by Cassie Hamer
Oh, yes we are, thought Alex.
‘Excuse me, folks. Got to perform my husbandly duties.’ Anthony rose and led the woman that Alex presumed to be his wife (second, at a guess) onto the dance floor.
‘Why don’t you and Martin go join them?’ James took a seat. ‘I’ll stay here and mind the table. Make sure the wine is up to scratch.’ He tipped a glass at Alex and winked.
Bastard.
Martin was the last person Alex wanted to dance with, and her husband knew it. The thought of putting her hands on his neat little waist and staring straight into his squirrelly face for at least three minutes was … Ugh! It wasn’t worth thinking about and she felt quite sure that Martin would feel equally disinclined. He was the kind of man who kept antibacterial wipes in his top drawer and was forever going on about how fingers were the carriers of most illness.
But, wait, shit, no. Martin was rising to his feet. ‘I was actually a junior champion in ballroom dancing back in the day.’
Of course you were.
‘Shall we?’ He extended his hand to Alex.
‘Sure.’
His palm was clammy and Alex resisted the urge to rip her hand away and wipe it down her dress, wishing very hard at that moment for Martin’s box of antibacterial wipes.
Pull yourself together.
She was an adult. So what if she shared a little sweat with her co-worker? It could be no worse than Jasper’s puking.
On the dance floor, Martin clicked his heels together and held his arms out wide. Alex stepped into them and saw a momentary blink of confusion as he pressed his hand into her back.
Oh shit. He’s felt the pin.
But before she could worry about it any further, they were dancing. Martin’s movements were smooth and precise, if lacking in flair. In other words, he danced the way he worked.
‘I hope you don’t mind my mentioning your children to Anthony.’ Martin avoided eye contact by staring off to the side, the way professional ballroom dancers did, as if paradise lay just beyond their partner’s shoulder. ‘But he’s about to become a grandfather and his daughter is your age.’
Alex raised her eyebrows. So his second wife was around the same age as his daughter. Charming.
Martin went on. ‘Clients like to work with lawyers they can relate to, just like any business. People think the law is all about justice and fairness and applying legislation and regulations.’ He stopped to dip her. ‘But at the partner level, it’s actually about personal connections. Most of the work of being a partner is about cultivating and feeding our client relationships.’
And sacrificing your personal ones.
‘That makes perfect sense,’ Alex murmured, starting to feel a little dizzy from Martin’s continual twirling.
‘The other critical aspect of a partner’s role is to develop and guide the company’s culture.’
‘I’m glad you said that Martin, because I have …’
He cut her off. ‘We need a working mother to join the partners.’
‘Right,’ said Alex uncertainly.
‘Specifically, we need a working mother with young children. Our graduate intake this year is seventy-five per cent female and, as you well know, we invest heavily in training and developing our new recruits.’ He stopped twirling and dipped her again. ‘We need a return on that investment.’
‘I see.’
Actually she didn’t see. All the female graduates worked their arses off. Macauley more than made its money back on them.
He righted her. ‘That’s where you come in. We want to offer these women the chance to freeze their eggs.’
‘Sorry. What?’
Martin twirled her out, and reeled her back in. ‘It was my impression that you were familiar with the process of in-vitro fertilisation.’
‘If you’re asking if I went through IVF, then yes I did, but that was for fertility issues, not because I wanted to delay having children.’
Martin shrugged. ‘The reasons don’t matter. What’s important is that you’ve done it. You can lead this program. You can show young women that they don’t need to rush off and have babies.’ He said this with a slight sneer. ‘Pregnancy is an inconvenience, as you well know. Remember the Merrill matter?’
How could she forget. They’d been pushing for a resolution for over twelve months, and just as word came through that the other party was ready to do a deal, Alex had the temerity to go into labour with the twins and had had to hand over the reins to Martin. She’d briefed him between contractions, a fact he’d never let her forget. Alex had to concede it was a little disjointed. But still, she was having a baby. Actually, two of them. At that point, she really didn’t give a shit about the Merrill matter.
