Jess kicked the umbrella into place under the table before pulling Claire into a warm embrace and, like old times, Claire’s head rested perfectly in the hollow of her neck. “Come round for dinner tonight?”
“Hey.” Claire playfully pushed her away. “It’s too late to rescue me now, thanks all the same. I’ve already stopped sniffing her pillow, and I actually changed the sheets months ago. I don’t want you inviting me to dinner so you can take full credit for my miraculous recovery.”
“But you still seem a little…”
“Go on. A little what?”
“Well, sad I guess. You look exhausted.”
Claire was beyond exhausted, if that were possible. Half the reason why she hated instant coffee so much was that she drank too much of it. She couldn’t afford a new machine.
“Alex would love to see you. She’s sick of me whinging every time she touches me.” Jess wiped a tear from Claire’s cheek. “You’ll get loads of cuddles. She needs someone to cuddle.”
Claire sighed. “What’s wrong with this picture? My pregnant ex-lover invites me to dinner with her gorgeous wife, my ex co-worker, who is possibly feeling neglected because your hormones are going mental, so my ex-lover offers me up as a cuddle substitute. Seriously, can my life get any weirder?” The truth was, even before Victoria had left, it had been months since they had been intimate, and she couldn’t even remember when they had last hugged or kissed. Some personal contact with someone other than her patients was tempting.
Jess simply shrugged and smiled. It obviously didn’t seem weird to her at all.
Claire ducked inside to switch off the radio; some old seventies song about a jilted lover was cutting a little too close to the bone. She froze. The penny dropped. Since becoming pregnant, Jess had been ill and called less frequently. Claire sensed trouble.
“What’s up?” Claire emerged from the kitchen, straight to the point.
Jess frowned.
“Come on, Madam Crown. Spill.”
Jess drew a deep breath. “You know me too well.”
Claire smiled.
“We’re having twins.”
“Wow. Twins is huge. Congratulations!” Reality dawned on Claire. “Jesus, that’s a lot of nappies.”
“And very little sleep, I presume.”
Sensing there was more, Claire waited patiently.
“The ultrasound showed there’s a strong possibility one of the foetuses could be abnormal.” She shrugged. “Happens at my age.”
Claire squeezed Jess’s shoulder. “Oh dear, Counsellor. You just used the words ‘possibility’ and ‘could’ in the same sentence. And you referred to your babies as foetuses. You’d better tell me all the facts.”
Jess finished her coffee, massaging her forehead. Claire could see by the deep crease of her brow that she was worried. She allowed Jess time to gather her thoughts. Jess Mercer was always in control. She was strong-willed and fearless. She processed information at an alarming speed and her sharp tongue never failed her.
Claire had long suspected Jess became a lawyer to justify her argumentative personality. Why simply argue and prove your point for fun? Crown Prosecutor Jess Mercer was paid handsomely to do what she loved most—arguing and winning. She would research a topic then regurgitate the cold hard truth, void of emotion or feeling. Her love of facts made her perfect for the job.
Claire had left Jess to travel the world and find herself. They both knew she needed to lose Jess before she could become the real Claire O’Malley. At thirty, Jess was the hottest new solicitor in Melbourne, and dating a twenty-four-year-old nursing student with grand travel plans had been destined to come to a head.
Now, knowing her strong reliance on facts, evidence, and proof won her an alarming percentage of arguments, Claire knew Jess appreciated the opportunity to put forward her case, her way.
“The obstetrician reeled off some statistics about Down syndrome, spina bifida, and cystic fibrosis, but I don’t remember them; it all seemed to happen so quickly. One moment we were elated about the babies, next it all seemed to come crashing down. The doctor made it clear she wasn’t making a diagnosis, just informing us of the facts.”
“At your age, the chances increase from around one in two thousand to one in just over one hundred for having a baby with Down syndrome. I don’t know statistics for the other conditions,” said Claire.
“She said there were tests, an amniocentesis. Apparently, it comes with risks.” Jess was barely holding it together.
“I think the risks are small, but the consequences can be pretty bad.”
Jess nodded. “That’s what the doctor said.”
“Will you have the amniocentesis?”
Jess half shrugged and half nodded.
Claire cleared her throat, finding courage to ask the question that Jess really wanted to discuss. “Will you terminate if it’s positive?”
“It sounds horrific, doesn’t it? Terminate.”
“It’s okay to talk about it and think about it, Jess.”
“I feel like a monster.”
Claire took a different tack. “So, what are your options?”
Jess thought for a moment. “Okay, I have the test and I know for sure if the baby has Down syndrome at least. I don’t have the test and I let the pregnancy run its course, essentially mitigating any risk of losing the baby, or babies, from unnatural causes.” Jess paced the small grassed area. “But will finding out alter my decision? If not, then it’s reasonable to deduce that the test is unnecessary. If yes, then is the risk involved in the test of lesser or greater consequence than not having the test at all?” She looked Claire in the eye. “Can I live with insisting on an invasive procedure and possibly losing my babies? Or can I live with raising a disabled child?” Jess hesitated. “Or should I terminate if the test is successful and positive?”
