More Than Us

by Dawn Barker

  That exact thought had been playing on my mind too. ‘We’ll manage, everyone else does. They’re not so little any more. There’s after school care, and they do so many clubs and co-curricular activities anyway that we’d work it out between us. And in the holidays, well… we’ll sort something out. Look, I’ll start part-time, try to work school hours and we can see what happens.’

  He nodded. We were still fine financially, but after six months without any steady income, I could see the countdown in our bank account balance wouldn’t last another year at this rate. I didn’t want to see what happened when it hit zero.

  I sipped my wine, cracked black pepper onto my steak then slid the grinder to him. ‘I know you’ll get something, I’m not worried about that. I just… well, I’d quite like to do something other than this.’ I waved my hands around the room. ‘I’ve loved being at home, but I feel like it’s my time now, you know?’

  Paul pressed his lips together and nodded, but didn’t look me in the eye. ‘I guess it gives us a backup.’

  I reached over and put my hand on his for a moment, then pulled the salad bowl towards me. ‘It’s not about a backup. I have absolutely no doubt that you will find something brilliant soon. I’m not worried about money, Paul. You know I’ve wanted to go back to work for ages.’

  He nodded. ‘I know. It’ll be good for you. You’ll enjoy it.’

  ‘I will. Now that the kids are at school all day, I do feel like I drift around, taking all day to empty the dishwasher. I used to enjoy it, but now, I’m a bit envious of the working mums rushing to drop off their kids in their work clothes and complaining about daytime events at school. Part of me would quite like to have something else to talk about, like they do.’

  ‘Okay. You’re right. You used to love work.’

  I chewed some salad, swallowed, then began cutting a piece of my steak, avoiding his eye contact. ‘The reason I thought of it – I was speaking to Lucy the other day at assembly, you know, Connor’s mum? She’s a physio at the practice just off the highway near school. Anyway, she was saying how busy they were and that I could essentially rent a room from them and they’ll book people in with me. I thought I could just start with maybe two mornings a week.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ he said quickly. ‘Then when I get work, you might not need to increase it.’

  ‘Exactly. They start early there for clients who come in before they go to work so you’d have to get the kids to school sometimes, just on those two days.’ I deliberately kept my voice light.

  ‘That’s fine,’ he said, without hesitation. I could hear the strain in his voice.

  ‘Great. I’ll call her tomorrow.’ I reached for my glass again and sipped my wine. I glanced at Paul; he did the same. I noticed his hand trembling on his glass. ‘Are you okay?’

  He nodded, then noticed that I was frowning at his hand. ‘Yes. It’s just these stupid painkillers. They’re trying to get me off them, but the bloody club doctors gave me so many over the years, for nothing, that now I’m getting the shakes trying to reduce them. What a crock.’

  Maybe that explained some of his irritability over the last few weeks. I knew he hadn’t been sleeping; I often woke up in the night to see him lying on his side, doing something on his phone. ‘You’re doing so well, Paul… Do you want some mustard?’

  He nodded, then picked up the remote and switched to the news that we always watched while we ate dinner.

  I reached for my drink again, noticing my hands were tense. I was relieved the conversation was over; I hadn’t been sure how he’d take it. I’d already spoken to Lucy of course, and the registration board because it had been years since I’d worked, and I’d printed off the forms to enrol the kids in before and after school care, just in case, and worked out how to get the Childcare rebate from the government. I’d found out how the kids could get the school bus home if they needed to. But I was also deflated that Paul hadn’t protested or told me that I was being ridiculous. His resignation to me going back to work confirmed that he too was worried that he might not find a new job, or, that he’d lost his fight.

  * * *

  Life took on a different rhythm. I worked, and the money trickled in, enough to let us tread water. I grew to love the time away from dealing with the children, and increasingly, Paul. I hurried out of the house in the morning with a sense of importance as I left him with the squabbling kids and the dirty dishes. Clients at work thanked me for helping them, and I felt useful, not only for helping people feel better from their sore necks and backs and hips, but also useful to my family. I began to understand how difficult it must have been for Paul before, with his focus and identity pulled between us and his sport. And as much as it hurt me to admit it, Cameron did seem more settled: maybe I really had been making too much of his symptoms, or maybe now I just had other things to think about.

