Fairway to Heaven

by Lily Malone

  Amber reaches for it.

  Seb squirms. He’s had enough cuddle time, he’s ready to move.

  ‘You should take him to the beach, Jackson. Let Jennifer and I talk.’ She taps her fingers on the mug.

  Jack looks at me. ‘Do you think he’ll come with me?’

  I check my watch as tactfully as I can. ‘Well — ’

  ‘Jackson hasn’t seen Sebastian all week, Jennifer. Surely you don’t mind him taking his son to the beach?’

  I give up. Amber is an inexorable force.

  ‘The pram is inside the laundry, just around the door to the left. It’s not like you’re far away if he cries, just come back.’

  Jack drains his coffee in three quick gulps, then goes to get the pram. While he straps Seb in, I get the orange bulldozer from where it’s buried in a rock pile near the front steps and hand it to Jack. ‘This one’s his favourite. There’s a track that goes to the beach fifty metres up the street. You can’t get the whole way pushing the pram, but it’s not far to walk.’

  ‘I saw it on the way in. We won’t be long,’ Jack says. He’s trying to push the pram, but he hasn’t taken the brakes off, and it stutters and jumps.

  ‘What the f — ’ he substitutes, ‘flipping heck is wrong with this thing.’

  ‘Brakes, Jack,’ I offer.

  He disengages the brakes and the pram rolls smoothly across the lawn.

  Amber glares at me. I don’t know what her problem is and right now I don’t care. I take my tea-bag out of the cup while I’m up, squeeze it with my fingers, and throw the bag into the weeds. Then, I call after Jack, ‘Don’t let him in the water. You might get that eczema meltdown I told you about.’

  ‘Okay,’ he says, and he’s gone.

  ‘Eczema meltdown?’ Amber queries, as I sit.

  ‘He gets it on his legs — it’s not bad — but the salt water stung it this week. He was in tears at the beach.’

  ‘You like it when Jack fails as a father, don’t you.’ It’s not a question.

  ‘What? No. Of course not. Why would you say that?’

  ‘You like that he doesn’t know about brakes on the pram…that he defers to you. It’s the only superiority a woman has in a relationship — the expertise when it comes to handling children.’ She sees me about to protest and cuts me off.

  ‘I’ve been there too, Jennifer. I remember what it was like. Men are expert at everything, except babies. Once Sebastian is older, his father will be just as capable as you at knowing what Sebastian wants and needs. He won’t defer to you over Sebastian’s care anymore. So make the most of it now, because it won’t last.’

  Should I be outraged, or stunned? I can’t decide. Worse, there’s this sneaky alarm bell clanging in my head that tells me Amber has a point.

  Even in the middle of the never-ending night feeds, when I’d be settling Seb — cursing Jack who I could hear snoring in our big queen bed — I loved that Seb wanted me. He didn’t want Jack. That’s the smug part of me that smirked when Jack tried to push the locked-up pram.

  Amber regards me with a small, sad smile.

  ‘A child needs both parents equally, Jennifer,’ she says. ‘I want you to give my son another chance.’

  Finally, I find my voice. ‘We fight all the time…’

  ‘That’s normal with the stress of a new baby. Everyone goes through it.’

  I shake my head. ‘We haven’t been good for ages.’

  The breeze ruffles the sprayed tips of Amber’s hair. Even now, almost half past five, the wind holds no relief — it’s the warmest day of summer so far.

  ‘Is there someone else?’ Amber asks, more gently than I would have thought her capable.

  ‘Is that what Jack said?’

  ‘He told me he asked you for another chance, but you won’t discuss it.’

  ‘There’s not much to discuss, quite frankly.’ Not after what he did.

  Amber sighs, and her face, which has been as open as I’ve ever known it, closes. ‘You won’t get half his house. So don’t try.’

  It makes my mind reel in confusion. ‘Amber, I don’t want half his house.’

  She chuckles, a strangled-cat sound. ‘What do you want then?’

  ‘I want what’s best for Seb.’

  Digging into her handbag, she says, ‘I really didn’t want to do this, but you don’t leave me a choice.’

  Amber pulls out a crisp white envelope, unsealed, and lets a stack of glossy photographs unravel toward me. I flinch from them, like she’s unleashed a snake on the table.

