Season of Shadow and Light

by Jenn J. McLeod

  With so little in common, Paige was unsure why she and Giles had hit it off all those years ago, but whatever it was maybe explained the connection she felt with Aiden. Both were creative and intelligent men, sensitive, considerate, caring and sharing her passion for food. She’d first met the Going Gourmet’s favourite food photographer, Giles, on a job in Thailand, her first overseas assignment as a food stylist with the magazine. Paige remembered the mad scramble to organise a passport in time, and how Alice had stepped in to do most of the organising: filling out forms, shoving the paperwork and a pen in front of a frantic and euphoric Paige to sign. Some hiccup had meant she had almost missed out on the gig completely, but between Alice and her grandfather, the anomaly—as Alice had called the paperwork glitch—had been sorted out in time. Since that first shoot, she and Giles had worked on hundreds together. He’d even counselled her as she talked through her various career decisions along the way, until she finally landed the job of her dreams.

  Paige missed Giles, especially the ribald quips that lifted her above the office politics of the day and made her laugh.

  ‘Lovey, you have such a way with a sausage!’ Giles had sauntered across the studio to adjust the light reflector, giving the required golden glow to the mock meal for their Penny-Pinching Picnics feature. Once they had enough shots, the graphics team would Photoshop each dish with a suitably quaint country scene as a backdrop and voila! A picnic for two.

  ‘The sausage is the hero of the dish and the hero always has to stand out,’ Paige had remarked innocently, tweaking the plate of food.

  ‘Oh, you cheeky minx. A hero and a stand out sausage in one sentence. You’re in fine form today, Missy.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Paige smiled coyly, a palm pressing against the baby bulge in her stomach. ‘Do you think it’s something I ate?’

  ‘Oh, my, I hope not, ’cause I sure will never share your sandwiches again.’

  Paige was trying not to laugh. ‘I actually felt the baby kick for the first time this morning.’

  ‘Ooh, will that make him a big, macho football player, but with his mother’s gorgeous looks?’

  Paige whooped. ‘You don’t want to know the image those words conjured up. Probably best he takes after his father.’

  ‘Lord help the kid!’

  ‘Now, now.’ Paige tried a half-serious face. Only occasionally would Paige feel unfaithful, like it was wrong to laugh at Giles’s husband jokes. But she couldn’t help herself and the harmless quips were like a release. That’s how it was with Giles. Always laughing. Always listening to her. Always supporting her.

  What did that say about her marriage? She didn’t joke with everyone—only Giles, and only ever in private. No one else in the company knew much about Robert anyway. They rarely attended her company events as a couple—Robert busy with his own job, Paige happy to go solo as his not going along saved her worrying about him having a good time.

  How she and Robert had found common ground in the beginning escaped Paige—the surfer boy desperate for the perfect wave, and the girl who had hated sand getting in all the wrong places: between her toes, in her bag, her hair, her suntan cream—her knickers.

  Perfect for Paige was being at home, experimenting in the kitchen with Alice who’d instilled in her a love and respect for healthy eating habits. ‘Everything in moderation’ was the edict. Choosing a career in food seemed only natural, even though cooking meant long hours in crowded kitchens. Soon enough Paige had realised that standing over a hot grill and scraping dirty dishes was not where her heart lay. With a communications degree in hand—funded by endless hours of waitressing—and a natural ability to talk food, she’d landed a cadetship with a leading newspaper, rotating through the various departments until finding her voice while working as lackey to a lazy lead editor. Word soon got out that Paige did his job for him and networking opened up more opportunities.

  Enter Going Gourmet five years later.

  The small division of the much larger media enterprise was like family. They would all eat together, celebrate birthdays and babies, attend each other’s weddings and christenings. The connection and camaraderie was everything to Paige after growing up an only child in a non-traditional family unit that made other parents uncomfortable. Out of the entire team at Going Gourmet, Giles was the one to let Paige really open up about her family.

  As a team the pair was well known in presentations for finishing each other’s sentences, so naturally a rumour started around the office that she and the pint-sized Thai photographer were conjoined twins, separated at birth. After starting the rumour in the first place, Giles then went on to dismiss the notion by reminding everyone that he was the lovechild of a one-night stand between The Amazing Bearded Woman and The Strongest Man on Earth.

