Katie wished more than anything that she could be there to see Lucy, watch her children grow up. My roots from the UK are still there, she mused, it’s just I can’t always be around in person to nurture them. And, she realised, I’ve grown some pretty substantial roots on the other side of the world, too, just like a Jacaranda tree. She looked out to sea as she chewed over the sensation, thought about what it meant and smiled.
Tom was on a bench, watching the boys in the field playing football, shrieking and yelling. Families were milling around in the bright summer sun; a small terrier barked and chased a fluorescent pink Frisbee across the grass. There was a laugh, a kite flying in the breeze. Katie watched the kite tails fluttering above their heads. She let the warm air caresses her skin. Tom put his arm around her and she sat down next to him and leant her head on his reassuringly large shoulder, breathing in his smell. A tall teenager with messy brown hair and board-shorts was throwing an Aussie Rules football in the air. Tom stood up and joined him, ran for the ball and shouted something and they both laughed.
As she cast her gaze back up, she was struck with the breath-taking beauty of the place. A majestic navy sea stretched out for miles, tiny sailing boats, looking like multi-coloured sprinkles dotted the view, a vast ocean liner was out at sea, along with the ever faithful Manly ferries, chugging passengers to and from the city. Her eyes wandered across the ocean, to the white horses out at sea where the waves were breaking, to the horizon stretching out for miles. There’s only one cloud blotting my landscape now, she thought wistfully.
Tom sat back down laughing, and threw the ball back.
‘Ann gave me this,’ said Katie pulling the tiny vial out of her handbag.
‘What is it?’ Tom screwed up his nose, peering at it.
‘It’s a swab from Lilly’s mouth. It will tell us if she’s your daughter or not.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The china blue lap pool was shimmering in a late evening glow; shafts of yellow rays darted across the water from the sun, then wobbled on the surface as James, Andy, Billy and Ed dived in. Glasses were clinking; there was laughter, a splash of water and Beyoncé on the sound system. Perfect, thought Katie, looking over at their swimming pool in their new house, and smiling, then getting back to her task – swapping the forks and knives over without Andy noticing as he’d been at pains to lay the table.
She’d placed red, green and silver crackers on each place setting at the table on the deck, and had wrapped tinsel around the wine glasses. It was five days until Christmas. The noise of crickets was getting louder and the afternoon sun was still very hot. Smoke from the barbeque was furling and unfurling its way around the deck as Tom flicked sausages over and put them on a plate.
Naomi came up to Katie and gave her a hug. ‘Hi sweetie, this all looks amazing!’
‘So do you!’ laughed Katie, taking in her ermine-trimmed Santa hat, her bust encased in a sequined milky-white dress; she looked radiant. Naomi grabbed a handful of cashews from the bowl on the table, turned and winked at her.
‘You’re positively glowing, my dear!’ she shouted after her.
‘Thanks to your doc, honey,’ smiled Naomi. Yes, thought Katie, turning back around, looks like my all-Aussie doctor knew his stuff after all. Katie couldn’t have known that the doctor’s wife had also suffered from bulimia, that he understood the danger signs, had spotted them straight away when Naomi had walked into his office with Katie that day. Katie had marched Naomi to the doctor’s surgery door, made sure she had gone in and then closed it quietly behind her. Naomi had been in there for half an hour. He had known exactly where to send Naomi for treatment – a new hypnotherapy centre had opened up on the North Shore and, bit by bit, Naomi had started to get better. The bulimia had subsided, she was no longer so hard on herself. She had begun to go to Pilates classes with Ann, and had given up counting every single calorie of every single vegetable in a bowl of minestrone soup.
Next Kate’s gaze fell on Ann, sitting in a wheelchair in the shade next to the silvery gum tree. She was still very shaky after the birth. She was wearing a white cheesecloth smock, her hair half tied up in a ponytail with the rest loosely tumbling round her shoulders. A baby’s pink muslin was draped over her shoulder. Baby Lilly was in a powder pink gingham romper suit, feeding quietly.
Carol was behind her, plumping up some cushions, and carefully placed one behind Ann’s back. Ann smiled up at her, moved slowly so she didn’t disturb Lilly. Carol was dressed as in an odd concoction of yellow and white; a yellow bathing suit underneath a bright orange and white sarong which clashed with her red hair. Gold earrings and pink lipstick finished off the garish look. Katie smiled to herself; if anyone can pull off looking like a Christmas cockatoo, Carol can.
‘Hi gorgeous!’ She turned. It was Blake and Chris holding hands, coming up behind her. Blake gave her a cheeky grin.
