Wife on the Run

by Fiona Higgins

  ‘For a couple of months, when we first separated. It helped me recognise my role in the whole sordid mess. It wasn’t just big, bad Hamish, you know?’ She smiled weakly. ‘But after six counselling sessions, I realised I couldn’t take him back. Hamish lied to me shamelessly, only telling the truth when he was caught out. He had an online affair for almost a year with a woman he believed to be seventeen years old, then slept with someone he thought was her at the very time he was supposedly trying to win me back.’

  Paula shook her head. ‘Hamish has always been a man of contradictions, but I couldn’t accept that. He kept telling me he’d changed, but I couldn’t see it. It’s actually very hard to change, isn’t it?’

  Frank nodded. ‘My wife and I couldn’t manage it.’

  Paula waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, she said, ‘As soon as Hamish worked out I wasn’t going to try again, he got really angry.’ She sensed that Frank probably already knew this. ‘He basically shut down the counselling and we went straight into mediation, trying to get our financial settlement sorted. It took us three months to agree on terms, and it’s not over yet.’

  She looked at Frank. ‘I guess I imagined that separation would be a new beginning, but even when the divorce comes through, I’ll never be free of Hamish. We have to see each other every week, dropping off the kids. It’s painful every time.’

  She closed her eyes again, fighting back tears.

  ‘It takes a few years,’ said Frank, in a consoling tone. ‘But it does get better. At first you’re angry, then you move towards acceptance. And then, believe it or not, one day you get to indifference. That’s when you can see your former spouse in the company of a new partner and not even care.’

  ‘Well, I’m not there yet,’ she said. ‘The kids are coping better than I am.’

  Caitlin and Lachie seemed to be adapting well to their new visitation schedule; staying with Paula four nights a week, then with Hamish for three, plus alternating weekends. At first, Paula feared they might push back, seeing their father alone in his rented two-bedroom apartment in Springvale. But they’d been excited about sleeping in bunks again, and after their first few visits with Hamish, they seemed quite resigned to the split.

  ‘You know what Lachie said when he came back from visiting Hamish the first time? “Don’t freak out, Mum. We know why it’s happened. Some people just can’t be happy together.” So now I’m getting relationship advice from my teenage son.’

  Frank laughed. ‘Children have more insight than we think. They’re more resilient, too. They’ll survive, Paula. And so will you.’

  Paula had concluded that almost everything was survivable. Sexual emancipation, then patent mortification at the hands of an Australian conman and drug smuggler. A lengthy police investigation. Separation from her husband, counselling and mediation. And now, only now, the beginnings of a subtle reversion to normal life. Something far less dramatic, something more ordinary, and the relief and grief that accompanied that transition.

  She’d survived it all.

  Frank smiled at her again. ‘I’m afraid it’s time to wrap up.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, standing up from the interview table. ‘Thank you, Frank, it’s been good to talk. I guess we won’t be meeting each other again.’

  ‘Not in a policing context, I hope.’ He opened the door for her. ‘But you never know when our paths might cross. Stranger things have happened.’

  ‘They certainly have.’ She laughed wryly.

  He held out his hand to shake hers. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Paula.’

  ‘For me too,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Frank.’

  On the morning the bank cleared her cheque for almost a million dollars, she sent a text to her sister.

  Come to mine tonight for a little celebration @ 7.30? Jamie responded instantly. I’ll be there. What are we celebrating?

  Second chances, Paula texted back.

  Later, they gathered in her lounge room: Paula, Jamie, their father, Caitlin and Lachlan. It was nothing unusual, just an ordinary Friday evening in the winter school holidays, exactly the same type of gathering they’d convened weekly since her separation from Hamish. Jamie had been so supportive, popping around every few days with a casserole or some other home-cooked meal that Paula couldn’t be bothered preparing herself.

  ‘Jamie!’ Sid greeted his daughter with a kiss. ‘Come and have a drink!’ He disappeared into the kitchen.

  Jamie watched him go, then whispered to Paula, ‘What’s up with him?’

  Paula pretended to be mystified, knowing full well that Sid was anticipating the moment when Jamie discovered she was almost half a million dollars richer.

  Paula felt a lump in her throat as she remembered how their father had staunchly rebuffed her attempts to give the cheque back to him.

