His Other House

by Sarah Armstrong

  How foolish she had been to think herself happy. She had carried on, smiling gaily at everyone around her, quietly smug about her beautiful daughter, her lovely husband, her charmed family. And Quinn had stood by, watching her act out her little fantasy of their blessed life.

  She stood up and made her way through the dark house to the phone in the kitchen.

  ‘Hello?’ Bill’s voice was sleepy.

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Marianna?’ His sheets rustled.

  ‘Yes.’ She dropped onto the couch under the kitchen window.

  He sighed. ‘Oh, Marianna.’

  Bill had come for dinner half a dozen times since Adie was born. He’d sat right there at Marianna’s table and eaten her food and said nothing.

  ‘Do you know her?’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me about her.’ The dishwasher light blinked at her. It had been packed and turned on when her life was still intact. She had last sat on this couch when her life was intact. Except that, of course, it had been far from intact. It had been as splintered and ruptured as it seemed now, but hidden away. She imagined a broken and bloodied body, a mess of entrails. The image shocked her but was satisfying in its violence.

  Bill asked, ‘What do you already know?’

  ‘Her name.’ She couldn’t say it. ‘That they have a son.’

  He took a breath. There was more rustling. ‘Okay. She lives up in the hills, in one of the valleys. A big property that borders the National Park.’ He spoke quickly. ‘She used to be a journalist in Sydney and now she does proofreading and is into . . . self-sufficiency.’

  ‘And presumably she’s smart and funny and sexy?’ She realised she wanted Bill to tell her who was more beautiful. Oh God, had Quinn reduced her to this?

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly.

  ‘He must give her money.’ It had just occurred to her.

  ‘I guess so. I haven’t asked. She lives pretty simply.’

  ‘He must. She’s raising his son.’

  ‘He’s a lovely kid.’ He exhaled a long breath. ‘She and I slept together. A couple of years ago.’

  ‘You fucked her?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ She felt like throwing the phone across the room. Marianna had slept with Bill a few times before she met Quinn. Sitting there in the dark kitchen, she had the sense of strange workings behind the scenes, as if by screwing Bill she had allowed this whole thing to happen. She knew it was crazy thinking, but things were crazy.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Bill said. ‘Just so everything is in the open.’

  ‘Bit late for radical honesty, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She counted the flashes on the oven clock. 4.14 am. Flash. Flash. Flash. ‘Tell me, how does someone do something like this? For years on end. Is he just completely mad?’

  ‘I don’t think he’s mad.’

  ‘Maybe it’s about respect. He just doesn’t respect me, does he?’

  Bill was silent.

  ‘And neither do you . . .’ Finally she let her anger surface. ‘Or you would have told me. Fuck you, Bill.’

  ‘It wasn’t my secret to tell.’

  Her voice rose and rang through the quiet house. ‘Those who do nothing and say nothing, who just stand by, they’re to blame as well, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice broke. ‘I’m really sorry. I kept hoping he’d tell you. Would you really have wanted to hear it from me?’

  ‘Yes, I would.’ She took a shaky breath. Could she have woken Adie? She wasn’t ready to face her. ‘Is it just a case of your loyalty to him being greater than your loyalty to me?’

  ‘It was up to him to tell you.’ He sighed. ‘Shit. It wasn’t my job to save him from himself.’

  So Bill was angry at Quinn too. That was more comforting than she would have imagined. ‘So telling me would have been saving him from himself?’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about me? What about saving me from him?’ She remembered one spring afternoon in her final year of uni. The three of them had driven over to Nielsen Park and stretched out on a blanket in the sun. She had lain between them, pleasantly drunk on white wine, watching the clouds, not really listening to their conversation, just taking in the sounds of Quinn and Bill’s voices, feeling utterly lucky and safe.

  ‘What’s her surname?’ she said. First light was entering the kitchen and she could see Quinn’s tattered straw hat where he’d left it on the sideboard.

  ‘Gordon. Rachel Gordon.’