‘Hello, boys! How are you two?’ she smiled and gave them both a peck on the cheek. Chris handed her a bottle of chilled Chablis and grinned, ‘Merry Christmas.’
As Blake wandered off back through the garden, she watched as he bent down and studied a rosemary plant, picked off some leaves and held them up to Chris’ nose; they make a lovely couple, she smiled to herself.
‘Mum! Where’s my towel?’ It was James, dripping wet, shivering in front of her.
‘Here!’ she hauled a beach towel from the back of a chair, wrapped it round him and gave him a big hug. ‘Gramps said that you’ve been doing 20 lengths?’
‘Yeah, me and Ed were racing each other!’ She watched as he ran into the house leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him. Ever since Tom had come home, James had changed, softened. Maybe it was her imagination, but having two generations to bring up your kids seemed to work …
‘Penny for them …’ Gramps came out with a tray of orange squash for the children and a bowl of popcorn. He placed it on the table and stood next to Katie.
‘It is lovely here, you know,’ she said quietly, watching Tom, who had decided to take a dip, hauling himself out of the pool. He reminds me of one of those blokes I saw when I came out of the dentist all those months ago, thought Katie, smiling as her stomach did a little flip. Tom has always, in the end, been the one for me - even when I was having my own schoolgirl crush on a gay diving instructor. Honestly! She quickly looked over at Blake, as if he could read her mind. He had his arm casually slung over Chris’s chair, and was laughing at some joke of Carol’s. Katie shook her head. How could I have been so delusional, mistaking Blake’s easy manner for anything more, she thought, folding a beach towel carefully. I wanted an escape route; couldn’t see my real life partner - who was under my nose all along.
‘I don’t quite know how I could take the boys away from all of this, Gramps …’
‘Do you want to -?’ Gramps asked, but before she could answer James came running back out of the house.
‘Mum! Dad! In our bedroom!’
Katie rushed into the bedroom to see Andy cowering under his duvet, shouting ‘spider!’
Then she saw it, in the corner of the room. Kicking off her shoes, she walked silently over to the spider, keeping her eye on it. She grabbed some rolled up paper from the kids’ toybox, then, lowering herself down, looked straight at it and whacked it dead. Straightening up, she heard a cheer from behind. Tom, Carol, Gramps were all standing in the doorway. She looked round and laughed, then peered at what was in her hands: it was their Contract – covered in a smear of Redback blood.
‘Good on ya, Katie, think you might have just unofficially turned into an Aussie!’ Carol said, as Katie walked out the room trying not to grin too hard.
*
‘Do you think you’ll dive again?’ Carol had her hand on Katie’s arm and was staring at her. Katie couldn’t help but be mesmerised by Carol’s shiny blue eye-shadow. They had finished their dinner: sausages, home-made wedges and salad, followed by Carol’s speciality: a triple layer pavolva. Not a mince pie in sight. The table was quiet
, there was just the sound of the crickets; kids had scampered off to the playroom to watch TV.
‘I don’t know …’ Katie frowned and looked round at the table, realising that it had gone very quiet. Maybe now’s the time to tell them, she thought.
‘I have signed up for something …’
Tom turned to look at her, smiled warily.
‘I think I should keep to the surface of the water, actually,’ she looked over at Tom and raised her eyebrows. He smiled encouragingly at her. ‘So last week I enrolled on Blake’s course to train to be a Surf Life Saver!’
‘Well done, Katie!’ said Blake, raising his glass. ‘Much better suited to you, darl!’
‘Way cool, Katie,’ Chris smiled at her.
‘Good girl, Katie,’ Gramps was clapping his hands. ‘Now,’ he said, standing up and tapping his fork on his glass, as the noise subsided, ‘seeing as we are making announcements, Carol and I have something very special to say as well.’
Katie turned to look at Tom and caught his eye. What’s going on? Tom looked rather pale.
‘Carol and I are engaged!’
And with that Carol produced her left hand from under the table with a flourish to reveal a quite enormous blood-red ruby ring. She was beaming from ear to ear, and had turned a pale magenta colour herself.
‘That’s great!’ squealed Naomi, clasping her hands together, ‘Fabulous! A wedding to plan!’
‘Tom?’ Gramps was looking at his son, hoping for a reaction. What’s he going to do, thought Katie, nervously. She tapped Tom’s foot under the table.
‘Excellent!’ said Tom standing up, smiling, then raised his glass, ‘Here’s to Carol and Gramps!’ The whole table stood up and cheered them, and Katie noticed Gramps had put his arm protectively round Carol.