“It’s a tough one.”
“It’s impossible.”
“What would your advice be to me, if I were in your shoes?”
“I really don’t know, Claire. That’s the problem. On this one, I just don’t know.”
Claire yanked Jess into the chair closest to her. “Yes, you do know. You’d give me your best advice based on all the facts because you love me. So, say you have the test. Say it’s positive. If you have the baby, it will be disabled. Given that it’s difficult to know what any of us would do under any circumstances, what do you think you’d do with this knowledge?”
“Shit. I’m not sure I know.”
Claire waited for her to analyse and compartmentalise her thoughts.
Jess focused. “I’ve had the test?”
“Yep. It’s not the best news. It’s positive.”
“My baby will have Down syndrome or some other chromosomal disorder?”
“Ah-huh, ninety-nine percent certainty.”
“But it’s still my baby?”
“That’s true. Your flesh and blood.”
“And there’s every chance I will give birth to another normal child.”
“Correct. Scans show your other baby is fine.”
“So, either I take my baby’s life away, or I give it a fighting chance?”
“That’s certainly one way of looking at it.”
“The average life expectancy for a person with Down syndrome is over sixty these days.”
“That’s not a bad innings,” said Claire.
“I can give my baby nothing or, on average, sixty good years.”
Claire nodded.
Jess met her eyes. “I don’t think I need the test.”
Claire leaned back. “Good decision. Brave decision.”
Chapter Two
Alex was exactly the type of woman Claire had expected Jess to fall in love with—same age, equally intelligent, and perfect to remain at home and raise their children. She was possibly one of the nicest people Claire had ever met. Jess was good-looking, but Alex was a stunner.
An air of self-assurance surrounded Alex, and contrary to Claire�
�s first impression, it had nothing to do with her looks. Her confidence and energy was addictive, and Claire loved it, envying her enthusiasm and warm heart.
If Alex had ever been afraid of losing Jess to her ambitions, she never showed it, and that was why, Claire suspected, Jess worshipped the ground she walked on.
Claire rang the bell and ripped the wine from the tacky brown paper bag Jess had taught her never to arrive at a dinner party holding. Although relieved she was no longer twenty-four and lost, she found little comfort in the fact she was now thirty-one and recently jilted.
“Here she is.” Alex engulfed her in a warm hug. “I think Jess is right; you do look a little forlorn.”
“I am forlorn.” Claire went along with it. Surely tired and forlorn could be interchangeable in these circumstances.
“Bloody Victoria, I never liked her.”
“You said you thought she was lovely!”
“And she was, until she left you. Now I’ve hated her all along.”
A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen, and Claire handed over the wine. She’d never walked into this house and been greeted with normal cooking smells like a roast lamb or casserole. For all of Jess’s lack of creativity in anything other than the law, she could cook. The fact astounded everyone except Claire. It was the single thing, besides amazing oral sex, that Claire had given Jess—encouragement in the kitchen and a license to mess up.
“You’ve got her to cuddle all night,” Jess said from the other end of the hall. “Can she at least come in the door?”
While it took Claire about ten paces to walk the entire length of her own apartment, Jess and Alex’s place felt like a school dorm. The front rooms were spare bedrooms, a study, and a bathroom, while the rear was an expansive kitchen and living area. Upstairs was the master bedroom, en suite, and another living area. Alex had decorated of course, light and airy, and with Claire’s rough estimate, she guessed her two-bedroom place would fit upstairs with space to spare.
“What’s for dinner?” Claire accepted a glass of red and stuck her nose over the stove for a sniff.
Up to her wrists in batter, Jess leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Your favourite, honey. Something to cheer you up.”
Claire didn’t recognise the dish and wondered how it could be her favourite. But then she spied a bowl of prawns and her mouth watered in anticipation—Jess knew how to make her feel better.
“Throw your keys in the bowl, Claire. Relax and have a few glasses of wine tonight. I’ve made up the spare bed for you,” said Alex.
“For me? You have two spare beds and they’re always made up.”
“Well, perhaps we’re always hoping you’ll stay.” Alex mimicked Claire’s tone. “Keys in the bowl, please.”
“I thought I was here to be cheered up and nutritionally sustained, not participate in one of your dirty swingers parties.”
Jess looked up. “Come on, Claire. The cat will be fine for one night.”
Claire raised her eyebrows.
“You’re kidding me? She took the fucking cat? Let me guess, her mother?”
She didn’t even like the bloody cat. But four years together was four years.
Alex emerged from the linen cupboard and against all protests, took Claire to the couch to talk. “Come on, I want to know all about it. Bloody Jess came home with no details this afternoon.”
“I just feel so stupid. I knew she’d applied for the damn job. I knew she was short-listed, and the day I found out she’d already had an interview was the day she told me she’d taken the job and was leaving. We didn’t even get a chance to talk it through or have an argument about it. Nothing. Her bloody mother came charging through the door and started taking things almost straight away. It was just fucking awful.”
