by Lisa Ireland
A few minutes later, the two of them were settled on the couch in the living room, each holding a glass of bubbles.
‘Cheers,’ Libby said, raising her glass. ‘Here’s to us.’
‘Welcome to Melbourne. It’s good to finally have you back.’
Libby smiled and took a sip as her gaze drifted outside to the pool. Kit realised that she’d let Harry go swimming alone, something she wouldn’t have expected of Libby, who had a tendency to mollycoddle the boy. Libby’s helicopter parenting style amused Kit. She’d turned out to be more like her mother than she knew. Of course Libby was softer and more affectionate than Contrary Mary, but in many ways she was just as controlling. Or she would have been if it weren’t for Cam. That was one thing Kit had to hand him. He was a good dad. It was obvious that Cam cared about Harry, and he was great with him. Cam’s parenting style was more relaxed than Libby’s and in a lot of ways parenting seemed to come more naturally to him. Kit thought he had better instincts. But what would she know? It wasn’t as if she had kids of her own to compare the experience.
In a way it was strange looking out at the man-child swimming in the pool. It was hard to reconcile that lithe muscular body with the pudgy baby she’d once cradled in her arms. ‘It just seems like yesterday he was born.’
Libby smiled at her. ‘Doesn’t it just?’
‘Oh God, did I say that out loud? I’m becoming a sentimental old fool.’
Libby shook her head. ‘It’s not foolish to reminisce. It’s lovely.’
‘Remember how I was talking to you on the phone in between your contractions? I was so pissed off he’d decided to come early. I really wanted to be there with you.’
‘Cam couldn’t believe I was talking to you during my labour.’ Libby nodded. ‘I remember him saying, “Is there ever a time you wouldn’t rather be talking to Kit on the phone?”’
Kit grinned. ‘Yes, I clearly recall you telling him to “shut the fuck up”, which didn’t go down too well at all. Didn’t he storm out of the delivery suite after saying something about how you should have married me instead of him?’
‘Ah, all was forgiven once he saw his son. He was just anxious, that’s all. Cam’s really pretty easygoing most of the time.’
Kit smiled and decided to steer the conversation in another direction. ‘So, now you’re here, and it looks like you’re already pretty settled in as far as the unpacking side of things goes. Have you given any thought to what you might do with yourself?’
‘Not redecorating, for starters.’
They both laughed before Kit said, ‘No, really. What are your plans?’
Libby exhaled a long slow breath. ‘I don’t really know.’
‘Are you going to look for work? What about study? Weren’t you thinking about going back to finish your degree?’
‘Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I’ll study something else. Not this coming semester, though. It’s probably too late to apply now.’
‘Not at all. I’m sure my uni is still finalising enrolments. And you’re a great candidate. If you want I can have a word. There’s got to be some perks to being a part-time lecturer. It’s not as if the pay is stellar.’
Libby made a stop motion with her hand and shook her head. ‘No, no. Thanks, but I’m okay. I haven’t really decided if that’s what I want to do.’
‘Fair enough. Did you want me to ask around to see if there’s any temp work available at any of the agencies I deal with? You might like something to tide you over until you can find a teaching position like the one you had in Sydney.’
Libby shook her head again. ‘Thanks, but I’m okay, really. I think I’m just going to take some time. This new position of Cam’s has taken away all our financial pressure, well, at least for the immediate future. His salary, combined with the rental income from our place in Sydney, will easily pay the mortgage on that place and give us plenty to live on. Our living costs here are substantially subsidised. Cam has a company car, they provide him with a phone and pay a portion of our bills – something about a home office subsidy or some such thing – so there’s really no urgency for me to make a decision about what I want to do. It’s not like I desperately need to bring in some cash. It’s a relief, really. Even though Cam and I made a joint decision that I would be the stay-at-home parent, ever since Harry started high school I have felt a tad guilty about not contributing more to the family income. It’s not like my job at the community centre paid much. But now we’re here money isn’t such a concern, thank goodness.’