‘Congratulations,’ Katie smiled over at Carol. ‘I know you will both be very happy.’
‘Happy, darl? I’m delighted!’ said Carol and the table burst out laughing. Going over to hug Gramps and Carol, Katie stole another look at Tom. He looked shell-shocked.
‘Back in a mo,’ muttered Carol, ‘I’ll just get the choccies I brought,’ she said to no one in particular, scraping her chair back across deck and started to wander back up the path.
Katie leapt up quickly. ‘I’ll help you,’ she said, following her, past the fairy lights hung across the gum tree. I wonder if Mum has her lights entwined round the trees in her front garden, sighed Katie. And the tiny star light in the window of front room you can see from the High Street in Putney. Will she have a freshly made holly wreath on the door, the cinnamon candles burning in the hall from Selfridges?
Carol was putting cups and saucers on a tray when Katie came into the kitchen. Katie wandered over to her and put some sugar in the bowl.
‘How are you, Katie? Happy?’
‘You know, Carol, I am,’ she said, letting her shoulders fall. ‘I do miss England, my family – plus some silly things,’ she shrugged, ‘but how can I take the boys away from all this?’ she nodded out to the garden.
‘I know, and you’re lucky to have such a charming father in law, and for the boys to have their granddad around.’
‘Yes,’ smiled Katie, putting a teaspoon on each saucer. Then she looked up a Carol, ‘and he’s lucky to have you.’
*
Tom and Katie listened to the scrunch of the van’s wheels on the gravel outside. They were sitting side by side on the couch, the fabric scratching her bare legs, but she hardly noticed. The UPS courier had just left. She could hardly breathe. Tom handed her the envelope which she took with shaky hands. Looking at the small piece of paper Katie had pulled out of the envelope, they knew the results would change their lives inexplicably.
Katie fixed her eyes on the piece of paper. Looked at the print as it went in and out of focus. Would she have to sit and look at Lilly’s eyes, wonder if there was a bit of Tom’s emerald green in there? Will they be wondering, all their life, what it would have been like to have their own daughter? Would she let Tom go away with her? With his only daughter? The boys’ half-sister … Would she grow up with features more and more like Tom’s mum Margaret every day?
‘What does it say, Katie?’ Tom stood up, paced around.
She stared at the word. Looked at the letters dancing around on the tiny piece of paper from the lab.
‘Negative,’ she said as all the air in her lungs seemed to leave her. Tom wasn’t Lilly’s father. Relief washed over Katie as Tom paced back over to her, sunk down on the sofa and reached for her hand. She let him touch her. Let his warm hands caress her face. I can’t be in pain any more, the pause button has been pressed for too long now. I am exhausted. I want us to be strong. I want us to be together. Love is a decision, she realised, as well as a feeling.
She turned to face him and saw the tears tumble down his cheek. She brushed them away as he pulled her close. He cupped her chin in his hand, smiled, and then she laid her head on his chest. They stayed like that for a while, in the silent living room. She listened to his heartbeat, could hear her own breathing as well as the cicadas outside. Then he lifted her head, encircled her with his strong arms and pulled her tighter towards him. It might take a while, she thought, but it already feels good. Feels like I’ve come home.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Lots of people have supported me along the way. Thanks to my Sydney ‘Sisters’ (Sharyn, Cindy, Leigh, Sanchia and Andie – and the lovely Wendy McC). I still wear aprons and I still miss you guys. The wonderfully brave Laura, who allowed me to borrow from her life recipe so I could enrich my fictional ingredients. My new ‘old’ friends in Surrey. Thanks to Jane Bidder, who has provided praise and constructive criticism; to Jane J who offered a ray of hope from Sydney that this book might – eventually – work; to Annette and Bill, my agents, for being so positive and determined on my behalf. And to Endeavour Press for publishing it. Thanks to Mike Lewis from Prodive in Sydney and Liz Wilkes, from the Australian Midwives Association for their input. Thanks too, to the RNA, and to Adrienne Dines and Kerry Fisher for their encouragement and for ‘getting it,’
*
And, of course, to all my family. My mum, my sisters - to listening (maybe snoring through) monologues from me about agents, publishers – POV, voice … To my fabulous three boys, and, most especially, my husband who has provided constant support. And finally, this book is for my dad, David Oswald Smith who died in 1991. He’d tell me, ‘You know, Kendra, easy reading is damn hard writing,’ borrowing the quote from the American novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne.
You know what, Dad? You were right.
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