Lost Without You

by Rachael Johns

  Clara finished her dinner and Gregg managed a few mouthfuls of his grilled wild Chilean sea bass before the time came to head down to the comedy lounge. He chatted to a few people he knew from the workshops as they lined up to register and then he and Clara sat down in the front row.

  Soon after, the lights dimmed and one of the ship’s comedians welcomed everyone.

  ‘Open mic is my favourite night of the cruise,’ she said in a strong American accent. Or was it Canadian? Clara could never tell the difference. ‘I can’t wait to hear what talent we have on board this time round. This is scary shit getting up in front of people and trying to be funny—trust me, it doesn’t get easier—but if you can laugh at yourself then it’s a whole lot easier when others are laughing at you instead of with you as well. So relax, have fun and remember we’ve all gotta start somewhere. Without further ado, I want to introduce this evening’s judges, comedians from all four corners of the globe.’

  Clara took Gregg’s hand—it was shaking—as the judges said their hellos and the first wannabe comedian was called up to the stage. The podgy man who said he was a taxi driver from Darwin talked about farts and snot—it was nothing original but he might have got a few laughs if the average age of the audience was about forty years younger. The next two acts—a male and then a female—were better but if these three were any indication of the calibre of the contestants, Clara felt confident Gregg had this competition in the bag.

  ‘I’m going to get a drink,’ she said as the next person took to the stage. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘Just some water, please.’

  ‘Okay. Be right back.’ She snuck up to the bar at the back of the theatre. As she was ordering her glass of wine, there was a commotion at the entrance as a woman coming in and a man going out almost collided. As the two people side-stepped each other, Clara gasped in recognition.

  ‘Rob?’ she called, but he didn’t hear her and kept on walking.

  No, it couldn’t be. She shook her head and managed to thank the barman as he handed her the drinks. What would Rob be doing on this ship? He’d never once in his life voiced a desire to go on a cruise. It had to be someone who looked similar to him.

  Shaking her head, Clara started back to her seat but her heart was pounding and she couldn’t get the image out of her head.

  What if in some bizarre twist of fate it was Rob? Anger flared within her at the thought that he might have been living it up on the high seas while she was going out of her way to look after his mother.

  Before Clara could think about what she was doing, she turned and hurried in the direction the man had gone. Wine sloshed over the rim of the glass and onto her fingers, so she dumped it and the water on the bar and fled into the busy corridor. There were people everywhere, dressed in 1920s garb and chatting joyfully on their way to the Gatsby party on the top level. She wove through them, looking left and right, scrutinising every face and straining her neck as she peered ahead to try and spot the man in question.

  Losing patience and hope she was about to give in when she thought she saw him heading up the stairs. She picked up her pace, following the long-haired lout up three flights and out onto the pool deck. Cool air hit her face; it was freezing out here and, aside from the bar over in the corner, the deck was almost deserted.

  ‘Excuse me?’ she called as he strode towards the bar and she jogged to keep up. ‘Rob! Is that you?’

  Clara was panting by the time the man finally turned around. Her heart sank and her shoulders drooped with them.

  ‘Are you alright, love?’ His expression was one of concern.

  Now that she was close enough, she felt a right fool for thinking this man bore any resemblance to her ex-husband. He was at least ten years younger and the long dark hair was about the only similarity. The anger she’d felt seconds earlier dissipated as frustration flooded into its place. Her eyes burned as she fought a sudden onset of tears.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she managed. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

  ‘Not a problem.’ The man smiled. ‘You have a nice night.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  As he continued on his way, Clara remembered what she’d been doing when she’d seen him.

  Oh, please Lord, don’t let me have missed Gregg’s gig.

  With that thought, she hurried back the way she’d come, almost tripping a number of times in her haste to get to the theatre. The crowd were applauding as she entered and she glanced at the stage to see Gregg beaming as he made his exit.