  ‘As I was saying about that husband of yours . . .’ Giles snapped a new lens in place. ‘I have no idea what you see in that man and—’ His sudden stop made Paige glance around. ‘Oh, lovely, dear me, no, no, no, not that way.’

  ‘What? What am I doing wrong?’

  ‘Lovey, you keep stroking oil on that sausage and I’m going to—’

  ‘Oh, shush, Giles,’ Paige giggled as the door to the studio opened and her assistant, an overly officious and ambitious young girl armed with degrees in gastronomy and communications, delivered a hand-written message.

  It was from Robert. He’d be late home—again.

  Paige was to go ahead and eat without him—again.

  Her and Matilda, dinner alone—again.

  Paige stooped to pick up a small moth trapped in a gap between the veranda boards, wings flailing, desperate to be set free. Alice would most likely stay in her room for a while and with Matilda sleeping in due to daily, happy exhaustion, Paige figured this was as good a time as any to make that call to Robert.

  Giant letters—HOME—filled the screen on her mobile phone. The word should have filled her with happy memories and the promise of a future, but instead she felt hollow, her voice hollow too; not that she’d got through more than a greeting and general enquiry when Robert interrupted.

  ‘You’ve made your point, Paige.’

  ‘Good morning to you too, Robert. How’s the weather in Sydney?’

  ‘How long are you going to punish me?’

  ‘I’m not punishing you, Robert.’

  ‘I miss my daughter and I miss my life.’

  A sigh escaped her lips, sadness rather than exasperation. Of course he missed his daughter. He might even be a little bit scared. Robert wasn’t a bad person or a bad father. He was just terrible at being a husband, as evidenced by his last statement that stopped short of the words: I miss my wife.

  ‘Are you hearing me, Paige? How long are you going to carry on with this ridiculousness? Your behaviour is irresponsible, not to mention unfair on Matilda.’

  ‘My behaviour?’ She bristled. So much for conciliation. ‘And your romp with Rudolph wasn’t irresponsible and unfair on our daughter?’

  ‘For God’s sake, how long are you going to hold that over me? I told you, that night with Meeschell was a once-only thing. The company had finished the year on a record high. Everyone was celebrating and things . . . Look, Paige, I can’t apologise more than the thousand times I already have. If I could rewind our lives and start over, you know I would.’

  The statement flabbergasted Paige. A question flashed through her mind. Would she—start over? Could she, given the chance? She wanted to ask Robert how starting over would make a difference. Wouldn’t they end up in the same place?

  ‘Paige, it’s time. Come home. I need you here.’ His voice softened and Paige felt that pull of being twenty years married, of providing a strong family unit for Mati, of the possibility of new beginnings and of her promise to Alice upstairs as the worried woman shoved clothes in a bag last night, ready to leave town.

  The neediness in her husband’s voice made her wish they were having this conversation face to face. He sounded like Robert from the past, the man she
’d married: a good provider, a loving father, a self-made success. He had high expectations and didn’t tolerate fools. He didn’t bend, and he didn’t believe in weakness. Therein lay the problem. According to Robert, Paige too easily bowed to pressure. Once a couple, they’d since grown apart, coped differently, wanted different things. But something in Robert’s tone today had Paige hoping she’d been wrong to walk away and that he’d do whatever it took to have her back. Any minute now her husband would tell her he loved her. That he wasn’t complete when she wasn’t there. That life had been unbearable with her gone.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Paige?’

  ‘Yes, Robert.’

  ‘Matilda is my daughter and I get to speak to her once a day. It’s not enough.’

  ‘Robert, between your working hours and your sport, Mati would be lucky if she got to see you three times a week, let alone talk to you every day. Since we left she’s called you every afternoon.’

  ‘That’s not the same. You’re my wife. Your place is here. In this house. With me.’

  A kind of roar deep within her throat ground its way out. ‘My place, Robert?’

  What did that make her?

  A chattel?

  A comfortable piece of furniture he couldn’t do without?

  A favourite chair perhaps?