  Perhaps Paul had been right.

  Four

  Eighteen Months Later

  Emily

  ‘Remind me of everyone’s names,’ I said as I kicked off my black heels and rummaged in the bottom of my wardrobe for some strappy sandals. ‘I’m never going to remember them all.’

  ‘I don’t know them all yet,’ Paul said, tucking his shirt in. ‘It’s mainly Damian I’ve been working with. I’m not even sure exactly who he’s invited. It’s all been so quick really.’

  ‘So, what’s Damian’s wife’s name at least?’

  ‘Shelly? Cheryl? Something like that.’

  I smiled. ‘You’re hopeless.’

  Paul shrugged, then grinned. ‘I can’t be expected to know everything. I am opening a restaurant after all, hanging with the movers and shakers of Sydney.’ He raised his eyebrows at me.

  I smiled back at him. ‘Alright. You stay quiet, I’ll introduce myself and get all their names, then I’ll remember.’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, that’s your job at these things.’

  It was so good to hear him laugh again, and even though I could see he was anxious about the dinner, we were both so much more relaxed than we’d been for a long time. It had been hard for the past eighteen months, since I’d gone back to work, but eventually, finally, all those connections from Paul’s endless corporate functions had paid off. About a month ago, he’d been asked to go to lunch with Damian, a businessman that he’d met after one of his speaking engagements. Apparently Damian had approached him out of the blue, said he’d followed his career as a soccer player, and knew that Paul was the right man for this job. Paul had no experience running a business, never mind an Italian restaurant, but as he’d said, we’d eaten out in enough of them to know what a good meal entailed.

  I’d hardly seen Paul for the past three weeks as he got up early, dressed smartly and rushed off to meetings. But I hadn’t minded; it was so good to see that spark animating him again after so many months watching him fade. And I felt a spark in me too, excitement that the pressure on us would ease with this job and a steady income. I had cut back on the luxuries: the cleaner, the lawnmower man, the pool cleaner, but I’d been living with an unease that other, more important, things might have to go too. Maybe the kids’ school fees. Maybe the house. Before getting this job, Paul had at times come home late at night from the speaking gigs beaming, waving cash around and laughing; at other times, he came home with his shoulders hunched and his voice flat, complaining that I’d left the lights or the air conditioning on. I craved stability. And now, we had it again.

  The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be Georgia.’ I still hadn’t found the sandals; I hurried out of the bedroom in my bare feet and down the hall to answer the door. Georgia was our neighbour’s daughter. She knew the kids well, and she was studying medicine at University, which always made me feel happier about leaving the kids with her. Tilly loved her, and Cameron, well, he was fine with her. Cameron was fine with most people as long as you didn’t make him do something he didn’t want to.

  ‘Come through, how are you? Kids!’ I called, ‘Georgia’s here.’ />
  Tilly came running out, a big smile on her face, her hair tied up in a high ponytail. Georgia bent down and gave her a hug; Tilly beamed. Still not too big for a hug, even though she was ten now. I smiled.

  ‘God knows where Cameron is.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I’ve downloaded a new movie for him and he’s allowed to watch that on his iPad in his room. He shouldn’t give you any trouble.’

  ‘He never does.’

  ‘Georgia, I’ve got the coolest thing to show you in Minecraft,’ Tilly said, pulling Georgia away by the hand. Georgia looked over her shoulder at me and shrugged, grinning.

  I went back into the bedroom. Paul was tying his shoelaces. He stood up and smoothed down his trousers. ‘Does this look okay?’

  ‘Perfect! Are you nervous?’

  ‘Nah.’

  I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows.

  ‘A little bit.’

  ‘You’ve already got the job, babe. This is the fun bit, meeting everyone. Just be yourself, and they’ll all love you. Are you worried I’ll show you up?’

  He smiled at me and tapped his index finger on his lips. ‘Hmmm…’

  ‘Hey!’ I threw a discarded sock at him.

  Paul ducked, then stepped towards me and hugged me. ‘No. Of course not. You’re the best thing about me.’

