‘A lot actually.’
‘I was joking. Did you completely lose your sense of humour in Hong Kong?’
‘But it may not even be your baby.’
‘Don’t you think I don’t know that? In fact I think it’s better to assume it’s not mine. I care less about that than you think.’
‘I get horribly fat when I’m pregnant.’
‘That’s all right, between you and me I quite fancy chubby girls.’
‘And then when the baby is born it will be terrible. It will cry all the time and you will get hardly any sleep and probably no sex.’
‘I know, I know, I know…’
‘No, you don’t know.’
‘Okay, I don’t know but give me a chance to find out will you…Are you finished now? Can I talk?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Good, because I want to tell you a little story about myself. I had a great time in my twenties, travelling, meeting lots of girls, but always in the back of my mind was that I wanted to be like my dad, find the right one and settle down. When I hit my thirties I started getting worried that I might not meet her and would have to settle for something less, until last year when she walked into my life - a girl perfect in every way except for the slightly inconvenient fact she was married to someone else.
‘I’ve thought a lot about the fact that this baby may not be mine - actually I’ve thought about pretty much nothing else since I heard - and I keep coming back to the same conclusion. I don’t really care. In fact, I think you could have half a dozen babies by several different fathers and I would still feel the same. I want us to be together.
‘And even though you are a hopeless old unromantic I have a feeling that’s what you want too…Yes?…Are you nodding?…Yes…So why don’t you stop that crying and give me a kiss and I’ll go and get this unpleasantness over, then I’ll call you again later, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Then he kissed me. And it wasn’t a chaste peck on the cheek. It was a full on kiss on the mouth. And even though I had all these libido-sapping pregnancy hormones circulating around my body it produced the same familiar feeling his kisses had always provoked.
‘I really have to go now,’ he said eventually. ‘After my last night’s effort I think she knows what’s coming but it would still be bad form to keep her waiting.’
‘I’m sorry. I made the wrong choice in November,’ I said, blubbering anew like a complete snivelling idiot.
‘I know you did, but it doesn’t matter now.’
As I closed the car door I realised I’d forgotten to say something, so I tapped on the window and mouthed the words: ‘I love you.’ He smiled, as if to say, ‘I know’, and drove off.
Mum must have seen us kissing because as I walked - nay floated - to the front door she called out to me, ‘Eleanor, exactly who is that young man?’
‘Ahh Mum, I think I owe you an explanation.’
Epilogue
So she married her handsome prince and they lived happily
ever after.
Real epilogue
I hope you’ll forgive me that little joke. I think you’d prefer some more detail.
Anyway we’re not married, although we’re planning to. Personally I could take or leave this whole marriage caper, but Alex’s mum wants him to make an honest woman out of me and seeing she has been so nice about the whole thing I’m keen to stay on her good side. Besides, I’ve been thinking it would be a good idea to get a wedding ring on this man - it might keep a few of the marauding females away.
So what do I need to tell you?
After Mum caught me kissing Alex, I obviously had to come clean with my parents. To say they were surprised is an understatement.
The next day Alex came over for afternoon tea to meet them. It is probably one of the only times I’ve ever seen him ill at ease. In the end it all went harmoniously enough, although the conversation was a little stilted and not in the least helped by my younger sister, who sat on the leather lounge in full view of me (but not my parents or Alex, whose view of her was obscured) and performed a ridiculous charade along the lines of: Hubba hubba - I can’t believe you were shagging him all along and now you could be pregnant with his baby! (I’ll leave you to imagine her mime actions). Here was I trying to appear serious and contrite and having to stifle a giggle at the time was not a good look.
After Alex had left she pulled me aside and whispered in a superior air, ‘I knew you were trying to pull that night of the dinner dance.’
My mother humphed around the house for several days after that, pursing her lips and muttering, ‘In my day people took their vows of fidelity seriously,’ so I advised Alex it would be wise for us to keep a low profile for a while. Almost as soon as I said this Mum turned around to me and announced, ‘If you want to stay at Alex’s place on Saturday night, I’m sure Issy will be fine here with us.’
What? One moment she’s reprimanding me for my deplorable morals and the next she’s pimping for me?
When I asked her to explain she said, ‘I’m not saying I approve in any way of what you did, but it’s clear he is in love with you and intends to do the right thing by you.’
‘How come you know that?’
‘Oh Eleanor, you just have to see the way he looks at you.’
That sounded familiar. Then I remembered that Stacey (who did turn out to be James’ girlfriend, now fiancée actually) had said something similar after our encounter at the Opera House, although it had never occurred to me at the time to think it was love she’d witnessed. I’d thought it was lust, or guilt or anxiety about being caught by Tony or something. I grew up believing I was a smart little cookie but I’m beginning to think I am almost as clueless about the opposite sex as my now ex-husband. Our marriage probably didn’t stand a chance.
No-one needs to convince me that Alex loves me these days. I was such a bitch throughout my pregnancy and yet he kept coming back for more.
