by Kris Webb
‘I’m glad to hear that you are confident you have everything in hand.’ Jonathon’s tone clearly implied that he had serious doubts about this. ‘I don’t need to remind you how important this matter is to the firm. I think you should meet with Gordon on Wednesday. We need to reassure him that his case is your priority. Do you have any problem with that?’
Did I have any problem with that?
On Saturday I’d called Mark, who was technically my boss but who still had to report to Jonathon, to tell him what had happened. He’d instantly given me two weeks off work and agreed that I could work from home a couple of days a week while I settled Jack in. But my assumption that I’d be able to easily arrange daycare for the other days crumbled when Mark called back to say that his wife doubted I’d be able to find anywhere to take Jack on less than six months’ notice. As it had been the weekend, I hadn’t been able to call and check and consequently had no idea what I was going to do with Jack when my leave was over.
I cursed whatever whim of fortune had made one of Jennings Walker’s most important clients decide that I was his favourite lawyer.
But Jonathon’s question was clearly rhetorical, so I answered as he expected. ‘No, of course not, Jonathon. Wednesday is fine.’
‘Excellent. My secretary will call you with the time.’ He rang off without saying goodbye.
I pushed the disconnect button as Jack choked down the last crumb of fairy bread and immediately resumed crying. Drained, I slumped back down onto the sofa. As my adrenaline levels subsided, I registered that I was sitting on a large object. I leaned over and pulled Harold, the world’s ugliest frog, out from under me.
Jack grabbed it with both arms and buried his face in its plastic neck, his crying miraculously silenced.
A vague hope stirred. Carrying Jack back into the bedroom, I laid him down on his back in the cot. To my great amazement he immediately closed his eyes, arms clasped tightly around the frog.
‘Thank you, God,’ I muttered, trudging to my bedroom and sinking onto the bed, unable to think about Jonathon, Gordon or their accursed trial right now.
FOUR
I woke up two hours later to find Jack still fast asleep. I had no idea what I was going to do when he woke up and was terrified by the prospect. Unable to focus on any activity for more than a few seconds, I flinched each time the dog next door barked, or the noise of trucks grinding past to a nearby construction site echoed through the house. Suddenly the sound of the front doorbell pierced the air.
Trying not to make any noise, I hurried down the hall, praying whoever it was wouldn’t ring again.
‘Maggie!’ At this point even the postman would have made my day, but Maggie was like a lifeline – a reminder that normal life was continuing outside this house.
Shoulder-length brown hair corkscrewing madly around her face, my visitor looked as though she’d only just climbed out of bed – a highly likely scenario, despite the fact that it was now almost eleven. She was wearing black trousers, a tight white T-shirt with sequins all over the front, and her familiar silver choker from which a turquoise pendant dangled today. Maggie was always hard to miss.
I’d known her since she’d hired me soon after I’d started university. In the first two weeks of my first term I’d managed to spend all the money in my bank account, money I’d been hoping would last until the next holidays. On scouring the job section of the newspaper, I’d spotted an advertisement for bar staff at the King’s Head, a popular pub on Edward Street in the city. Despite the fact that I’d only passed the legal drinking age three weeks earlier and had never pulled a beer in my life, I decided to give it a go.
The ad had said to come any time after nine. Thinking I’d make a good impression, I arrived at eight-thirty the next morning to find the pub closed and empty except for a cleaner who was about my age. She laughed and told me the interviews started at nine that evening. Feeling decidedly stupid, I turned to go.
‘But if you leave your details and the hours you want to work, I’ll see if I can get you some shifts,’ Maggie added.
It turned out that, far from being the cleaner, Maggie was the boss’s daughter and in charge of the staff.
After a few terrible mistakes, I got the hang of bar work and the job suited me perfectly. I worked there for almost five years and Maggie and I became close friends.
Maggie’s father had retired three years ago, leaving her in charge of the whole place. As one of the very few women in the hotel industry, she was always getting propositioned and worked hard to live down the jokes about the pub making her the best catch in Brisbane.