  ‘Aww…’ I mumbled. ‘That’s a nice thing to say. But it’s not true.’ I wriggled backwards. ‘Careful, you might get my make-up on your shirt! Okay, we should get going. Where are my shoes?’

  I looked in the wardrobe again, found the tan sandals I’d been searching for and put them on. It was hard to know what to wear. We were going to a fancy restaurant, but I’d never met these people before and I didn’t know what was appropriate. I had decided on a jade silk dress, knee length, tied at the waist. It had spaghetti straps but a high neck. Covering all bases. I’d blow dried my hair as best I could, though it was a poor effort compared to when the hairdressers used to do my hair for functions. Back then, when Paul was playing, everything was paid for: flights and hotels, designer clothes, hair and make-up, meals, endless drinks. But we were no longer being flown around the country by sponsors.

  I thought back to our first big event after we’d moved to Australia, before Cameron was born: a weekend in Melbourne for Australia’s biggest horse race, the Melbourne Cup. Then, as our driver had pulled up to Flemington racecourse, excitement had bubbled through me like champagne. Later, once the races started, the ground shook with the thunder of the horses pounding around the track. I had put my weight on the balls of my feet to stop my heels sinking into the soft grass outside the marquee, checking my race ticket for the number of my horse. The animals were blurred as they galloped around, brightly dressed jockeys bouncing up and down. It was impossible not to be carried along by the thrill that charged the air, the nervous energy as the punters waved their betting slips, gripped their drinks and jumped up and down on the spot. As the horses turned the final corner and neared the finishing line in front of us, I saw the orange and white bib of the horse I’d picked, and the blue of Paul’s bet bobbing up and down between the others. As we watched, Paul’s inched ahead while my horse fell back. I shrugged and leaned forwards, willing Paul’s horse to speed up, to pull ahead some more and before I knew it, Paul had grabbed me and lifted me up off the ground as he whooped in my ear, laughing. I laughed too and then kissed him. It was a perfect day. We couldn’t lose.

  We had many more days at the races. The excitement of that day had left an indelible mark. We would go together to Royal Randwick, Sydney’s racecourse, and then, once I had the children to look after, Paul would go without me. We lost so many more times than we won, but it wasn’t hard to convince ourselves that the fun we had was worth the money we shredded up.

  But back then, we loved taking risks. After all, we had left our families and moved half a world away from our life in Scotland. Back then, what was the worst that could happen? We had become too used to always winning, until Paul couldn’t play football anymore. Now, the stakes were higher. If this job didn’t go well, everything was at risk.

  I shook away the thoughts, and reminded myself that everything was fine now. I looked in the full-length mirror on the back of our bedroom door. It would do; I looked happy, at least. I was happy: I was excited about our future for the first time in a long time, and so relieved that Paul was excited too.

  The dinner was at a restaurant in the casino complex, overlooking the lights of Sydney harbour. Back in Scotland, the casinos were small, often hidden behind heavy black doors down alleyways, where we’d stagger in brandishing our membership cards for a drink after the nightclubs had closed. Here in Sydney, the casino was part of a big, brash, collection of expensive restaurants run by celebrity chefs, designer shops, and bars, surrounding a bright lobby with a shiny car tied up with a ribbon in the foyer. When you stepped from the foyer onto the casino floor, you were besieged by rows and rows of slot machines and roulette wheels and poker tables and blackjack tables and halls of mirrors and bright lights and jingle-jangling noises.

  The taxi stopped at the main entrance and a doorman from the casino opened the car door. As I stepped out, I looked behind me back into the car. I took a deep breath. My eyes prickled with tears as and saw Paul take his wallet out of his pocket and pull out his credit card to pay the $70 taxi fare that I’d watched creep up with unease.

  Paul closed the taxi door, put his wallet in his back pocket, then pulled back his shoulders. I could see how nervous he was. I pulled my own shoulders back too, then took his hand and squeezed it. So what if we’d worn these clothes before and were a little older? We were wiser. We were more cautious now; we had beautiful children to think of and we were as strong as ever: no, stronger. This was the turning point for us. We were together; everything was right where it should be again.