“Murray said you were good at work for the most part, but in the last few months, she’s been worried about you.”
The week after Victoria left was horrendous, but she’d worked nights, had a couple of days off, and although the process was slow, she’d made commendable improvements and was nearly back to normal. That was until a few months ago. That was when it all began to go tits up. Twice now she’d been pulled up by the Nurse Unit Manager on careless mistakes, and on top of being caught sleeping on the job, she was struggling. It wasn’t like Claire to struggle. Claire cracked on with things, that was her nature, that was what made her an outstanding nurse, yet what she was going through now had snuck up on her, and it was frightening.
“I know Murray’s worried, but it’s just a glitch. Honestly, I’m fine.”
“And what’s causing the glitch?”
Claire had no idea what was causing the glitch, but the aftermath was horrendous. She just wanted it to end, and tonight she wanted to enjoy the evening and forget about it for a while. She dodged the question. “Dealing with idiotic patients with eggplants up their arse is enough to cause any nurse the odd malfunction.”
“What up his arse?” Jess called from the kitchen. “I think I need to hear this.”
Delighted her deflection had worked, Claire provided an in-depth synopsis of Mr. Sullivan’s sordid tale of painful extraction.
“Look on the bright side,” offered Alex. “It could be worse; you could be Mrs. Sullivan.”
She had a point.
The phone rang, piercing the air with an intrusive clangour. Alex shot up to answer while Jess stared at Claire. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”
Claire knew better than to lie. “Barely.”
“Alex and I have talked, and we think you should come and stay with us for a while.”
“Jess, I’m okay. I’ve been perfectly okay for the past four months now. My shifts are all over the place, I just need a few day shifts to get a decent night’s sleep.”
“I know, but I’m worried about you. Worse than that, Murray is worried about you, and we all know it takes a lot for Murray to even bat an eyelid at mild inconvenience, let alone taking the time to be bothered to actually be worried.”
“You’re barely making sense, Madam Crown.”
Jess sighed. “Look, why be lonely there, when you can come and get over all this here?”
“I’m over it Jess, honestly. I was dumped. I’m not dying. Not even of a broken heart. This shit happens every day. I’m not special. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re special to me, to us both. I don’t want you to hurt.”
Claire moved to kneel in front of Jess. “You can’t fix this, Madam Crown. I know you fix things and you make them better. You both do”—she gestured toward Alex in deep conversation on the phone—“but I’m not one of your clients. Whatever it is I’m going through, I have to go through, Jess. This process has to happen, otherwise Victoria was a waste of time, and I can’t deal with losing her and the past four years of my life all at once.”
Jess sighed.
Claire knew she understood because it was Jess she had reached out to when things with Victoria began to go south. She couldn’t pinpoint the day things began to change, but one day Victoria stepped back from her, not literally, but emotionally. Claire had no idea what she had done wrong. She still didn’t.
“That was Kathryn.” Alex returned to the couch and pulled Claire from the floor to snuggle with her.
“Kathryn who?” Jess looked on blankly.
“Your sister! How many Kathryns do you know?”
“What did she want? How come I didn’t speak to her?”
“Oh, you will.” Alex was amused.
“I will?”
“Yep. She’s on her way.”
“What?”
“She said she hoped it wasn’t an intrusion.”
“An intrusion? I haven’t seen her for three years, barely even heard from her.”
“Regardless, she apologised for not phoning ahead, but called as soon as she landed. She’s in a cab as we speak.”
Jess was flabbergasted. “But she doesn’t even like prawns!”
Chapter Three
&nbs
p; Claire wasn’t even sure she remembered what Kathryn looked like. Absolutely nothing like Jess was all her memory told her, although lately, Claire’s memories were a jumbled, fragmented mess. She struggled to remember a time when she and Victoria had been happy. It occurred to her that the human brain could fool you into not missing something you no longer had, just to make the pain bearable. Had she fooled herself into happiness all those years, or was she fooling herself out of it now?
Alex cornered her in the kitchen as she poured another round of drinks. “Talking about it will help, you know.”
“You know all there is to know.”
“I doubt it. What did she say when she left?”
“It wasn’t so much about what she said, it was what she did. It was truly awful that I was in love with someone capable of treating me so badly.”
Alex waited. It was her special skill.
Claire knew she’d have to tell them sooner or later. Later was her preferred option, but Alex didn’t seem on board with that. “We watched a movie together the evening before, slept in the same bed, and in the morning discussed our plans for the weekend.” Saying the words sent her right back to that morning. It hurt. “She was eating toast and simply announced she was leaving.”
“What did she actually say?”
“She said our relationship had run its course, she no longer loved me, and she had taken the job in Berlin.” Alex patted her shoulder. “Do you know what’s sad though? I actually laughed. I thought she was joking. I’m so fucking stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, honey. You need to stop beating yourself up over it.”
Claire wasn’t so sure. She felt as thick as ten planks. Not one living cell in her body saw it coming. “She took her phone from her pocket, typed what could have only been one or two words, and within a minute, the front door crashed open and her mother charged in and began disassembling the coffee machine.”
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