Stella Makes Good

by Lisa Heidke

  Jesse had always struggled to let people get close to her. When she married Steve, she’d let the few friendships she’d had slide, except for Louisa, of course. But when Louisa left, Jesse had felt let down, betrayed. Louisa was the person Jesse always turned to, so when she moved overseas, Jesse had had no one. Her best friend had suddenly disappeared.

  Louisa’s departure had affected her deeply, but Steve had been dismissive. ‘She’s gone. Deal with it.’

  Now Jesse knew why. He’d had an ulterior motive for wanting Louisa to leave and never return.

  After losing Louisa, Jesse had vowed she’d never allow herself to feel that vulnerable again. She had Steve and her children, whom she loved and trusted, but she began closing herself off from others, building a wall that seemed to stretch higher and higher as time went by. Now, apart from Stella, and occasionally Carly, Jesse rarely confided in anyone.

  Even when she did see Stella and Carly, like the other night, she felt like she was somehow missing out. On what, she didn’t know. A great joke, a funny exchange, life in general. Jesse couldn’t pinpoint it, but it just felt like she was being left behind.

  And now, faced with the unspeakable revelations about Steve, she knew her marriage was doomed. How could she ever trust him again?

  She shook her head. The truth was, except for when she was with Oliver and Emily, Jesse felt heavy with loneliness and now, regret.

  She lost count of how many times she’d stirred her coffee, but when she swallowed some, it was barely warm. Why couldn’t she have had a simple life, one in which both she and her husband were normal? Happily in love and bringing up two adorable children? They’d got the adorable children right, just fucked up every other detail. Why did everything have to turn to mud?

  The thought of spending another night in the same bed as Steve was abhorrent. She couldn’t do it. But she also didn’t want to run away and give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d triumphed. She’d rather walk barefoot over red-hot coals than admit defeat. Steve hadn’t won, not by a long shot.

  Tomorrow she’d be at the library. She could make it until then. Just. For now, she needed to play it smart.

  irst thing Wednesday morning, Carly rang Jesse to apologise. She knew she’d behaved badly last night, all that stuff she’d blurted out. It didn’t matter that it was true, what mattered was her delivery. Appalling. She needed to talk to Jesse, square things off. But all she got was Jesse’s voicemail. Maybe she was screening her calls.

  Carly phoned Stella. ‘Okay, so I’m an idiot and a shocking friend. I’m really sorry. I’ve already left a message on Jesse’s phone.’

  ‘You said what you needed to,’ replied Stella, not unkindly.

  ‘I could have said it better.’

  ‘Agreed, but listen, Jesse rang me late last night. She knows we’re telling her the truth.’

  The news took Carly by surprise. ‘How was she?’

  ‘Calm. Too calm.’

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘You’ve left an apology,’ Stella said. ‘That’ll do for now. I’ll call you when I know more.’

  Carly hung up, still feeling dreadful. Poor Jesse. The phone rang again, almost instantly. Brett. Carly hadn’t really spoken to him since the sex-talk fiasco yesterday afternoon.

  ‘Steve rang me,’ he said. ‘He kept going on about you and Stella interfering in his life. What does he mean?’

  Carly gave him the first excuse she could think of. ‘He’s just annoyed because Stella and I told Jesse she should stand up for herself more.’

  ‘Carly, Steve’s furious. You don’t want to aggravate him. Sometimes you women—’

  ‘We women what?’

  ‘You get carried away with other people’s lives. You need to try not to get caught up in suburban gossip.’

  ‘Really? So you think encouraging Jesse to stick up for herself is gossip?’

  ‘Whatever, Carly. Just don’t take it on as a personal crusade. If Steve’s in the wrong—’

  ‘What do you mean, if?’

  ‘I just mean, don’t get involved. Let Steve and Jesse sort out their own domestics. I think it’d be in your best interests to give them some time alone.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I don’t have time to deal with this right now. I’m trying to run a company and keep you happy. I’d appreciate you pulling your head in.’

