by Daphne Clair
When Jason arrived home that night, he gave her a hard, questioning look.
Catherine knew that when they were alone in the privacy of their own room, he would be waiting for her answer. She wasn't ready yet to give it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next day was Saturday. The children wanted to go the zoo, and Catherine thought it would be a good idea on several counts. It would leave the house quiet for Winston, give the children some time with both their mother and father, and ease the illogical guilt she felt about letting someone else care for them on the afternoons that she was working. She had vague hopes, too, that a day out with the children might help to bring herself and Jason closer together, creating a climate of understanding.
The outing began promisingly enough. They started by visiting the kiwi house near the main gate, and in the eerie blue dimness, the children pressed their noses against the glass to watch the nocturnal birds rooting about in the artificial bush environment that had been provided for them, eagerly pointing and whispering when they spotted one.
But before they had finished viewing the remainder of the bird section, Michael was restlessly demanding to visit the tigers and lions, while Jenny wanted to see the elephant. Sensing a quarrel brewing, Catherine moved from Jason's side to hold the children's hands, one on either side of her, and exerted herself to keep them interested while they strolled past the peacocks and she steered them towards the aquarium and the nearby elephant enclosure.
Fortunately there was a baby elephant in the exercise yard, and watching it feed was so fascinating that for a time Michael was quite content to stay there, until Jenny too was ready to see the lions.
Further on were cages of monkeys, and Jason was persuaded to accede to the children's request to buy some peanuts to give them.
'Don't use them all at once,' he warned them. 'Save some for later.'
They had a picnic lunch on one of the lawns, admiring the graceful attitudes of pink flamingoes posing by a stream, and then the children reminded them that they had still to see the hippos, and that the seals would be fed later in the afternoon.
The day had become hot, and the pavements seemed hard to Catherine's feet. The children would not think of leaving without seeing everything, but Jenny's dragging feet and Michael's increasingly red face told their own tale.
Ice creams all round might be a good idea, Catherine thought, as she sank down for a few restful moments on a low stone wall, watching the children a few yards away talking to some more monkeys.
Jason came and propped himself beside her with his arms folded across his chest. 'They seem to be enjoying themselves,' he remarked. 'And they're less fractious than they've seemed to be lately. I wonder if Bridie tends to give in to them too much, or if they just miss not having you about.'
His reasoning was very transparent, she thought angrily. Giving herself a moment or two to quell the anger, she replied evenly, 'It isn't Bridie's fault, or mine. Haven't you noticed how Althea and Winston give in all the time to Jenny, and harp on Michael's being a big boy? He sees it as favouritism.
He's jealous, and Jenny trades on the fact of being younger, and being able to get her own way with your parents.'
She wasn't sure if he had taken in what she said, because his eyes were on the children, who were conducting a tug-of-war over the remaining peanuts in their paper bag, Michael holding the neck of the bag with an expression of grim determination, while Jenny tugged at it and whined disagreeably.
'Famous last words,' Jason murmured. 'Hadn't you better do something about that before it develops into a full-scale war?'
Her patience suddenly snapping, she said, 'Do something about it yourself!
They're your children as well as mine.'
He cast her such an incredulous look that she almost laughed, but then he went over to the children.
She didn't hear what he said, but the tone of his voice stopped the tug-of-war immediately, and then he went down on his haunches and spoke to them until Michael handed over the bag of peanuts to him, allowing him to divide the remaining nuts between them.
Jason took charge from then on. He bought cool drinks and ice creams, made the children slow their pace a little, and a couple of times found Catherine a seat in the shade while he strolled nearby in the sun with Jenny and Michael as they studied the animals.
Only when, after seeing the seals fed, Jenny demanded the toilet, did he turn to Catherine, saying dryly, 'Your department, I think.'
The rest of the day was certainly less stressful, and yet Catherine arrived home feeling vaguely resentful and irritated.
