Just for Fun

by Rosalind James

  “Doing a bit of training with a kid,” he said, setting his fork down and looking at Claudia. As flawless as always, her perfection matching the room. Dark hair falling in a straight, glossy curtain to just below her shoulders, makeup light but precise, defining her elegant features. Her beautiful figure was, as ever, casually chic in slim jeans and a deceptively simple heavy cotton shirt that hadn’t, he thought suddenly, come from Trade Me or any Op Shop on the planet. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. The last time, before he changed everything.

  She looked up at him, took another dainty bite of salad and chewed it carefully. Wiped her mouth. “What kid? Somebody’s son?”

  He took a deep breath. Prepared for it. “My son.”

  Her fork stayed in the air for a long moment as she stared across at him, before she set it down with deliberate care. “I think you’d better explain.” She was still calm, still collected, he saw. Irrationally, the quality he’d always admired in her now annoyed him. What on earth would rattle her?

  He explained how he’d seen Zack at Rob’s camp. Then Emma. “I checked his birthday. And I knew,” he finished. “And then I went to see her, and she admitted it.”

  “When was this?” she asked.

  “Just before I left for Safa. Last Monday.”

  “And you saw them again tonight.”

  “Yeh. Took him out. He’s really good. Burning to play.”

  She brushed that aside as the irrelevancy it was. “How do you know? That he’s yours?”

  “No proof yet,” he admitted. “We’re doing that on Wednesday. And then I’ll make it official, do the legal things.”

  “So you don’t really know,” she pointed out. “What makes you think she’s telling the truth? That she isn’t just trying to trap you? So you slept with her. So what? Who knows who else she was sleeping with at the time, somebody like that?”

  “I know. We were together. Trust me, there wasn’t anybody else. It wasn’t like that anyway. And why would she agree to the blood test, otherwise? Anyway, he looks like me. Got my eyes. When you see him, you’ll know too. I don’t need a test to be sure.”

  “But you’re getting one. You have that much sense, at least. What does she expect? What’s she looking for?”

  “She’s not looking for anything,” he protested. “She wasn’t too keen on my being there at all.”

  “Right.” She was clearly unconvinced. “She wasn’t happy that a meal ticket fell at her feet. How do you know she didn’t do the whole thing on purpose?”

  “That was her strategic plan?” He was getting angry now. “She’s a bloody bad schemer, then, isn’t she? Took about seven years to pay off.”

  “So it didn’t work out the way she was hoping. That doesn’t mean she didn’t plan it.”

  “This doesn’t matter anyway,” he said with exasperation. “He’s here, and he’s mine. He’s in our life now, no matter how it started out.”

  “Our life? How? What is she expecting?” Claudia asked again.

  “She’s not expecting anything. I told you. What I’m expecting is that I’ll pay the maintenance. And work out some kind of visitation.”

  “What kind of maintenance?” she asked in alarm. “What have you said to her? You shouldn’t be having any kind of conversation like that. Let your lawyer handle it, with hers. What were you thinking?”

  “She doesn’t have a lawyer,” he said impatiently. “Can’t afford one, I’m sure. They’re living in a tiny flat. It’s not hard to suss out, anyway. There’s a formula. I checked already.”

  “You checked. With Oliver?” she asked, referring to his attorney. “Well, thank goodness for that. What did he say?”

  “About the money? There’s a formula,” he repeated. “Simple enough.”

  “How much money are we talking about?” she demanded.

  “Fifteen hundred a month,” he admitted. “That’s the top bracket. If she has him all the time.”

  She drew in her breath with a hiss. “Not like we can’t afford it,” he pointed out.

  “Now we can. What about when you’re done playing, though? This is our time to lay down a foundation for the future. We’ve discussed that. Rugby isn’t forever.”

  “He’s part of the future too,” Nic said angrily. “He’s my son, Claud. Not some . . . some disaster. A collapsed roof or something.”

  “And what about our own children, when we have them? What are you taking away from them?”

