‘He hasn’t changed.’
‘Hasn’t he? He frets about losing his hair and finding a belly, like most men his age.’
The squirming child was trying to jump out of Joanna’s arms onto a large, inflatable floating island. She let him go but before she could take a breath he had taken a flying leap back into her arms.
‘That’s Carlo. The spoilt baby of the family. As you’ve probably guessed.’
‘He’s delightful.’ Joanna pulled a silly face and the child laughed before leaping from her arms again.
‘Mmm…But a handful.’ She grinned. ‘If you want a break or actually want to seriously swim, just say the word.’
‘I’m fine.’ In fact, she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much in longer than she could remember and spent the next twenty minutes doing a workout more strenuous than the most vigorous aqua-aerobics class.
Finally Teresa indicated she’d had enough. She glanced at the large clock suspended from the wall.
‘I promised I’d watch at least part of Vince’s trials and Angie is trying out for the intermediate squad so I might have to leave you to it.’ She hesitated. ‘Unless you want to come and watch too.’
Joanna was grateful Teresa had the sensitivity to realise she needed a little more time to be able to revisit an activity that she’d never done alone. Watching the Seals was part of her old life, a life that had included Sam and Richard. She vowed she would do it, but not tonight.
‘No, thanks. But I hope to come back regularly.’
‘Great, we’ll look forward to seeing you.’
Joanna watched Teresa gather up the younger two of her brood and corral them into the supervised play area near the kiosk. She sighed and suddenly felt exhausted as she paddled to the side of the pool. It was definitely time to go home.
She glanced across to the adult pool, and noted how busy it was. Maybe next time she’d come straight from work or possibly on her days off and do some laps.
Then she saw him, hoisting himself out of the pool. The most obvious thing about him was his creamy white skin; skin that hadn’t been exposed to the boundless Australian summer sun. But he had the same muscular torso, the same firm thighs, the same broad swimmer’s shoulders, glistening and rippling. The sight of him, as close to naked as she was likely to see him, took her breath away.
She felt her own near-naked body react with alarming speed and intensity.
He still had the ability to do that to her!
She looked for a means of escape because he mustn’t see her like this.
But she was too late.
He was looking directly at her and had an expression on his face that mirrored exactly how she felt. Uncomfortable was putting it mildly.
And now he was walking towards her.
‘Joanna!’ Richard was smiling but Joanna could tell it was forced. ‘Fancy seeing you here. What an amazing coincidence.’
He seemed to be waiting for a reply but she could think of nothing to say. Her thoughts had suddenly entered lockdown mode but her silence didn’t put him off.
‘I suppose you come here often?’
He was standing uncomfortably close to her. Aware of every gleaming muscle of his body, it took a supreme effort to stop taking in its glory with a full body appraisal. She concentrated on fixing her eyes above shoulder level.
‘No, it’s the first time…’ The words stuck in her throat for the second time that evening and she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. The look in his eyes softened. She wished he wasn’t so finely tuned in to her emotions.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Seeing all these kids, the Seals—’ As if on cue he was interrupted by a loud whistle coming from where she assumed training of the aspiring young competitors was taking place.
Joanna self-consciously shifted from one foot to the other not quite knowing how to extricate herself from an extremely uncomfortable situation. She was still in her costume and was aware the flimsy, time-worn Lycra did little to conceal every bump and bulge of her out-of-shape body. She wanted to get to the showers, change and go home. She cleared her throat before voicing her thoughts.
‘I’m heading off to change and then going home,’ she said.
He reached out to touch her arm, probably merely a gesture of friendship or uncomplicated comfort, but she pulled away.
‘Can I buy you a cup of tea before you go? Or a cappuccino, if you’d prefer? I noticed the coffee shop on the mezzanine next to the gym is still there and they used to do a reasonable brew.’
His expression was a cross between little-boy pleading and fully-grown-man insistence and she couldn’t think of any reasonable excuse to refuse. The thought of a lovely strong cup of tea had its attraction too.
‘Okay, but I’m on an early tomorrow and I was hoping to get away soon.’
The twinkle in his lively blue eyes lasted a short second but there was no mistaking what he was thinking. She knew he was a gentleman and wouldn’t act on his thoughts. Most women wouldn’t have even noticed but she was so tuned to his body language, even now, after more than three years. Joanna took her towel from her shoulders and fixed it around her waist.
‘Great. My things are over there on the seat. I won’t be a minute.’
She stood at the side of the pool and watched him walk over to the benches. His trunks were still wet and clung to his perfect buttocks like a second skin. An image of a similar front-on view flashed into her mind. To her bewilderment, heat suffused her face and her body responded in a way that brought back downright sexy memories of a time in her life she’d believed she would never revisit. She was definitely glad Richard had his back to her.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She was over this man and finally getting a divorce was well overdue. She had nothing to give him. Most of her love had dried up and what she had left she gave to the kids she cared for on Matilda. She knew Richard well enough to realise that children were a very important part of a marriage for him. And she didn’t have the physical or emotional strength to go through the traumas of IVF, with no guarantees of success.
