’s ready,” Bree called from the passage.
Kate let out a deep sigh. She’d been feeling a bit off her food for a while. Now she knew there was a reason for it she only felt worse. Laura had muttered something about making pizza tonight. It seemed she was getting fed-up with doing the food too and had said they could get their own tomorrow.
Without their mum they’d lost their cohesion. Dad’s lecture on giving her some space, and they would manage, and pull together as a team in their mother’s absence, had a hollow ring to it, as if he was saying the words but didn’t believe them. Yet again she wondered what was behind her mum’s sudden departure.
The kitchen was full of the smell of crusty dough, melted cheese and cooked tomato. The others were all seated at the table when she arrived and studied her as she took her place.
“Are you all right?” Bree asked. “You look like shit.”
“How kind of you to say,” Kate snapped back and pulled her hands up inside her sleeves. She was grateful for the fire warming the kitchen but she still felt chilled after leaving the warmth of the bed. She reached for the jug of water and poured herself a glass, noticing everyone was on water tonight.
“Are you coming down with a cold?” Laura asked.
“No. It’s been a freezing day, that’s all. I couldn’t warm up.” Kate looked around, realising someone else was missing. “It’s Saturday. Where’s Granny?”
“I rang her,” Laura said. “She wanted to stay home in the warm.”
“Do you think she’s okay?” Bree’s question was directed at her dad.
“As far as I know,” he said. “I rang her Thursday and Laura spoke to her today.”
The Model Wife Page 21