  We walked from the glare of the casino foyer through a door and into a dark corridor lined by glowing candles, my heels clicking on the dark oak floors. I held Paul’s hand as we approached the maître d’ at a pedestal at the front of the restaurant. My stomach churned; why did I always feel intimidated in places like this? I didn’t need to prove myself any more.

  ‘Good evening, sir, madam,’ the maître d’ said.

  ‘Hi,’ I said.

  ‘We’re with—’

  ‘The Talbot party?’

  Paul nodded. ‘Yes, Damian Talbot.’

  ‘Come this way.’ He picked up two menus and glided towards the back of the restaurant, towards a table next to the open kitchen where at least ten chefs with white aprons were bustling around, heads down, steam billowing and pans sizzling around them. I felt a flurry of excitement.

  The table seated eight; we were the last to arrive. I recognised Damian, who stood up immediately on our approach, as did the others at the table. Three couples. Two were around our age, I guessed, and Damian and his wife were maybe in their early fifties.

  ‘Paul!’ he said warmly, shaking his hand. ‘Great to see you.’ He turned to me. ‘And Emily, it’s been too long. You look beautiful.’

  Despite myself, I felt my cheeks turning red as I couldn’t help but smile. ‘Hi, Damian. Great to see you again.’ I went to shake his hand but he leaned in and kissed my cheek. Of course.

  ‘Have you met my wife?’

  ‘No, no I haven’t.’

  I looked across the table and held out my hand to a woman with long reddish-brown hair worn down in loose curls, who was smiling warmly at me. She shook my hand.

  ‘Hi. I’m Emily,’ I said. ‘Paul’s wife.’

  ‘Shona,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to meet you at last.’

  Shona. Not Cheryl or Shelly. I felt a smile play on my lips; I glanced over at Paul, but he was now shaking hands with the others and I could tell he was concentrating on remembering names.

  We finished introductions. Damian and Shona, Lucas and Amina, and Tim and Sam. I recited them in my head. They had left a space for us, opposite each other. Tim and Sam were at one en
d of the table, then Paul and I, then Damian and Shona, and at the other end, Lucas and Amina. Boy girl boy girl. Very well planned, I thought. I sat down, placed my bag at my feet, then exhaled slowly as I tried to look relaxed.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ Sam asked, looking from me to Paul.

  Paul nodded, ‘I have.’

  ‘Not me,’ I said. ‘Paul used to come here with work but since having kids I don’t get out much!’ I tried to joke but I saw Paul stiffen. ‘So, I’m very pleased to try it, I’ve heard great things. How about you? Have you been here before?’

  We chatted for a few minutes as I periodically glanced around the table looking for a drink. Paul was talking to Damian but I knew he’d be more comfortable when the small talk was over. As if by magic, a waiter appeared and a hush went over the table as he introduced himself and explained that he was the sommelier. As he spoke, another waiter offered us still or sparkling water and filled our glasses. I picked mine up and sipped at the bubbles, only then noticing how dry my mouth had been. I picked up the cocktail menu on the table, glad to have a break from talking, and scanned the list. Would a cocktail look too indulgent? I looked over at Paul, but he was listening to the waiter.

  He was coming around the table now taking drinks orders. No one else was looking at the cocktail menu; I closed it with some disappointment. I ordered a glass of the house Prosecco and went back to chatting.

  A few minutes later, the waiter returned with a tray: one bottle of beer with a tall frosted glass, and one glass of Prosecco. He put the drinks in front of Paul and myself, then walked off. I caught Paul’s eyes and he briefly raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug. Had I done something wrong? Jeez, we’d got a taxi all the way here so I was going to have a drink. I could have driven and saved $140. I quickly took a sip, keeping my eyes down.

  We all kept talking and, after a few sips, I forgot about it and the tension that had been tightening my shoulders lessened. I looked over; Paul was laughing at something Sam had said. There was a time I might have been jealous of him laughing with another woman, in those endless early days when I had to stay home with the kids. But the time I spent with the kids when they were little was worth a thousand dinners out, and Paul and I had been through too much for there to be anything but complete trust between us now.