  Carly wanted to argue, but Brett had a point. The last week had been an ongoing nightmare and Brett didn’t even know half of it. Last night’s behaviour at Stella’s, the carry-on at the pub last week … Carly was beginning to wonder whether she might be in the grip of a mid-life crisis.

  ‘If you and Stella keep interfering, Jesse’s situation, whatever that may be, is only going to get worse,’ Brett said. ‘And, Carly, I really don’t need my wife’s friends’ husbands ringing me at work.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said meekly. ‘Point taken.’

  ‘Thanks. Steve sounded …’ He hesitated.

  ‘Steve sounded what?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, he sounded a little unhinged. Not normal.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Carly?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Never mind. Have a good day, okay?’

  She mumbled ‘Yeah’ again and hung up. So even Brett thought Steve sounded crazy. She took it as a good sign that Brett had rung: it showed he cared about her safety.

  All too quickly, she remembered her outrageous flirting with Toby and felt guilty. How could she do that to her husband? There was no way she could tell Brett why Steve was so furious with her. He would be horrified.

  Carly watched as the clock ticked over past midday. She couldn’t wait any longer for Jesse to phone back. She called her again.

  Jesse’s mum, Dot, answered. ‘Jesse’s not well. She’s resting.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ she replied, short and clipped. ‘I’m here. Jesse will call you when she’s feeling better.’

  And that was the end of that! Dot was one very tough nut. She hung up and Carly was left wondering why Jesse had taken ill. Maybe it was the business with Steve—her nerves had gotten the better of her.

  Well, there was nothing else she could do about Jesse now. Carly wandered over to the computer to check her emails. She was feeling rather sick herself as she wondered if there was anything further about Nicholas and whatever debauchery and carry-on he was involved in on the other side of the world. She gulped as she saw another message from Nicholas’s sports master.

  Apologies if my previous email alarmed you. It appears that some locker room high jinks got out of hand and one of the younger students complained. I understand the Australian reputation for exuberance, but when it comes to flicking wet towels onto naked boys’ backsides (Carly winced at the words ‘naked boys’ backsides’ and had to force herself to continue reading), action needs to be taken. Nicholas is not the only student involved, and all have been suspended pending an inquiry. As sports master, I need to take any complaints seriously. Rest assured, this matter will be thoroughly investigated. However, I do anticipate a speedy and satisfactory resolution. I will keep you informed.

  She re-read the email several times. Nicholas had been cavorting with naked boys in the showers. It did her head in thinking about it. There was no way around it: she had to tell Brett. Imagine if he tried keeping something like that from her? She’d kill him. But first she decided to ring Nick and get his side of the story. She felt sick with dread. She’d failed her son. She should have been more aware and more involved.

  She took a few moments to compose herself before dialling Nicholas’s number. Part of her hoped his mobile was switched off, but he answered after two rings.

  ‘Hi, Mum. I was expecting your call.’

  ‘So it’s true,’ Carly said, trying to keep her voice even.

  ‘Which part?’

  ‘The part about you being suspended for flicking towels in the locker room?’
<
br />   ‘Yeah. Dumb, hey?’

  ‘Nicholas, how could you?’

  ‘It was a game. No big deal. But one kid went ballistic, overreacted and dobbed.’

  ‘Do you need me to come over?’

  ‘What? To Wales? Now you’re overreacting … It was a towel. A bunch of guys in a locker room rumble. What’s the big deal?’

  Carly was verging on tears. The big deal was that he’d been harassed by his coach last year, or maybe he’d even had an affair with him; the big deal was that he’d been suspended for coercing other boys into inappropriate behaviour. The big deal was … Carly really needed a glass of wine. She checked herself. The last thing Carly needed was alcohol.

  ‘Mum, are you okay?’

  ‘Nicky, I’m just … You’re so far away and I feel so useless. I want to help you.’

  ‘I can look after myself.’

  ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’

  ‘What? No! You shouldn’t even know about this.’