I had another one of those ‘uncomplicated’ pregnancies: uncomplicated apart from the acrimonious divorce proceedings, with disputes about property settlement (Tony demanded a 60:40 split because of his family’s contribution to the renovations) and a bitter custody battle; uncomplicated except for me trying to negotiate a brand new relationship in the midst of all this; uncomplicated except for constant questions from my daughter about why her mummy and daddy no longer spoke to one another and why Daddy chose to live so far away from her in a foreign land; uncomplicated except for the constant nagging fear that my tiny baby would die as retribution for my sins.
I didn’t get fat this time, however. I was too stressed to eat - some small consolation.
Oh, I almost forgot the paternity testing. How embarrassing was that. I can tell you that fronting up to an obstetrician to request a test to find out the father of my unborn child was not a scenario that ever featured in my wildest teenage fantasies! I needn’t have worried as Greg was non-judgmental (although I might have detected a subtle and unprofessional smirk - Tony and he never got on, remember). He tried to discourage me from testing, explaining that it would require an amniocentesis, which might increase my risk of miscarriage. Great.
I endured several sleepless nights before that amnio, not to mention several sleepless weeks afterwards, but went against my doctor’s advice just the same. I was acquiescing to all Tony’s demands by this stage, hoping that if I was obliging about everything else he would eventually see reason on the only thing I really cared about: custody of Isabel.
There were many nasty phone calls during my pregnancy, so it was fortunate that I also got to make the best one of my life. It went something like this:
Alex: Alex Anderson speaking.
Me: Helloo, daddy.
Alex: [Pause] Really?
Me: Yes, really.
Alex: No chance of a mistake?
<
br /> Me: Absolutely no mistake.
Alex: Fuck…
Me: No I think we did that part.
Alex: [Laughter] Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting this.
Me: I know you weren’t. I was.
Alex: How come?
Me: Just a feeling - women’s intuition I guess.
Alex: You never told me.
Me: No, just in case my intuition was wrong.
Alex: Yeah, probably wise. Well this makes everything a lot…
Me: Better.
Alex: I was going to say easier.
Me: Better.
Alex: Okay, better.
Me: Do you want to know what we’re having?
Alex: Yes…no…I don’t know. You know?
Me: Yeah.
Alex: Well you’re not going to be able to keep it secret so you may as well tell me.
Me: Are you sure? And I can keep a secret.
Alex: No, I want to know.
Me: Okay…it’s a boy.
Alex: A boy…wow…That’s what you were hoping for, isn’t it?
Me: Yeah…a bit. But it didn’t matter so much. He’s just got to be healthy.
Alex: Everything’s going to be fine.
Me: I know he’s okay at the moment anyway - he’s practising his left-cross kick as we speak.
Alex: That’s my boy.
Me: You didn’t take long to adjust to the role.
Alex: No, I think this will take me a while to get used to…You know I’ve got a bloody meeting I’m meant to be at right now so I’m going to have to go. I want to call my mum too…shit…but I guess she can wait an hour. I’ll call you later okay. Love you.
Me: You, too.
Later I regretted my eagerness in making that call because I missed out on the chance of seeing his face when he heard the news. Fortunately I have my spies. Melanie tells me that as he was leaving his office on the way to that meeting he went via her desk and gave her a huge bear hug and kiss on the cheek. She claims it was the high point of her sex life for the year.
Is this evidence that God has a sense of humour? On a night in late November 2006, when we thought we were saying goodbye forever, Alex and I instead created a bond between us that will link us together for all our lives: Henrik Alexander Andersen is his name. We christened him in honour of Alex’s late dad, and he’s snuffling adorably in his sleep as I write this.
I have to say that on no level, subconsciously or otherwise, did I plan for this to happen. If I’d have known it was possible for me, with my chequered fertility history, to stop the pill and fall pregnant within days…well, you know the saying: ‘if it’s not on, it’s not on’. I should have read the package insert on those contraceptive pills more closely, I suppose. It would have been much simpler if Alex and I had been able to ease into our commitment rather than being thrust into joint parenthood within a year, but I can’t regret for a moment our beautiful little boy. Anyway, Alex seems to have taken to fatherhood like a duck to water, so maybe he was, as he said, ready.
The path has been smoothed by Henry (as he’s now usually called) being the easiest baby ever - almost the polar opposite of Isabel. He rarely cries and was sleeping through the night from an unheard of eight weeks. I’m sure Alex thinks I was making all those horror baby stories up!
Henry has also turned out to be almost as dark-skinned as his father is, so it’s fortunate I didn’t decide to go back to Tony, cross my fingers and hope for the best. Doesn’t bear thinking about really…Much better to have the whole issue of paternity cleared up before delivery day.
Of course, I had the less pleasant task of calling Tony to tell him he was not the father.
‘So now my humiliation is complete,’ he said. ‘My wife conceived a baby with another man while she was still married to me.’