She banished any romantic thoughts of her husband from her mind.
‘A quick cuppa, inconsequential small talk, and then home,’ she muttered, wishing she’d had the assertiveness to say no to Richard’s invitation in the first place.
Richard was ambling back looking as relaxed as a med student who’d just finished his final exams. He’d pulled on his T-shirt but it stuck to his damp skin and did little to hide the muscles beneath. She thought of her own exposed state, well aware that unlined wet Lycra probably made her look like she was trying out for a wet T-shirt competition. She doubted Richard would have more than a passing interest in her less than perfect body, though.
As if he was reading her mind, he said, ‘If you want to change, I can meet you up at the coffee shop.’
‘Yes, good idea,’ she said, grateful for the opportunity to have a few minutes on her own in close proximity to a mirror. She cringed at the thought of what she looked like—shorn scalp with a double layer of transparent adhesive dressing pasted onto the back of her head, which was still decorated with a small wound and a large multicoloured bruise; a five-year-old swimsuit that only still fitted her because it had lost much of its elasticity with age; and a body that had folds and bulges she’d rather not think about and had also lost much of its elasticity with age…and pregnancy…and lack of time or motivation to keep in shape.
She had to admit she hadn’t paid much attention to her appearance over the past few years—she’d had no need. Her kids didn’t care what she looked like. They hadn’t reached the age where the buzz words when it came to the opposite sex were that looking good was all that mattered. She rarely went out socially and if a male paid any attention to her she always managed to put them off in the first five minutes.
So why was what she looked like suddenly so important?
Of course she knew the answer.
She didn’t want Richar
d to think she’d let herself go. Being attractive for him was suddenly taking on an importance that made her feel anxious and she certainly didn’t need any more stress in her life.
Get a grip of yourself.
She was above all that flirty, sexy, look-at-me stuff that some women seemed to make a vocation of. If it mattered to Richard what she looked like, which she doubted, then he’d changed and it was another reason to get the divorce through as soon as they could.
When she reached the change rooms she un-tucked her towel from around her waist, dried herself and slipped off her bathers, deciding to leave her shower until she got home. She took care not to look in the direction of the mirrors, which seemed to have multiplied since she’d entered the room. She slipped on her knickers, shorts and T-shirt and finally glanced at the mirror as she attempted to finger-comb her hair.
Whoops!
What hair? She still hadn’t gotten used to the bald look.
She took the opportunity to do a full body assessment and decided she had definitely had bad hair days when she’d looked a lot worse.
Taking a deep breath, she gathered her things and headed off to the coffee shop to find Richard.
* * *
Richard decided if he couldn’t avoid seeing Joanna, he’d make the most of their meeting. A cup of tea had seemed a good idea at the time. Neutral territory, the distraction of others as insurance against awkwardness, a view of the pool area.
His gaze settled on the splashing, yelling, exuberant clump of children in the water.
Happy children.
Healthy children.
Children who had their whole lives ahead of them.
He thought he’d prepared himself for the inevitable memories but the heart-rending emotion he felt took him by surprise. Maybe seeing all the kids either playing or seriously swimming wasn’t such a good idea. He’d just have to wait and see.
He found a table that wasn’t right on the edge of the mezzanine floor but close enough to get a good view of the pools. His attention drifted to the play pool and he recalled the many evenings he’d spent with Sam and Joanna. Sometimes, like now, he’d been content to just sit and watch the antics of the children and their parents. The youngsters were usually accompanying older sibs who were having more formal lessons and the thing he loved so much about watching them was their lack of inhibition. They were exuberantly happy most of the time but occasionally there’d be a disagreement about someone going ahead of their turn on the slide, or pinching another kid’s beach ball. Simple things that usually resulted in all hell letting loose.
But, at times, the parents were even more entertaining. Over the years of taking Sam to the pool and the beach he’d worked out there were three broad groups of parents. First there were the blustery, sergeant-major types—shouting orders no one took any notice of, trying to organise team games that were totally inappropriate for pre-school-aged children, and when the screaming started the aim of this type of parent was to yell at least twice as loud as the child or children to drown them out. Usually the pool attendant had to intervene by asking the parent to leave.
Second was the I-don’t-want-to-be-here parent. They would sit on the benches, reading magazines, occasionally glancing up to make sure their child hadn’t drowned but otherwise leaving the hapless youngster to their own devices. The poor kid was usually decked out in such an elaborate array of floating devices that he or she could hardly move, let alone protest, and if the child became involved in a mêlée the parent would intentionally ignore the fact their son or daughter was involved and leave someone else to sort it out.
And the third type of parent was…Joanna. Well, she was a perfect example. She came into the pool with a smile on her face that said she was glad to be alive and even more overjoyed to have a beautiful, happy, healthy child to share that joy. She was capable of totally shedding her inhibitions and playing, in the fullest sense of the word. That meant blowing disgustingly loud raspberries, splashing great spurts of water, not only at the kids but at often bewildered parents, throwing children high in the air, sorting out disagreements by distractions that always left both the aggressors and victims laughing.
