The Best Man

by Dianne Blacklock

  Liv was stumped. ‘What little show?’

  ‘Parading your boyfriend around like that,’ Joy scolded. ‘How could you put Rick through that? The man has his pride, you know.’

  ‘Hold on just a minute,’ said Liv. ‘There was no parade. David visited of his own volition, I didn’t plan it. And if you want to know something, Rick has actually been very supportive. Only last night he came to tell me that he wished me well.’

  ‘See what sort of a man he is? You never gave him a chance –’

  ‘I gave him a dozen chances,’ Liv stopped her. ‘You don’t even know the half of it, Mum.’

  ‘But he’s the best man for your sons, not this other . . . man, this nurse.’

  ‘Of course Rick is the best man for the boys – he’s their father,’ said Liv. ‘But that doesn’t mean he’s the best man for me.’

  ‘And so this man is? This man nurse?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Liv. ‘I haven’t had a chance to find out. But I’d like to. And Rick gave me his blessing, so why can’t you?’

  ‘You know how I feel, Olive,’ Joy said. ‘You’re still married in the eyes of the church.’

  ‘But it’s not my church, I don’t have to follow your rules.’

  ‘And I don’t have to like it.’

  ‘Then what do we do?’ said Liv, holding out her hands. ‘Should we just give up?’

  Joy stared at her.

  ‘I can’t do this any more, Mum. We can’t keep going on like this. I’m going to be looking after you in your dotage, you really have to be a little nicer to me.’

  Now Joy looked affronted. ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘No,’ Liv sighed. ‘It’s a desperate plea. We both have to do better; aren’t we on the same side, after all? I’m not such a bad person, you know. At least I try to be a good person, and I try to be a good mother. You have to stop judging me, Mum. Please.’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t think you’re a good mother,’ Joy retorted. ‘Of course you are. You’re the boss at work, you have twin boys that you’re raising mostly on your own, a house to run . . . For goodness sakes, they call you a “super woman” these days, don’t they?’

  Then it hit Liv, clearer than ever before. This generation of working mothers must really get up the noses of all the mothers who had come before them, the women whose entire lives had revolved around childrearing and housework. And then these little upstarts come along and treat all that like it’s nothing but a side act to the main event. No wonder Liv’s efforts were never good enough; if they were, that would make her mother’s life look rather small and meaningless.

  ‘I’m no super woman,’ said Liv. ‘Nowhere near it. For one thing, I couldn’t do any of it without your help. Dylan and Lachie adore you, we’re all lucky to have you.’

  Liv wasn’t sure, but she thought her mother’s eyes may have moistened, ever so slightly. Joy cleared her throat. ‘You’ve done a very good job with those boys, and you mustn’t think otherwise. You’ve always been too sensitive, Olive.’

  Liv suppressed a smile. ‘Okay, that’s a start. Next time try it without the sting in the tail, eh, Mum?’

  Joy pursed her lips, but at least she didn’t attempt a comeback.

  ‘I really have to go,’ said Liv, planting a kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ll call you later.’

  9.30 am

  ‘Mad? Maddie? Madeleine! Come on, you have to get up.’

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘Nope, not going to do that. I’m not Mum, I’m no pushover.’

  Suddenly the pillow covering her head was whipped away and Madeleine squinted, blinking, dazed and confused. Fragments of a dream were still whirling around in her mind – Aiden smearing wedding cake all over her on the kitchen bench, Henry sitting with a tray on his lap watching sitcoms with his mother, Henry yelling that he couldn’t look at her, as he pushed her off a yacht in the Barrier Reef . . .

  ‘Madeleine!’

  Was that Genevieve? For real, or was she still living in that dream hellscape?

  ‘Where am I now?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re at Mum’s.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘She was worried about you,’ said Genevieve, ‘and she couldn’t get you to wake up. So she called me.’

  Madeleine swallowed. Her mouth was so dry. ‘And you came?’

  ‘What’s it look like? Now come on, sit yourself up, I brought you some water.’