Kit wanted to say that many people would be thrilled to have money concerns such as Libby and Cam thought they’d had. Their Sydney lifestyle could hardly be considered deprived. They’d lived in a nice house in a beachside suburb. Harry had attended a private school and they owned a decent car. They took holidays and ate out, and Libby was always dressed beautifully. Compared to some of the women Kit dealt with on a daily basis at the centre, Libby’s life in Sydney was positively luxurious. But she didn’t want to spoil the enjoyable time they were having by saying so. Instead she smiled. ‘Sounds great. I’m envious, I think.’
‘No you’re not. You couldn’t bear not working. You’d be bored stupid.’
Kit placed her hands in the air. ‘Okay, guilty as charged. But won’t you be? Bored, I mean? Harry’s at school all day and it sounds like Cam will be working long hours. In Sydney you had your job, and your art, not to mention a full social life.’
‘Maybe I will be bored . . . I don’t know. I’m sure I can find ways to fill my time.’
Kit nodded as she placed her near-empty glass on the coffee table in front of her. ‘With all this spare time there’ll be plenty of time to paint if that’s something you want to keep pursuing.’
At the mention of painting Libby’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes. I had thought about that. It’s a little tricky though. I’ll need to investigate studios or classes that might work for me.’
‘You wouldn’t set yourself up here?’
Libby shook her head and her cheeks flushed. ‘I just . . . I don’t know how to explain this, but I still don’t want Cameron, or even Harry, to know about the painting. Of course I don’t mind them knowing about me taking a class, but I don’t want them getting . . .’ she paused for a moment, seemingly unable to find the right word to express what she meant, ‘. . . involved,’ she eventually said. ‘I know it might seem strange to you but this is something I want to keep just for myself, at least for the time being. I wouldn’t have even mentioned it to you if I hadn’t needed somewhere to store my completed pieces.’
‘Speaking of which, when are your paintings arriving? Did you manage to sort out the transport yet?’
‘Hopefully they’ll be here on Wednesday. That was the soonest I could organise. I can come over to your place to wait for them if you like, seeing as I’m here now.’
Kit picked up her glass and headed towards the kitchen to retrieve the champagne bottle. ‘I leave for work just after eight thirty usually, so you can let yourself in. You’ve still got your key, right?’
‘Yep.’
‘I’m dying to see these paintings of yours.’ She returned to the couch with the bottle and began to top up both their glasses.
The colour returned to Libby’s cheeks. ‘Oh God, I’m not ready for you to look at them yet.’ She picked up her drink and took a large gulp.
‘Oh.’ Kit felt deflated. When Libby had said she wanted to keep the painting thing all to herself she’d assumed that meant aside from her, but apparently not. ‘Sorry. I just thought . . .’
‘Please don’t take offence. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just, well, the work is personal. I’m not ready to share it yet. But when I am ready to show someone my pieces I promise you’ll be among the first to see them.’
Kit couldn’t argue with that. ‘Fair enough. So you’ll start looking for a studio after Christmas then?’
‘Yeah. There’s not much point looking now. All the likely places are closing up for the holidays. Realistically I probably won’t be able to paint again until the new school year, but never mind. It seems like there’s plenty on offer here to keep me busy.’
‘In Melbourne? Yeah, that’s true. I guess there are lots of great ways to amuse yourself in this city. Have you seen the State Library lately? All the restorations are finished. It looks totally amazing.’
‘I haven’t been there in years.’
‘Well, there you go. That’s one day taken care of.’
Libby smiled. ‘Maybe we should go one Saturday and do the NGV as well. We could have lunch in the city too. I haven’t been to the European in ages. Is it still good?’
‘Yeah. Still the same.’
‘Well, that’s a plan. And as far as the rest of my time goes I think I’ll just take it as it comes. Although if these women who were here yesterday have their way I won’t have a minute to spare.’
Kit drained her glass and picked up the champagne bottle. ‘Oh yeah? And what fabulous activities would they have you doing then?’ She topped up Libby’s glass and poured a fresh one for herself.