Jason had bought some fried chicken for their evening meal, a treat the children always enjoyed. They ate with gusto, pausing between mouthfuls to regale Winston and Althea with details of their day, so that the result was a non-stop commentary to which their grandparents listened with flatteringly close attention.
Under cover of the conversation, Jason said to Catherine, 'Are you tired?'
She shook her head. Her feet ached a little and she was conscious of heat and a slight stinging where her bared shoulders had got sunburned, but she was not particularly weary. 'I'm all right,' she i said. 'Why?'
'You seem very—quiet.'
'The children are doing enough talking for all of | us, surely.'
He smiled briefly, looking at them, but then his eyes returned sceptically to her.
When the children had finally gone off to bed, Althea said, 'Winston and I have only one weekend left here. Why don't you two take the opportunity of a couple of days away, and let us look after the children?'
'We couldn't ---' Catherine started to say, but Jason overrode her protest.
'We'd like that very much,' he said. 'If you're sure you could cope.'
'Of course,' Althea said almost breezily. 'We had them for nearly three months back home.'
'Yes,' Catherine intervened swiftly, 'but that was before Winston's illness.'
'I'm fine now,' Winston assured her. 'We'd enjoy having the youngsters to ourselves for a day or two. You go away with your husband and have a good time.'
'It isn't long since we had a week away,'Catherine objected. Somehow she felt crowded, almost panicky at this unexpected gesture, and their determination to make her take advantage of it.
'Darling,' Jason said smoothly, 'if you keep putting up obstacles, my parents will think you don't want to go away with me.'
She swivelled to look at him, suddenly assailed by a suspicion that he had engineered this whole thing. But there was a warning in his eyes. He knew she didn't want Althea and Winston to guess that all was not well with their relationship.
Reluctantly, she conceded, but the panic inexplicably increased. 'Yes, well, if you're sure you don't mind,' she said. 'It's very generous of you.'
Later she said to Jason, 'Did you ask your mother to make that offer?'
'What offer?'
'You're not stupid, Jason!' she snapped. 'You know perfectly well what I mean! Was it your idea, this weekend away while Althea and Winston mind the kids?'
'I mentioned that I'd like some time alone with my wife.'
'What have you been telling her?'
'Nothing.' His glance was impatient. 'Stop trying to pick a fight.'
'I'm not doing anything of the kind!'
'Yes, you are. Your nose has been out of joint ever since I took up your challenge this afternoon and took charge of my kids. You wanted me to come a cropper, and I didn't.'
'That's a ridiculous thing to say!'
'Is it? Then why have you been looking daggers at me ever since?'
'You're imagining things,' Catherine said coldly.He laughed. 'No, I'm not. I know you pretty well. You know, you don't play fair.'
'What do you mean?'
She was already in bed, propped on the pillows with a book in her hand.
Jason had pulled off his shirt and was tugging at the buckle on his belt. He had his back half turned to her as he stepped out of his trousers and pulled on
a robe.
'What do you mean?' Catherine repeated impatiently.
He stood doing up the tie belt, his eyes assessing her. 'I guess I mean that you started our marriage happily prepared to abide by certain rules of the game, certain assumptions that we both tacitly accepted. Now you want to change the rules.'
She frowned, and he said, tugging at the knot he had made, 'Well, okay, fine. But you might have warned me you wanted to change them, before you started blaming me for playing by the old rules. If you're going to start making up new ones unilaterally, you should at least tell me what they are.
Right now I'm playing in the dark, trying to guess the shots.'
'I don't know what you're talking about!' she said crossly. 'I'm not calling any shots.'
'Yes, you are, sweetheart. You always have. Think about it. We'll talk about it next weekend.'
Jason went off to the bathroom, and Catherine sat looking at her book and not taking in a word of print. What had he meant by all that? What was she supposed to think about? She shifted restlessly, dug her elbow into the pillow and slammed the book shut. The more she contemplated the weekend, the more uneasy she felt. Jason, she was afraid, was determined on some kind of showdown.He took her north again, but this time they didn't make for the Bay of Islands, but for the Hokianga, the long, enclosed harbour on the other side of the Northland isthmus. Here the tranquil water was soft as satin, and as smooth, and the gentle lulls dipped their feet into its reflecting mirror, and fishing boats and occasional ferries cut transient paths across its surface.