Now, face full of concern, she stood on the top step holding two jumbo cups of takeaway coffee and a tub which I knew from past experience had come from the King’s Head.
‘I didn’t know what to bring but I figured you can never have too much caffeine in a crisis . . .’
I smiled, only just resisting the urge to throw myself into her arms. ‘Come out to the deck. But be quiet – Jack’s asleep and I’d like to leave it that way until I figure out what to do when he wakes.’
She slipped off her shoes and tiptoed up the hall behind me, depositing the tub in the fridge before following me onto the deck.
I closed the folding doors behind us, leaving a small gap so I could hear Jack if he woke.
‘So how’s it going?’ she asked as we sat down around the huge pine table that was the focal point of the house.
I took a large mouthful of the delicious coffee.
‘Oh great, just great. So far Jack’s almost pulled three heavy objects onto his head and has pulled his stroller down on top of himself. I have also just had a conversation with one of the most important partners at work, which I have no doubt confirms his general opinion that women should never have been given the vote.’
‘Well Jack’s asleep now – that’s good, right?’ Maggie was clearly searching for something to be positive about, but I was not in the mood for optimism.
‘I have no idea. What if he’s too old for a daytime sleep and now he’ll stay awake all night?’
‘But what’s the alternative – waking him? Aren’t kids really grumpy if they’re woken up before they’re ready?’
I looked at her desperately. How was I to know? ‘Maggie, I have never been so out of depth in my whole life. What am I going to do?’
‘Have you thought any more about asking your folks to come home early? Your mum is going to have kittens when she realises what you’ve been keeping from her.’
I shook my head again, this time with more conviction. ‘Nope – this is my problem. I can’t expect to always go running to my folks when something goes wrong. I’m thirty-one, for God’s sake.’
‘Yeah, well this isn’t exactly an everyday situation. It’s not like you forgot to pay the rent.’
‘I know. It’s just they’ve been saving for this trip forever. I don’t want to ruin it for them.’ Despite my brave words, I had been having serious thoughts about asking them to come home.
‘What about when they call? How are you going to explain the sound of a child in the background?’
‘That one’s easy. Mum has discovered the joy of text messaging. She keeps sending me updates on my mobile telling me where they are. I figure all I have to do is keep texting them back complaining about how much work I have on and they won’t notice anything.’
Suddenly I didn’t want to talk or think about my problems anymore.
‘Brighten up my day a bit. Did you go out last night?’
Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, although I wish I’d stayed home. I went out with this guy who’s head of marketing for some company producing a new boutique beer.’
As if on cue her mobile phone beeped. She pulled it out of her bag casually and then dropped it with a clatter on the table.
‘Aaah,’ she yelled.
I expected to hear an answering scream from Jack, but it was beginning to appear that he slept like Patrick did after twenty beers.
> ‘What?’ I asked, knowing Maggie’s extreme reactions well enough not to panic.
‘It’s him!’ She jabbed her finger towards the table. ‘Barry – the guy from last night. He’s text-messaged me!’
I picked up the phone.
Had a gr8 time last nite. Fancy doing it ag -n?
I looked at her. ‘I thought people only sent that kind of message in Sex in the City.’
‘Not quite the same as a dozen red roses, is it?’
‘So did you have a gr8 time too?’
‘Hardly – he spends more on his clothes than I do. He called me babe and talked about his favourite designers all night – and he wore his sunglasses inside.’
‘So why don’t you just send back a message saying, Not while I’m breathing?’
‘Well it’s a bit complicated. He’s arrived in town with an enormous budget and he has to pick which pubs are going to get the big promotions. I can’t really afford to piss him off.’
‘So what are you going to do – keep going out with him until he’s made his decision and then tell him you hate him?’
She looked embarrassed. ‘Well, I had a plan. It just doesn’t seem to have worked.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I decided it would be better if he dumped me.’ She shifted uncomfortably in the chair.
