by Sue Watson
Dan was holding Clover, and I turned to look at them, taking out my phone for a photo: ‘You two look cute, as Rosie would say.’ I smiled and took a picture.
‘Hey, Mum should be in that too,’ a voice said. An elderly couple were wandering past and the woman was offering to take a photo.
‘Yeah, Mum, come over here,’ Dan laughed.
I awkwardly stood with them, no point in explaining to these strangers that I wasn’t Mum, and just said ‘Cheese’ when she commanded me to.
‘Thanks,’ Dan said, as I took my phone back from her.
‘It’s no bother at all,’ the lady smiled. ‘You just look so sweet, the two of you standing there with your baby. Lovely little family,’ she nodded, ‘have a great day now,’ and they were on their way.
Dan smiled at me and, taking my hand, we wandered into the coffee shop, where we ordered two stacks of mini pancakes that came with strawberry jam and whipped cream. Our coffees arrived first, and before he began his juggling act with a baby and hot coffee, I opened my arms and he gently placed a sleeping Clover in them. As she snuggled against my chest, I knew the real reason I’d wanted to stop was so I could hold her. I buried my face in her neck so I could smell her baby skin. Breathing it in took me back to my own babies and the smell was the fragrance of new happiness. As Dan drank his coffee and talked of the food we’d eat, the sights we’d see, I cuddled her, feeling that sweet baby warmth in my arms. There was no going back, I was hooked.
After our pit stop, or rather pancake stop, we carried on with our journey, driving along the road, long and winding, the vast blue ocean on one side and rainforests on the other. Dan took credit for all the beauty, boasting about how Australia had everything a person ever needed, and I knew he was pitching for me to stay. He didn’t have to try too hard – the views spoke for themselves, and they beat a rainy day in the Midlands hands down.
Arriving in Jervis Bay, we stayed in a fisherman’s hut and wandered the white powdery beaches, hand in hand. The original plan had been to scuba-dive here, where the water was aqua clear, but as Clover was with us, we wouldn’t be able to.
‘Sorry, babe, I promise I’ll bring you again and we can do all the things we said we’d do,’ Dan said as we sat on the beach.
‘Without Clover? I don’t think so. Miss Clover would have something to say about that,’ I laughed, and I looked at him seriously. ‘No, let’s come back here when Clover’s old enough to swim with us in that beautiful sea.’
He knew what I was saying and smiled, ‘Does this mean you might stay?’
‘I’m not sure, but I love it here… with you… and Clover,’ I said, feeling excited and a little nervous about what I’d just said. My heart wanted this so badly, it was just my head that kept telling me I mustn’t make too many promises just yet because I didn’t have the full picture. I’d never met Saffron, I didn’t know who she was; all I’d ever had was the rather basic sketch from Dan, who wasn’t all that comfortable talking to me about her. I knew that until I met her and spoke with her myself, I wouldn’t know her at all, and there was still a niggle in the back of my mind that she might still have feelings for Dan. If she did, then I wasn’t sure it would be wise to take on some gladiatorial challenge for her baby daddy. But for now, I put Saffron from my mind as Dan suggested we take Clover in the sea, and nervously carried her to the water’s edge, where the three of us sat in a little huddle, letting the water wash over our toes. This wasn’t how I’d imagined the day to be – but with Clover there giggling as the water lapped her feet and me and Dan watching on, I realised that perhaps it was even better than the day I’d imagined.
Later, after Clover had dined, we parked her buggy by our table. I left the wine list to Dan as she was in need of winding and belched loudly as the sun set over the white beach.
‘How romantic,’ Dan smiled.
‘Who needs oysters as an aphrodisiac when you have a belching diner at the table?’ I laughed, as I manipulated her back gently.
The wine arrived and as I rubbed Clover’s back, Dan sipped, and after each sip said things like ‘baked apple’, then ‘lemon… citrus,’ and so on. Then he leaned over the table and lifted my glass to my lips so I could share this with him.
‘Tastes like an Australian sunset,’ I smiled.
