‘My point exactly - but I don’t think I ever did stop caring.’
‘Well in that case you did a very convincing impression of someone who had. Anyway, it’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it? Can’t change the past.’
‘You sound like the counsellor.’
‘Yeah I’ve been to that many counselling sessions I probably could start my own practice. So how are you coping with big four-o? Do I dare ask about that other milestone?’
‘My command? No probably a couple of years away yet, but, hey, I’ve adjusted.’
‘And in the meantime you have your twins to keep you busy.’
‘Yep, they’re great. And even though there’s two of them they are still not as hard work as Isabel was as a baby.’
‘No she was a real piece of work.’
Now I can finally feel that things have happened for the best, if not for that little piece of work. We’ve set up the computer so Isabel can videoconference her father on Skype (ironically using the technology that has probably saved quite a few pilot’s marriages), but I know it’s not the same as having him around for a cuddle. I hope she will learn to forgive her stupid parents in time.
One of the many mistakes I made in my failed marriage, although this actually took place before the wedding day, was pretending to be someone I was not. I appeared to be the perfect girlfriend, the uncomplaining little woman who never minded my boyfriend’s many absences, only to reveal another altogether more insecure and demanding identity once I had that wedding band on. Tony was quite justified in accusing me of that.
This could never be said of my relationship with Alex. I was hideously awful to him for a long time. He knows my true colours alright.
Remember that day when he sabotaged all my flat hunting efforts? His plot was to stop me signing a rental agreement so that we could instead find a larger place that would also accommodate him. He didn’t count on my old Mother Bear instincts. I refused to move in with him until just before Henry was born. I felt that Isabel needed time to adjust to losing her father before I imposed a new man on her. So we had this strange little period of dating whilst I was carrying his child. It is customary for these matters to be conducted in a different order: the going out, then the conception, but the abnormal now seems normal in my topsy-turvy world.
I honestly don’t know why he put up with me during this time. One moment I’d be pushing him away, saying that I needed space and he would back off as requested. Then I’d get panicky when he hadn’t called and phone him up to accuse him of sleeping with other women and abandoning me - let’s just say I have a few residual trust issues to work through yet. The poor guy couldn’t win. He didn’t even get much sex as compensation: the Ghost of Miscarriages Past put a big dampener on that.
I asked him one day, ‘Why are you putting up with all this? It’s obvious I’m completely mad.’
‘Not mad. Just a bit odd. I know you’re going through a stressful time and I’m making allowances, okay.’
I think I was mad, but things settled down once Henry was born healthy and even more so when Tony withdrew his custody claim. I can feel my sanity returning and I’m now trying to make it up to Alex in a big way.
So, all in all, life is pretty good at present and I am nauseatingly in love with this man.
Not that he’s perfect. His untidiness, which seemed so refreshing when I was married to the housework Nazi, no longer appeals as much. The guy is a grot. Now the tables have completely turned and I’m the one ‘tsk, tsking’ about wet towels on the bathroom floor. I’m gradually getting him trained but it’s never going to come naturally. Thank God for our cleaner is all I can say. Oh, and he’s completely absent-minded. You send him to the shops to buy some milk and he comes back with some fantastic goat’s cheese and a new type of olive he’s picked up at the deli, and some fresh figs that were a great price at the greengrocers but no milk. Then again he is a better cook than I am, and takes Henry and Isabel out to breakfast and the park for two hours every Saturday morning to give me a chance to sleep in, so I think I will keep him.
Another thing I’ve discovered, now that we’re cohabiting, is that I really do need my space. Remember, I lived for years with a husband who was away half the time and somewhere along the line I must have developed some independence. A couple of evenings a week, once the kids are in bed, I like to be on my own to do my own thing.
Alex recently got a promotion at work (good = more money). In fact he now has Edward’s old job, beating, amongst others, Amanda for the position. She now hates him just as much as she hates me. With the job came an opportunity to study for an MBA at company expense. He approached me with this news apologetically. ‘I think I should knock it back. It’s too much of an imposition on you.’
‘No, no…’ I said, ‘I want you to do it.’
‘Are you sure? Most of my classes would be in the evening and I don’t want to leave you in the lurch with the kids.’