  The picture on top is of me at the beach house, my elbows over the railing, Sebby sitting on the lawn playing with the black plastic pot.

  I reach for the pile, flick through it.

  Brayden hugging me on the steps.

  Seb and I at the beach the day he had the eczema attack. The camera has captured him mid-scream, hurting, eyes terrified, mouth wide. And me, kneeling in the water, my arms tight on him.

  On the jetty: Brayden and I catching squid.

  Each photograph I turn spreads more poison.

  A red-brick toilet block, Seb parked in his pram outside, alone.

  ‘You’ve been spying on me?’

  Carefully, patiently, Amber recrosses her legs, flicks the crease out of her pants. ‘When Jackson told me you’d taken Sebastian away, I had a surveillance team find you. It wasn’t hard.’

  ‘Does Jack know about these?’ I flick the photos. ‘Has he seen them? And why would you do this? Why on earth?’

  She answers my questions in order. ‘Yes, he knows. He hasn’t seen any of the ones with the Culhane man — I didn’t want to hurt him like that. He’s seen the others. I did it for insurance.’

  ‘Insurance?’

  ‘If a judge sees these, particularly this one,’ she taps the photo of Seb on his own outside the toilet block, ‘and this,’ a tap on the one of Seb crying at the beach, ‘What do you think he’d say?’

  My index finger stabs the first picture. ‘I left him alone for two minutes, Amber. No longer than that. And this one, this is that eczema meltdown I mentioned.’ I stab the second.

  ‘So who would we tell the judge this is then?’ Her fingernail clicks the photo where Brayden hugs me on the porch. ‘Someone you picked up off the street?’

  ‘I don’t pick men up off the street.’

  ‘You met my son in a pub. That’s almost the same thing.’

  Every tiny hair on my body is standing on end.

  ‘Perception is reality, Jennifer. I’m just letting you know, if you’re thinking of taking Jack for half his house, if you’re thinking of taking Sebastian away. I’ll fight for him.’ Amber leans forward, elbows tucked hard into her sides, and she points at me. ‘You’re the one who left. You’re the one who walked away. It counts in a court of law, mark my words.’

  ‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you that he’s the one who cheated?’ The words erupt from the lava pit of emotion churning in my gut.

  Amber’s eyes widen. ‘What?’

  ‘I said, doesn’t it count that Jack cheated?’ Each syllable comes out on a shallow breath. ‘He screwed Marnie James at Sea Breeze Golf Club last Thursday.’

  ‘That’s impossible — ’ her skin flushes red, then white.

  Jack hasn’t told her. ‘I saw them, Amber.’

  She slumps into her deckchair and her hands snake to the chair arms for support. The gold links on her wrists glint, and her breathing is so fast I can see the chain rise and fall at her throat.

  Suddenly, I pity Amber her jewels. They’re all she’s got. That’s why she’s fighting so hard to keep Seb in her life.

  It’s this sudden understanding that makes me lean forward and reach for her hand.

  Her skin is surprisingly cool under mine. The tendons of her wrist flinch. She’s clutching the chair like it’s her anchor to earth.

  ‘I want Seb to grow up with you and Jack in his life.’ I say it like I’m making a promise to a dying woman. ‘I don’t want to
end up in court. The last thing I want is to put Sebby through that.’

  ‘I didn’t know he cheated on you. I had no idea.’ Her eyes meet mine, bright with emotions she’s trying hard to hold. ‘I know how that feels.’

  There’s a scrunch of tyres on gravel and I swivel my head toward the road. Brayden’s car noses into the driveway.

  At the same time, Jack reappears. He’s walking fast, toes almost stubbing the pram wheels with each step. Speed makes Seb’s blonde curls stand straight.

  ‘Can we continue this conversation, Amber?’ I ask. ‘Another time, please.’

  She nods. Her gaze isn’t exactly warm, but at least it’s less icy.

  Taking three steps in one, I’m off the steps and on the grass. Emmy’s face cranes from the passenger seat as Brayden drives past the house to park behind the shack.

  Jack is breathing harder than I would have thought the walk warranted, and Seb is all big eyes and smiles.

  ‘We’ve run from the beach path. He loved it,’ Jack grins.

