by Judy Nunn
'I like to spoil her. Hey Allie,' he said, falling to his knees, 'give your Uncle Andy a great big hug.' And Allie charged into his outstretched arms.
The wooing of Alana had initially been part of Andrew's game plan. He had determined to marry Johanna. If in doing so he must inherit a child, then he would shoulder the burden, he'd told himself. But Allie had long since ceased to be a burden. Allie, with her mop of black curls and laughing blue eyes, had won his heart.
He'd decided to wait until Jo had completed her course and gained her degree before proposing. He felt very confident. Surely she must recognise what he had to offer. A man who loved her, a ready father for her daughter and a comfortable lifestyle – the combination was perfect. Besides, she loved him, although she didn't appear to recognise the fact.
Her final year now completed, Andrew had simply been waiting for the results to come through – it was a foregone conclusion that she'd pass. Yet here Jo was, announcing that she and Allie were off to Perth. In a week! Furthermore, there appeared no grounds for discussion. Johanna could be very frustrating at times.
He chose the right moment several days later, on a rare Sunday afternoon when they were lolling in bed after having made love. Allie was at the zoo with Nora and Geoff and their children.
'Enjoy a Sunday off for a change,' Nora had laughed to Jo. 'With three kids in the car there's no room for you anyway.'
'How wonderfully decadent.' Jo lay nestled against Andy, her head in the crook of his shoulder, one arm draped over his chest.
'I'll miss you while you're in Perth,' he said, toying with her hair. She wore it a little longer these days, shoulder length. He liked to think she did so in order to please him, but he doubted it. Jo was very much her own woman. Then he casually asked, 'Do you know how long you'll be away?'
'I'm not sure. A month, maybe two.' He deserved to know the reason she was going, she thought, it had been unfair of her to close him out. 'Mum's marriage has broken up,' she said abruptly. 'My stepfather walked out on her. I need to make sure she's all right.'
He waited for any further explanation, but none was forthcoming. Not that he'd really expected it. She never spoke of her family.
'I see.' Now was the time, he thought. 'There's something I want to ask you, Jo, and I'd like an answer before you leave.'
No, no, she thought. Don't ask me, Andy. Not again, please. I don't want to live with you. I'm not your possession. I'm not anyone's possession.
'Will you marry me?'
She lay for a moment in stunned silence.
'You're surprised,' he said, turning to look at her. 'Why?'
She wondered why herself. She'd known that he loved her; why was this unexpected? But it was. Throughout their affair, the thought that he might want to marry her hadn't once crossed her mind.
'I love you, Jo.' He kissed her. 'I love you very much, and I love Allie too. I want to be a husband to you and a father to Allie. What do you think? We'd make a great team.'
She met his gaze with forthright honesty. 'I'm not sure if I'd be a good wife, Andy. I've worked hard and I want a career.'
'Well, of course you do,' he laughed. 'I wouldn't stand in your way. God, Jo, that's what I love about you, your sheer bloody tenacity!'
She sat up and looked at him as he propped on one elbow.
'I'd be a fool to knock back an offer like this, wouldn't I?'
'Yes, you would.'
'Do you want to saddle yourself with a child so early in your career?'
'A child like Allie, yes.'
'Do I love you enough, Andy?'
She thought she'd floored him with that one, but he laughed again.
'Yes, you do, Jo. You love me far more than you realise.'
He was right, she thought. In her obsession to maintain her independence, she'd failed to recognise that she did love him.
'Well, I suppose we can take it as read then,' she said.
'May we adjourn the court now?'
He pulled her down on top of him and they rolled about on the bed like children.
They didn't make love – not immediately anyway. Andy was very much in the mood for a return bout, but he opted for conversation instead. He talked about their future and Jo's career, doing his best to wind her up and getting him-self as excited as a schoolboy in the process. She'd serve her residency year and then he'd help her set up her own practice, he said.
'With your very own brass plaque,' he proclaimed theatrically, painting a sign in the air. 'Dr Johanna Whitely, MD. No, no, that's wrong. Dr Johanna Gaden, MD.'
'Aren't you being a bit premature?' she laughed, 'I haven't passed yet, let alone been offered a residency.'
But he dismissed any reservations with a careless wave of the hand. 'You'll come in amongst the top ten, you always do. There isn't a hospital in Sydney that won't jump at the chance of scoring an intern like you.'
Andy's excitement was always irresistible, even to a pragmatist like Jo, so she gave up trying to be the voice of reason and lay back delighting in his boyish enthusiasm.
Half an hour later, they made love, and afterwards, as he held her close, he said, 'I'd like to submit a plea on my own behalf.' She looked a query. 'A shorter sentence?' he begged. 'Please, Jo? Two months is a very long time.'
