by Dani Atkins
While I waited, I extracted a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured out two generous glasses. This was still a day of celebration, I reminded myself as I took a long sip of the crisp Pinot Grigio. Okay, so it wasn’t ending in the way a Hollywood romcom script would have written it, but this was real life, and I was old enough and sensible enough to know that not every story ends with a happily ever after.
*
Pete drained the remainder of his morning coffee as though downing a shot, and placed the cup back on the table. The clearing of his throat was the only warning I had that he was about to say something important.
‘I had a long talk with Maya yesterday and told her I thought it was best if we called a halt to everything from now on.’
I could feel a variety of expressions spinning like a wheel of fortune as they kaleidoscoped across my face. What was the appropriate one when your husband informs you that he’s broken up with his girlfriend?
‘How did she take it?’
‘She was relieved, I think,’ Pete replied, resting his splayed fingers on the tabletop. They were broad, and blunt, and never entirely free of lingering ingrained oil stains. They were the hands that still wore his wedding ring, and had held our newborn son within their strong grip. They held a thousand memories.
‘Why do you think she was relieved?’
‘She was worried about her job. It might not be a sackable offence, but it certainly would have earned her a reprimand.’
‘Huh?’ Had Maya’s job really been in jeopardy by dating a co-worker?
‘Siphoning off the jobs the garage didn’t get and passing them to me to do privately after hours isn’t exactly something I imagine Barry would approve of.’
Barry was the garage owner; a scary man, who resembled a slightly less menacing cousin of the Kray twins.
There was a sudden knowing look on Pete’s face as he continued. ‘You do realise that’s how I’ve been earning the money to pay Frankie’s bills?’ he questioned, seeing the look of astonishment on my face. ‘Obviously, now we won’t be going to court I can pull the plug, before it gets both of us into trouble.’
‘I thought that Maya… I thought she was lending… I thought you and she were—’
Pete was staring at me with a look of growing incredulity on his face. My cheeks were getting warmer, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. One of the hands I was so fond of travelled across the kitchen table and took hold of mine.
‘Never. Not even once. It simply never crossed my mind.’
It wasn’t the time or place to say that I was still pretty sure it had crossed Maya’s. Despite that, I was grateful for the help she’d given us, whatever her motives had been, and when I next saw her I would thank her.
‘So that’s one thing cleared up. That just leaves… us,’ Pete began, leaving his sentence dangling, unfinished, for me to pick up.
‘Maybe we could talk properly later today, at the wedding reception?’ I suggested tentatively. Weddings always put people in a romantic mood, and perhaps after a glass or two of champagne the conversation we’d been keeping on ice for the last two days could finally be aired.
*
‘I don’t understand how these shoes can possibly be tight,’ I exclaimed, dropping to my knees on Noah’s bedroom carpet. ‘We only bought them a couple of weeks ago because your old ones didn’t fit.’
‘And now these don’t fit either,’ Noah added, quite unnecessarily. Even with the laces loosened as far as they could go, the flesh of Noah’s foot bulged uncomfortably against the leather. I reached for the shoe box, certain the sales assistant must have given us the incorrect size, but there was no disputing the large numeral printed on the side of the carton. Noah had had another inexplicable growth spurt since our shopping expedition – or at least, his feet had.
‘What are we going to do?’ I said despairingly to Pete, who’d paused on his way from the bathroom to the spare bedroom to see what the trouble was.
‘Get him a job in a circus?’ he joked.
‘Very helpful,’ I muttered, turning my attention back to the problem before me. We were due to leave for the wedding in less than an hour, and there was no time to replace the shoes. Even the suit I’d bought him only a month ago looked a little tight, I now noticed. How on earth do children manage to grow that fast?
‘You’re just going to have to wear your trainers. At least they’re black,’ I said, getting to my feet.
If only all of our problems were that easy to resolve.
*
The wedding was joyful, if perhaps a little bizarre. After a conventional registry office ceremony attended only by immediate family, the day became an extravaganza of celebration, including a second exchange of vows ‘officiated’ by the couple’s friends and family.
It was gloriously warm, a real gift of a day, which was fortunate, for the reception was held in the middle of a field owned by the bride’s uncle. Guests were seated on ‘pews’ of hay bales, which scratched sharply against the back of my bare legs and made me very glad it had been too warm for tights beneath my floaty sleeveless dress.
Noah thought it was all tremendous fun, leaping from bale to bale with shrieks of laughter with a clutch of other young wedding guests, who’d gravitated towards each other like magnets in instant friendship. Watching him play happily in the afternoon sunlight, the blood tests and allergy clinic appointments we’d attended that week felt almost pointless. He looked fine; he was fine, I assured myself, as I sat on the hay bale, Pete’s leg almost but not quite brushing up against mine.
I cried during the ceremony, although from the sound of rustling tissues and blowing noses, I don’t think I was the only one to do so. When Maggie read out a poem about watching your child grow up, and then went on to say how proud she was of the man her son had become, Pete reached for my hand, his fingers curling around mine and squeezing them gently. ‘That’ll be us one day, you and me at Noah’s wedding,’ he whispered, sounding a little choked himself as an image of a much older Noah, a young man we’d yet to meet, filled our heads.