  ‘The money’s for you and Jamie,’ he’d insisted. ‘I would’ve got two cheques, but I wanted to hold almost a million bucks in my hand. But don’t cash it until the divorce is through, I don’t want you splitting it with Hamish.’

  Paula had followed her father’s advice, but chosen not to reveal her solicitor’s. Namely, his opinion that Hamish’s legal team would probably mount an argument that Sid’s windfall had existed prior to the divorce settlement, and therefore claim an entitlement for Hamish.

  Her father didn’t need to know that, Paula had resolved. Not yet, anyway.

  ‘How are you guys?’ asked Jamie, noticing her niece and nephew on the sofa. She stooped to kiss them.

  ‘Er, good,’ said Lachlan, dodging the kiss.

  ‘Hi Aunty Jamie,’ said Caitlin, standing up. ‘It’s the season finale of Teen Survivor tonight, sorry.’

  ‘I know, no time for Aunty Jamie. Off you go then. I’ll bring your cousins around on Saturday though, okay?’

  The children nodded, then headed to the TV room.

  Watching them leave, Paula’s chest tightened. Good on you, kids, she wanted to call out.

  Troopers, the pair of you.

  I love you more than infinity.

  Jamie sidled up to Paula.

  ‘Are you okay? You sad about Hamish?’

  ‘No. Well, sort of. It’s just the usual.’ Paula smiled. ‘I’ve got something to show you, Jamie.’

  Their father returned from the kitchen holding a bottle of champagne and three crystal flutes, the best she had. He poured Jamie a glass, filled his own, then waved the bottle at Paula.

  ‘Surely you’ll have one tonight, Pokey?’

  With the exception of the night they’d watched Marcelo on the nightly news, Paula had avoided alcohol entirely and felt all the better for it. Her father, however, had resumed his ‘medicinal’ consumption, as he termed it.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘As long as it’s just one.’

  She watched her father fill her glass, then raise his own. ‘To you, Jamie!’

  He beamed and touched his glass against hers.

  ‘Hang on, this isn’t about me,’ said Jamie, puzzled. ‘We’re celebrating Paula’s new start, aren’t we?’

  Paula smiled. ‘We are. And this is part of it.’

  She reached into her handbag and removed a white envelope, then passed it to her sister.

  ‘Over the years we’ve had a bit of . . . tension about money.’

  Jamie looked taken aback. ‘Well, I—’

  ‘No more of that,’ Paula interjected. ‘Just open it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Ask Dad,’ replied Paula. ‘He earned it. I got exactly the same amount.’ Jamie tore open the envelope and stared at the cheque. ‘Is this a joke?’

  Paula shook her head.

  ‘It’s not . . .’ Jamie’s face was ashen. ‘Drug money, is it?’

  Sid chuckled. ‘Almost as bad,’ he said. ‘The devil gambling. Remember what your mother used to say? Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure takes the edge off.’

  Paula laughed, remembering more of her mother’s words:

  Better to be unhappy
in a Mercedes-Benz than unhappy on a bus.

  To which Paula had always responded, I’d rather be happy.

  Her father smiled at Jamie. ‘Hopefully that will take the edge off.’

  ‘Almost five hundred thousand dollars?’ Jamie squeaked, stunned.

  Then suddenly she launched herself at them. They hugged and laughed together, until the tears came, streaking down their faces even as they laughed some more.

  Finally Jamie stepped back and, still holding their hands, said, ‘Rick won’t believe it. How did you win so much?’

  ‘I finally put a few bucks on the Melbourne Cup,’ said Sid. ‘There were seven pre-race favourites, I didn’t back any of them—and not one of them ended up in the first four, either. Turns out my magic formula works.’ He laughed. ‘Took me a few weeks to calm down enough to collect the cheque. They kept calling me on my mobile. Most people would’ve collected the money real quick, but we were on the road, so I had to wait until Perth.’

  ‘Then it’s really your money, Dad,’ objected Jamie.

  Sid groaned. ‘Your sister said exactly the same thing. Listen up, girls. I’m on my way to eighty now. I’ve lived my three score years and ten. I don’t need much money, I just want to have you two nearby, with your families. I’m happy in the caravan out the back.’

  He smiled mischeviously. ‘Well, there is one thing I’d like.’