‘They want me to join their organising committee. Apparently the company hosts two big charity functions each year.’
The sip of wine Kit had just taken caught in her throat and almost came back out of her nose as she tried to stifle a laugh. ‘Oh, Libby, you can’t be serious. Join the “Ladies Auxiliary”? That really is too much. I see what you mean about Real Housewives now.’
‘To be fair, I don’t think it’s called the “Ladies Auxiliary”.’
‘Of course not. “Women’s Auxiliary” then. How very progressive of them.’
Libby giggled. ‘It doesn’t end there. There’s a book club – January’s book is Curtis Sittenfeld’s American Wife, in case you want to play along at home.’
Kit screwed up her face. ‘I don’t think that’s my cup of tea really. Isn’t it about Laura Bush?’
Libby nodded. ‘Yes, actually I’ve started it already and it’s really quite good. I think you’d like it.’
Kit doubted it. Somewhere along the way their reading tastes had diverged. Libby loved popular fiction, big fat blockbusters, whereas she preferred crime and the odd literary read. ‘So you’ve joined the book club. Anything else?’
Libby bit her lip before answering. ‘I think I’ve been signed up for tennis lessons with the club pro so I can join in the weekly tennis comp once I’m a bit more confident on the court.’
‘Oh, Lib, seriously? You didn’t agree to any of this, did you?’
Libby shrugged. ‘I tried to be non-committal, but they were very insistent. Honestly, I’m not sure I can get away with just saying no. I might have to get a job just to have a valid excuse to get out of the tennis.’
‘Good God, how will you bear it?’
‘It’s all for a good cause. Namely Cam’s job.’
‘Still –’ Kit’s response was cut short by the sound of the doorbell.
Libby put her glass on the coffee table and stood up. ‘I guess that’ll be Cam. He probably forgot his key.’ Kit listened to Libby making her way to the front door. ‘Oh, Georgina,’ Kit heard her say. ‘What a lovely surprise. Do come in.’
The plummy sound of another woman’s voice answered. ‘Is it a good time? I don’t want to disturb you.’
No, it’s not a good time. My best friend is here. You interrupted our plans yesterday so fuck off, Georgina. Kit willed Libby to say these words, or at least a polite version of them, but Libby being Libby, she knew no such sentiment would be expressed.
‘Not at all. My friend Kit is here and I’d love you to meet her.’
Looked like their catch-up was over.
Chapter 8
On Christmas morning Libby woke just after seven to a house devoid of noise and movement. A few years back – when Harry had awakened her and Cam at four am to announce ‘Santa’s been!’ – she’d longed for the day when Christmas didn’t mean a pre-dawn wake-up. But now that day was here a wave of sadness enveloped her. Harry wasn’t her baby boy anymore. The days of Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy were well behind him now. Never again would his excited squeals wake her on a Christmas morning. And that wasn’t the only change. She couldn’t remember the last time Harry had willingly hugged or kissed her. These days when she wrapped her arms around him his angular body was stiff and unyielding. He sometimes tolerated her embrace but most times didn’t return it. She sighed, and the sound of her expelled breath made Cam stir. He frowned and rolled over so his back was facing her. Clearly he wasn’t conflicted about the extra time to sleep. Libby threw off the bedcovers and quietly padded out to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. This year she would be the one sitting by the Christmas tree eagerly awaiting the emergence of the rest of the family.
As she sat on the couch admiring the little Christmas tree Georgina had given them, Libby thought about Kit and wondered if she was still harbouring some annoyance about the mix-up on the first day here. She’d seemed perfectly fine until Georgina had interrupted their catch-up by bringing over the little potted tree Libby was staring at as she sipped her tea. Georgina hadn’t stayed very long, perhaps an hour or so, but Cam arrived home just as she was leaving and that was the end of any meaningful time with Kit that day. Libby sensed the shift in Kit’s demeanour the second she brought Georgina into the living room. Kit was polite of course, standing to shake Georgina’s hand and smiling at Georgina’s greeting, but she resisted all attempts to draw her into anything beyond small talk and at the very first opportunity excused herself to check on Harry. There was nothing rude or improper about her behaviour, but Libby got the message loud and clear. Not interested.
