The Swim Club

by Anne De Lisle

  Lee wanders up behind me. ‘Charlie! You looking for a bathroom too?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, flustered.

  ‘That one’s occupied?’

  ‘Yes.’ I grab his arm. ‘There’s a queue. Let’s go back to the house.’

  ‘I can wait,’ he says. ‘Or there’s always the shrubbery.’

  ‘No! Cate wouldn’t like that.’

  A man emerges from the cottage, buttoning his shirt, zipping himself up. Lee freezes, and I know he knows what I know.

  He strides towards the cottage steps, but Doug is already away, melting into the shadows of the house. ‘Don’t, Lee,’ I say.

  He doesn’t hear me, doesn’t see me.

  I think about the dairy farmer, the wife and the vicar, and hurry after him. But Lee doesn’t have a gun. Neither does he have bloodlust in his eyes. He stands at the open doorway of the cottage and I hear him say, ‘I suppose it was only a matter of time.’ Then, ‘Get dressed and go home. I don’t want you ruining Cate’s night.’

  There’s fury and disgust in his voice, but admirable self-control. I make myself scarce. No one’s in danger and I don’t want to hear any more private, painful words. I’m shocked, jittery, and I feel like weeping. Back inside, I rejoin the queue for the bathroom.

  At last it’s my turn. I lock the door and lean against it. Not my business, not my affair, so why do I feel so upset? It’s not that I give an iota what Doug does with any part of his anatomy. But I care about Lee, and seeing him thumped between the eyes by the careless selfishness of such a scurvy pair has me aching for him. Not to mention reeling back to the time of my own misery. I go to the mirror and stare at my face. I see the old Charlie who’s never jumped a hurdle, never spoken her mind to Alec. I see the Charlie who’s still bobbing with her milk bottles in the deep end of the swimming pool. Why is life so full of betrayal?

  There are others waiting outside in the corridor, I know I can’t hide in here all night. With a deep breath, I open the door.

  ‘What’s up?’ says Laura when I find her. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Perhaps I have.’

  She’s worried. I don’t want her to be, especially now that she’s pregnant.

  ‘Not my problem this time,’ I say. ‘Someone else’s. Everything will probably come out for public consumption one of these days but, for now, I expect the main players would be grateful if I held my tongue.’

  She squeezes my arm. Then, ‘I’m glad it’s not your problem, Charlie.’

  ‘I know. Thanks. Sam looks well. Very happy.’

  She follows my eyes to where he’s standing across the room, talking and laughing. ‘I think maybe, just maybe, it’s going to be all right,’ she says. ‘Not perfect, but all right.’

  Which is exactly what I need to hear. But I’m tired. I want to go home. When Karen appears at my side, and says, ‘Ready when you are,’ I sigh with relief.

  CHAPTER 22

  THE DAY AFTER THE party I ring Alec. ‘They’re ready to see you,’ I tell him. ‘Next weekend if you’re free.’

  ‘Great. That’s great. Yes, of course I’ll make myself free.’

  ‘There are terms,’ I say.

  A short silence. Alec doesn’t like me telling him what he can and can’t do. ‘Your terms or theirs?’

  ‘Ours. They want to meet you in a public place. At Mountain View Park. You’re not welcome here at our home. They have agreed to meet you without me being present, but you are to bring the baby.’

  ‘Now wait a minute –’

  ‘Those are the terms.’

  ‘Emma might not like me bringing Claire.’

  Claire. Sweet name. ‘They are her brothers, Alec, in case you had forgotten. She has a right to get to know them.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Ten o’clock on Sunday. At the park. For an hour. With the baby.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Short and sweet. Too easy.

  When I arrive at the pool the next morning it’s raining, and I make a dash from my car to the changing room. Wendy, Karen and Laura are already there, togged up and ready to go. ‘My turn for news,’ I say, and dump my damp bag on the bench, ‘but maybe it should wait till after we swim.’

  They all stand their ground. I am pinned to the spot by much folding of arms and steely looks.

  ‘Okay, but don’t get excited.’

  Wendy unfolds her arms. ‘Then it’s not about Doug?’

  ‘No, it’s not about Doug.’