  Thank God, she’d sit up for that. Genevieve passed her a glass of water and she took it gratefully, gulping down half of it.

  ‘Are you hung-over?’ asked Genevieve.

  Madeleine shook her head. ‘I haven’t had a drink since . . .’ she squeezed her eyes closed, thinking, ‘. . . Friday.’

  ‘Then what’s going on?’ said Genevieve. ‘Mum’s really rattled. She said you showed up here last night, virtually incoherent, bawling your eyes out, but you wouldn’t tell her anything, you just wanted to go to bed.’

  Madeleine let out a deep sigh. ‘Is she okay? I should go talk to her.’

  ‘No, she’s with Archie, they’re watching Play School,’ said Genevieve. ‘Leave them be, he’ll be totally engrossed for half an hour. Now, tell me what’s going on.’

  This was the first time she was going to say it out loud. ‘Henry and I . . . um . . . the thing is, the wedding’s off.’

  ‘What?’ said Genevieve. ‘You can’t be serious?’

  ‘You think I’d joke about that?’

  ‘But what could have happened between yesterday, when you were happily picking out your wedding cake, and last night? It can’t have been enough to call off the whole thing.’

  ‘It didn’t start yesterday,’ Madeleine said wearily. She was still so tired, no matter how much she slept. ‘You might recall I wasn’t exactly happy picking out the cake.’

  Genevieve frowned. ‘But that was just cold feet.’

  ‘No, that was your theory.’

  ‘I’m still not getting it. Are you the one calling it off?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘So it was a mutual decision?’

  Madeleine wasn’t sure how to describe it. ‘Henry doesn’t want to marry me any more . . .’

  ‘It’s Henry?’ Genevieve looked genuinely shocked. ‘I can’t believe he’d do this to you. I mean, it’s as good as leaving you at the altar, this close –’

  ‘No, listen to me,’ Madeleine broke in. ‘It wasn’t Henry, it was me. I did something, something very bad, and . . . well, it’s unforgivable. I can’t expect Henry to forgive me, so the wedding’s off.’

  Genevieve looked squarely at her. ‘You cheated on him.’

  Madeleine blinked. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Come on, that’s the only thing in the unforgivable category, pre-wedding. Unless you murdered someone, I suppose. So what, is this something that happened ages ago that you felt the need to purge before the wedding? Seriously, Mad, sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.’

  Madeleine shook her head. ‘No, it happened Friday night.’

  ‘That’s when you had your impromptu hens’ party,’ said Genevieve, piecing it together. ‘Oh God, did you get drunk and pick up some random guy? Mad, that’s just . . . tacky, not to mention stupid. I hope you used protection?’

  Madeleine hadn’t even thought about that. She was on the pill, but God knows what she might have picked up from Aiden.

  ‘Surely Henry realises it was a stupid mistake?’ Genevieve was saying. ‘A really awful one, granted, but calling the whole thing off because of a drunken one-night stand? For an affair, maybe . . .’

  Madeleine didn’t say anything.

  ‘You’re not having an affair?’ Genevieve asked suspiciously.

  ‘No, but it wasn’t some random guy at a bar, either.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  Oh boy, here goes. ‘It was Aiden.’

  Genevieve’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and her jaw dropped. Madeleine almost expected w
acky sound effects.

  ‘Oh Maddie . . . Maddie, Maddie . . .’ Genevieve shook her head sadly. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’

  ‘Well, obviously I wasn’t . . . that’s the whole problem.’

  ‘So,’ Genevieve said, ‘is this a thing, are you two together now?’

  ‘God no!’

  ‘Because, you know, I get it, Aiden’s very –’

  ‘Gen!’

  ‘Sorry, sorry!’

  ‘Aiden is an opportunistic fraud who betrayed his best friend,’ Madeleine said, putting it into perspective for her. ‘He’s really not the person we thought he was, he had us all blindsided. Not that that’s any excuse for my behaviour.’

  ‘Jeez, poor Henry,’ said Genevieve.

  ‘Tell me about it. I hate myself for doing this to him, for hurting him like this.’