  ‘And where exactly does she live?’

  ‘On Mill Road. You’re not going to go out there, are you?’

  ‘Why would I want to do that?’ Even as she said it, she knew she would go. She needed to see his other house, where he had lived a whole other life.

  A noise came from somewhere inside the house. She sat forward on the couch to peer through the dim kitchen. ‘And she’s started telling people?’ she said.

  ‘Apparently. She’s kept it quiet for years.’

  ‘Who has she told?’

  ‘Family and friends, I guess. She didn’t say.’

  ‘And that’s why he told me.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She hung up without saying goodbye and the last of her energy drained away, the last of the burning that had kept her awake all night.

  So she hadn’t known Quinn at all. She had utterly misjudged him. And Bill. Could she ever trust her judgement again? She sank back into the couch and watched as dawn broke outside and the furniture in the room came into focus. Adie was the only one left for her, the one person she really knew.

  •

  Adie sat up in bed. ‘Have you been crying, Mummy?’ She threw off her top sheet.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m sad.’

  ‘Why?’ Adie sat up straighter.

  ‘Because Daddy’s told me something upsetting. He told me that he has another family.’

  Adie’s face was blank and uncomprehending. Marianna noticed a blue texta mark on her cheek.

  ‘He has another wife and a little boy.’ She reached for Adie’s hand, the fingers so soft.

  Adie’s eyes slid sideways then back to Marianna. ‘What do you mean?’

  Marianna took a breath. ‘I know. It’s hard to understand, isn’t it? He has a girlfriend in Corimbi and they have a son. So when he’s there he lives with them.’

  ‘Why?’ Adie’s bewildered face brought a rush of tears to Marianna’s eyes.

  Marianna shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ She couldn’t stop the hiccupping sobs and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘Mummy. Mummy.’ Adie slid close to her mother and Marianna stroked her daughter’s arm in an effort to quiet her own tears.

  Adie said quietly, ‘Where’s Daddy?’

  Marianna took a deep breath. ‘He’s not here. He stayed somewhere else last night.’

  ‘Where?’ Was that an accusatory look in Adie’s eyes? ‘Where’s he gone?’

  What should she say? That she told him to leave? That she would prefer never to see him again? ‘Even if he doesn’t live here, you will still see him. Don’t worry, you’ll see him.’

  ‘Isn’t he going to live here anymore?’

  Marianna shook her head gently. ‘No, I don’t think so, sweetheart.’ She wanted Adie to be as outraged at the news as she was. But her girl just looked afraid.

  ‘Where is he? He didn’t say goodbye.’

  ‘He didn’t want to wake you. He asked me to tell you that he loves you and he’ll see you soon.’

  Adie got out of bed and walked down the hall and out the front door. Marianna followed her down the steps and onto the driveway, where Adie stood looking up and down the quiet road.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  He leaned against the window and pressed his nose to the cool glass. Three points of contact, that’s what rock climbers needed to stop t
hem falling. Feet, hands and nose.

  The phone on his desk flashed but he kept his eyes on the trees moving in the wind out in the Parkland. He could keep his body still but inside was a dizzy, sickening slurry.

  Had Marianna told Adie yet? He would see his girl today even if he had to walk into the house against Marianna’s wishes. He remembered Adie’s warm, wiry body pressed to him in the backyard yesterday afternoon, her legs around his waist, her wet head heavy on his shoulder.

  He sat at the desk to dial Marianna’s number.

  ‘Hello.’ It was the same chatty way she always answered the phone.

  ‘Hi. It’s me.’ His voice came out husky. He cleared his throat.

  She was silent. He remembered her last night, the life draining from her face.

  ‘Have you told Adie?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘What do you want?’ Her voice was crisp.

  He swallowed. ‘I need to see her today. To explain things.’ There was a hesitant knock on his door, which he ignored.

  ‘Right.’ In the background he heard a woman’s voice. Someone was there with her and Adie. Then he recognised the voice; it was Marianna’s mother.