  He’d never seen this side of her before, not in their personal life. He’d known she could be ruthless at work—that was why that partnership was looking so promising—but whatever he’d expected when he told her, it wasn’t this.

  “I’ll be as concerned for their welfare as I am for Zack’s,” he said, his own voice hardening. “And that’s his name, by the way. Even though you didn’t ask. Zack. Zachary, I guess. I don’t even know,” he realized. “I’ll have to get the birth certificate sorted, too. So there isn’t an empty space there.”

  “She must feel like Christmas has come early,” she said sarcastically. “Already planning the big move, I’m sure. On our money.”

  “Nah. She hasn’t said a word about it. Hasn’t talked to me about money at all. We’ve hardly had a chance. Barely had a conversation. She doesn’t even want me to tell him yet, not till we’ve got to know each other a bit. But yeh, I’d like them to move. The neighborhood’s good enough, but the flat’s pretty dodgy. I’m thinking some kind of settlement, for the back support. What I’d have been paying if I’d known.”

  “What? You have no legal obligation, Nic. Surely Oliver explained that. I’ve barely touched on family law myself, thank God, but even I know that. There’s no obligation until maintenance is ordered. You’d better not have mentioned that to her. I’ll ring Oliver tomorrow,” she decided. “Find out what the process is, what our options are.”

  “No.” He was firm now. “I’ll cope with Oliver. This is my responsibility. And it has nothing to do with what’s legally ordered.” He cut her off as she began to argue. “It has to do with getting them out of there, and into something better. He’s wearing buggered rugby boots. And pajamas two sizes too big.” He struggled to express the distress those pajamas had caused him. “He deserves better. They both do. Emma didn’t ask for this.”

  “I think that’s exactly what she asked for,” Claudia said sharply. “If she dropped her drawers for you two seconds after meeting you.”

  He stared at her in shock. “And how long was it before we had sex? If you’d fallen pregnant, what would you have expected me to do?”

  “That was different. We were dating. I wasn’t some groupie.”

  “And neither was she. It wasn’t like that.” He was in dangerous territory, he knew, but he couldn’t help coming to Emma’s defense. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re having the blood tests on Wednesday, so I won’t be home to dinner. And I’m giving them tickets for the game on Saturday,” he went on, wanting to get everything out there now. Since it had all turned to custard anyway.

  “Oh, no. You’re not expecting me to get to know him. Or that . . . woman.”

  “Of course I am. They’re both in our lives now, like it or not. Sooner or later, he’ll be here. Every week, I hope, if I can make that work. And the only way to do that without a court battle is if we have a civil relationship with Emma.”

  “I need your help with this, Claud.” He softened his voice, reached for her hand. “We’re meant to be partners, aren’t we? This is one of those times, one of those unexpected things that happens in life, that we need to get through together.”

  She held his hand, but he could sense the reluctance in her, the unmistakable pulling back. “I just don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’m not ready for this. She’s not sitting in my section, is she?” she asked in sudden alarm.

  “That’s where all the seats are, that I get,” he said, exasperated again. “You know that. It’ll be a chance to get to meet t
hem in a neutral setting. Think of it that way.”

  “No.” She shook her head, the silky hair swaying. “Not yet. If they’re coming on Saturday, I’m staying home.”

  “I’d like you to be there. For me, as well as for this.”

  “No,” she repeated. “Not yet. Give me a chance to get used to this, Nic. I’ll watch the game, here. But I’m not going to sit next to that . . .” She broke off, seeing the danger in his expression. “And be friendly, like this is some kind of normal social occasion. She won’t want to meet me either.”

  “She’s going to want to get to know the woman who’ll be looking after Zack, while he’s here,” he pointed out. “And I’m sure she’s none too comfortable with that idea, either. He’s her world. That’s plain to see.”

  “That’ll mostly be Rose, surely,” she objected.

