by Liz Byrski
She had always done the emotional search and rescue in this relationship, she had carried that side of it for thirty-four years, managing the way they related to everyone, rescuing Doug from the various family dramas, shielding him, smoothing things over, making him feel better. She had always been the one to offer the olive branch after an argument, to broach the silence, to make the first concession, to suggest a compromise. She loved him dearly but she was exhausted with being responsible for his feelings. He looked at her now, waiting for the rescue that always came. But this time there was none; she could not rescue him from herself. The exhaustion ate into her limbs, her neck and head ached, and she wanted it to be over, for him to understand. Even to have him angry would be a release.
‘All right,’ he said, getting up and walking to the edge of the deck. ‘All right, supposing I agree to this –’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I said, supposing I agree to this –’
But she cut him off again, her exhaustion replaced now by anger. ‘It’s not a question of you agreeing to it, Doug. I’m going whether you agree to it or not. I’d like your agreement, I’d like your blessing, but I don’t need it.’
‘But we’re married, you’re my wife –’
‘Yes, and this is the twentieth century I’m not some chattel in your custody.’ She stacked the glasses onto the tray and walked away from the dark of the deck into the harsh light of the kitchen.
The estrangement was agonising. They lay in the darkness as far apart as possible to avoid inadvertent touching, each occasionally holding their breath to hear from the other’s breathing that they were still awake. The tension was stifling. The luminous green figures on the radio alarm clock showed the minutes turning to hours. Isabel thought she might never sleep again. She considered moving into one of the other rooms but knew it could only make things worse. It was ten past three when she felt his hand move across the chasm of the mattress and settle on hers. She turned hers palm up to hold his fingers.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a whisper. ‘I love you. I’m frightened of losing you.’
She turned and rolled towards him and they held each other. ‘You’re not losing me,’ she whispered against his shoulder. ‘I love you too. Love doesn’t rely on proximity.’
‘You may be different when you come back.’
‘Yes. You were different when you came back from Vietnam.’
‘Was I?’
‘Mmm. Very different, but you still loved me, and the kids.’
He paused, his hand stroking her shoulder. ‘I suppose I was … or … I mean … I knew I was different but I didn’t know you knew it.’
‘I’m a witch. Remember you told me that on our honeymoon, when I knew you were panicking about money?’
She felt his smile through the darkness. ‘Yes, I remember. I’ve become very dependent on you. So used to you always being there. The kids too. I don’t know how they’ll take it.’
‘That’ll depend to a great extent on how they see you taking it. You can make it easier or harder, for them and for me.’ She paused. ‘Will you help me?’
Doug gave a wry half-laugh that turned to a splutter. ‘Christ, Isabel, you want a lot. You want to bugger off for a year and leave me and you want me to help you make it okay with the kids too.’
‘And your parents.’
‘Shit! God knows what Mum’ll say.’
‘Will you?’
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he said, taking her hand in his again. ‘I’ll help you on one condition. I want to visit you once. Just once, please, halfway through. I’ll come to wherever you are.’
She hesitated, but he was not asking for much. ‘Of course.’
He held her tighter. ‘Do you remember that poster Kate used to have on her bedroom wall? It had a picture of a white horse on it and it said, if you love something let it go and it’ll come back.’
She nodded. ‘I remember.’
‘Does it always work out like that, d’you think?’
‘I don’t know. All I can tell you is that I love you and I need you, and that I have every intention of coming back.’
Two weeks later Sally and Isabel drove into the car park from opposite ends at the same time and ended up with their cars nose to nose, which meant that one of them wasn’t following the arrows.
‘Have you seen Grace?’ Isabel asked as they walked towards the glass-enclosed terrace of the café.
‘I had lunch with her last week,’ Sally said.
‘And?’
‘I assume you mean how is she feeling about your plans?’
Isabel nodded. ‘Yes, and is she still mad at me?’