  ‘He did vanish a bit mysteriously from Cate’s party,’ says Karen.

  ‘Didn’t he just.’ Laura eyes me suspiciously. ‘He didn’t track you down for a midnight kiss then?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Strange. I thought he’d be the type to hang on to the end.’

  Laura sounds so disappointed. If only she knew how grateful, how unspeakably grateful I am that I didn’t allow myself to succumb to the shallow charms of the man.

  ‘Anyway,’ I say, anxious to get off the subject of Doug, ‘Karen’s the one more likely to have news about a man.’

  All attention swings to Karen. ‘For God’s sake, Charlie, Dominic’s just an old friend.’

  Wendy is riveted. ‘You mean that big guy you were dancing with at Cate’s?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Karen, ‘that’s who she’s on about. He’s nice and, yes, he is unattached, but I’m not interested in meeting anyone. Not yet.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘An old friend of Adam’s. They were at uni together, years ago, but Dominic’s been working in Victoria so they’d lost touch a bit. Though he did fly up for Adam’s funeral. Then about six months ago he was transferred to a bank on the coast here.’

  ‘And he knows Pete?’

  ‘Sort of. He’s Pete’s bank manager. Weird to invite your bank manager to your surprise birthday party, but,’ she pauses, eyes flicking to Cate, who’s been very quiet throughout this conversation, ‘I suspect a bit of a set-up.’

  ‘When Pete told me that his new bank manager had known Adam, how could I resist?’ confesses Cate, pulling on her cap.

  Cate’s the heroine of the morning, and it’s Karen’s turn to feel the scrutiny of the group. Nothing could be better designed to excite us all than the possibility – however remote – that Karen might find a new mate. Not to replace Adam, of course, never that, but to follow on. To pick up where Adam left off. To complete Karen’s life.

  ‘I know, I know,’ says Karen, tucking her hair into her cap, ‘you’re going to be watching me like hawks.’

  ‘We are,’ says Laura. ‘Though I’m still waiting to hear Charlie’s news.’

  ‘Not exciting,’ I say. ‘Just progressive. I’m taking the boys to meet Alec on Sunday. They’ve finally agreed to see him. On their own terms. But I think we should swim now, or we’re going to miss our session. I can tell you the details afterwards.’

  We saunter outside. Sean, standing beneath an umbrella, is tapping his watch and looking fierce.

  I love swimming in the rain. The heavier the rain the more it smothers the turbulence we swimmers create. Today it is battering flat every wave and ripple. Swimming is easier, smoother, and there’s no scorching sun on our cheeks when we turn our faces to breathe.

  There are two notable absentees from the fast lane.

  It’s hard to imagine what scenes were enacted at Lee and Anya’s home over the weekend. Did he throw her out, or did she throw him out? Has she run away to Doug, or begged for forgiveness? My heart goes out to Lee, and I know I have cause to be grateful that I was spared the nightmare of such a confrontation in my own marriage fiasco, that I didn’t make my discovery by stumbling on Alec and Emma entwined.

  Though it’s January the rain has chilled us, and when our swim is over we’re quick to dive under the hot showers, where I relate the plans for Alec’s visit.

  ‘You don’t think you should stay with them?’ says Wendy.

  ‘I would have if the boys had wanted me to. But I admit I’m
grateful they don’t. I’d find it hard to sit there for an hour without giving him a slap or a kick, or just sniping sarcastically at him.’ I turn off the taps and reach for my towel.

  ‘Do you know where he lives?’ asks Wendy.

  ‘No, and don’t want to.’

  ‘There’s no chance that he would, um, go away with the boys?’

  My heart misses several beats. ‘No. No chance. Had they been younger, who knows? But Mikey and Dan are old enough to walk away, to catch a train home if he did anything so stupidly moronic.’

  ‘Just checking that you’d thought of it.’

  I manage a smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll make sure they’ve got money for the train fare.’

  Before I know it, Sunday arrives. I slide out of bed and head for the kitchen. There’s a sick feeling in the pit of my belly and a heavy reluctance dragging on my limbs. I don’t want to do this, can’t stand to be doing this, and I’m hating Alec with a vengeance for forcing it upon us, for upsetting our happy little apple cart.