  He spoke quietly. ‘Marianna, I just –’

  She interrupted him. ‘Yes. Come between four and five.’ She hung up.

  Sally, the receptionist, stuck her head around the door and waved a piece of paper. ‘That referral just arrived for your next patient.’ She crossed the room, a questioning look in her eyes. Did he look that bad?

  ‘Thanks.’ Quinn forced a smile and took the letter from her. ‘I need to leave here at three thirty. Can you please clear my appointments?’

  ‘No problem.’

  He used to worry about people in Brisbane finding out he was not such a good guy after all. But now he couldn’t give a shit about Sally knowing. All he cared about was Adie and how she was feeling.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  He pulled into the driveway and Lucy sidled over, tail wagging. Marianna’s mother’s car wasn’t there, so he supposed she’d gone home. Then he saw Marianna watching from the front door and the familiar sight of her knocked the breath from him. What have I done?

  He walked up the path as Adie’s voice floated out from inside the house. She was laughing and calling out something, repeating a word he didn’t understand.

  Quinn climbed the stairs towards Marianna. ‘Hi,’ he said quietly.

  She stared at him, her pale face unmoving.

  ‘How’s Adie?’ The boards creaked under his feet. The house around him and the furniture on the verandah seemed like things he’d seen in a dream.

  She said, ‘How do you think?’ The dog flopped onto the boards between them.

  A man’s voice and laughter came from inside the house. ‘Who’s that?’ asked Quinn.

  Marianna turned and called down the hall. ‘Adie, your dad’s here.’ She turned back to Quinn and took a breath. ‘You’ve made a lie of everything. Our whole life together, our family.’ She took another breath as if she was going to say something else then leaned back, pressing her lips together, her eyes filling with tears. She crossed her arms and he saw that she had taken off her wedding ring.

  His heart leaped when Adie appeared behind her mother. She wore a red apron covered in flour and had tucked a bruised frangipani flower behind one ear. She gave him a nervous smile. ‘I’m making a cake with Grandpa.’

  ‘Hi, sweetheart. Do you want to come out in the garden with me?’ He expected his father to appear in the hallway any moment but couldn’t face him yet.

  Adie nodded and glanced up at her mother, who ruffled Adie’s hair and said, ‘We’ll be in the kitchen.’

  Quinn offered Adie his hand but she kept her distance. They walked across the springy lawn and Adie pointed to the cubby house.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Quinn.

  She untied her apron and dropped it to the grass.

  ‘It’ll be breezy up there,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’

  Her bare, tanned feet gripped the rungs of the ladder they had made together one Christmas. He followed her up and they sat in their usual spots, side by side on the timber platform, facing the street. Adie hugged her knees and looked down to where a woman in a blue dress pushed a pram along the footpath. He put his arm around Adie’s shoulder, but she leaned away from him.

  She picked the flower from behind her ear and examined it, her fingers delicate, adult. It had only been overnight, but already he could sense how it would be from now on, watching her grow up from a distance. She tossed the flower into the garden below.

  He kept his arm behind her back. ‘I know Mummy has told you about my other family.’

  She looked straight ahead and gave a tiny nod. The wind worried the leaves around them.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now. I wish I had.’

  She was silent.

  ‘Their names are Rachel and Ned. I want you to know that having another family makes no difference to how much I love you. You will always be my precious girl.’ He pulled her close to him. She felt so slight.

  ‘Mummy cried so much.’ She leaned into him but was still looking over the road to the woman wheeling the pram. ‘She really, really cried, Daddy.’

  Quinn’s stomach turned. ‘And did you cry?’

  She shook her head. ‘A bit. I’m okay.’

  ‘I know you must feel sad, sweetie, and –’

  ‘I’m okay.’ She gave him a fleeting smile and looked away again and chewed a fingernail.

  He wondered if his mother had the same sensation of falling into a void the day he left Ocean Island. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ he whispered. Was Marianna right? Was saying sorry something he did for himself, not them?