‘With the egg-freezing program, they can stay working. Establish themselves. Have children when they want to, not according to some arcane quirk of biology. We want them to lean in and, in so doing, ensure that all the time and money Macauley puts into them isn’t wasted.’
Alex stopped dancing and dropped Martin’s hand. ‘So that’s why I’ve been asked to become a partner, so I can be the poster-girl for IVF?’
‘I wouldn’t quite put it in those terms,’ said Martin. ‘You’re also an excellent lawyer.’ He took her back in his arms. Alex felt trapped. She’d given her life to the company. Missed school assemblies and tuckshop duty, even one of the twins’ own birthday parties, to deal with a crisis. She’d assumed the partnership offer was reward for effort and excellence, recognition of the way in which she’d managed to keep her family invisible from her workplace. It was an offer made despite being a working mother, not because of it. Now, she was learning it was the opposite.
Her head spun in time with the mirror ball. Alex stopped still. ‘I’m sorry, Martin, but I’m not feeling very well.’
He jumped back, as if stung by a wasp. ‘You should have told me earlier,’ he said, not in a kindly way.
At the table, James was chatting with Anthony. His wife scrolled through her phone.
‘Anthony, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave.’ Alex stood next to her husband and tapped the table.
James looked up at her in surprise. ‘What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?’
‘No … Yes … I’ll explain later.’ She took James’s hand and tugged him to his feet. ‘Goodbye, Anthony. It was a pleasure to meet you. Please wish your daughter good luck from me in becoming a mother. She’ll need it.’ Alex turned on her heel. She had the sense James was following close behind, but it wasn’t until they reached the doors that he finally caught her hand.
‘What’s going on? Why are we leaving when we’ve only just arrived?’
Alex looked around. Everywhere she saw money, from the glittering glassware, to the full-to-the-brim champagne flutes, to the thousand-dollar tuxedoes and the even more expensive designer frocks being twirled about on the dance floor.
The fairy lights glittered overhead like stars.
‘This is another planet,’ Alex whispered. ‘And I don’t think I want to be here any more.’
She took James’s hand, and started walking away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Beth knew she should have a stern expression on her face, but she couldn’t help a smile of encouragement at the little boy before her at the front door.
‘It’s all right sweetheart, I’m not angry,’ said Beth.
‘Noah, tell Beth you’re very sorry.’ Alex stood over her son with her hands on her hips.
‘But Mummy, I told you last night, I didn’t take it.’ Noah’s eyes were dark and sorrowful.
Alex exhaled loudly. ‘Remember what Daddy and I always tell you. You’re not in trouble if you tell the truth and apologise.’
‘But I am telling the truth. It wasn’t me.’ Noah stamped his foot.
‘Who was it then? The ring was in your room, in your tooth fairy box.’ Alex folded her arms. ‘Please, Noah,’ she pleaded. ‘Just say sorry to Beth, and we can leave.’
‘No.’
‘Here, give Aunty Bethy a cuddle.’ The little boy leant in and she felt his arms straining to reach all the way around her neck, his warm breath in her ear. For a second, Beth closed her eyes and remembered what it was like when Chloe and Ethan were this age and life was so much simpler. All a child of that age really wanted from their parents was their time – time to kick around a ball, bike ride in the park, sit down and do colouring, read with them and play snakes and ladders. Physically tiring, yes, but less emotionally exhausting when compared with teenagerhood.
She had a sudden compulsion to take Alex by the shoulders.
Enjoy this time. This is the best time.
But from the exasperated expression on Alex’s face and the look of fear on Noah’s, she concluded that now might not be the right time to be extolling the virtues of five year olds.
Instead, Beth took Noah’s hand. ‘Sweetheart, why don’t you go into my special cupboard in the kitchen where I hide the lollies. There might be a jelly snake for you there.’