He’d seen that natural love of the simple things in life when he’d observed Joanna playing with the toddlers on Matilda Ward. It cut a hole in his heart. Why had someone who loved children so much, who had such a natural affinity for nurturing and mothering, been deprived so cruelly?
He had spent many hours ruminating over this question during the course of Sam’s illness but he still hadn’t come up with an answer.
It was meant to be?
Every cloud has a silver lining?
What goes around comes around?
All glib clichés that lost their relevance in the brutal reality of life, he thought.
Joanna…
He watched her climb the stairs and wondered if he was falling in love with her all over again, for different, more enduring reasons.
There was no doubt she was still the full package in the looks department. He loved her new curves that she’d displayed so tantalisingly in that gorgeous almost see-through costume. The naked-but-not-quite-naked look had blood coursing through his veins at a speed he definitely wasn’t used to. And not only was her body different but she was happy again.
She’d been stick thin and gaunt when he’d left to go overseas and she’d rarely smiled. Her GP had diagnosed depression and done all the right things. Referred her for grief counselling, suggested a support group and prescribed an antidepressant. But she’d not followed through with his recommendations and said she would get through in her own way and her own time. He’d felt so guilty when he’d left but Joanna had made it quite clear that his presence in her life was making her recovery more difficult. Her telling him that, over and over, had been like a series of body blows but it had probably been her way of trying to spare him the pain of experiencing her suffering.
No wonder she didn’t want to get close to him again.
Her new life seemed to have left the past where it belonged. And good for her.
But—there was no other way of saying it—his heart still ached for her and he still wanted to be the one to be there for her, her significant other.
She stood at the top of the stairs, gazing around the shop, looking for him.
He waved and she manoeuvred her way through the scattered tables to where he sat.
‘Hi, sit down. I haven’t ordered yet. What would you like?’
‘A white tea, thanks.’
‘That’s all? Nothing to eat?’
‘No, thanks, just the tea.’
They were carrying on a conversation like wary strangers. Richard got up to get the drinks and came back with a packet of sandwiches and Joanna’s favourite chocolate bar. He smiled sheepishly, expecting to be reprimanded.
‘They had a special on chocolate and I thought we deserved an indulgence as a reward for our hard work in the pool.’
It was worth the risk—she actually rewarded him for his humour with a smile.
‘I don’t know whether I deserve any. I spent the best part of an hour playing with Teresa Deleo’s youngest. Do you remember the Deleos?’
‘How could I forget? If you dared to cheer louder than—was his name Rick?’ Joanna nodded. ‘For a child that wasn’t his you’d risk life and limb.’
Joanna laughed and it was like the winter sun emerging from behind a dark cloud and lighting up the whole world with happiness. For a moment he was lost for words and just wanted to soak in the warmth of her.
‘That’s right. Do you remember Teresa was pregnant?’
‘Not really. Men don’t take much notice. That’s my excuse, anyway.’
‘You’re forgiven. She was only a couple of months, I think. Their fourth. Little Carlo, the baby I had the pleasure of borrowing to play with, well, he’s the result.’
Richard looked at Joanna for a moment, trying to gauge if there were any regrets, any resentment that she didn’t have a
child of her own. For a change, her face was open and easy to read. She had enjoyed her time with her friend’s child and unless she hid it well, she had no bad feelings.
‘You probably had a harder workout than me. You definitely deserve chocolate.’
She took the offered chocolate and carefully unwrapped it to expose a couple of triangles, which she snapped off, offering one to him.
‘No, thanks, I’ll start on the sandwiches.’
For some reason he expected she’d refuse the food and he interpreted her acceptance as a symbol of her acceptance of him. Not as a husband or potential lover but someone she was comfortable sitting with in a coffee shop, simply sharing a hot drink.
It was a start, if only a small step, and would make their work together easier.
He opened the sandwiches and offered the package to her but she shook her head, already sucking the chocolate, making it last as she always had.
They ate and drank in silence for a couple of minutes. Richard wanted to ask her so many questions, personal questions like what had finally brought her out of her depression? Had it been a difficult decision to embark on nursing children with cancer? How did she cope on her own? Did she still sing? Had she had any lovers?
But it was too soon and she would probably think it was none of his business, so instead they talked about work and a little about his trip overseas and nothing about what really mattered. There was a film of tension hanging between them that they were both trying their hardest to pretend didn’t exist.
When they finished it was close to nine-thirty, half an hour before the centre’s closing time, and the staff of the coffee shop made it clear they were keen for their remaining customers to leave so they could get on with the cleaning up.
‘Do you want a lift home?’ Richard offered. He didn’t know if she had a car.
‘No, thanks, I’ve brought my car.’
‘I’ll walk you out to the car park, then.’
She shrugged as if she didn’t have the energy to resist and he followed her down the stairs. They walked past the main pool in silence. The Seal Squad had disbanded and gone home and there were only a few stragglers in the play pool—certainly no sign of the Deleos, to Richard’s relief.
How To Save a Marriage in a Million Page 8