  Paula and Jamie exchanged a look.

  ‘I’d really like to finish our trip, Paula.’ Sid swallowed more champagne. ‘I mean, we bypassed Queensland and New South Wales.’ He looked at Jamie. ‘Why don’t we all go on a road trip next summer holidays, heading north? You can bring the kids and Rick, Jamie. Give yourselves a long overdue break, eh?’ His eyes were shiny with excitement. ‘And Catie can bring that friend of hers, Amy. They sure kept Australia Post busy last summer. And maybe I’ll finally get to trap that bloody dingo, too. They’ve got them on Fraser Island, you know, dozens of them.’ He shook his head. ‘I never got to check that trap at Norseman . . .’

  ‘They’re a protected species at Fraser, Dad,’ Jamie said, looking alarmed. ‘But, sure, it’s a deal . . . as long as we don’t pick up any backpackers along the way.’ She nudged Paula with her elbow.

  Paula smiled, remembering the gigantic fig tree on a rainy wet-season afternoon in Darwin. The sweltering heat, the lush tropical beauty, the indescribable physical intensity. In those seventeen minutes of pleasure, she’d recovered the sexual confidence rocked by seventeen years of marriage to Hamish. In fact, Paula had finally conceded that Mark Ferris’s parting words to her in Darwin had been spot on. That saying goodbye to Marcelo—or, at least, her fantasy of him—ultimately mattered far less than everything else she’d claimed for herself on that journey.

  ‘No backpackers,’ she agreed, blushing a little.

  Jamie winked. ‘Hey, I saw Mark Ferris on TV. He’s drop-dead gorgeous. Believe me, I understand why it happened. Would’ve done the same myself, given the opportunity.’

  They laughed together. The kind of laughter only sisters could share, born of decades of mutual understanding.

  Her sister, her confidante and conspirator. Her best friend still.

  ‘Cheers to that,’ said Paula, clinking her glass against Jamie’s. ‘And to Dad’s outrageous fortune. At least something good came out of Walkerville.’

  Having watched several divorced friends struggling financially, with no fortuitous windfall to assist them, Paula knew how lucky she was. While she’d never be free of financial challenges, her father’s gift would be a huge help.

  ‘What are you going to do with all that money?’ asked Jamie, in hushed tones, as if it was a secret.

  ‘Pay off most of my new mortgage,’ said Paula. ‘And retrain as a midwife.’

  It was the first time she’d articulated the idea out loud. ‘I’ve had enough of endings in aged care. I need some new beginnings again.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Jamie. ‘You’ve been toying with that for years.’

  Paula nodded. ‘And I’d love to do some more travel.’ She pointed to the scrapbook on the coffee table, its brown cover torn in several

  places now, sporting a faded photograph of Hamish and Paula in their first year of marriage.

  Jamie bent down to read the title, handwritten by a much younger Paula.

  Our Adventure Scrapbook.

  Paula’s eyes began to smart. ‘It’s a big world out there. So many places to go, things to see. It was never going to happen with Hamish.’

  ‘Oh, Paula.’ Jamie pulled her sister into a hug. ‘I’ll come with you. Rick and I will be able to pay off our mortgage now, so I can be your travel buddy for some of it. Rick’s a bit of a homebody, and the kids are old enough to cope by themselves. We could do girls’ stuff . . . but overseas.’

  Paula stared at her sister, surprised and delighted.

  ‘Count me in too,’ added Sid, putting an arm around each of his daughters. ‘Never been abroad in my life, but I’d love to see a grizzly bear.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ said Jamie. ‘Just stick to dingos for now, Dad.’

  Sid chuckled and raised his glass again. ‘Let’s have a little toast, eh? To endings and beginnings. Let’s end our trip Downunder properly this summer, then we’ll see what beginnings we can dream up around the globe. The world awaits us, girls.’

  They touched their glasses together one more time.

  Beginnings and endings, Paula thought, false starts and surprise finishes.

  There had been so many over the past ten months. Some of them had come crashing into her life, like meteors from outer space; others had been cultivated, self-inflicted even, over many years.

  And yet all of them now seemed connected by a curious synergy barrelling inevitably towards this moment, in which she found herself standing in the kitchen with her father and her sister, relishing the present and planning for the future. Her children in the next room, masters of their own universe, raucously debating the carefully constructed stories of ‘reality’ TV.