‘Just one,’ called Alex after her scurrying son, then spoke in a low voice to Beth. ‘Are you sure it’s wise allowing him into your kitchen unsupervised? He might swipe your wallet while he’s at it.’
‘Oh, Alex. Don’t be silly. Noah’s a good boy at heart.’
‘He’s a budding criminal, that’s what he is,’ said Alex, folding her arms. ‘I really am very sorry about your ring.’
Beth looked at the diamond, sparkling up at her, back where it was supposed to be on her finger. She’d expected to feel happier at its return, but the ring felt loose, like it could fall off at any moment. She twisted it anxiously.
‘Don’t be so hard on him,’ she began. ‘You know, one day you’ll look back …’
‘If you’re about to tell me that one day we’ll look back on these years as the easy times, then please save it.’
Beth recoiled, stung. ‘I’m sorry, I was only trying to make you feel better.’
‘Well it doesn’t, it makes me feel worse, because if these golden days are so fucking hard for us, then what hope do we have for the future?’ She threw her hands up. ‘Mothers always do this. From the minute you’re pregnant and you’re exhausted and enormous and you’re walking round with a bowling ball in your pelvis, it’s like oh you think pregnancy is bad, wait till you actually have the kid, then you have the baby and you’re a sleep-deprived, hormonal wreck, and they say oh, wait till it’s a toddler, then you’ll know what busy is really like. Then they’re at preschool and they’re getting nits and viruses every second week and parents say oh, you wait till you have to deal with homework, it’s a nightmare. At this rate, the only time that actually seems easy is when our kids are forty years old and James and I are nearly dead! I’m sick of it.’
Beth put her hand on Alex’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you.’
She sighed. ‘It’s not your fault, Beth. It’s me. I’m cross at myself. Have you ever heard that saying – that the definition of stupidity is to repeat the same thing over and over and expect a different result.’
‘I think they use that in Alcoholics Anonymous.’
Alex nodded. ‘That makes sense, actually, because I feel like I’ve been so wedded, almost addicted, to this dream for nearly twenty years, of having the big career and the nice house and saving the world through law and I keep trying to make it happen but I seem to be making things worse and worse for everyone. And I’m not even sure that it’s what I want any more. I think my bosses are probably tokenistic arseholes who actually don’t deserve my time and effort.’
‘So maybe it’s not you that’s the problem, it’s the dream,’ said Beth.
‘Maybe.’ Alex put a protective hand over her stomach.
‘Mummy, Mummy.’ Noah half-ran, half-walked down the hallway, his hands cupped carefully. ‘Look what I got!’
‘What? Show me. Not another diamond, is it?’
‘No. It’s a ladybird. I found it in on the floor in Beth’s kitchen. Look, it even has black dots and a red back.’ Noah un-cupped his hands. ‘It’s like magic, isn’t it?’ He spoke with wonder in his voice.
Over his head, Alex gave Beth a wry smile of concession.
‘You’re a sweet boy.’ Alex kissed her son’s head. ‘Now say goodbye to Beth.’
‘Bye, Beth.’ Noah set off down the path, followed by Alex, who stopped at the gate.
‘Hey, have I RSVP’d yet for the party?’
‘The party?’
‘The anniversary party. Twenty years of your wedded bliss, remember? It’s only a few weeks away and I’m pretty sure I haven’t yet told you that we’re definitely coming, presuming it’s still happening, is it?’ Alex raised her eyebrow.
Oh goodness, the party. In the whirlwind of setting up Nourish, and figuring out what to do about Max, she’d conveniently managed to forget that eighty of their nearest and dearest friends would be landing on their doorstep in just under three weeks’ time.
‘Still happening. Yes. Cara and I have a big cooking session planned for Thursday. Things we can cook ahead and freeze for the party. We could always do with another pair of hands …’ She trailed off as an expression of horror slid over Alex’s face. Of course. The poor woman hated cooking and she had a million and one things on her plate. ‘You know what … don’t worry. We’ll be fine.’