  I’ve missed it. Not for a long time could she remember feeling so utterly disappointed in herself. What had she been thinking racing after a Rob look-alike? She was with Gregg now. He was the one that mattered. He was the one who cared about her. Her heart heavy she made her way back to their seats, arriving at the same time as Gregg did.

  ‘What did you think?’ His face glowed from the buzz of performance, telling her it must have gone well, but happiness for him warred with self-loathing.

  He obviously thought she’d been watching from the bar. She could lie, she could pretend she’d seen, but then what if he asked specific questions about his act?

  ‘Where’s the drinks?’ he asked, frowning down at her empty hands as they simultaneously lowered themselves into their seats. ‘Have you already drunk your wine?’

  Oh God. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, because the next act had begun. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘I thought I saw Rob leaving the theatre. I went after him.’

  ‘Rob?’ His expression was a cocktail of hurt, confusion and curiosity, but mostly hurt.

  She nodded.

  ‘And was it him?’

  ‘Can you guys shut the fuck up?’ hissed someone behind them before she could reply.

  ‘Sorry,’ Gregg muttered and then crossed his arms and turned to face the front, not saying another word.

  The next hour was excruciating as Clara sat there beside Gregg watching the rest of the amateur comedy acts. Although, judging by the reaction from the audience, many of the other contestants were good, Clara couldn’t concentrate and she couldn’t help noticing that Gregg’s laughter didn’t sound authentic either.

  After what felt like hours the MC returned to the stage announcing the end of the acts and congratulating all who got up and gave it a go. ‘The judges and I all agree that it was hard to pick an overall winner tonight,’ she said. ‘We’re glad our boss is having a night off or some of our jobs might be in jeopardy. But we’ve managed to narrow it down to three. Third place goes to Macy Baker for her trip to the hairdresser musings. Second place to Duke Moore for his celebrity impersonations. And taking out the grand prize is Gregg Callen because all three of the judges are kicking themselves for not noticing the humour in those signs before. Congratulations, Gregg, you’ve won a hundred-dollar voucher and we’re sure we’ll be hearing more from you very soon.’

  As the audience erupted into cheers, Clara stood to hug Gregg in congratulations, but he headed straight onto the stage without even acknowledging her. Her stomach clenched. He was annoyed with her. And rightly so. The people started to flow from the theatre the moment Gregg had accepted his prize but he stayed and chatted to the comedians.

  She stood on the edge of the stage and waited for him, thinking that if he hadn’t been angry at her, he would have gestured to her to join them.

  Finally he came over to her. ‘You ready to go?’

  Ignoring the brusqueness of his tone, she smiled brightly and leant forward to give him a hug. ‘Congratulations. Well done. That’s fantastic.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, stepping back from her embrace quickly.

  ‘Shall we go celebrate with a drink?’

  Gregg shook his head. ‘I feel like calling it a night. We’ve got to be up early tomorrow to disembark the ship.’

  ‘Okay. Sure.’

  Neither of them said a word as they headed to their cabin and Gregg didn’t hold her hand as he usually did
either. Once there, he immediately went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and Clara fought back tears. How quickly things could change. This morning she’d been envisioning jetting off overseas with this man, possibly spending the rest of her life with him, now he felt like a stranger.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again the moment Gregg emerged.

  He sighed deeply and perched himself on the end of the bed. ‘Did you find him? Was the man you saw Rob?’

  ‘No. It was silly. He only looked vaguely similar when I got close, but in that moment I felt compelled to check. I wish I hadn’t. I’m devastated I missed your comic debut.’

  ‘Do you still love Rob?’

  She blinked; his question blindsided her for a few moments. ‘No. I’m no longer in love with him. I was furious when I saw him—I wanted to hunt him down and tell him about his mum, about Josie.’

  Gregg nodded. ‘I understand.’

  But Clara knew that understanding and forgiveness were two very different things. ‘Thank you. I don’t suppose you’d like to give me a private show now?’ she asked hopefully.

  He shook his head. ‘Maybe another day. I’m not in the mood tonight.’

  ‘Okay. That sounds good.’ She tried to take comfort in Gregg’s reference to another day, but couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed between them.