Jason had obtained a small cottage overlooking the water, in the little town of Rawene, where the main street humped itself to the harbour's edge like an asphalt caterpillar, and some of the shops were built on stilts sunk into the water. One of its earliest houses, converted to a museum of history, still sat on a small rise overlooking the harbour, surrounded by great shade trees which added to its air of graciousness. But of the area's busy days as a thriving centre of timbermilling, boatbuilding and water transport, little remained.
Catherine pretended an interest in the history of the district, but Jason soon called her bluff. He produced a booklet which gave her more information than she had ever wanted, and asked her which historical sites she wanted to see. They visited Clendon House and duly admired the Victorian relics that filled it, strolled about the harbour's edge, and stared at the peculiar shape of the old wooden store which honoured the triangular shape of the road junction at the foot of the main street by fitting into it. They even ferried across the harbour to Kohukohu and back again, watching the changing light gradually shade the hills and the harbour into different blends of grey, hlue, green and subtle silver.
Slowly, Catherine felt the tensions of the last weeks and months begin to ease from her soul. The quietness of the hills, the tranquillity of the great spreading sheet of water, the sleepy air of the little town, had soothed her into a state bordering on serenity.
Jason, too, seemed more relaxed, his gaze less penetrating when he looked at her, the line of his mouth less grim. On Friday night they had arrived late, and had a quick supper and fallen into bed to sleep. But Saturday evening they ate fresh fish bought at the harbourside, and Jason produced a bottle of white wine to complement it. Then they sat on the wooden steps outside overlooking the water, and watched the dying sun throw ribbons of flame across it, and the first stars sprinkle themselves across the darkening sky.
Jason got up and came back with two glasses filled with the remainder of the wine they had had at dinner. Catherine took one when he handed it to her, and he sat down again, leaning his back against the door jamb where he could watch her face.
'Okay,' he said. 'Time to talk.'
Catherine stiffened. Lightly, she said, 'You sound like a Nazi interrogator.'
He smiled, but his glance was wary. 'Don't go all resentful on me again,' he said. 'I'm willing to try and understand, believe me.'
'Understand what?' She was wary, now, too. '
'You. Myself. Don't you think it's time we really talked?'
'You mean you have time?' she asked. She heard the sarcasm in her own voice, and bit her lip.
Jason turned the glass in his hand, watching the liquid swirl, shining in the dimness. 'Right, we'll start there,' he said. 'You think you're second best to my work. I need my work. It isn't just a job, something I do because I have to earn a living. It't challenging and interesting and I'm good at it, and that gives me a kick, I suppose, some sort of ego boost. But I'd give it up tomorrow if I thought it was damaging my relationship with you. It hasn't ever been first with me since I met you. I've always been ambitious, and you know I needed to work damned hard to get where I have. I thought my success at the job was one. of the things that attracted you to me in the first place. I find it absorbing, but I never meant to exclude you. I've needed to know that you were there in the centre of my life. Otherwise none of it has any meaning.'
'You've never told me this before,' she said shakily. 'Never anything like it.'
'I thought you knew without being told.'
She shook her head, and said, 'We haven't always communicated very well, have we? You've been caught up in your job, and I've been concentrating so hard on the children—when did we stop talking to each other?'
'We communicated in other ways ---'
'Yes, and I know you thought that it was enough. But it isn't, Jason. And eventually that broke down, too, didn't it? Sex and the children in- strong bonds, but not strong enough.'
'I know. That's why I wanted this time together, to talk.'
'Yes. Jason, I know you think my job is a sort of stop-gap, like the other things I tried and tired of. But it isn't. This is important to me. For the first time in my life, I feel like a real person in my own right, someone who's doing something productive and creative in more than just a biological sense.'