‘And?’
‘And I spent the whole night being a pain in the arse. I whinged about the food, I talked about my allergies. Hell, I even told him my favourite band was Bon Jovi! He agreed with me that nothing has ever come close to Bed of Roses!’
I doubled over laughing. ‘Nice plan. So based on this experience, he’s decided you’re his soul mate. He must be quite a catch.’
Reluctantly she started laughing. ‘Fine. I’m pleased to see I have at least lifted your spirits. Now what am I going to do?’
‘Don’t look at me. Do I look like I am in a position to hand out advice?’
She sighed and glanced at the keypad on her phone. ‘Ideas on how to respond?’
A call of ‘Mama!’ floated out to us on the deck.
We looked at one another. My hollow feeling of unease, which had subsided while we were talking about Maggie’s dramas, returned.
‘Oh God. He thinks Anita is here,’ I whispered.
Slowly I walked into the house. Jack was standing up in his cot, Harold tucked under one arm.
‘Hi.’ I forced a smile, sure that like dogs, children could smell terror. ‘Remember me? I’m Julia. You’re staying with me now.’
He looked at me without expression and then his lip quivered and his face crumpled.
‘Mama!’ he sobbed. ‘Mama!’
‘Oh Jack. Your mum’s not here. She would do anything to be, but she can’t. But it will be all right, it really will.’
I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.
One side of Jack’s face was creased with the line of the sheet and his eyes were bleary. Half awake and groggy, all he wanted was Anita.
Tentatively I reached my arms out towards him.
‘No!’ he yelled, pushing at my hands and crying even louder. Throwing himself on top of Harold, he put a thumb in his mouth and, still crying, began sucking desperately.
I tried to tell myself that his rejection was completely understandable, that it wasn’t personal, but I couldn’t help feeling terribly hurt by it.
He looked so helpless lying curled around Harold. I would have given anything to take away his misery, but I knew the only way to do that was to bring back Anita.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maggie in the doorway and turned towards her, mutely appealing for any ideas.
She shook her head.
Jack’s cries gradually subsided, but he didn’t move.
Not knowing what else to do, I knelt on the floor next to the cot and talked not to Jack but to Harold. ‘So Harold, what do you think of your new room? I’m sorry about the walls, we’ll paint them something much nicer soon.’
The room had been painted a lurid blue when I bought the house and keeping the door closed had always seemed like an easier option that doing anything about it.
‘It needs a bit of decoration too, doesn’t it? What does a frog your age like? Winnie the Pooh, or maybe Astro Boy?’ I had a feeling Astro Boy had gone out with hula hoops, but I was working with whatever I could. ‘I was thinking maybe you’d like to come and have a look around the rest of the house. No ponds, I’m afraid, but the bath’s nice and big.’
Jack struggled to his feet on the soft mattress and held Harold in front of him; his thumb was still firmly in his mouth and tears stained his face.
Holding my breath, I lifted the pair of them up. Not wanting to push my luck, I set Jack on his feet straightaway.
Maggie had disappeared – I hoped towards the start of the toad speech.
‘Come and say hello to Maggie.’
I put a hand on his back and gently guided him out the doorway and onto the deck.
‘Hey Jack.’ Maggie greeted him in a much softer voice than normal.
Ignoring her, he headed towards a bucket in the corner, dropped onto his bottom beside it and placed Harold next to him. Intently he picked up some pegs, dropped them in, tipped them out and started again.
I looked at Maggie with raised eyebrows and she gave a small smile, neither of us game to say a word. Gradually I lowered myself into a chair and soon, totally ignored by Jack, Maggie and I began a quiet conversation.
‘Well it’s a big improvement on five minutes ago,’ Maggie offered.
‘Yeah. I guess so. I’ve got to do something about that nappy though. How long can you leave those things on?’
Robert had said that the airline hostess who’d provided fairy bread had also taken pity on him and changed Jack’s nappy during the flight, but it was a long time since he’d got off the plane.