  I can’t quite match that grin, but I do manage a smile.

  Amber says to Jack, ‘Darling, we’d better get going. Jenn has guests, and I’m sure she’s got things to do.’

  I can’t remember a time Amber has ever called me Jenn. Judging by the look on Jack’s face, he can’t either.

  ‘When are you heading back to the city? Are you around tomorrow?’ I ask Jack, but it’s Amber who responds.

  ‘We’ll be here.’

  ‘Maybe if you come after lunch, you could take Sebby out somewhere. Like for icecream, or to a playground or something. He’d love that.’ If Amber is willing to call a truce, I’ll meet her halfway.

  Jack’s gaze flicks over my shoulder and he frowns.

  Brayden and Emmy are coming toward us, walking around the side of the beach house.

  Sebby sees them too, bangs his fist at the bar on the pram, and I unbuckle him while I perform introductions for Amber.

  Even Brayden and Jack shake hands — if that brutal clenching of palms classifies as a handshake.

  ‘We were just leaving,’ Amber says to Emmy.

  ‘That’s convenient,’ Jack mutters.

  I tense, but I don’t think anyone else hears because Emmy’s asking Amber where they’re staying and the wind blows Jack’s words away.

  Sebby arches his back, squirms in my grip like a slippery eel. We’re too close to the road here for me to risk putting him on the ground. There are too many Friday night travellers zeroing in on the caravan park.

  He slips again and this time the others notice. Brayden and Jack step toward me, each ready to take Seb from my arms. Both of them hesitate, and there’s an infinitesimal moment in which Brayden stays frozen, and Jack comes on.

  ‘Come on, buddy. You’re too heavy for Mum.’ Jack puts his hands under Seb’s armpits.

  Seb wiggles harder, twisting away from his father, bunting his head at my chest.

  ‘He’s tired,’ I apologise to Jack as I adjust Seb’s weight. ‘It’s been a big day.’

  Jack, face reddening, tries to pry Seb from me. ‘Come on, mate.’

  ‘It’s okay, Jack. Leave him,’ I say.

  Again Amber implores, ‘Come on Jackson, it’s late, he’s tired. Let’s go.’

  Jack’s arms drop to his sides.

  I feel for him.

  I feel worse two seconds later when Seb leans out from me — like Jack isn’t even there — and opens his arms for Brayden.

  Chapter 18

  ‘Well that’s just typical,’ Jack says. ‘Cut in on my girl, cut in on my kid.’

  He’s trying to make a joke of it, but the emotion on his face is so raw, I don’t buy it. Neither do the others. Seb reaching out to any man like that would have hurt, but that it had to be Brayden? It twists the knife.

  ‘Seb hasn’t seen you for a week, Jack. Brayden was here last weekend so he’s a bit more familiar with him. That’s all it is,’ I say, doing my best to soothe things over, shifting to compensate for Seb’s lunging weight.

  Jack looks hard at me. ‘Last weekend?’

  Too late, I remember Amber telling me she hadn’t shown Jack the pictures of me and Brayden at the beach house.

  Holding Sebby tight in my arms, keeping him away from either Brayden or Jack, the stress in my body transmits to my son like flames racing over spilt fuel. He lets out a full-blown battle cry.

  It’s Emmy who takes him from me.

  Jack hasn’t moved. He’s on the balls of his feet, strung tight as a drum, and his eyes follow Emmy as she and Seb head inside.

  Amber takes Jack’s elbow. Any other woman might have been shaken off, not his mother. She’s a limpet. ‘Jackson, I want to see my grandson tomorrow, so don’t you dare spoil it by losing your temper now.’

  He gives an inch.

  It’s a twisted, crab-like plod — half backwards, half sideways — but slowly Amber draws him to the car. Once they get closer, Jack throws off her hand and moves faster. There’s some debate over who drives, but it’s Jack who takes the wheel.

  I don’t dare glance at Brayden. I don’t want to set Jack off.

  The BMW makes a three-point turn across the road, spinning a shower of gravel. Then it returns the way it came.

  My knees are like jelly, and I let out a huge breath that is more like a shudder.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Brayden’s eyes delve mine, an intense gaze that misses nothing.

  ‘I think so.’

  Gently, he pulls me into his side and wraps an arm around my shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, too.’