  ‘But, Nick—’

  ‘Seriously, Mum. It’s cool.’

  He hung up and Carly felt even worse if that was possible. She wanted to believe him. He was her son. But her mind immediately returned to Mr Busby and those letters.

  She got on with the housework and then did some gardening, but she couldn’t focus. Even though her head was still pounding from last night, every time she opened the fridge and caught sight of the chardonnay bottle, she wanted to pour herself a glass. Guilt was gnawing away at her. She had to speak to Jesse, to let her know how sorry she was.

  God, I desperately want this day to be over, she thought as she dialled Jesse’s number. She wanted to get all of this nasty stuff out of the way—with a little help from Ms Villa Maria—and then tomorrow would be a new and glorious beginning. A new, clean-living, happy Carly. But today? Well, today, she had a list of distressing activities to get through and Jesse was slap-bang at the top. Giving into temptation, she opened the fridge door, pulled out the wine and poured herself a glass.

  ‘Jesse,’ Carly said, relieved when her friend answered. ‘It’s Carly.’ She reached for her wine glass and gulped. This was going to be an excruciating call, she could tell. ‘I’m ringing to apologise for last night. I had no right—’

  Jesse stopped her. ‘Carly, I understand. You didn’t want to be the bad guy, but you were.’

  Carly didn’t know how to respond to that.

  ‘Look, Steve’s here now,’ Jesse whispered. ‘I can’t talk.’

  ‘But, Jesse, I’m so sorry. And your mum said you were sick. Are you okay?’

  ‘Fine, thanks.’ She sounded weird. Preoccupied. ‘Anyway, Steve and I are sorting everything out.’

  Really? Carly didn’t buy it. Jesse sounded anxious. She heard shuffling in the background. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she ventured.

  ‘You’ve already done more than enough.’ It was Steve.

  ‘Jesse?’ Carly said. But the line was dead.

  Carly quickly drank the rest of the wine and poured another glass. Her hands were trembling.. Should she ring back? Call Brett? She thought for a moment, then phoned Stella.

  ‘What do you mean he eavesdropped on your conversation?’ Stella asked after Carly had explained the situation.

  ‘Exactly that, and then he said, “You’ve already done more than enough,” and hung up.’

  ‘And Jesse didn’t say anything?’

  ‘Not after that, no. I’m worried.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Carly, but I’m going to have to go. Liz is eyeballing me—’ Stella hung up.

  Carly rinsed her empty glass. Nothing good could come from a third glass of wine. She already felt numb. Instead, she took two Nurofen Plus and went up to bed. She doubted she’d fall asleep but she needed to lie down and pull herself together. She was crawling under the sheets when her mobile rang. Now what?

  ‘Instead of being so eager to gossip about my family, why don’t you take a good long look around your own backyard.’ Steve’s voice was unmistakable.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You heard me. I’m sure you’ve got a few of your own family secrets you’d prefer to remain secret.’

  ‘Steve, I never meant … I mean—’

  ‘I know what you mean, Carly, and all I’m saying is that before you go snooping about in my business, perhaps you should look more closely at your own family.’

  ‘I have nothing to say to you. I think you need help.’

  Steve laughed. ‘I need help! That’s rich coming from you. Why don’t you ask your husband what he gets up to when he’s away on business—on those nights when you’re stumbling into bed alone after a few too many chardies?’

  ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘I’m simply saying,’ said Steve calmly, ‘that before you go gossiping about other people, you should make sure no one is gossiping about you. By the way, I can recommend the Oyster Bay Riesling this week. It’s on special for a hundred and thirty bucks a dozen, and since you buy your liquor by the crate, you’ll save a bundle. Or rather, Brett will.’ Steve clicked off.

  Carly was shaking. Did she really drink that much? Had it become common knowledge?

  As for Brett … what did Steve mean? Yes, Brett travelled a lot and worked long hours—what banker didn’t? There was no way she was going to let Steve make her feel paranoid about her marriage. This was about him and his wrongdoings, his debauched lifestyle, not about Carly and her husband. Fuck Steve!