  ‘And you’re sure he won’t forgive you?’

  ‘He said quite plainly that he can’t be around me, he can’t even look at me.’

  ‘But that’s just the anger talking. He’ll calm down, Henry’s not an unreasonable person.’

  ‘He’s not being unreasonable.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’ Genevieve seemed to be thinking about it. ‘But Henry’s like . . . you know, he’s a cut above . . .’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, he’s not like a regular bloke.’

  ‘Don’t make fun of him, Gen. He doesn’t deserve that –’

  ‘I meant it in a good way,’ Genevieve said loudly. ‘It was supposed to be a compliment.’

  Madeleine frowned. ‘You don’t even like Henry.’

  ‘Of course I like Henry. What’s not to like, seriously?’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Mad, I’m jealous, okay? There, I said it. You’re my little sister, you landed an intelligent, kind, handsome man who worships the ground you walk on, moves halfway across the world for you, leaving a New York apartment and a house in the Hamptons, then buys you a house . . . What else? Oh, and he’s a children’s author, for crying out loud, he writes books for children! You couldn’t make this up, no one would believe you.’

  Madeleine stared at her, tears pricking her eyes.

  ‘My husband doesn’t come home from one month to the next,’ Genevieve went on, her voice subdued now. ‘He barely knows his own children, and on one of his recent trips back, he said he regretted that we’d never drawn up a pre-nup.’ She paused. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s having an affair.’

  Madeleine inhaled sharply. ‘Oh Gen, why haven’t you told me this before?’

  ‘You’ve been too busy with the wedding and everything. It wasn’t the right time to be dumping it on you.’

  Madeleine could feel a lump in her throat. She took hold of her sister’s hands. ‘Well, I’m here for you now.’

  Genevieve raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you kidding? You’re a mess. You’re not going to be good for anything until you get this sorted out with Henry.’

  ‘There’s nothing to sort out,’ Madeleine said. ‘Except to start cancelling all the arrangements for the wedding.’

  ‘Hold your horses,’ said Genevieve. ‘My advice, such as it is, is to give Henry a few days to calm down – give him the rest of the week. Then go to him on the weekend, throw everything you’ve got at him, plead, beg him to take you back. He loves you too much not to be swayed.’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’

  ‘Just promise me you won’t do anything rash before then,’ Genevieve said firmly, resuming her teacher/mother mode. ‘If it doesn’t work out, I’ll personally sit down with you next week and we’ll make the calls together.’

  ‘You’ll do that?’

  ‘I’m your matron of honour, it’s my job.’ She slapped her hands on her thighs. ‘And now I’ve got to go, or we’ll be late for Kindergym.’

  ‘Thanks, Gen,’ said Madeleine, grabbing her sister in a hug before she could get up.

  Genevieve hugged her back, just a brief, intense burst, before releasing her again. ‘And apparently you’re needed at work. Mum said your phone has been ringing “off the hook”. Her expression.’

  Madeleine looked around either side of the bed. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Mum’s got it. You left it in your bag out there, but she didn’t know how to answer it or what to do, so she just left it.’

  Madeleine got up and saw Genevieve and Archie off out the front with her mum. When they came inside again, Margaret gave her back her phone. But Madeleine resisted looking at it; instead she followed her out to the kitchen. She owed her mother at least ten minutes of her time first. Whatever new crisis was going on at work, it was just going to have to wait a little longer.

  ‘I’ve made a fresh pot of tea,’ said Margaret. ‘I’ll get you a cup.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m all right. I’m so sorry I showed up like that last night. I had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Now, now,’ Margaret said. ‘You have here, Maddie, this is your home. It will always be your home.’

  Madeleine nodded faintly. She’d thought her home would be with Henry from now on.

  ‘You didn’t want to talk about it last night,’ Margaret said. ‘And you don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want to. I know your sister’s helped. I’m just worried about you, darling.’

  ‘Oh Mum, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter, dear,’ Margaret assured her. ‘I worry about you all the time. That’s my job.’