  Or maybe the fancy espresso machine they definitely did not need. But what the hell? Everyone had one of those.

  Robert’s voice droned on and Paige tried counting to ten. She only made it to five before shouting in a whisper down the phone, ‘And you have the hide to tell me I have a problem facing reality. Get with the times, Robert. This isn’t the fifties. My place is my choice and at this point in time I’m trying to decide what’s right. Until then you’ll have to survive without me. Without us. I said two weeks.’

  She terminated the call, jammed the phone back in her pocket and turned to see Alice, cup of tea in hand.

  ‘I made you one. On the table,’ she told Paige, who for a fleeting moment thought Matilda was within earshot. ‘Mati’s upstairs,’ Alice said, ever astute.

  Paige walked over and slumped onto the wooden bench next to the hot drink, shifting over with a nudge to her arm. Alice sat close enough to wrap a protective wing across Paige’s shoulders, applying the tiniest amount of force, the gentle squeeze allowing the pressure inside Paige to seep out. ‘So much for falling at my feet and begging forgiveness.’ Silence and another gentle squeeze was all Alice offered. ‘Are we okay, Alice—you and me?’

  ‘Of course, love. Always. I’m sorry about before.’

  ‘I need you,’ Paige said, lowering her head to nuzzle the crook of Alice’s neck. Alice had skilfully controlled Paige’s pressure valve, especially these past two years.

  ‘I trust you always will, my darling daughter.’

  ‘He’s a selfish bastard.’ Paige whispered so Mati wouldn’t hear. ‘He always has been. Maybe I should be thanking that Meeschell woman for making me see.’

  ‘You’re still hurting, of course you are. Couples do this sort of thing. Even those in good, strong relationships sometimes—’

  ‘Please, Alice.’ Paige jerked upright. ‘I don’t need you defending Robert.’

  ‘I’m not defending anyone. I’m saying that selfishness comes in different forms and often from those who love us the most. He kept something a secret. Some lies are best buried. We’re protected that way.’

  A look on Alice’s face suggested her thoughts were being pulled somewhere else so Paige bottled the urge to argue that last point; remembering Mall Man whacked a lid on that bottle and screwed tight. She hadn’t done anything wrong that day, yet in the end she’d kept the facts from her husband. Paige didn’t know why, except that deep down she agreed with Alice; some secrets were best kept.

  ‘So, Alice, now I’m supposed to pretend the thing with Meeschell never happened, believe Robert loves me, and go rushing back home on command? Not likely—on all three counts.’

  ‘No one needs to rush anywhere. We don’t need to go home straightaway, either. When I suggested we go I was thinking somewhere a little livelier might offer more distractions.’

  ‘I don’t need distractions,’ Paige said. ‘I need to reprogram my brain, like Lance used to tell me to do. Remember that hunky rehab guy? He’d tell me to replace the bad images with good ones.’ Paige’s hands made a sweeping arc in front of her. ‘Look around. Look where we are. This place is perfect. Okay, so, I brought us out on some wild goose chase and this town isn’t where we’re supposed to be, but aren’t you always telling me it’s the journey and not the destination? Isn’t that what you drilled into my brain when the doctors were contemplating drilling into my brain?’

  ‘That was never going to happen. They talked about the procedure as a worst case scenario. Your scans were all clear.’

  ‘Well, I can think of no worst-case scenario from us staying here. This is our journey—together. Spending time with you and Mati.’

  Alice said nothing and with Alice, nothing said everything.

  ‘You even cancelled your treasured book club meeting to come away.’

  ‘Things haven’t exactly gone to plan. For a start we were supposed to be in a charming boatshed somewhere.’

  ‘Things don’t ever go to plan with me, and yes, the flood situation has not been on our side.’ Paige fidgeted in her seat, fed up with having to justify her decision to stay put in Coolabah Tree Gully. ‘It’s not a charming rented boatshed; I concur. But we are here in a quaint little town, welcomed by complete strangers and watching Mati discover that not everything comes in a packet from a supermarket shelf.’ Paige stood, brushed a stain on the front of her shirt. ‘I don’t see any harm in that and I’d really rather we all resigned ourselves to spending the time together—the three of us. Is this not heaven? No wonder they named the property Nevaeh.’