As she waved at Alex, the diamond caught the sun, causing a blind spot in her eye.
Beth blinked, and blinked again before closing the door. Damn ring.
She slipped it off her finger with ease.
‘I’m heading off now.’ Max stood in the kitchen, dressed in his golf gear and Beth quickly slipped the ring into her pocket.
‘You’re playing golf today? I thought we might have gone bowling or something with the kids.’ Beth couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. As much as she’d sort of come to grips with Max’s infidelity, a small part of her wanted to keep playing happy families, at least until the very end. Lying in bed that morning, still half-asleep, she’d fantasised about them all going to the beach together, frolicking in the waves, having body-surfing races, which Chloe would inevitably win. That was until she got up and discovered the day was too breezy and changeable – brilliant sunshine one minute, cool and overcast the next. Now, standing in front of Max, with his golfing gloves in one hand, she saw the vision for what it was, a silly little dream.
‘Chloe’s got special squad today, remember, so I’m going to drop her on the way, and Ethan’s going to a mate’s to study all day, and he’s going to catch a lift with us as well. They’re in the car, ready to go. I just came to say bye.’ He smiled. ‘So, you’re free. You’ve got the whole house to yourself.’
Beth forced a smile. ‘Great. Well, have fun.’
With a wink, he was gone. Beth trudged back into the living room and stood there, unsure what to do with herself. She’d gone over to Cara’s early to finish off the cooking, figuring it would leave her free to spend the rest of Sunday with her family. So much for that plan. At least Cara was in a good mood, thanks to that lovely Will Parry. With such an upbeat feeling in the shed, the cook had gone well. Beth had remembered to taste the chicken cacciatore at each step, the salt grinder close at hand. There was even enough left over to bring some home for her family’s dinner. If they ever returned.
Beth looked about the room. There was nothing to do. The house was clean, the washing up to date, and the fridge full of food.
She drummed her fingers against the bench top. What to do … What to do …
Read a book, perhaps?
No, a book required too much concentration.
Listen to music? Read a newspaper?
She wasn’t in the mood for that either.
Emails.
She could check her emails. Clearing her inbox always gave her a small sense of achievemen
t. Beth sat down at the computer in the study and logged in.
Ten new emails, mostly from friends and family, confirming their attendance at the anniversary party.
Can’t wait for it!
We’ll be there with bells on.
Twenty years! What an incredible achievement!
Beth dutifully responded with an effusive Wonderful! So glad you can make it, checked off their names from her RSVP list, then deleted each and every one.
There were two emails left. One from The Primal Guy, which she deleted without reading, leaving one remaining.
Dance Your Way to Fitness.
Beth clicked on it. It was from Max’s gym, announcing a new Zumba class for beginners. Beth swivelled on her chair and reread the details. Full body workout. Get your heart pumping and your booty shaking. Incredible instructors. Pay by the class. Absolute beginners welcome! 10 am Sunday.
Beth’s hand hovered over the delete button.
It was twenty-five years since she’d last taken a dance lesson, and that was a flamenco class, taken on a whim at the height of Strictly Ballroom mania where every second person was wearing Bonds singlets as going-out attire, and John Paul Young was cool again, thanks to ‘Love Is in the Air’.
Should she?
What would she wear?
No, it was too silly.
The RSVPs had reminded her of other jobs she needed to do, like check the trestle tables and chairs that they’d need for the party. Yes, that was something she needed to do! Buoyed with purpose, she closed the email window and headed outside, down the path. There was no one in the street and Beth tried to ignore the nagging feeling that it was because they were all spending time with their families.
In the gloom of the garage Beth stopped to let her eyes adjust to the lack of light.
What was that over in the corner?
She squinted and walked closer.
She touched it.
Max’s golf bag. He’d left it behind. She must ring him. Let him know. He’d feel like such a fool. Going to golf without his golf clubs.