The rest of their day together had passed pleasantly enough. Kit had spent time in the pool with Harry, and Libby noticed she’d made a particular effort to engage Cam in conversation, but she’d seemed a little off somehow; a bit more subdued than usual. She’d sparked up a bit after dinner, when they’d cracked open their third bottle for the day, but the deep and meaningful conversation Libby had been hoping for never eventuated, and Kit headed off around ten, which was ridiculously early for her. Libby wondered if she should apologise again about letting Kit down on that first day, but surely now Kit had met Georgina in person she could see what Libby was up against?
This past week Kit had been hard to catch up with. They’d had a couple of brief phone conversations but hadn’t seen each other in person. Libby had hoped Kit might have popped home at lunchtime on Wednesday when Libby was waiting at her place for the paintings to arrive, but despite saying she’d try to it hadn’t happened. Libby had invited her for dinner on Thursday night but Kit had refused, citing end-of-year chaos at work as her excuse. Perhaps she was telling the truth about that – it was a ridiculously busy time of year for everyone – but Libby suspected that if Kit had really wanted to make time, she would have. Perhaps she was being over-sensitive, but Libby felt like Kit had pulled back from her a little this week. Kit’s natural response when she was hurt was to withdraw, so Libby suspected things weren’t quite right between them.
Today would be the test. Cam had insisted on hosting Christmas lunch. He’d broached the subject with her the day after their arrival in Melbourne. ‘We have this beautiful home, just perfect for entertaining. Why squeeze ourselves into your mum’s tiny house when we can all spread out and relax here? Besides, the weather bureau is predicting a scorcher. Wouldn’t it make sense to spend the day here, where we can make use of the pool?’
‘But Mum’s been preparing for weeks. She’s already bought a turkey and made a pudding.’
‘No reason why she can’t bring all that here. I can pop over and grab the turkey the night before if you like. We can do it on the rotisserie in the outdoor kitchen. Less work for your mum that way,’ he wink
ed, ‘and one less thing for her to complain about.’
Libby shrugged. Complaining was her mother’s favourite pastime these days. If it wasn’t about the turkey then it was bound to be something else. ‘I guess. But, Cam, it has to be just us. No work people. I can’t deal with entertaining Mum and Dad and your colleagues at the same time.’
Cam nodded. ‘Of course. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of introducing your mum to the Accola people.’ He grinned. ‘I do want to keep this job, you know.’
Libby ignored the barb. It was stupid, but no matter how much she complained about her parents, it still hurt when Cam disparaged them. ‘I’ll have to ask her. And if we’re having it here there’s no reason for Kit not to come. She’s on call for the day, but that doesn’t mean she can’t eat lunch here instead of on her own at home.’
Cam’s mouth sagged at the corners momentarily, but his tone was upbeat. ‘Sure. Of course. We can’t have her spending the day on her own. Would you like me to talk to your mum?’
God no. If Mum knew this was Cameron’s idea she’d likely dig her heels in and insist on hosting just to spite him.
Contrary Mary had opposed their marriage from the outset. ‘Are you pregnant?’ she’d asked when Libby had announced her engagement to Cam.
‘Of course not. I love Cam and want to marry him. I don’t know why that’s so difficult for you to understand.’
‘I don’t understand what the big rush is. If he loves you he’ll wait for you. At least finish your degree first.’
‘We don’t want to wait. We want a big family, Mum, and I don’t want to leave that too late. I can finish my degree anytime.’
Her mother had looked stricken. ‘For God’s sake, Libby, don’t be a fool. If you start having babies you’ll be stuck. And without any qualifications you’ll have no hope of supporting yourself if you want to leave.’