  Alice flinched, her body visibly stiffening beneath the chenille robe, her eyes blinking. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Sharni had mentioned the name but it wasn’t until I noticed something under all those vines at the front entrance yesterday. There’s a hidden sign.’ Paige pulled out her phone, activated the Notes app and punched out the letters: NEVAEH ‘See? You’d pronounce it Neva. But backwards NEVAEH spells heaven.’ Paige shrugged. ‘I guess all those annoying brain rehab sessions came in handy after all.’

  Alice’s cup had stopped partway to her mouth, a tremor in her hand so pronounced tea spilled over the rim and the cup clattered on the saucer.

  ‘Careful, Alice. Are you okay?’ Paige relieved Alice of the teacup.

  ‘It’s nothing. Sometimes this arthritis of mine mucks up. An anti-inflammatory and a cuddle with my granddaughter always fixes me. You’re right about making the most of the time we have together. I treasure every moment with Matilda. If I was to ever lose her—or you . . .’ Alice swallowed hard and clutched her throat, clearing it.

  Paige had trouble identifying the tone in Alice’s voice. A sense of panic perhaps; enough to make her ask, ‘You’re okay, aren’t you Alice? You’re not sick or not telling me something?’

  Another hard swallow.

  ‘Just being a grandmother. In fact, I’m going to rustle our girl up and we can do something together, just the two of us. Okay with you?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to rest, but of course, if you’d rather take Mati. I know she’d love that. I’ve been meaning to check out the river. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.’ Paige kissed Alice’s forehead. ‘Love you.’

  Do not bite at the bait of pleasure till you know there is no hook beneath it.

  Thomas Jefferson

  21

  Paige

  Paige had needed somewhere serene and the river had looked inviting when she gazed out her bedroom window earlier this morning. One small area of ground near the river was spot-lit and aglow, as if a single ray of sunlight had cut a path through the thick canopy of trees, the shimmering tendrils of light illuminating a circle of shadowy undergrowth.

&n
bsp; To access the spot, Paige followed the well-trodden track that cut through three paddocks, climbing fences rather than tackling the gates each time. The ground was sodden in parts, but the long, dry grass flattened to form a kind of matting, and the pre-loved riding boots Sharni had lent her seemed to have moulded perfectly to her feet to make for worry-free walking. Paige had never been more grateful for shoes after overhearing someone at the function say that floodwaters sent snakes to higher ground in search of dry land.

  ‘Snakes in the grass, eh?’ she mumbled softly, watching every footstep. ‘You ought to know one of those when you see one, Paige. You married one, didn’t you?’

  ‘G’day,’ said a voice to her right, the unexpected rustle of branches making her trip over a boot and fall backwards, landing hard on her butt with a grunt.

  ‘What the . . . ?’ She was inspecting the heels of her hands, brushing away small sharp stones and twigs, when a bulky figure stepped between Paige and the sun.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Good grief, Aiden, don’t do that to a person,’ she said, accepting the hand he offered to pull herself up to standing again.

  ‘Don’t do what? Say hello?’ He smiled. ‘What did you think I was? A killer koala lurking in the bushes?’

  ‘Hardly,’ she said with a grin to match his. ‘Koalas are cute. I was thinking more wild boar.’

  ‘Probably not far off.’ Aiden laughed and Paige wondered how eyes could be that blue. Not the pale and icy blue of Robert’s, but the deep, dark blue of a lake when a cloud hovers overhead. ‘Eyes you could dive into’, as Nancy used to say about Alice.

  Aiden was good looking in a rugged, masculine way; the opposite of an immaculately groomed Giles whose honey-coloured complexion—scrubbed clean, smooth and smelling of scented skincare product—was a fashion magazine’s idea of good looking. Unlike Giles, there was nothing soft about Aiden. Paige theorised his very manly appearance had probably deceived and disappointed women for years. Just like when Sharni had burst Paige’s bubble by telling her if someone looked like a woman, smelled like a woman, and sounded like a woman, Aiden wasn’t interested.