  Better try to be bright for the boys. ‘Cooked breakfast?’ I suggest when they appear, tousled and pyjama-clad.

  ‘Thanks Mum.’

  There’s not much conversation over breakfast. The boys read me like a book. At least I can maintain politeness about their father, never let them hear accusing slurs on my lips. But it’s so hard to eat. My stomach feels locked, my hands feel clammy, my chest hurts. I think of Laura’s words: Every time your hand trembles or his memory makes you sick, it’s his victory. Dan and Mikey are nervous too, although they’d never admit it.

  The squabble over the front seat of the car is reassuring. It restores my faith in the normality of life. But the boys slip into silence as we draw close to the park.

  We pull in on the dot of ten. He’s there already, standing by his parked car, the child in his arms.

  I haven’t seen Alec since the day he walked out four and a half years ago. Attending our divorce hearing, two years after he left, was compulsory only for Alec, seeing as he was the one seeking the divorce. Not obliged to be present, I kept well away.

  He looks the same. A bit older, a few grey hairs at the temples, a deepening of the crow’s feet at his eyes. But he’s dressed differently. Three-quarter pants, a snug-fitting T-shirt, and there’s a circle of beads round his neck: the sort of thing you’d see on a bleached-haired surfer. I stifle a giggle. Alec is dressing like a teenager. It’s an immensely liberating sight. Suddenly, as the only adult in the presence of four children, I feel as though I’ve regained the upper hand.

  ‘Hello Alec.’ I try to sound friendly, afraid of frightening the little girl. I give her a smile, and say, ‘You must be Claire.’ She buries her face in her father’s shoulder.

  His eyes are on the boys. I can see he’s surprised by the size of them. Did he expect them to stop growing in his absence, to be frozen in time and look as they did when he shot out of the door? I have to bite my tongue not to make a snide comment.

  ‘Dan. Mikey.’ He looks from one to the other, and I realise he can’t tell who is who. I can’t bear it for them and know I must sort it out fast. ‘Mikey’s in the black T-shirt, Dan is in the red,’ I say, silently urging, And for God’s sake remember it.

  He throws me a grateful look. ‘Do you want to go to the cafe?’ he asks them. ‘I’ve checked out the menu, it’s just scones and ice cream, but Claire’s pretty hopeful. Then we could go for a walk.’

  The boys nod and turn to me. ‘See you later, Mum.’

  I give them each a kiss, which they don’t seem to mind today. Perhaps they know that I need to kiss them, to mark my territory. ‘See you at eleven.’

  ‘See you.’

  CHAPTER 23

  THE HOUSE HAS NEVER felt more empty. It’s not that the boys haven’t been out before, of course. They go to school. They visit friends. They play sport. But today is different. Knowing that Mikey and Dan are with Alec has given life to a torrent of long-buried fears. I’m afraid for the boys. I’m afraid of what kind of rollercoaster of emotions might be triggered by today’s meeting. Will the return of their father drag half-forgotten memories to the surface: the pain and confusion of his leaving? How will they feel when Alec waves them off? Will they be buoyed by the excitement of rediscovering their father, or terrified that he’ll never make contact again?

  I need to do something. Fill the time. I’m in the kitchen reaching for the kettle when there’s a knock on the door and the kettle almost slips from my hand. My immediate, irrational thought is that Alec has followed me, used the boys to engineer an invasion of my home. Poised to do battle, I go to the front door and fling it open.

  It’s Lee.

  ‘Hello Charlie. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I say, recovering fast. ‘Would you like to come in?’ I step back and let him into the entrance hall.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, peering close.

  ‘Fine. I’m fine.’

  ‘Were you expecting someone?’

  ‘No. God no. Your knock was a surprise, that’s all. More importantly, how are you?’

  ‘Well adjusted,’ he says.

  Only a week after he’s caught his wife sharing body fluids with his friend and business partner? I’m instantly suspicious. ‘I think you need a cup of tea,’ I tell him.

  Back in the kitchen, I set the kettle to heat. ‘Sit down,’ I say, and usher him to the kitchen table, hastily pushing aside piles of newspapers and magazines, taking away a jug of flowers that would be better suited to the compost heap. ‘I’m sorry it’s such a mess in here.’