  Rebecca

  ‘Hope dialysis goes well this afternoon. I’ll see you tonight,’ Hugh said as he picked up his lunch from the kitchen bench and headed for the door.

  ‘Thanks.’ Rebecca smiled, trying not to dwell on the fact he didn’t kiss her goodbye. At least they were talking again.

  She wondered what she could do to fill in the time until her appointment and decided to throw herself into some spring cleaning; maybe while she was scrubbing the mould from the bottom of the shower, she’d have some sort of epiphany about how to tell Josie and Paige they were sisters.

  Three hours later, the house was as clean as it had been since that day she came home from hospital and Rebecca had come to a decision. She would wait until Paige and Sol’s wedding was out of the way. With any luck a paired match would be found for her and Solomon before too long. In that time, hopefully Robbie would turn up, but even if he didn’t, once she was well again, she’d be able to tell Josie and Paige the truth without her illness muddying the waters.

  Feeling good about this decision, Rebecca was putting away the cleaning things when her phone rang.

  ‘Hello?’ she said as she flopped down into a chair at the table, hoping she hadn’t overdone the strenuous activity that morning.

  ‘Hi, Rebecca,’ said a slightly familiar voice. ‘It’s Clara. Rob’s ex-wife.’

  ‘Oh, hi,’ Rebecca managed, her chest tightening as she anticipated why the other woman could be calling. ‘How was your cruise?’

  ‘Do you have time to talk?’ Clara asked, ignoring Rebecca’s question. ‘I was thinking it might be good if you come to my place—there are a few things I want to discuss and it might be easier in person. Or we could meet somewhere if that’s better for you?’

  Rebecca glanced at the time on the microwave clock—there was still a couple of hours until she was due at the dialysis unit and she saw no reason not to spend them with Clara. ‘No, your place is fine. I can be there in about half an hour.’

  On the drive over, she wondered what Clara might have to say. Had she discovered something else about Josie? Maybe she’d already taken it upon herself to tell her. No, she wouldn’t do that. Would she? It was more likely she had news about Robbie. Oh God, perhaps he’d turned up. Or been found. Was he …? That probably wasn’t something Clara would want to tell her over the phone.

  Her heart thumped as her brain ticked over all the possibilities.

  Somehow she made it to her destination without crashing her car or having a nervous breakdown. Clara opened the front door before Rebecca had a chance to knock. The smile she’d always worn in hospital was noticeably absent; now she looked like a disapproving schoolmarm. Clara couldn’t be much older than she was but as Rebecca met her gaze she felt like a child who’d messed up big-time.

  ‘Hello, Rebecca. Thank you for coming. Do come inside.’

  You’re welcome? My pleasure? Rebecca wasn’t sure how to respond to the other woman’s greeting so she left it at ‘hi’ and then followed her down the hallway into the kitchen.

  ‘Can I get you something to eat or drink?’ Clara asked.

  ‘A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.’

  ‘You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you here,’ Clara said a few minutes later as she put a cup of tea in front of Rebecca and then sat down opposite with one of her own.

  Rebecca nodded, although she guessed it wasn’t a social rendezvous. She’d be very surprised if Clara suddenly conjured a Tupperware catalogue and asked if she wanted to buy any containers.

  ‘Last week when you told me your suspicions that Josie was yours and Rob’s daughter, I was obviously in shock and I didn’t tell you the whole story.’

  ‘Whole story?’ Rebecca frowned. What could Clara possibly have to add?

  ‘Do you remember Rob’s mother, Brenda?’

  ‘Of course.’ She and Robbie had spent more time at Brenda’s place than they had at her parents’ because Brenda had been far more accepting of their romance. Rebecca was pretty sure Josie had been conceived under Brenda’s roof, but didn’t mention this now.

  ‘She recently had a fall and broke her ankle. Because Rob couldn’t be found, Brenda called me from the hospital and I’ve been looking after her—making sure she has everything she needs, checking in on her,’ Clara explained.