And when the oysters were brought out, he was equally vociferous. ‘Basically, most places in Oz serve dead oysters, shucked and rinsed – but these are alive, the way they serve them in France. Just taste that marvellous salty liquor, the natural oyster juice,’ he said, feeding one to me. It was delicious – cool and salty, like the seaside on a windy day – and in that lovely golden light, with the man I loved, the sea on my lips, a baby in my arms, I wondered if it was possible to be any happier.
Clover soon dropped off and Dan put her in her buggy, where she snuggled down.
‘Make the most of this peace,’ he said, pouring the rest of the wine. ‘We won’t get much sleep tonight.’
‘Is that a promise?’ I said, finally feeling like my old self, free to play with him.
‘I was talking about Clover’s colic, but now you mention it,’ he smiled, and began to gently run his finger around the rim of his glass without taking his eyes from mine. ‘Okay, I reckon we have an hour tops before Princess Clover awakens and screams the whole bloody place down. So what do you say to us paying up and heading back to our room?’
I nodded, my brain finally giving in to my body and telling me this was okay, I was allowed to sleep with this beautiful man and love him the way I wanted to.
So we hurriedly walked back to the room, speaking only softly, cursing a loud growling motorbike whizzing by in case it woke Clover, but miraculously, she slept right through it. Once in the room, we parked the buggy and left Clover there to sleep, while we kissed and lay on the huge bed in the middle of the room.
Dan’s touch was as gentle and loving as it had always been, but I sensed the urgency, the need, and it wasn’t just because he was against the timer of a sleeping baby, it was because like me he wanted this moment so much, had waited for it for more than a year.
He pulled my dress over my head and cupped my naked breasts, kissing me deeply. He pushed me gently onto the pillows and wrapping my legs around his strong, smooth back, I told him how much I wanted him, as he responded with panting groans. We were swept up in each other, rolling around the sheets, tangled up as we always had been, and always would be. After only a few minutes it was over for both of us, for now – we were so desperate for each other, we couldn’t hold on.
‘Nothing… no one has ever been like you,’ he sighed, his eyes damp, his chest shimmering with perspiration.
I felt the same – it had always been more than sex with Dan, it had been a final confirmation of love, and a knowledge that we were right together and nothing was going to stop our tidal wave.
He got up, wrapping a sheet around him, and checked Clover. ‘She’s still breathing,’ he said, relieved. ‘I bet you think I’m mad, don’t you?’ he laughed, walking back to the bed.
‘No, I think you’re a parent,’ I said, ‘and those feelings are with you forever, it’s like a wonderful curse. I’d still check Emma’s breathing when she slept if she let me,’ I joked.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his broad back strong and sinewy, his hair still thick and sun-bleached, and I sat up and crawled towards him, resting my cheek on his back, reaching around and taking him in my hand. He groaned again, and I knelt up, kissing his neck, sliding around and climbing onto his knee, pushing him inside me, his kisses hot, our eventual climax like a thunderbolt through both our bodies… but our mutual pleasure on low volume, so we didn’t wake the baby.
*
The following day, we turned up in Pambula, a village on the far south coast of New South Wales. Dan had been keen to show me this place with its artisan bakeries and coffee roasters, stopping for lunch at Wild Rye’s, where we had the Angus beef pies made with red wine – short, crisp pastry, hot, meaty, fr
agrant filling. Probably the most delicious pie I’ve ever had, and trust me, I’ve had a few.
Later, as we took a boat out into the Sapphire Coast to go whale watching, we congratulated ourselves on taking a road trip with a baby of just a few months. Our congratulations seemed a bit premature though when Clover projectile vomited. This managed to eclipse the spectacle of a huge whale – but a few muslin cloths and a bottle of water soon erased the mess. We missed the rare sighting, but I told Dan it was a good excuse to come back again, as he apologised and mopped himself up.
‘And you really must stop apologising for Clover,’ I said afterwards as we ate a late picnic on the beach – a delicious fruit bread from Wild Rye’s with a divine local cheese.
‘I just feel guilty – there’s so much to see and so much to do, but we can’t because of Clover. I know you don’t mind, I just wanted to do so much, show you everything…’
‘I’m with you and Clover – it doesn’t matter about what we see, I’m just having a wonderful time,’ I said, and I was.