  “Not if it’s at the weekend. Which’ll be hard enough, with my playing schedule.” He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, suddenly feeling alarmingly weary again. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers yet. I only learnt all this myself a week ago. And I’m shattered from the game, and the journey,” he admitted. “But I wanted to tell you now. Share it with you.”

  She nodded stiffly, got up and picked up both plates. “Let’s go to bed, then.”

  That was it? Those were all her questions? She hadn’t seemed the least bit concerned about the relationship he’d had with Emma. Was any woman really that secure? Her lack of fuss was rational, he supposed. The whole thing was in the past, after all. But it didn’t seem . . . normal. And she had barely even mentioned Zack. Not as a child. A person. Well, he supposed it was good that she was focused on maintaining their own relationship.

  But later, when he reached for her, she pushed his hand away. “Not tonight. I’m not feeling very close to you just now.”

  He sighed, rolled over, punched the pillow a few times. It had been a long week in the hotel. Too much work, and too much upheaval. He could’ve used the comfort of her body tonight. He might be able to convince her, with a little more effort. But he was suddenly too tired to make it.

  Chapter 9

  Nic was pacing up and down on the pavement in front of the doctor’s office when Emma hurried up, holding Zack by the hand.

  “I was afraid you weren’t going to turn up,” he said with relief.

  “Sorry. Work. Traffic. Collecting Zack . . .” She trailed off. She was always rushing, never seemed to be quite organized enough, to be able to get anywhere exactly when she was supposed to, the way other people did. Due to sheer fear, she usually made it on time to work, if only just.

  He nodded. He wasn’t going to berate her, she saw with relief. She felt like she couldn’t handle another criticism today. She was nervous enough about this as it was. What would he say when he saw how much Zack hated needles? Not to mention whatever was going to happen next. Her life was careening out of control again, and she hated the sensation. She tightened her hold on her son’s hand as Nic held the door to the clinic open for them.

  “Mum,” Zack complained. “You’re squeezing too hard.”

  “Sorry.” She loosened her grip and took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that had had her jumpy all day. It wasn’t going to help Zack to see her anxious.

  “Go sit and look at a magazine for a minute,” she told him now. “Do you see the kids’ area over there?”

  “I want to stay with you.” He was the one squeezing now at the familiar sight of a doctor’s waiting room. She didn’t try to convince him, just focused on giving the receptionist their details, once Nic had finished checking himself in.

  “We’ll pop you into a room straight away,” the woman said. “Just be a sec.”

  “Cheers,” Nic said gratefully.

  “I never get that,” Emma told him in a low voice as they moved to the line of chairs. “Seems like we wait forever, where we go.”

  He shrugged, but sure enough, a technician was calling them now. The sound of Nic’s name had heads turning and curious looks cast in their direction, Emma saw, and she realized the reason for the quick processing. Well, whatever it took. Zack didn’t need any excuse to get more nervous.

  As she’d expected, Zack quailed at the sight of the chair with its attached armrest, the rows of test tubes. He was hanging back now, pulling at her hand.

  “Who’s going first?” the technician asked cheerfully.

  “That’d be me,” Nic said. He winked at Zack. “Come over here and sit by me, mate. Keep me company.”

  “I want Mum,” Zack objected, lip already trembling. He pressed closer to Emma. She scooted the single hard chair closer to the one Nic had settled into and pulled Zack into her lap, bending her head to kiss the top of his, her arms going around him securely. This was too hard, she thought in despair. All of this. For Zack, and for her.

  Zack’s face went white when he saw the technician fit the needle to the test tube in a gloved hand. “It’s jabs,” he said in a reedy voice. “Isn’t it?”

  “Not too bad,” Nic said encouragingly. “What I do is, I think about a footy problem. And before I know it, it’s over.” He looked into Zack’s eyes, got the boy focused on him instead of the band the technician was putting around his arm, or the needle resting on the tray. “Just now, I’m thinking about that Rebels wing. Miller. Those quick moves he’s got, inside the 22. How he moves his head just before he offloads. How I have to tackle if I’m going to get him.”

  “You think it, in your head?” Zack asked.