‘You may have guessed, they’re off to Mexico for their honeymoon,’ informed Maggie, who found me among the assembled cluster of guests a little later. Her cheeks were flushed a becoming pink, which may or may not have something to do with the champagne that had been flowing freely all afternoon.
‘Ah, well, that explains the Mariachi band and the piñatas,’ I said, my eyes travelling to the edge of the field where Noah and his new friends were currently beating a paper donkey to smithereens in order to release its hidden cache of sweets.
Maggie turned to leave and then paused and spun back to face me, unexpectedly swooping in to kiss my cheek. ‘It’s really good seeing the three of you together again. You look so happy today.’
I hugged her briefly, looking over her shoulder to watch as Pete weaved through the crowd towards me, two paper plates stacked high with buffet food balanced in his hands. His eyes were on me the entire time, and the look within them made my heart skip and trip in a way it hadn’t done for quite a while.
‘I am happy,’ I whispered in my friend’s ear, before stepping out of the hug. ‘It feels like all the missing pieces in my life are finally falling back into place.’
As dusk began to fall, a snaking row of tea-light candles in glass jars set around the edge of the field were lit. They twinkled like fireflies in the fading light. The hay bales had been moved to form a square around an area designated as a dance floor, and I wondered how long Pete would be able to resist the lure of the music, although to be fair he showed no signs of wanting to leave my side.
‘So,’ he said at last, passing me a glass of champagne, although he’d switched to soft drinks several hours earlier. ‘We said we’d talk…’
My heart rate increased, revving upwards like a car going through a gearbox. Nought to sixty in seconds. I smiled at the analogy. Once a mechanic’s wife, always a mechanic’s wife. At least, I hoped that was what I sti
ll was. I shifted on the treacherous hay, not even noticing how it stung my legs.
‘I’ve been thinking really seriously since what happened the other day…’ That sentence had the potential to end in one of two ways, so I kept my features neutral as I waited for him to finish. ‘And what I really want to say is—’
‘I need a wee.’
Both of us had been so intent on what was possibly one of the most important conversations of our marriage, neither of us had heard Noah approach. Our heads spun towards him with the synchronicity of tango dancers. I loved that child more than life, but at that moment I really wished he’d taken a few more minutes before joining us.
Pete’s smile was rueful as he got to his feet. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.
Noah nodded and looked relieved when Pete’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. ‘Come on then, big man. The portaloos are over in the far corner of the field.’
I could hear Noah giggling with schoolboy delight at the word ‘portaloo’ as the two of them disappeared into the lengthening shadows. I was still watching them as my clutch bag vibrated silently against my thigh. I slid my hand beneath its flap to retrieve my phone, frowning slightly as I recognised the number displayed on the screen. Why was the doctor’s surgery calling me long after they should have closed for the day? Don’t answer it, urged a voice in my head. Leave it. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow. Don’t let anything ruin this perfect day.
Ignoring the warning, my finger pressed down firmly on the green icon.
*
The bride and groom were circling the makeshift dance floor, executing moves that had probably taken weeks to master at the local dance school. But I scarcely even saw them. They were blurry shapes swirling past my field of vision, which was focused on… well, nothing, really. I felt rather than saw Pete return. The hay crackled as he sat back down beside me. There was a tension in him that initially I thought was coming off me, arcing out like an electrical current.
He twisted slightly, following Noah’s gangling run as he jogged back to join his new friends. Even though he was too far away to hear us, Pete’s voice was low and a little hurried.
‘I don’t want you to panic…’ What a perfectly ridiculous way to begin a sentence. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Of course you were going to panic after hearing those words. The only thing you didn’t yet know was why. Except that I did.
‘I think Noah may have a problem.’
Perhaps if it hadn’t been for the phone call I’d just received, my head would have shot up at those words. As it was I lifted it slowly, as if it was suddenly too heavy for my neck to support.
‘There’s something up with his pee. I noticed it just now. It’s the wrong colour and kind of… I don’t know… frothy.’
My stomach flipped as the vague hope that the doctor’s tests had been wrong and that Noah’s results had mistakenly been muddled with someone else’s slipped through my fingers like wisps of smoke.
‘Do you think we should take him to A&E? Get him checked out tonight? We could leave right now.’
It felt strange seeing my usually capable and calm husband playing the role that had been mine for so long. I’d spent practically Noah’s entire life panicking about his health, and yet now, when there was clearly something that warranted that concern, I was strangely calm.
‘We have an appointment at the GP’s first thing in the morning.’
‘You phoned them already? How did you know?’
My smile was sad, not surprising really, as that was how I felt. Sad and terribly, terribly scared. ‘I didn’t. They phoned me. Something has shown up on the tests we had done this week. They want to see us both first thing in the morning to discuss it.’