Sally paused, thinking for a moment as they settled at a table for four. ‘She’s mad about something. She’s in that manic state, you know how she can be, irritable and very stressed. She knows she was unfair. She’s restless, uneasy. I think she’s genuinely concerned for you – and for Doug, and how it will all work out.’
They sat with their chairs turned to get a good view of the beach, which, despite the brilliant sunshine, had been emptied of its regular sun worshippers by the strong hot wind that was whipping up sand in stinging flurries.
‘I hate this wind,’ Robin groaned as she flopped into a chair, just minutes after Grace. ‘It makes me so tense and irritable.’
‘I don’t need the wind to make me like that.’ Grace smiled ruefully, looking straight at Isabel. ‘I can manage it all on my own!’
There was a subtle difference in the energy around the table, an unfamiliar tension. They tried talking about mutual friends, Robin told them about taking Maurice for his cat flu injection, Grace mentioned a concert at the university she thought the others might enjoy.
‘I’ve told Doug,’ Isabel said abruptly. ‘I’ve got my leave pass.’
‘How was it?’ Robin asked, casting a sidelong glance at Grace, who was showing an intense interest in her fingernails.
‘At the beginning, really awful. He was hurt and angry and he didn’t understand. I came so close to backing down …’
‘And?’
‘Well, then he just seemed to let go. I was so strung up, we’d talked and argued for hours and ended up barely speaking. Then quite suddenly it was as though all the stuff that had gone before dissipated, almost like we were on opposite sides of the street and he suddenly crossed to my side.’
Grace sniffed and looked out of the window.
‘Is he okay now?’ Sally asked.
‘He seems to be. He said he wanted to come and see me once, halfway through the year.’
‘And you agreed?’
‘Oh yes. Something had changed by then. It was as though he stopped thinking about how it would affect him, and started thinking about me.’
‘What about the kids?’ Grace asked.
Isabel gave a slight laugh. ‘Doug came with me to tell Deb and she had a fit! Cried and shouted at me, said I was abandoning them, that I didn’t care about her and Mac and the kids. I almost lost it with her but Doug stopped me, told Deb not to be so selfish and we left. I haven’t heard from her since. Doug’s spoken to her but he didn’t volunteer what she’d said so I thought I wouldn’t ask. Kate was fine but then she’s always been one to take herself off to different places. She thought it was a great adventure. She and Jason are off to Sydney next month because he’s got work there.’
‘And Luke?’ Sally asked.
‘Funny, really; he gave me a metaphorical pat on the head and suggested that I’d be back home in a month once I’d got it out of my system. It was like he was the parent and I was some wilful teenager leaving home.’
‘So when do you go?’ Grace asked.
‘The twelfth of May at seven in the morning. I’m heading to Lisbon first.’
There was a silence around the table as they registered what it would be like not to have her around, not to be able to pop in to the house where they were always welcome, throw themselves down among the magazines on the couch, an
d talk about anything from government spending to painting their toenails.
‘You’re an inspiration, Isabel,’ Sally said. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’
‘Are you really sure?’ Grace began. ‘I mean, Isabel, a year’s a long time, you might find your life, your relationships, are radically changed when you get back. You’re fifty-four. You may have to start over again in all sorts of ways.’
‘I know, Grace, and I know I’ll be different too. But it’s something I have to do or I’ll always regret it.
‘I think it’s terrific,’ Robin said.
‘I have to do it,’ Isabel said, a lump rising in her throat. ‘If I don’t make a stand and do this for myself I’ll always resent it.’
Grace had been looking out of the window. ‘Isabel, I’m sorry,’ she said, turning to face her. ‘Really sorry for the way I behaved last time. I think you’re crazy, I think you’re taking a terrible risk and I’m afraid that in a couple of years time you’re going to regret it horribly. But … well, it’s obviously really important to you. So anything you need, anything I can do to help …’ She paused. ‘You only have to ask.’ She looked around at the other three. ‘I know I couldn’t do it. I have a job, responsibilities, the kids need me around, babysitting and so on. I have two oldies to look after, I’m involved in all sorts of things. I wouldn’t want to give it up, not any of it – I love my life.’