  “Write it too,” Nic said. “Got an exercise book, for when I watch the films, when I look at their form.”

  “But doesn’t the coach tell you? He always tells us.”

  “The coaches aren’t on the paddock with me, on the night,” Nic explained, holding the cotton ball to the crook of his elbow and noting with satisfaction that Zack hadn’t even watched the blood-drawing process. “Your turn,” he said as the woman finished applying the adhesive tape. He stood to let Zack take his place.

  The boy shrank back in his mother’s arms. “It’s a needle,” he said, eyes welling. “I saw.”

  “Over in a sec,” Nic promised. “Come sit here, mate. And let’s see what you remember from Monday.”

  Unwilling to disappoint his hero, Zack disentangled himself reluctantly from Emma and climbed into the chair.

  “Give us your arm,” the technician coaxed. “And look at your dad there.”

  “He’s not my dad,” Zack corrected her.

  “Sorry. Your mate, then,” the woman said. She glanced at the printed order sheet, then looked at Nic in sudden speculation.

  Nic squatted next to the chair, took Zack’s other hand in his. He felt the cold little fingers trembling, saw the effort the boy was making to be brave in front of him. Your dad. He cleared his throat. “This is a quiz. Pay attention, now. When you get the high ball, near your own try line, what do you do?”

  “Kick it away,” Zack said. He jumped at the feeling of the tight tourniquet on his arm, and Nic tightened his hold on his hand, looked intently into the eyes, so like his own, raised to his.

  “And why d’you do that? Why would you just give it straight back again?” Nic demanded as he saw the technician insert the needle, felt the boy jerk.

  “Because,” Zack said in a trembling voice. “Because you want to keep the play away from your territory.”

  “Well done,” Nic congratulated him. “And what’s important under the high ball?”

  “Watch it,” Zack said.

  “Focus,” Nic agreed. “And practice catching. Over and over. Want to do some of that, next time?”

  “Yeh,” Zack breathed. “Will you take me again?”

  “Too right I will.”

  “And we’re done,” the technician said briskly. “Hold this cotton to your arm, like this.” She demonstrated the pressure. Zack blinked in surprise, placed his fingers obediently over the white stuff.

  The woman moved quickly to cover the spot with tape.
“That’s you done, then,” she said. “Let’s get your mum up here. This is your mum, isn’t it?”

  “Course it is. Don’t be scared, Mum,” Zack said encouragingly as he climbed down from the chair. “Just think about something nice. It doesn’t really hurt.”

  Emma smiled down at her son, watched Nic shift across to the chair she’d just vacated, saw with relief that he was taking Zack with him, keeping him from focusing on the needle, or the blood filling the tube. He continued to engage Zack in conversation during the short time it took to get her own blood drawn, and they were on the other side of the door again quickly enough, waiting as Nic paid the bill for all three tests.

  “Thanks,” she told Nic as they waited outside the toilets for Zack to make a suddenly urgent stop before the promised café visit. Fear and its relief, she knew, had caused his overactive bladder. She was just glad he’d made it in time. “You did that really well. He does hate jabs. He’s usually pretty brave, but he has a thing about needles.”

  “No worries. I know what diverts my own mind.” He smiled down at her. “When I’m trying to forget something else. I reckon he may be the same.”

  “Rugby will do it,” she agreed. “I think I’m going to duck in for a moment myself. Will you wait for Zack?”

  “Course.”

  He’d been nervous too, Nic admitted to himself while he and Zack waited in their turn for Emma. Nervous that she wasn’t going to turn up, that she’d changed her mind, that he really was going to have to get that court order. Whatever Claudia thought, he could see how torn Emma was by all this. He reminded himself never to underestimate how fiercely she would fight to protect her son.

  Chapter 10

  “We should leave for Mum’s at about nine,” Claudia told Nic on Saturday morning, moving briskly into the kitchen area where he sat lingering over his toast at the breakfast bar. “I said nine-thirty, as you wanted to do the morning.”