‘Yes, I’m completely sure. It would be a great career move and silly to say no to.’
I don’t think he’s guessed my real motives! I’m looking around for part-time work at present and when Alex finishes his studies I’m planning to sign up for my own postgraduate degree.
Oh, though I should say I only like my independence during waking hours. I adore having him in my bed every night and miss him dreadfully when he goes away on the occasional business trip. I love all the cuddling up under the covers, and when he brings Henry and Issy into bed with us in the morning, and sometimes I just love lying awake beside him, simply watching him sleep. During those moments I quietly wonder at the mysteries of human attraction, and thank my lucky stars that of all the girls in the world he could have fallen in love with, this wonderful young man somehow chose me.
What more is there to say?
With the conception and birth of Henry I thought it wise to discreetly unsubscribe from my infertility chat group, but have kept in contact with my American friend Suzanne and am delighted to report that she has just become the adoptive mother of a gorgeous little Chinese baby girl. I’m currently saving up my pennies so we can go and visit them soon. Being no longer married to a pilot, cheap air fares are sadly a thing of the past for me.
I was understandably anxious about meeting Alex’s mother, Chandra, after so rudely gatecrashing her family, but she has welcomed me with open arms and seems to adore Isabel almost as much as her own grandson. Sophie also came home for a visit to meet her new nephew and is every bit as sweet and beautiful as she appears in that photo. I now see why Alex is the man he is and only feel sorry that I never got to meet his dad.
Paul has forgiven me and we are now firm friends. When Alex moved out of Balmain, his new girl Carla moved in.
Oh, and Andy has brought his partner, Juan, out to live in Australia. Pamela and Douglas seem to be adjusting to this better than anyone expected; probably they knew all along. Andy and Juan visit us often. It is lovely for Isabel to see so much of her uncle, although I’m not sure Andrew and Juan’s motives are completely innocent. I’ve discovered that Alex provokes the same reaction amongst gay men as he does amongst women and suspect they have both fallen in love with him. I hate to break it to the boys but I feel a man so clearly turned on by a pregnant and lactating woman probably has his feet firmly planted in the heterosexual camp.
I feel that last conversation with my ex - the one where he told me about the counselling - was our probably last really intimate one. Now we tend to stick to chat about Isabel but it’s a relief to once again speak cordially to one another. Andy keeps me filled in on what he’s up to. I never would have said this until recently but I think Tony will end up being happier with Wendy than he ever was with me. Ultimately the woman in Tony’s life has to be prepared to fit in around his job (to be fair he did tell me this before we were married) and I think Wendy, with her own background in the industry, will cope with
this better than me. Also, Andy tells me that she runs the house like a military operation, with all her boys (including Tony) on strictly organised routines. Tony would love that. I always wondered about the nature of the connection between them - despite his denials I knew it must have been powerful, if only because it kept them together all that time - and I’ve come to the conclusion that what he might have been seeking all along was someone to look after him, another mother figure in a way. Maybe that’s not unreasonable considering he has so much responsibility in his day job, but seeing I went into our marriage seeking pretty much the same thing, it’s hardly surprising we came a cropper. And you know, when I think about it there is a touch of the Pamela about Wendy, in manner if not appearance.
If my story was assessed as a moral tale it would fail on all counts. If it was one of those nineteenth-century novels I, the fallen woman, the faithless wife, would be dead by now. I would have wasted away from consumption, or drank arsenic like Madame Bovary or thrown myself under a train like Anna Karenina. Instead I seem to be in robust good health and quite high spirits. Real life doesn’t always contain a moral, I suppose.
Ultimately my story also fails as a fairytale. There were no villains here, just a bunch of flawed individuals making a mess of their lives. Some may argue that I have just replaced one handsome prince with another, but nothing’s that simple. That doesn’t account for the fact that I’ve changed. I’m no longer seeking a man to look after me - I’ve found out that I am quite capable of looking after myself, thank you very much. What I want now is a partnership of equals and I think I may have found it, although it’s early days yet.
Just the other day Alex gave me the loveliest present I could ever have wished for. It was the gift of understanding.