Throughout our trip, Saffron stayed in touch. She called Dan every day to ask about Clover, as we fed sea eagles in Mallacoota, when we were walking through Croajingolong National Park, boating on the vast, tranquil Gippsland Lakes. For those few short minutes when he spoke with her I felt different, like my role was suddenly defunct. Our time together was wonderful, but for me, the very sound of Dan’s phone caused a shadow to drift across the sun. Away from Sydney, we were in another bubble, a pretend family of three on holiday, but where would I fit in when the holiday was over and our bubble was burst?
It seemed my heart was now buried in two corners of the world that weren’t home – with Rosie and Emma in Scotland, and Dan and my new love Clover in Sydney. Walking along the sweeping expanse of Ninety Mile Beach, I picked up shells for Rosie, and bought a necklace for Emma, and thought about how babies get their little tiny fists around your heart and don’t let go.
And through all those sleepy seaside towns, national parks and long, white beaches where our feet walked on untouched sand I tried not to think of the future too much, because who knew what twists and turns fate had in store for us?
26
Sex on Bondi – Three Times
I felt a little deflated as we headed back to Sydney and reality at the end of our week’s road trip. As much as Dan always seemed to push me forward, the circumstances swirling around us pulled me back. Our first summer in Santorini had been a watershed. I’d changed and went on to take my degree and start a new life, but he’d always been in the background, each step bringing me closer to Sydney, and him. And now, here I was being delivered back to Sydney, Dan rushing back to the café and Clover to Saffron. But what about me? I felt like I had when Emma and Rosie left, like I was alone and didn’t belong to anyone or anything.
Dan and I made quick arrangements to catch up in a few days, and I booked two nights in a guest house in the south of the city. Dan had offered again for me to stay at his apartment, but as Saffron hadn’t moved out, I couldn’t entertain it. He’d suggested the guest house, which was run by an old family friend, who turned out to be a crazy thespian called Molly, who’d apparently just enjoyed a successful first week in Mamma Mia!
‘Dan’s friend?’ she asked, screwing up her face to look at me in the doorway when I arrived.
I nodded.
‘Fabulous, dahling!’ she shrieked, opening the door wide. ‘You’re just in time for cocktails,’ she announced as I followed her into the old Victorian-style house. It was huge, with leaded windows, big oak doors and a sitting room that reminded me of my grandma’s parlour. There was a massive bar in the corner, where Molly now stood with a cocktail shaker. And three ‘Sex on Bondis’ later, she was lying across her chaise longue describing every aspect of her life and performances in detail. From make-up to ‘amazing’ scripts to the applause of the crowd, I felt like I’d been there. Eventually I managed to butt into her conversation and ask if I could take a shower: ‘It’s been a long journey,’ I said.
I headed upstairs to my room and the en suite, where I stood under the hot water, the beat and lyrics of ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair’ thrumming through the water into my brain for some reason. Was I being stupid? Was I merely putting myself in the same life I’d had at home, where I’d settled into a routine with Emma and Rosie and they’d upped and left?
I stepped out of the shower, covering my hair with a towel and wrapping myself in a towelling bathrobe. I lay on the bed waiting for the sound of a baby crying – was she hungry, did she need me? No, of course she didn’t, Clover was with her real mother now and I had to get used to that. I also had to decide where I stood with Dan. Yes, I loved him, but I needed more to make a life. I had to make my own plans and think more clearly about my own future, the one that didn’t rely on anyone else, and where no one else relied on me. I wanted to teach English, and I could do that here in Sydney, or back in the UK.
I dressed and went back downstairs, where the Wi-Fi was better. I wanted to google some stuff and talk to Emma and see what she thought, but when I logged on to Skype, Rosie appeared on the screen.
‘Hello darling,’ I said, my eyes instantly filling with tears. I missed her so much and was homesick to the point of just getting on a plane there and then.
‘Nana, I have been worried about you!’ was her opening line, her arms were crossed, and she was wearing her Cinderella dress. ‘I’ve been trying to conc… conctact you,’ she said, not quite getting the word.
I smiled. ‘I’ve been away for a few days, sweetie, with Dan.’