'Yes, it is, isn't it.' She kissed him. 'I'll come home in a month. I promise.'
He smiled to himself. She hadn't realised that it was the first time she'd referred to Sydney as 'home'– in his presence, anyway.
The flight was slow, nearly five hours: the plane was flying into a strong westerly.
After the initial thrill of take-off, Allie had settled down with her crayons and sketch pad. She was drawing a picture of the aeroplane for Heely, and even the pockets of turbulence they hit now and then didn't distract her. Allie loved drawing and she wanted to impress Heely.
Hillary's insistence, right from the start, that her grandchild call her by name had resulted in 'Heely'. She'd been unable to make any further inroads, and had resigned herself to the fact that she'd be Heely from now on. 'Well, anything's better than Grandma,' she'd said.
Jo was trying to immerse herself in the paperback she'd bought at the airport, but with little success. She couldn't help wondering what would await her when she arrived in Perth. Her mother had sounded so strange on the phone.
'I won't be coming to Sydney this Christmas,' Hillary had said. 'Besides, it's your turn to visit me. You promised, remember?'
Jo had felt cornered. She'd managed to avoid the problem of Christmas and Manjimup with surprising ease over the years of her study. 'I'll come over when I've finished my course, Mum,' she'd said, and Hillary had been very accommodating.
'I understand, dear, I'll come to Sydney. Unfortunately Darren won't be with me, he's frightfully busy lately.'
Now it appeared Hillary was taking her up on her promise. Jo had started to hedge.
'Well, it's a bit difficult for me to come to Manjimup right now, Mum. My results aren't through yet and –'
'I'm not in Manjimup. I'm in Perth. Darren left me six months ago.'
'Oh.' Jo was amazed. How come her mother hadn't told her at the time? How come she wasn't hysterical?
'Is there someone else involved?' She'd posed the question carefully, gently.
'Yes.' Hillary had sounded strained, but quite in control. 'Someone very pretty and a good deal younger. Twenty-eight, in fact. It's been going on for some time.'
'I see.' So Darren had traded Hillary in for a newer model, Jo thought. How surprising that he hadn't done it sooner.
'He and Yvonne have stayed in Manjimup and I've come up to Perth. We thought it would be better that way.'
Jo was speechless. How extraordinary that her mother could discuss the situation so calmly, even referring to the woman by name. She'd have expected Hillary to be reduced to a wreck under such circumstances.
'I have a very nice little flat on the corner of Victoria Street and Adelaide Terrace, lovely and central. And there's a
good-sized spare room – you and Allie will be quite comfortable.' Hillary's voice had held a definite plea. 'I'd really like to see you, dear.'
'I'll be there in a week, Mum.'
Hillary appeared very much as she'd sounded on the phone, in total control, but the strain was evident.
'How lovely, darling,' she said of Allie's aeroplane drawing.
'And this is you, Heely,' the little girl said, turning the page to a stick figure with a lot of hair and red lips.
'Goodness me, don't I look pretty.'
'Yes.'
Allie fixed her vivid blue eyes on her grandmother's, pleased that Heely had recognised the likeness. Then she sprawled on the floor with her sketch pad, happily engrossed in another drawing. But within several minutes she was fast asleep so they put her to bed.
'Are you hungry?' Hillary asked. 'There's chicken, and salad, and –'
'No, thanks Mum, we ate on the plane.'
'Right.' Hillary was glad, she wasn't hungry either. 'Coffee? Tea? White wine?' It was clear that she favoured the latter.
'A glass of wine'd be great, thanks,' Jo said, although she would have preferred a cup of tea.
'I like the flat, Mum, it's cosy,' she said as Hillary collected the wine from the refrigerator. The flat was actually more gloomy than cosy, she thought. In a single storey block of only five apartments, each with its own small front porch, it was not unattractive, but the afternoon sun barely penetrated the narrow front windows. 'You don't get much light though, do you?' In typical fashion, Jo couldn't help but comment.
'You know me, darling, I don't like the sun. So bad for the skin.'
They settled themselves in the large comfortable leather armchairs which were far too big for the small lounge room.
'These are from Manjimup,' Jo said. She recognised them, just as she recognised the sideboard and the coffee table, and through the door, the dining setting, also far too big for the room.
'Yes. Darren set the flat up for me. He wanted me to feel at home.'
Out with the old and in with the new, Jo thought. He'd no doubt be acquiring brand new furnishings for his brand new mistress.
'He's been very thoughtful,' Hillary said. 'And extremely generous, I must say. He bought me this flat. It's in my name, I own it.'