He was playing peek-a-boo with little Henry at the time, enthralled with the activity way longer than I would have ever been. He turned to me and said, ‘You know when you left me and told me that you were not making the choice between me and Tony but between me and Isabel, and that one day when I had children I would understand…’
‘Mmm…’
‘I understand now.’
‘Ah, so this little fellow has usurped me in your affections has he?’
‘I wouldn’t put it exactly like that. It’s a different sort of love, isn’t it? But all consuming - I wasn’t expecting that. But of course you knew already.’
‘Yeah,’ I said.
So some time later this year we will have a wedding: one of those informal garden weddings with a few close friends and family and a little blonde girl with flowers in her hair and a little dark-haired boy toddling somewhere close by as we make our vows.
And will we live happily ever after? Who knows? I hope the gods are kind to us, but it’s unrealistic to expect it’s all going to be smooth sailing. That’s life. But I have learnt my lessons the hard way and now have a man I can talk to and with those things on our side we might just make a better shot of it than most.
Reviews
‘An irreverent and painfully honest take on the
fairytale of wedded bliss. O’Reilly is a wickedly
funny, naughty, new Australian voice.’
Grazia
‘This book...will prompt you to re-evaluate
your own ideas of forgiveness, unfaithfulness
and when to walk away.’
Madison
Benison Anne O’Reilly has university degrees in pharmacy and commerce and works as a medical writer. She is co-author of the best-selling Australian Autism Handbook. Benison lives in Sydney with her husband, three sons and a menagerie of small animals. This is her first novel.
About the author
Benison Anne O’Reilly has university degrees in pharmacy and commerce and works as a medical writer. She is co-author of the best-selling Australian Autism Handbook. Benison lives in Sydney with her husband, three sons and a menagerie of small animals. This is her first novel.
Acknowledgements
A common piece of advice handed out to aspiring novelists is to write about something you know. I don’t know why I thought I could ignore this advice and get away with it. Thus, I am extremely grateful to the gentlemen aviators - whom shall be known only as Michael, Andrew and Bill - who offered their wisdom on the flying profession generously, even after I explained to them that my pilot character was, well…a little bit flawed. I would also like to thank my anonymous source in pharmaceutical marketing, who is most definitely an ‘outlier’. (If you’ve read the book you’ll understand what I mean by this.)
My other contributors are less bashful. A hearty thanks to Virginia Henry for all the good oil on living in Discovery Bay, to Kate O’Reilly for her insights into being both a female marketer and the mother of a four year-old girl, to Dr Vijay Roach for his obstetric advice and to Mary-Anne O’Connor for being my sounding board and just a genuinely nice person.
Thank you in particular to my publisher, Jane Curry, who has unfailingly supported my new career in writing, especially considering this little venture into fiction is a leap for both of us. Gratitude also to my editor, Caroline Webber, who has nursed this novice novelist through the editing process with patience and good humour. And I can’t forget to thank Seana Smith, my co-author on the Australian Autism Handbook and hopefully many future collaborations, who rang me up one day and said, ‘Hey, do you want to write a book with me?’, thereby providing the easiest launching pad to a writing career a person could have!
I’d also like to acknowledge my wonderful family.
I am blessed to have the best in-laws in the world: Kevin & Dorn and the extended Best clan.
To my aunt Helen, thank you for your support and all the wonderful conversations we have had about literature.
To mum and dad, Roslyn, and Cameron, you are my inspiration for the loving, supportive Parkes family depicted in these pages.
To my sons, Matthew, Nicholas and the inimitable ‘Joe’, thank you for putting up with me during the long gestation period of my latest baby, this novel.
And finally thanks to James, my most enthusiastic supporter and even after twenty years still my handsome prince.
First published by Jane Curry Publishing 2010
(Wentworth Concepts Pty Ltd)
PO Box 780 Edgecliff NSW 2021
Web: www.janecurrypublishing.com.au
Copyright © Benison Anne O’Reilly
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any other information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
National Library of Australia
cataloguing-in-publication data:
Benison Anne O’Reilly
Happily Ever After?
ISBN 978-0-9808129-6-1
Fiction
Design: Cheryl Collins Design
Cover Illustration: Megan Hess
Happily Ever After? Page 30