  On autopilot, she walked down to the kitchen, opened the fridge door, pulled out the half-empty bottle and poured herself another glass. She deserved it after what she’d just been through. Her mind was racing, darting in all directions. She needed the drink to calm her nerves.

  Was Steve implying that Brett was having an affair? The thought had crossed Carly’s mind, many times. But so far it had been pure speculation. Did Steve have proof? Brett was still attractive, he had a great sense of humour, he was intelligent. He got on well with Stella and Jesse, and whenever Carly had seen him with his work colleagues he’d seemed to get along well with them, too, especially the women. She continued gulping wine as her mind went into overdrive. The trips away, the late-night phone calls and texts … It all made perfect sense. And if Steve knew for sure that Brett was having an affair, that would explain why Brett had phoned her in such a flap this morning. He didn’t want Steve revealing his secret to Carly.

  She tried to compose herself. Perhaps if she sent Brett a text? Fumbling with her phone, she managed to type out Spoke to Steve. Madman! Making all kinds of accusations about you. LOL! C xx, before climbing into bed and passing out.

  Moments later, or what felt like moments later, Brett was above her, shaking her awake.

  ‘What’s going on? What do you mean Steve’s been making accusations? I told you not to talk to him.’

  Carly took some time to figure out what he was talking about. ‘Brett?’ Her mouth felt dry and she had a throbbing headache. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘No. I—’

  Brett sat down on the side of the bed and Carly struggled to sit up and face him. ‘What the hell is going on around here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Shhh. Keep your voice down,’ Carly pleaded. ‘Steve rang me. He’s a lunatic, he was raving on about all sorts of things.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Like, I don’t know. Telling me to look in my own backyard before snooping around in his. He’s threatening me because of what Stella and I know about him.’

  ‘And what is that, exactly?’

  Carly hesitated. Her head was swirling. She felt heavy, almost nauseous. Then she started crying. Not huge, racking sobs, but a continuous stream of tears; she could feel them running down her cheeks.

  ‘Carly? What’s up? Tell me.’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Right. You don’t normally cry over nothing.’

  She looked at him. ‘Is that right, Brett? Can you honestly say you
know what I cry about?’

  ‘I know you cry when you’ve had too much to drink.’

  She waved him away with her hand.

  ‘I know you cry over Nicholas, old movies, kittens in pet shops—’

  ‘Stop it. You don’t know anything.’ She knew she should have stopped there, but she didn’t. ‘You don’t know that Stella and I saw Steve at a sex party—’

  ‘A what?’ That had shocked him. ‘When?’

  ‘Last Thursday. You also don’t know that I sat on a guy’s lap and told him I wanted a fuck buddy—’

  ‘Carly, that’s enough. You really are drunk.’

  Carly ignored him. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ he asked. ‘Why do you do this to yourself? I saw the empty bottle in the kitchen.’

  ‘Because I’m lonely.’

  ‘You don’t have to be lonely. I’m here. Will’s here. Why don’t you come to his basketball games occasionally, or watch TV with us?’

  She shook her head. ‘Why would you want me to? I’m old.’

  ‘You’re not old.’

  ‘I will be soon, and it frightens the hell out of me—the wrinkles, the grey hair. My body … ugh. I’m ugly.’

  ‘You’re only ugly because you’ve consumed an entire bottle of wine. Stop it. Drink some water, take a couple of Panadol and you’ll be as good as new in the morning.’

  Out of the corner of her eye, Carly saw Will hovering at their bedroom door, deliberating whether or not to walk in. He watched for a moment, thought better of it and disappeared down the hallway.

  Carly let out a huge sob. ‘What am I going to do with the rest of my life? You have your work, Nick’s left and William will be gone in less than two years. Where does that leave me? Alone and old, that’s where.’

  ‘So instead of alienating yourself from us, why don’t you join in?’ Brett suggested. ‘It doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom.’