Sally smiled at her across the table. ‘Tim and Angela have their own lives, Grace, and the oldies are in excellent hands at the hostel and the nursing home. And, anyway, no one’s asking you to give it up. But I’ve been thinking about it all week. I felt really envious of you, Isabel. I feel I’m ready to grow into something else but I can’t because I’m too involved in other people’s lives.’
‘Ours, you mean?’ Robin asked.
‘No! Not you guys, because it’s not a one-way street with you three. It’s give and take; something is always coming in as well as what goes out. But I’ve got myself too many hangers-on, people who seem to drain all my emotional energy and don’t give anything back.’
‘Harry?’ Isabel asked.
‘Harry, and my sister and her kids. It’s been a nightmare since her divorce. And there are various students and ex-students with whom I haven’t maintained the boundaries very well. I’m not good at saying no, or protecting my own space.’
‘Harry would be devastated if you went away,’ Robin said.
‘Well, maybe he’ll have to get used to the idea,’ Sally said with more confidence than she felt. ‘It’s been over for years but he still hasn’t let go. He’s always on the doorstep wanting something, or wanting to do something for me or with me. He stops drinking, then he starts again and each time he tries to involve me. I guess part of the problem is that I’m still really fond of him and for some ridiculous reason I feel a bit responsible for him.’
‘Co-dependence,’ Isabel said, ‘it’s hard to break out of, especially while he’s close by. In that respect alone it might be good to get away, break the pattern. You can’t go on always being there for him.’
Sally nodded: ‘Exactly. It’s really getting to me but it’s as though I’m colluding in it and then, of course, I resent it. It’s the same with the others, I sometimes feel I’m conspiring with them to suffocate myself.’
‘Don’t say you’re going to opt out of your life as well,’ Grace said.
‘I’ve been thinking about it. I could take my long-service leave and some unpaid leave.’
‘Where would you go?’ Robin asked.
‘San Francisco. I always wanted to go there. There’s a … well, a friend there I haven’t seen for years. And you know I always wanted to study photography. There’s nothing to stop me, really. You inspired me, Isabel.’
Isabel grinned and squeezed Sally’s hand. ‘So where would you study?’
‘There’s a course I’d like to do at the University of California at Berkeley, and there’s quite a good chance I could get in. The money’s a bit of a worry. Long-service leave would pay me for six months, but the other six months I wouldn’t have an income. I could rent my house out but it probably wouldn’t cover the rent in California.’
‘What about the money your father left you?’ Robin asked.
Sally nodded. ‘Exactly – that’s what I thought. I mean, really, I suppose I should invest it, but this would be such a wonderful thing to do and that money could cover the fees and keep me for the other six months. I think I could manage. I might be able to sell a couple of paintings … what do you think?’
‘It’s brilliant,’ Robin said quickly. ‘Really brilliant. Do it, Sally, do it! You know I told you I’ve been reading yet another of the endless menopause books and this one’s rather good. The woman who wrote it calls it “the retreat of the crones”. She’s that English woman, Leslie Kenton, you must’ve heard of her. She went off to some remote place in Wales for a year and she ran every day and she wrote a novel about Beethoven.’
Grace shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘So you’ll be the next one will you, Robin?’
Robin leaned back shaking her head. ‘I wish I could but it’s just not possible right now. My life is so complicated.’ Robin knew it sounded pathetic. The truth was that although her work made the situation complex, the real difficulty in changing her life lay in the monumental secret she was hiding. Secrecy suddenly seemed like an unbearable burden but she didn’t know how to divest herself of it.
‘I’d love to do it. I’m tired out and sick of work. I’d love to go south, Denmark or Pemberton, somewhere like that and just rest and run. Leslie Kenton ran along the cliffs. When I read that, I felt she was running to cleanse herself.’ She paused, embarrassed, and then began again. ‘It was as though the running forced stuff out of her, not just physically but emotionally too. Going away for a long time, cutting myself off, is the only way I could do it. But … well, I can’t do it right now.’ She sat back pulling her coffee cup towards her, tearing open a sachet of sugar.