‘Did you play video games with Dam?’ She did a theatrical gasp.
‘Er, no…’
‘Good, because he only plays with me, Nana… You can’t play too. Can I conctact him?’
‘He’s busy right now, darling, but we could Skype you…’
‘When?’
Who knew when I was seeing him again? Having spent the most idyllic week together, he’d gone back to his life and he’d be busy with the café and I’d just be waiting. And waiting was something I didn’t want to do anymore.
‘Dan and I went to the beach…’ I started. ‘We took Clover, you know… the baby?’
‘Without me?’ she said, and her little chin began to wobble.
‘Yes, but…’
‘Nana, when are you coming back? I miss you!’
Now my chin began to wobble and I thought, I just can’t do this anymore – and my heart broke silently in my chest.
My heart was telling me to stay in Sydney. I loved Dan, I always would, and in an ideal world, I’d stay here with him and Clover forever. But Clover belonged to somebody else, she didn’t need me, whereas here was my own flesh and blood telling me she missed me.
I felt like I was in two places, stretched across oceans and flipping so easily from one to the other. How could I possibly choose?
‘Oh darling, Nana doesn’t know what to do,’ I said into the screen at Cinderella, who was now painting her nails. ‘Thing is, darling, I’m missing you, but I like Dan too and I miss him when I’m not here. I don’t want you upset though, because that would be awful. Do you wish I was there with you, Rosie?’ I asked, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t bear this, my granddaughter was suffering; she missed me terribly, she needed me and I could take anything, but not this. I waited for her to finish painting her thumbnail, and eventually she looked up, like she’d forgotten I was there.
‘Nana…’ she started, and I moved closer to the screen, holding my breath: was she distraught? Did she want me to jump on the next plane? ‘It’s bruddy green!’ she said, holding out her bright-green-covered nails.
I laughed at my stupidity. Of course she missed me, but it was passing, temporary. Rosie was so young, she had her mum and Richard and her step-siblings, new friends at school and probably a different boyfriend than the last time we’d spoken. Rosie was fine… it was Faye I needed to think about.
I eventually said g
oodbye to Rosie, having gone through her portfolio of nail varnishes and planned her next ‘look’ for a party the following day. I spoke briefly to Emma, but it was late there, and she was trying to get Rosie to bed and I wasn’t exactly helping, so I gave her a very brief rundown of the trip and said I’d call the following day.
I was just closing my laptop and wondering what to do for the rest of the evening when Molly appeared. ‘Ooh, dahling, meant to tell you, someone’s been here looking for you,’ she said.
‘Dan?’ I asked, hopefully. Perhaps he’d wangled another night away from the café and was going to sweep me into his arms again?
‘No… A woman, a looker too – God, what I’d give for a figure like that!’
‘Did she give a name, what did she want?’ I asked, the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. What I really wanted to ask was if she was carrying anything that looked like a weapon or a boiled bunny.
‘Didn’t say… Have you seen the review of my performance in Time Out Sydney?’ she asked, throwing the magazine gently onto my lap like we’d known each other forever. I didn’t want to seem rude so I made a cursory glance. The review swam before me and I tried to look impressed, but wanted to get back to the matter in hand.
I looked up, making like I’d dragged myself from the riveting review: ‘Did she ask for me by name?’
‘Who?’
‘The woman who came here… Did she ask for me by name?’
‘Yes, how else would she ask for you?’ she laughed, like I was mad. ‘She asked if Faye Dobson was staying here and that she had to talk to you and said she’d be back.’
‘She said she’ll be back?’ I echoed, thinking of Arnie’s catchphrase from The Terminator.
This was all I needed. I was exhausted from the trip, bereft without Dan and Clover, and now I had to face Saffron, ‘the looker’. She was probably going to warn me off, tell me to keep away from her baby, stop playing happy families. I felt sick at the thought of this encounter. I couldn’t blame her, especially as Dan, much to my annoyance, had put pictures of the three of us on our trip all over his Instagram. I’d told him it was rubbing her face in it, but he said she was ‘cool’ about me. He always said she was ‘cool’, but I wasn’t convinced.