  ‘It’s fine. No problem. Your place is great.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I wonder why he’s here. Perhaps he’s forgiven Anya and has come to ask me to keep quiet, hoping to keep a lid on his humiliation. Anxious to put his mind at rest, I say, ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone about what happened last week. It’s your business, yours and Anya’s. I just want you to know that. I’m only sorry that you’ve had to go through the shock of it all.’

  ‘Not much of a shock,’ he says. ‘It’s why we left the city and opened an office up this way. An attempt to save our marriage.’

  ‘I see. You’ve had the same problem before.’ It’s a statement not a question. The kettle boils. ‘Milk and sugar?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Just black, thanks. Yes, about three years ago Anya and Doug had an affair, a liaison, she called it. Less sordid-sounding I suppose.’

  He looks almost unperturbed, so in control of himself. It worries me. I sit at the table, pass him his tea. ‘A liaison. Good word. Almost innocent. Almost blameless.’

  He sips from his cup. ‘It took a lot to forgive Anya the first time. I don’t suppose I ever did really. Well, you sort of forgive, but you never feel quite the same about a person after that. It’s not just the lack of trust – it opens your eyes to the boundaries of their character.’

  ‘None of us are perfect.’

  ‘I thought Anya was when I married her.’ He smiles rather ruefully.

  ‘That’s sweet. Romantic. I guess we’d all like to believe that of our partner on our wedding day.’

  ‘I thought she was a princess. But along the way I began to realise there are some things she thinks are okay that I don’t think are okay. Things that really matter. You don’t mind me talking to you about this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I was willing to move away and try to get over it – for Mabel, you understand – but then Doug left the city too, and the next thing Anya is deciding to buy a house in these hills. Even closer to him. I knew it was pointless, but to be honest I no longer cared, just hung around for Mabel.’

  ‘Last week wasn’t unexpected then.’

  ‘Not unexpected, no.’

  ‘But still a hurt.’

  ‘Yes, a hurt. A big hurt. That is, it made me feel a fool for persisting as long as I did. Doug’s wife didn’t persist. She left him when it first started up.’ He pauses for a moment, looking into his tea. �
��Anya’s taken Mabel back to the city. Did you know?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘It’s for keeps this time. Not that I can speak for Anya and Doug, or predict whether they’ll stay together or not, but as far as I’m concerned it’s over. I certainly won’t be offering her another chance. I was probably the wrong man for her in the first place,’ he adds. ‘Doug’s the one she should have married.’

  ‘She knew him back then?’

  ‘He introduced us. He was married to his first wife at the time. Sometimes, in my darkest moments, I’ve wondered if it was going on even from the beginning.’

  ‘Don’t,’ I say. ‘Don’t imagine things that will torture you.’

  He smiles over the rim of his teacup. ‘It was torture once, not any more. They must have got a shock when you walked in on them, Charlie.’

  ‘So did I.’

  He reaches across the table, pats my hand. ‘I’m sorry. How selfish of me. I’m forgetting about you and Doug.’

  ‘There never was a me and Doug. Looking back, I suppose I was just a red herring.’

  ‘Doug’s interest in you? Maybe. No. Don’t think that. Don’t undervalue yourself, Charlie. I expect he was making a genuine attempt to get close to you. To be honest, I hated watching it, hated thinking that he might ease himself into your life then let you down. Anyway, he’s mad to have given up so easily. You’re a prize.’

  ‘A prize?’ I laugh. ‘You’re the mad one. Even if the perfect man pursued me, it’d be no good. I’m light-years from being willing to enter a relationship. I haven’t let a man near me in more than four years. Emotionally or physically.’

  I’m not sure why I’m telling Lee all this. Perhaps because I know he’s been wounded as I was. Perhaps because I don’t want him thinking that Doug and Anya’s actions have hurt me.

  ‘Then it’s about time you did.’ There’s a sort of fondness in his face as he says this that makes me hot under the collar.

  ‘Don’t,’ I say.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I like you, Lee, I like you a lot, and I don’t want you to spoil our friendship.’