‘Why not?’ asked Isabel with disarming directness, and Robin felt totally exposed.
‘Obviously her career, for one thing,’ Grace cut in. ‘Mightn’t you be offered silk, Rob? You deserve it, it must be a possibility and it’s what you’ve always wanted.’
‘It was, but I’m not sure if it still is,’ she said. ‘Certainly if there was only that to consider then I would opt for going away, but it’s more complicated. There’s this case I’ve got, you know the one, Gerry Ashby’s case. We lost it last week. Justice Simpson misdirected the jury outrageously and I have to prepare an appeal and lodge it quickly. Gerry’s in prison and I want him out, I want to see him get some justice. It’ll be several months, even a year, before I’ll be free of that.’
‘Couldn’t someone else take it on?’ Sally asked.
‘No.’ Robin shook her head. ‘It’s my case, my responsibility. Gerry’s whole life is on hold because of this –’
‘And his life is more important than yours?’ Isabel asked.
‘I feel responsible,’ Robin said, knowing how inadequate it sounded. ‘I know you think it’s an excuse, and perhaps it is.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe I just don’t have the courage, or maybe the time isn’t right.’ She wanted to put her head in her hands and weep. She did want justice for Gerry, he was a friend as well as a client, but Sally was quite right, someone else could handle the appeal. She really wanted to disappear, be free of it all, but disappearing would seem like putting pressure on Jim, a way of trying to force his hand; even telling him how much she wanted to run away would seem like emotional blackmail. As she looked around at the others she saw that Isabel knew she was lying. Robin flushed deeply and looked away, hoping she would not confront her.
‘I think that the time being right is very important,’ Isabel said. ‘You want to do it but the time isn’t right for you. It would be madness to do something like this unless it felt absolutely right in every respect. In a few months you might feel quite differently I think you’ve go
t to be totally single-minded about it, as though nothing can stand in your way.’
Robin looked at her with relief. ‘I think so,’ she said slowly ‘I just need to give it more time.’
‘Sanity prevails,’ said Grace. ‘One middle-aged backpacker, one tentative photographer and two rational stay-at-homes. I’m heartily glad I don’t feel the need to shake off my skin and go racing round the world.’
Isabel knew that Robin was lying or, rather, withholding something. She also knew that Robin had realised she knew, and so she wasn’t surprised when, a couple of days later, Robin called her and said she needed to talk.
‘Lunch?’ Isabel suggested.
‘Early evening would be better,’ Robin said. ‘What about a walk on the beach?’
The sun hovered just above the horizon tinting the sky rose and tangerine as they wandered barefoot at the water’s edge. Along the beach, families were picnicking in the sand, cooling off after the day’s heat. Isabel relished the soft evening air on her neck and arms, the damp sand under her bare feet. She was longing to be gone but the longing was shot through with moments of intense anxiety, and the feeling that by choosing – needing – to go away she was being ungrateful, as though she might be risking something that could never be restored.
‘There are beautiful beaches close to Lisbon,’ she said. ‘Luke’s girlfriend, Cassie, worked there teaching English. She’s been helping me work out where I’m going.’
Robin took a deep breath. ‘Look, the other day – there’s something I want to tell you. I … I wasn’t being totally honest.’ She stopped, indicating some flat rocks nearby and they walked over to them and sat down.
‘It’s very difficult and I don’t really know how to start.’ Robin was staring nervously at her bare feet and twisting the laces of the Reeboks she was carrying.
‘I think you’re trying to tell me about Justice McEwan,’ Isabel said quietly.
Robin’s head shot up. ‘You … you know?’
‘Well, I’ve heard the gossip.’ Isabel smiled. ‘And I admit that I have assumed it to be true.’