  Madeleine attempted a weak smile while her mother poured the tea and then passed her a cup.

  ‘Anyway, like I said, you don’t have to talk about it.’

  Madeleine couldn’t tell her mother what she’d done; it was just too degrading. She wouldn’t be able to bear the look on her face. She took a breath. ‘It’s okay, Mum, I just had a bad night last night.’

  ‘Well, Maddie, I might be a little slow these days, but I gathered that much.’

  That made Madeleine smile properly. She did owe her mother an explanation, something, but it was going to have to be heavily censored. ‘Henry and I have been having a few . . . issues,’ she began. ‘I decided to spend the night at the apartment, but Aiden was there, and he was . . . entertaining someone.’

  She saw a faint blush creep into her mother’s cheeks. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘I just needed to go to sleep, Mum. I couldn’t drive all the way back up to Pittwater.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Margaret picked up her cup of tea. ‘Is everything going to be all right with you and Henry?’ she asked, trying to sound offhand.

  Madeleine was about to give her an automatic response to reassure her, but she realised she couldn’t, because there was a giant lump stuck in her throat. Her face crumpled.

  ‘Oh, darling girl, it’s all right,’ Margaret soothed, coming around the bench and putting her arms around her.

  Madeleine rested her head on her mother’s shoulder while Margaret patted her back like she was a baby. After a while Madeleine drew back, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

  ‘You have to stop saying you’re sorry,’ Margaret said. ‘If you can’t cry on your own mother’s shoulder, well, I don’t know what.’ She studied Madeleine’s face intently. ‘Now I’m not as smart as your father, or Genevieve –’

  ‘No, Mum, that’s not true.’

  Margaret held up a hand. ‘It’s all right. I know I don’t exactly have the reputation of being the wise one. Your father got to be that, and so he should, he earned it, that should be his legacy.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You know, Maddie, I like to read biographies, they’re always about these amazing people who’ve done amazing things. Often their children speak about them, they say what inspiring figures they were in their lives, that they wouldn’t be who they are without them. It’s quite wonderful. Sometimes when I’m reading them, I wonder how I’ll be remembered.’

  Madeleine covered her hand. ‘I think
you’re loving, and kind, and very, very sweet. And if I was ever to write your biography, that’s how I would describe you.’

  Margaret’s eyes were glistening. ‘Thank you, darling girl. You were always the kind one. You got that from your father.’

  ‘No, I think I got it from you.’

  Margaret gave a modest shrug. ‘Well, maybe you did.’

  ‘You know, Mum, when everything went wrong last night, I just wanted you, I just wanted my mum.’

  ‘Well . . .’ She seemed overcome for a moment. ‘And I was here. So that’s good.’ She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘The thing I was going to say, is that I hope you can work it out with Henry. I think he’s a good man, I’ve always liked him. I know your father would have liked him, very much. I don’t know if I’ve ever said this to you, but he actually reminds me of your dad.’

  ‘He does?’ said Madeleine. ‘I’ve always felt that too.’

  Margaret nodded. ‘He has manners, and he’s kind. And you know . . . I imagine Henry would be very forgiving . . . if he was given the chance.’

  Madeleine stared at her.

  ‘Now, you better check your phone,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you some breakfast.’

  She started to bustle around the kitchen and Madeleine remained watching her for a moment longer.

  ‘Mum?’

  She turned around.

  ‘I think you might be pretty wise as well.’

  Margaret gave a little tip of her head in response. ‘Now off you go and make your calls.’

  Madeleine wandered back up the hall, scrolling down the screen of her phone. There were three, no, four missed calls from Liv; she’d better ring her straightaway rather than sift through the voicemails.

  Liv picked up immediately. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m really sorry, Liv.’

  ‘Look, I know you’re going through some stuff right now –’

  ‘It’s no excuse.’

  ‘Well, it’s kind of an excuse, but I need you to come in as soon as you can. Natalie showed up this morning, and, well, she’s drawing you into this, saying that she refuses to explain herself until you get here.’