*
It was 3 a.m. and even the house had ceased its creaking and settled down for the night. Across the hallway Noah slept soundly, oblivious to all the ways his life was about to change. Pete, I imagined, was also asleep; there’d been no light coming from beneath his bedroom door on my last two coffee trips.
The last cup was cold on my bedside table, an unappealing skin forming on its surface. Not that I needed the caffeine to stay awake. I shifted my legs and the laptop slithered a little to one side. The duvet was hot where the computer had sat as I scrolled through page after page on the internet, cross-matching symptoms with conditions and case histories; searching for answers. And there were plenty out there to be had, but none of them were to my liking, so I just kept on looking.
We’d left the wedding as soon as it was acceptable to do so. Noah had already fallen asleep by the time we’d pulled into the driveway and Pete had carefully unfastened his seat belt and carried him in from the car, in a way he hadn’t done since Noah was a toddler. Pete had stood in the bedroom doorway, watching as I eased the trainers from Noah’s feet, saying nothing as I winced when I saw the deep indentations they had left in his flesh. How had I not noticed this? How had I been so busy worrying, first about the court case and then about what would happen between Pete and me, that I’d neglected my duties as a mother? I’d spent almost all of Noah’s life practically paralysed by the fear that some dreadful illness would befall him. I’d been so vigilant in guarding against it I had practically driven my husband away with my obsession. And now, the ultimate irony: the universe’s slap in the face – because there really had been something genuine to worry about. My greatest fears had come true, and what had I been doing? Looking the wrong bloody way.
‘We don’t know anything for sure yet,’ Pete had soothed as I eased shut Noah’s bedroom door. ‘We may be worrying about nothing.’
The look I gave him spoke volumes. Doctors don’t just phone you up late on a Friday evening about test results that aren’t causing serious concern. ‘We should cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Pete said, reaching his hand out to rest it on my shoulder. I took an unconscious step backwards and his hand fell into the abyss between us; a chasm that was growing so wide I could hardly see him on the other side of it anymore.
‘I should have known,’ I whispered into the darkness of the hall.‘I’m his mother. It’s my job to look out for him. It’s my job to never look away.’
‘It’s both our jobs,’ Pete corrected, the crack in his voice betraying his emotion.
I turned towards my bedroom, trying not to see the unasked question in Pete’s eyes and my own unshakeable reply. I wanted to be alone.
‘Well, I’ll see you in the morning then,’ he said, his weight shifting, making the floorboards creak noisily. It was like the end of an awkward date, where no one is sure if they should kiss, shake hands, or simply turn around and walk away.
We both walked away.
32
Beth
‘So, what did you think of Bondi?’
I wrinkled my nose and my sunglasses bobbed upwards before falling back into place. ‘It’s okay, but very crowded and commercial. I’m glad we went – I’d always wanted to go there, but I think I’m possibly ten years too old to appreciate it properly.’
‘That’s exactly how I felt, ten years ago!’ Karen laughed as she leant forward to retrieve her wine glass from the table I’d insisted on, which was as close to the water’s edge as we could find. It was such a touristy thing to do, but Karen was so pleased to finally have me here, she was happy to indulge every one of my whims.
The late afternoon sun was still warm enough to bathe our table in a hazy glow, and with the iconic Sydney Opera House behind her I couldn’t resist taking one more photograph of my sister to add to the several hundred I must have snapped over the last three weeks. It was technically still winter – but not as we Brits know it, I thought with a smile. Karen and I were both wearing T-shirts, and our sunglasses weren’t just a fashion statement but a necessity to protect us from the glare of the water that sparkled like quicksilver in the harbour.
I looked towards the famous Harbour Bridge, watching the tiny black figures – no larger than ants
from where we were sitting – inch their way upwards in their climb to the top. I lifted my phone and took yet another photograph. Out of a habit I still couldn’t seem to break, I sent it off in a WhatsApp message, which I doubted Liam would answer, with the caption: ‘My view today.’
Smiling at my sister, I settled back in my chair. ‘It’s so nice here,’ I said, which was probably the understatement of the century.
Somehow Karen managed to resist saying See!, even though it was written all over her face. ‘I knew you’d like it,’ she said, trying not to look smug and failing a little. ‘And if you feel that way now, when you’ve every reason to feel sad, just imagine how much more you’re going to love it when you feel happier again.’
I turned my gaze to the harbour, with the ferries chugging in and out, and the impressive cruise liner docked majestically behind them. ‘I don’t think deciding to give up your claim to your own child is something you ever really get over,’ I said sadly.
Karen’s sun-bronzed hand reached over and clasped mine, the way it had done when we were children walking through the school gates; and after she’d fixed my veil in place on my wedding day; and when she’d walked beside me from Tim’s freshly dug grave. Her hand and mine had been linked through joy and tragedy; this was just one more life experience to add to the list.
‘It will get easier,’ she promised, which was easy for her to say when her own children were no more than a couple of hundred metres away, craning over the edge of the harbour wall with their dad, looking for the Opera House’s resident seal. I didn’t want to ruin my final evening with yet another conversation about my decision. It had been made, and it was time to move on with the rest of my life.