  We walk across the lawn, up the rickety steps. Inside.

  ***

  Emmy is sitting on one of the green kitchen swivel-chairs, Seb on her knees. I hug her hello and my hug is tighter, and lasts longer, than normal. I’m so glad to see her.

  ‘Thank you for bringing him inside.’

  ‘Anytime, sweetie. You know that.’

  Brayden spreads out on the window seat. I lean my backside against the kitchen countertop.

  Every ten seconds or so, Emmy whizzes her chair, taking Seb for the ride and making him giggle. It’s such a relief hearing laughter after the last crazy hour, my heart finally stops pumping adrenaline through my system, and I can think. It’s so much to sort through.

  Amber’s wants. Jack’s needs. My emotions. Sebby.

  I feel like that carcass at the zoo, lions tearing at every corner.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Emmy says eventually.

  ‘It’s a long story, Em.’

  ‘We’ve got time. Are you okay?’

  I shrug. ‘An hour ago I was Super Jenn. Now I’m a whole bucketful of messed up.’

  She doesn’t push. Neither does Brayden. And if the kitchen is too quiet and my hospitality is lacking, Seb’s squeals of excitement as he spins on the chair with Emmy help cover my lapse.

  After a while, I start shuffling items from the pantry and fridge, getting Seb’s dinner ready — pumpkin pasta — and as my hands carry out the routine chopping and dicing, I tell the Culhanes about my afternoon.

  It takes a while, and when I reach the part about the photographs, Emmy shakes her head. She’s been shaking it almost solidly for fifteen minutes.

  ‘Amber had you under surveillance?’ She tosses the packet of photographs — I had to retrieve them from the porch table before she’d fully believe me — and it slews across the table.

  Brayden’s looked at them too, and he’s barely said a word. The muscle keeps clenching in his jaw: on, off, like a switch.

  ‘Remember when I told you I busted some guy urinating in the bush this week?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Emmy says, then her mouth opens in an “O” of understanding. ‘Oh… Nooo.’

  I nod. ‘I think he was waiting for me, but I turned the other way that day for our walk. I usually head for the jetty, but that day I turned west.’

  ‘And maybe he was just a guy taking a leak,’ Brayden
says. ‘Don’t get paranoid.’

  ‘Maybe he was a private investigator with a camera, taking a leak,’ Emmy says, and she giggles.

  I do too. Even Brayden’s lips twitch.

  I slip a bib over Seb’s head, tug it over his ears.

  ‘Last Saturday, there was a guy with a camera out the front. I thought he was photographing flowers or the house. He was taking pictures of me.’

  ‘And you think that’s all so Amber Bannerman could prove you weren’t a fit mother if it ever went to court,’ Emmy concludes.

  Brayden sits a little straighter. ‘You should get a lawyer, Jenn. You’d be entitled to some kind of financial settlement. You’ve been with Jack for a long time, and the two of you have Seb.’

  ‘I don’t want to do anything if it makes Jack sell his house. It’s been in his family for years.’

  ‘But if you put your own money into his house…’ Emmy says. ‘You won’t ever get that back without him selling it, or at least, without some kind of settlement.’

  Brayden adds, ‘There’s interest on the money too, Jenn. You’ve got to think what else you might have earned if you’d invested the cash you put into his property, like in shares or something.’

  ‘You need a lawyer,’ Emmy echoes her brother. ‘There’s child support to think about. Custody.’

  ‘I don’t want to drag Sebby through the courts.’ I add a pinch of salt to the water boiling on the stove, then dump in a big handful of penne pasta.

  ‘You might not have any choice, Jenn. What will you do for money otherwise? You can stay here as long as you like but you need some kind of nest egg behind you.’

  She’s right. I know she’s right. ‘I’ll have to make some calls. I’m sure I saw on the web that you don’t have to go to court to resolve this type of thing. Mediation might be an option.’

  ‘If Jack and Amber agree on a settlement with you, and you all agree on custody — you might be right. I don’t think anybody puts a gun to your head and says you have to go to court.’

  ‘His old lady is the one with the money. She’s the one you’ll have to convince,’ Brayden says.

  I think about that for a minute, running Amber’s words through my head. Amber softened at the end there, I’m sure of it.