'You mean you see motherhood as a purely biological function? But surely it's much more than that? You've always been a tremendously conscientious mother. You read everything you could lay your hands on about child care, you even chose Playcentre instead of kindergarten because of the greater parent involvement.'
' You didn't care to be too involved, I remember.'
'You're thinking of those Fathers' Days they had. Okay, I admit I felt useless when Michael asked me to help him make a truck like the one his friend's dad made. I've never been good with carpentry. I'll lay you odds his friend's father was! a carpenter by trade. And I'm not very good at!
imagining I'm a fireman, either. I didn't mind going along, but I was always deathly afraid that! Michael would be horribly embarrassed by his father's inadequacies.'
'Jason!' Catherine gaped at him over her glass, scarcely able to credit the selfconscious admission. 'Did you feel you had to compete with the other fathers? But that's ridiculous! All Michael and Jenny ever wanted was for you to just be there!' "
'Rot. They wanted to show me off. That's what fathers are for at that age.
Or maybe ---'
'Maybe what?'
He shrugged. 'Maybe—oh, this is a little twisted, I guess. But, you see, my father was very competitive, and he bred me the same way. I could never quite come up to his standard. I suppose I was really afraid that my son would find mc wanting, too.'
While she was still reeling with surprise, he added, 'And then, you were so very efficient as a parent, they didn't really seem to need two of us.'
'But of course they need two of us!'
'Oh, yes. Your books and courses stressed that, I know. But I was pretty much a figurehead father, wasn't I, Catherine? Something the kids should have, like clean clothes and plenty of fresh vegetables and bedtime stories.
You made it prettyclear that you were the child expert in our home. I was handy for outings and presents and playing games, and occasionally I could help bath them or change a nappy if you were sick or extra busy. But you made all the decisions, you were the one who determined how they were to be brought up I in not
complaining. You did a good job, I approved of the way you handled things. No doubt I was guilty, too, of a certain laziness. It was convenient to leave it all to you, it let me out of most of the more unpleasant aspects of parenting. Only now you're beginning to want me to take on my share. Fair enough, but don't try and make me feel guilty for letting you do it yourself for so long. Because it seems to me that was exactly the way you wanted it.'
Catherine got up and walked a little way along the uneven path with a weedy, overgrown garden bordering it. Her first instinct was to defend herself, accuse him of misrepresenting the facts. Hut, forcing herself to try and look at his view objectively, she had to admit that there was a lot of truth in it. She had taken a pride in being a good mother, it had been important to her. And she had, perhaps, guarded her domain a little too jealously.
'You may be right,' she admitted. 'I didn't realise that I was pushing you out, but the house— the children—they were the things that gave me a feeling of worth, you see. They were my—areas of competence. I didn't want to share them with anyone—even you. And I think I wanted to show you that I could shine, too, in my own little sphere. You were always so assured, so successful. And you never really took me seriously.'
'I can't buy that,' Jason said swiftly. 'I took you seriously enough to marry you!'
'Yes, why?' she asked suddenly, turning to look at him fully. 'Did you think I was young enough; to be malleable, that you'd be able to mould me to your requirements? I did try, you know. I tried for a long time, but I know that as a business wife, I've failed you.'
'I married you because I was madly in love with you. And I'd always made straight, for what I wanted, and got it. I know it was unfair, that you I were too young to know anything about loving, about marriage, especially marriage to an unscrupulous egoist like me. You were too inexperienced to know what you really wanted, or to stand up to me. By the time I woke up to the fact that there's more to love than taking what one loves, we'd been married for some time. I tried to make it up to you, give you everything you could possibly need or want, even restrained my need of you .. . And I lived in dread that one day you'd really fall in love, and then you'd realise what you'd been missing, and leave me. You don't know what I've gone through these last few months. I thought, this is it. This is where she finds out what I've done to her. This is the end.'