  ‘So Brenda lives back in Sydney now too?’

  ‘Yes, Rob moved to the city to pursue his music and she followed not long after we got married. There was nothing keeping her in Cobar. And don’t get me wrong, I like Brenda but I’m trying to get on with my life and it all became a little overwhelming to be honest. I ran into Josie in the supermarket not long ago, when I was getting some groceries for Brenda. Josie could see I was upset and asked what was wrong. I probably shouldn’t have burdened her, I was supposed to be the one helping her, but I found myself unloading. When I’d finished, she generously offered to meet Brenda and take on some of the load. I probably wouldn’t have said yes, except I was due to head off on the cruise and I didn’t know how I was going to leave when Brenda might need something.’

  Rebecca startled as if she’d touched an electric fence. A chill ran down her spine. ‘So Josie and Brenda have met?’

  ‘Yes. They hit it off immediately. Josie sent me a photo of the two of them watching movies together on Saturday night.’ She picked her phone up from the table, tapped at the screen and then angled it for Rebecca to see.

  ‘Oh my God.’ So, not only was Paige besotted with her secret-sister, but now Brenda and Josie were spending time together blissfully unaware of their connection?

  ‘I know I said I wasn’t sure if you should tell Josie your suspicions or not, but, if she is your and Rob’s child—’

  ‘She is,’ Rebecca interrupted and bent to pick her handbag off the floor to retrieve The Letter. But, as she dug around in the bag to no success, she realised that in her haste to leave the house, she must have left it on the kitchen counter. Dammit. How could she be so careless?

  ‘Are you okay?’ Clara asked and Rebecca looked up to see the other woman frowning at her.

  Trying to ignore the unease gnawing at her heart, she dumped her bag back on the floor. ‘I was going to show you the adoption information. It arrived yesterday.’

  Clara’s expression grew pale. ‘And …? Is your daughter called Josie?’

  ‘Josephine. I looked her up online. I found photos of her working in theatre—it’s definitely the Josie my daughter, Paige, has become friends with.’

  ‘I see.’ Clara let out a long, resigned sigh. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all weekend. Not knowing about his daughter was something Rob never recov
ered from. I might not be able to find him and let him know, but I can’t sit by and watch Brenda and Josie get close, unaware that they are actually family. The guilt of knowing about this is eating me up already, so I think you should tell Josie your suspicions.’

  She paused a moment. ‘And if you don’t, I will.’

  Before Rebecca could digest what Clara was saying, her phone started beeping in her handbag. ‘That’s my dialysis reminder,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘My appointment is in an hour.’

  Maybe she could skip it just this once.

  ‘No.’ It was as if Clara could read her mind. ‘This has been going on for thirty-five years, another couple of hours, or even days, won’t hurt. Go to your appointment. It’s not going to do Josie or anyone else any good if you end up back in hospital.’

  And with those words, Clara pushed back her chair and picked up the tea cups. Rebecca hadn’t even touched hers and it didn’t look like she was going to get the chance. Decision made. Conversation clearly over. Never mind the fact Clara had in essence just threatened her. Part of Rebecca felt indignant—what right did Clara have to make such a decision?—but a bigger part of her felt relief. Until it was all out in the open, they couldn’t be sure how anyone was going to react.

  And, until it was, neither could they begin to recover.

  The only question was how should she do it? Who should she tell first? Paige or Josie? Perhaps three hours to herself while the machines pumped blood in and out of her body would give her the headspace required to work this out.

  ‘Thank you,’ she found herself saying to Clara as she too pushed back her chair and stood. ‘I will tell her. Soon. And I’ll let you know when it’s done.’

  Paige

  ‘Mum?’ Paige called as she let herself into her parents’ house. Her voice echoed and a bark sounded from out the back. ‘She must be out,’ she told Josie as she ushered her friend inside. ‘I’ll just let Molly in and then grab the album.’

  ‘She won’t mind us being here or borrowing it without her permission?’ Josie asked as she shrugged out of her jacket.