  In everyday life, Paula knew, the issues were more complex, the stakes much higher. Her future would never be the glossy stuff of escapist fantasies, a neat set of challenges easily resolved by the season’s end.

  It would be solid and real, painful and delightful, sometimes unpredictable but always worth the struggle.

  And for the first time ever, she felt confident that she wouldn’t just slip back into survival mode, treading water against the currents of her existence.

  It might take time, Paula knew, but she’d never just survive, ever again.

  She’d thrive.

  Acknowledgements

  My heartfelt thanks to the extremely talented team at Allen & Unwin, in particular Jane Palfreyman, Siobhán Cantrill, Ali Lavau, Christa Munns, Ann Lennox, Andy Palmer, Marie Slocombe and Amy Milne.

  A huge thank you to the lovely friends in my life who read early drafts of this work: Kim Healey, Jodie Thomson, Sarah Barrett, Rachael McLennan, Michelle Taylor, Debba Reed, Natasha Brain, Ellen Fanning, Tati Guedes, Louise Rosenthal, Tegan Molony, Ewa Wojkowska, Sarah Bramwell, Gaile Pearce, Amanda Thomas—thank you for your incredible gift of time, energy and insights, all of which helped me to craft a better novel.

  For their technical and editorial feedback, I am especially grateful to Dr Connie Diakos and Senior Sergeant Danny Russell of Tasmania Police, who went way beyond the call of duty or friendship. Huge thanks and love. And speaking of love, special honours are due to Professor Ibu Dokter Jan Lingard, who deserves post-nominals for her efforts. Amazing stuff, Booster.

  Thanks to Colin Healey, Simone Eley and Robbie Smyth, for specific geographic feedback; to Jack Manning Bancroft and Dr Ben Scambary, for their Indigenous-related input; to the late Sidney H. Smith, and the late Charles Keogh, both of whom helped inspire the character of Sid; to Jason Dick for his valuable time and expertise; to Don Norris, whose cheery demeanour always makes technology seem much more interesting; and to Suzanne K
ent, for being who she is.

  Thanks also to Beverley and Richard Higgins, for their strategic child-minding and unceasing generosity, as well as to Cate Campbell, Margaret Bale and their families, for their ongoing support.

  Virginia Lloyd, my agent and friend, once again offered careful reading, perspective and support at every stage of the process.

  To my mother, Lesley, you continue to inspire me, even from afar. And to my sisters, Amanda and Melissa, and their families—I am so grateful for your presence in my life and useful feedback. Thanks to the Jack and Jones families, too, for their helpful barracking (and not too much heckling).

  Finally, I thank Stuart, my husband, for his love and support—editorial, material and emotional.

  And to my children—Oliver, Skye and Luke—you keep me focused. I love you more than infinity.

  Praise for The Mothers’ Group

  ‘Fresh and compelling . . . The prose is sharp, the characterisation even sharper . . . Higgins looks at the difficult moment of becoming parents with an unflinching but powerful humanity . . . A top-shelf novel about contemporary Australian life.’

  The Weekend Australian

  ‘. . . an enthralling read. Be prepared to burn the midnight oil, as it is impossible to put down.’

  Sunday Herald Sun

  ‘. . . a compelling insight into the modern family . . . it’s hard to put down because it’s just so real . . . I almost felt part of the group, getting to know them and sharing their inner thoughts, feeling their pain, frustration and confusion.’

  WriteNoteReviews.com

  ‘An insightful and sensitively written novel that will resonate with many new (and less new) parents.’

  The Age

  ‘I’m completely blown away . . . Make yourself comfortable before you start reading this book because you won’t be putting it down . . . The Mothers’ Group is the kind of book that stays with you long after you’ve read the final pages. Buy it, share it, and fall in love with it like I did.’

  The Bub Hub

  ‘. . . a compelling insight into the modern family . . . Honest and perceptive . . . the kind of book that will make the reader forget that dinner needs to be cooked. It’s hard to put down because it’s just so real . . . I almost felt part of the group, getting to know them and sharing their inner thoughts, feeling their pain, frustration and confusion. For mothers of all ages, all experiences—read this . . . It’s a book I will read again and I’m looking forward to reading more from Higgins.’