  ‘Where did you sleep?’ she asked.

  ‘At a motel down the road.’

  ‘But why didn’t you come in and say goodbye?’

  ‘I did say goodbye but you were asleep. Do you wish that I’d woken you?’

  Her voice broke. ‘You were just gone when I woke up.’

  His heart actually ached. ‘Oh, darling.’

  She shifted away from him. ‘Mummy said you won’t be living here anymore.’

  ‘That’s right. But Mummy and I will work out a way for me to see lots of you. We’ll go to the beach and the movies and the pool . . . and out for dinner.’ He hoped that was true.

  ‘Where will you live?’ He could barely hear her.

  ‘For now I might live with Grandpa when I’m in Brisbane. And I’ll live down in Corimbi . . . with Rachel and Ned.’

  ‘It won’t be much different,’ she said, her voice stronger. ‘You were hardly here anyway . . .’

  ‘What?’ he said and the wind whipped the word away. That had to be something she’d heard Marianna say. He stroked her head and bent to kiss her hair. ‘I love you and I’m sorry this is so hard.’

  She twisted away from him and turned to go backwards down the ladder. ‘I’ve got to get the cake out of the oven,’ she said. She climbed down the first couple of rungs. ‘We’re making chocolate and raspberry layer cake. We were going to make it for your birthday.’

  He took a breath. ‘It sounds delicious.’

  She looked directly at him. ‘I want to come and see where the boy lives. I want to see him.’

  There was only one answer he could give. ‘Of course you can come. Of course.’

  He followed her down the ladder. They crossed the lawn, the dog at their heels. Marianna must have been watching from inside because she opened the door and ushered Adie in. ‘The cake’s ready to come out. Grandpa will help you.’

  Marianna watched Adie disappear into the kitchen, then turned back to Quinn. ‘I need to know some things,’ she said tersely.

  He followed her down the steps and under the house into the garage, where she leaned against the workbench. He would answer anything she asked.

  ‘Wasn’t this any good?’ She wa
ved her hands around, gesturing out the garage door to the garden. ‘Me and Adie and this life we made here?’ She looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘It wasn’t enough for you?’

  ‘This was good. This was great. But when I met Rachel, things weren’t so great here. We’d just had the last miscarriage –’

  ‘Yes, I know when it happened. You already told me.’

  ‘Being with her was . . . an escape from all that business of trying for a baby. I felt like I could be myself.’ Leaves blew into the garage and skated along the concrete floor between them.

  ‘So you decided to fuck someone else rather than try and talk to me about it? Rather than trying to make things better here?’ She pulled her long hair back, twisting and tucking it down the back of her singlet.

  ‘I didn’t know how to make things better.’ From above them came the sound of Adie running through the house.

  ‘They did get better, though, didn’t they? After Adie came.’

  He nodded.

  She pressed her lips together and looked out the garage door. ‘I feel like such a fool. I thought our life was so good.’ She covered her face with her hands.

  ‘Things were good.’

  She dropped her hands. ‘And do you still feel more yourself with her?’

  He swallowed. ‘You and I share things that I can never share with Rachel. I know I fucked up but not even that can erase our history . . . I didn’t stop loving you, Marianna.’ He paused. ‘I still love you.’

  Her voice was strangled. ‘What a strange idea of love you have.’ She walked to the garage door shaking her head then turned back to him. ‘You let me waste years of my life with you.’

  Heat fizzed through his veins. He had done this, created such anguish in the woman he loved.

  She said, ‘You’ll need to take away the rest of your clothes and all your shit in the study.’

  ‘Okay. Yes.’ As she walked away towards the steps, he called after her, ‘Could you ask Dad to come out, please?’

  He crossed the front yard and sat on the bench under the frangipani tree. All night he’d lain awake, a loop of images running through his mind like a relentless montage: their wedding, making love, holidays, Adie’s birth. He remembered the name of the book she was reading when they met, he remembered seeing her naked for the first time, the way she blew on her tea before drinking it.