What was so generous about that, Jo wondered. Darren was a very wealthy man, he was on the board of Bunnings now. He held shares in the richest timber mills in the state and owned any number of properties. What's more, she'd be willing to bet that much of his capital had been invested in Hillary's name for tax purposes. Darren was robbing his wife blind, Jo thought angrily. Hillary was owed far more than this poky little flat.
'When are you going to get a divorce?' she asked bluntly.
'Not for a while yet.' Hillary took several healthy sips of her wine. 'It's sort of a trial separation while we see how things pan out.' She sounded evasive.
So the bastard was stringing her along, letting her live in hope, Jo thought. She longed to drill some sense into her mother's deluded brain. 'He'll never come back to you Mum, can't you see?' she wanted to yell. 'You're well rid of the bastard. Divorce him! Take him to the cleaners, milk him for all you can get! You've earned it!'
'You need to discuss a proper settlement, Mum,' she said instead.
'Oh no, dear, it's not necessary. As I said, he's been more than generous. I receive a very healthy monthly allowance, far more than I need really. Poor darling, he feels so terribly guilty.'
Guilty! He feels guilty?
Hillary could see the disbelief on her daughter's face. Dear Jo, she thought. Dear darling Jo was trying so hard to be protective, but she didn't understand. She never had.
'He loves me, Jo, and he always will. He told me so. I'll be his true love for as long as he lives.'
'Then why has he left you?'
'He can't help himself, darling.' Hillary's smile was fragile, but strangely serene. She'd accepted the tragic truth of her situation. 'He's obsessed with Yvonne. He's heartbroken and riddled with guilt, the poor man, but there's nothing he can do about it.'
That same look of disbelief, Hillary noted. But then it wasn't within Jo's capacity to understand a man of passion like Darren. Johanna was too remote, too clinical. Her daughter had never known, and probably never would know, a love such as she and Darren had shared. Hillary tried, very gently, to explain the situation.
'Darren has never been able to resist beauty, Jo. It's the reason he fell in love with me in the first place. He was always so proud of my beauty, it was my gift to him, he'd say.'
She finished her glass of wine and stared thoughtfully at the bottle, finding the words difficult, but wanting to be honest with her daughter.
'When my beauty faded, it was only natural for his eye to wander. I've known for some time that he's been attracted to other women. Younger women. I've even known that lately he's slept with them from time to time.'
Lately? Darren's been sleeping around throughout your entire marriage, Mum.
Hillary gave a rueful shrug. 'I've had to accept it. At fifty there's little one can offer by way of competition. I just didn't anticipate him falling in love,' she said regretfully. 'Nor did he. That's why he's so torn, poor darling.'
Jo was appalled. Her mother was accepting responsibility for her husband's infidelity. Hillary truly believed that the blame lay with her and the loss of her beauty. Were there no limits to Darren's Machiavellian powers?
'But you're beautiful, Mum. You're an extraordinarily beautiful woman.'
'I'm not twenty-eight, dear.'
'You do know that he won't come back to you, don't you?' Jo said brutally.
'Yes, I do believe you're right.' Hillary's hand was shaking a little as she poured herself another glass of wine. 'But we'll always have the past, and he'll visit me regularly.'
Oh no, he won't, Mum. Once he's certain you're out of his hair, he'll wipe you completely.
'A person only has one great love in their life,' Hillary continued, quietly but with utter conviction. 'Darren's been mine, and I've been his. Nothing will change that.'
Jo remembered how she'd longed to confront her mother. How she'd ached to see the look on Hillary's face when she spewed out the truth about the monster she'd married. That day would never come, she now realised. Even if her mother were to believe her, which she very much doubted, the truth would render Hillary's life meaningless.
Hillary decided to change the subject. Her daughter's brutal honesty was disturbing.
'How long will you be staying, dear?'
'I was planning on a month, but I could make it a bit longer if you like.' She'd be breaking her promise to Andy, she thought. He'd be disappointed. She was disappointed herself, she'd wanted to get home to him. But she'd noticed the rate at which her mother had drunk the wine. And she'd seen the shaky hand on the bottle. 'Perhaps two months?'
'Two months would be lovely. I'd like that very, very much.'
Mike stepped out of the exclusive drapery store into London Arcade, hoisting the bulky gift-wrapped box under his arm. It wasn't heavy, but it'd be a bastard getting it home on the bike, he thought. He should have had the bed linen set delivered, but Pembo's wedding was only five days away, and with the Christmas rush the store wouldn't guarantee the package's early arrival, so he hadn't dared risk it. Just as well he hadn't undertaken the crystal glasses or the bone china dinner service which had also been on Arlene's wedding gift list, he thought. Spud had fortunately taken on the major breakables. 'You can't afford them anyway, mate,' Spud had said. 'Go for the bed linen.'