Maggie shook her head. ‘No idea – maybe he’ll tell you when it starts to get uncomfortable.’
Somehow I didn’t think it worked like that but I figured it was probably so disgusting by now that a couple more minutes wouldn’t make much difference.
‘I brought some seafood chowder from the pub. Do you fancy some?’ Maggie asked.
‘That’d be great.’ I hadn’t eaten anything all morning and was suddenly ravenous.
‘All right. You stay here and I’ll get it.’ Maggie eased herself out of the chair and crept across the deck, slipping between the doors. A few minutes later she appeared with a large tray bearing three steaming bowls of soup, a plate of bread and a pile of paper serviettes with the King’s Head logo on them.
‘That smells fantastic.’
‘Do you want to give Jack some?’
I looked over at Jack who was inspecting the various objects my poor housekeeping had left lying around on the deck. ‘I don’t know. He seems happy, so I think I should just leave him, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, probably. It needs to cool down anyway.’
The smell had obviously reached Jack though, as he looked over and headed towards the table. I blew on a spoonful of soup and held it out to him.
‘Hang on!’ Maggie yelled and I jumped, spilling the soup over my legs.
‘What?’ I demanded.
‘What if he’s allergic to seafood?
‘He probably isn’t,’ she continued. ‘But it’s not worth trying until you know.’
I stared at her. ‘God, Maggie, I could kill him with what I don’t know. What about other things like . . . I don’t know, peanuts and things? How on earth can I look after a child when I don’t even know what he can eat?’
‘Robert must know,’ Maggie said with confidence.
I snorted. ‘I doubt it. And even if he did, he’s made it very clear he’s just the courier. He’s leaving tomorrow.’
‘You’re joking!’
I felt a bit guilty about how bitter my comment sounded and was gratified by Maggie’s look of shock.
‘Is he coming back?’ she asked.
‘We
ll, he says he’s going back for Anita’s funeral and to get his business in order and then he’s coming out for a while. It’s pretty clear, though, that he’s happy leaving Jack to me, so I’m not going to hold my breath.’
‘How could he just leave?’
I shook my head. ‘No idea. It’s not just that, though. It’s . . .’ I struggled for words. ‘Everything. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of a jungle without a map.’ Tears spilled out of my eyes again and I wiped them away furiously with the side of my hand. ‘I’ve never felt so alone in my whole life.’
Jack had clearly decided he wanted some soup and let out a cry.
‘I’m sorry,’ I sniffed. ‘Here, try some bread.’
Jack took the bread only to throw it on the floor and start bellowing.
‘And to make the whole thing worse,’ I raised my voice so Maggie could hear me over the noise, ‘I’ve even stopped feeling sad about Anita. I just wish she was here so I could yell at her and tell her to go find someone else’s life to ruin. Pretty nice, huh?’
Maggie looked unsure how to respond. Clearly deciding the first priority was reducing the noise level in the room, she picked Jack up. He cried harder and she put him down again.
‘Do you have anything else he could eat?’ she asked anxiously.
I blew my nose on a serviette. ‘All I’ve managed to get him to eat so far is fairy bread. Surely I can’t give him any more?’
She raised her eyebrows.
‘You’re right. I definitely can. At least I know it won’t kill him.’
Again Jack stuffed the fairy bread into his mouth, but he started crying the moment he’d finished and pushed away anything else I offered him.
‘Look, Maggie, why don’t you head off,’ I finally said over his crying. ‘I’ve got to figure this out for myself, no point in ruining your afternoon too.’
‘Absolutely not,’ she answered vehemently. ‘I want to help.’
‘No really, I have to do this myself. Jack needs to get to know me and to figure out that I’m going to be around all the time.’
‘I just don’t think you have to do it alone.’
I shook my head, biting my lip to stop myself from crying. ‘You know, the worst thing is not knowing what I’m up against. If I can get to feel like I have it at least partly under control, then maybe I won’t feel so scared.’