‘I didn’t actually plan for this to happen, you know, but if it makes things easier I’m happy to lie to people and say the baby was premature or something. Or else you can make up some story that I slept with a taxi driver in a fit of jealous rage after hearing about your love affair. Whatever paints me in the worst light.’
‘Oh don’t worry, I’ll be doing that.’
‘Anyway, at least it makes the break less complicated,’ I added, in lieu of anything useful to say.
‘Yes - and when you have your new baby maybe you’ll see sense and stop this pointless fight for Isabel.’
Grrrrr.
Still, in deference to our shared history I didn’t tell him I was carrying the boy he had wanted. I knew he would find that out soon enough.
It wasn’t too long after that that he called me to say that he would be visiting Sydney for a few days in two weeks’ time and would like access to Isabel the entire time. As we were finishing the conversation he said curtly, ‘By the way, I should let you know that Wendy has moved in with me.’
‘Good,’ I said. I had been half-expecting this.
‘She at least was faithful to me the whole time.’
Whatever, I thought but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.
And then, only a few months later, I received another ‘by the way’.
‘By the way, it’s early days yet but I thought I’d let you know that Wendy is pregnant.’
‘Oh…er…congratulations.’
‘Thank you. It happened a bit quicker than we expected.’
‘We seem to be much more fertile with other people,’ I said. ‘Just another way we were incompatible, I suppose.’
Then he said something I wasn’t expecting. ‘It wasn’t all bad was it? We had some good times too.’
What did this all mean?
‘Yeah we did,’ I said, and even though it was risky bringing her up I added, ‘and we could never regret having Isabel.’
Thankfully there were no hiccups in Wendy’s pregnancy and she delivered safely a couple of months ago. It wasn’t a boy, however. It was twin boys - enormously huge twin boys. I don’t know how that tiny little woman carried them both to term. But she did. And she delivered them naturally, too - no drugs or artificial assistance required. She’s made of stern stuff, that Wendy Wong.
As I said, our marriage probably never stood a chance.
I am genuinely pleased for Tony. I really am. We’ve both felt the pain of losing a son so the birth of a healthy boy, or two in my ex’s case, is cause for genuine blessing.
There is one aspect of this I feel less charitable about, though. Andy informed me that Wendy had been on a special diet and taking Chinese herbs to increase her chance of conceiving a boy. That’s where Tony had heard about the herbs. He’d been discussing making babies with her while he was still married to me! I seethed about that for a couple of days until Alex suggested that it might be time for me to move on, otherwise he’d get suspicious that I was still holding a flame for my ex. So I’ve moved on, apart from the occasional mischievous hope that Wendy’s pelvic floor is somewhere in the vicinity of her ankles at present.
In further evidence that God has a sense of humour, the two women whom I have most cause to hate in the world turned out to be unintentional allies in my fight over custody of Isabel.
Wendy decided that she would have her hands full with the twins and it might be better if Isabel remained with me and visited them in Hong Kong during school holidays. What a relief that was - I may no longer believe in fairytales but the character of wicked stepmother appears too often in these stories for her not to have some basis in fact!
And then there was Pamela. Andy came out not long after the marriage split (I think in a gallant effort to direct some flak away from me), and although stranger things have happened it’s unlikely she’ll be welcoming grandchildren from his quarter anytime soon. With her two grandsons likely to be in Hong Kong for the foreseeable future, Isabel remains her only grandchild in Sydney and Pamela found she had grow
n attached to those Wednesday evening visits from her granddaughter.
So the mistress and the mother-in-law ganged up on Tony and bossed him into granting primary custody to me, on the proviso that when he is visiting Sydney Isabel stays with him and his parents the entire time.
When Tony called me to inform me of his decision, I almost kissed the ground in disbelief.
‘Thank you, thank you,’ I said through the tears. ‘I promise you I won’t restrict your access to her in any way. You will always be her father and she will never, ever, hear a bad word from me.’
‘Yeah well it was the only sensible decision in the end, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, sensible, but I’m still surprised. I thought you wanted me to burn in vat of boiling oil.’
‘The thought had crossed my mind but I’m moving on from that now.’
‘Where has this all come from?’
‘Oh no, I’m not going to tell you. You’ll laugh at me.’
‘No I won’t.’
‘You will, I tell you.’
‘I promise.’
‘I’ve been going to counselling.’
‘What, couples’ counselling?’
‘No just me by myself.’
I laughed then, of course, although it came out more as an unladylike snort.
‘See, I told you you would laugh.’
‘I’m sorry - it’s just so bizarre. What prompted all this?’
‘I think it was my fortieth birthday. You know, pause for reflection and all.’
So my ex did have the capacity for self-reflection. Who would have known?
‘I thought about you on the day,’ I said, ‘but didn’t think you’d welcome a card somehow.’
‘Anyway, thanks to the navel gazing I am coming to terms with the fact that it was pretty much all my own doing.’
‘No definitely not all. My behaviour was fairly appalling, too. But I would never have pursued anything with Alex if I’d thought you still cared about me. I want you to understand that.’
Happily Ever After? Page 29