Jo wished she could talk to Angie. But she couldn’t, not after the other day. She knew Angie loved her, knew she would listen to her, knew she would probably get cross with her when she found out what had happened and that Jo hadn’t called her.
But still, she wouldn’t call. She already knew what Angie would say.
There was one person she would call, though. She had to call. She wanted to get on with the rest of her life as well. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her mobile, scrolling for Lachlan’s name. She pressed call and waited.
It took him a while to answer. She imagined him checking his phone there at home with the family, seeing her name come up on the screen, walking out of earshot somewhere. She didn’t know where, she’d never been to his house. Didn’t even know what it looked like.
‘Jo,’ he said in a low voice. ‘What are you doing calling me here, on a Sunday?’
‘I have to see you.’
‘Well it’s about time.’ He paused. ‘Look, it might take me a little while to get away, maybe not till later this afternoon?’
‘That’s okay.’
‘Great, well, I’ll buzz you when I’m on my way.’
‘Don’t come here.’
‘What?’
‘Let’s meet at the Botanic Gardens.’
‘Why?’ he said, his tone suspicious. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ll explain when I see you.’
There was a weighted pause. ‘I don’t know if I can get away . . .’
‘When you thought you were getting sex you could manage it,’ she said plainly. ‘I really need you to do this for me, Lachlan. It’s important.’
He sighed heavily. ‘Fine.’
‘I’ll see you along the path that leads out to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair, say about four?’
‘Can you at least tell me what this is about?’
‘Yeah, I will, around four, at the Gardens.’
Joe wandered restlessly around the flat. He was beginning to think he shouldn’t have left her like that. It possibly wasn’t the best move to tell her he’d always be there for her one minute, and then walk away the next. It was just the sort of thing that would send her head spinning off on all kinds of tangents. But she said okay. So this was it, make or break time.
‘You gave her an ultimatum?’ said Will, when Joe rang to check on their dad. ‘I don’t know whether they like that.’
‘Well, that’s the way it has to be.’
‘Woohoo, trying a bit of tough love. You think that’s the best strategy?’
‘You know what, Will, I think I’ve got it from here.’
‘Okay, if you say so.’
Will reported that his dad had had a quiet, uneventful night and was in good spirits today. Mim would be back in the morning, and Will was going to stay on another day or two to catch up with her. So there was really nothing for Joe to worry about.
He hung up the phone and looked around the flat. Jo had never been here, it occurred to him. That was obviously going to change. The whole place was coated in a film of grime and dust and neglect. He usually got a cleaner in when he was back for an extended stay, but he hadn’t got around to organising one yet. He wondered if he even had cleaning stuff in the place.
Three hours later Joe was taking a shower in his squeaky-clean, if over-bleached, bathroom. You could perform surgery in here it was so spotless. He had found the cleaning stuff and gone into military mode, scrubbing the place from top to bottom. He’d taken three large garbage bags full of rubbish down to the skip. Magazines and newspapers went into the recycling, and he filled another bag with old clothes to take to a charity bin. He stripped the beds and washed the sheets and hung the quilts out on the balcony to air. He vacuumed every square inch of the place, moved furniture, lifted rugs, and collected a record $18.35 in change from the back of the couch and the armchairs. Some small reimbursement from Will and his entourage.
He finished up in the bathroom, nuking it with so much bleach he had to walk out after a while so he could breathe. The smell was still hanging in the air when he turned the taps off in the shower, despite the fact the exhaust fan was running full bore and every window in the place was flung wide open.
While the frenzy of activity had kept him occupied, it hadn’t exactly taken his mind off Jo. He kept wondering what she was doing, if she’d decided to call Lachlan today, if she was getting cold feet. But then he’d think of last night, and remember that she had said she loved him, and the look on her face today. He had to be patient, he told her he was patient; he had to keep to his word if he expected her to do the same.
He was drying off when he thought he heard a knock at the door. He switched off the exhaust fan and walked out into the bedroom. There it was again.
‘Just a minute,’ he called. He rubbed his head with the towel and tossed it back into the bathroom. It couldn’t be Jo, could it? Did she even know where he lived? She’d dropped him off that time after the climate summit, but she wouldn’t know which flat was his. It was probably just a charity collector, he decided as he pulled on a pair of jeans. But his heart was racing anyway as he grabbed a T-shirt off its hanger, yanking it over his head as he hurried out to the door to open it.
If he’d had to nominate the last person he thought he’d see standing on the other side, he still wouldn’t have come up with her name.
‘Sarah.’
4 pm
Jo had been sitting on the stone wall, looking across the harbour, for probably quarter of an hour now. She’d been too restless at home, and finally, around three, she’d decided she’d walk it, try to burn off some of this nervous energy. It was a beautiful day; she could actually smell summer in the air. She remembered the last time she was down at the harbour, and that was Sunday, only a week ago, she realised. When she’d told Joe she was going to break it off with Lachlan. And he’d kissed her. Her lips tingled just thinking about it. That was their first kiss, she could mark it on the calendar.
God, when had she gotten so lame and sentimental? But she couldn’t help it. She finally understood all the sap, all the hearts and flowers stuff. When you were really in love the sky actually did seem bluer, so did the water. The air was clearer. Everything was clearer. Of course she knew rationally that it had more to do with the time of year and the angle of the sun and a whole lot of other meteorological conditions, but love wasn’t exactly rational, or so she’d heard. And she did love Joe. She knew it for sure. She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t have some niggles, but they were good niggles, healthy niggles . . . healthy fear. In fact, it wasn’t even fear, it was anticipation, like when you lined up to go on a scary ride and your heart was pounding and you were breathing quickly, but you could hardly wait till it was your turn.
‘Jo . . .’
She swung around to see Lachlan leaning against the wall, a few metres away. He looked guarded. He had to know what was coming, had to have some idea at least.
Jo eased herself off the wall and took a step towards him. ‘Hi Lachlan,’ she said in a calm, level voice. She was calm, and resolved. This was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. ‘Thanks for meeting me.’
His expression was dour at best. ‘So what’s all this about? I don’t have much time.’
Oh, he had more than an idea. And he was pissed.
‘Why don’t we walk for a bit?’ she suggested.
He sighed loudly. ‘Fine.’
Jo turned along the path, heading away from the Quay.
‘You made it home all right last night, I trust?’ Lachlan spoke first.
‘Thank you, I did.’ Wow, it occurred to Jo, that was just last night. Her whole life had changed in the space of twenty-four hours. Less than.
‘So did you make it home, or did you go to his place?’
‘That isn’t any of your business, Lachlan.’
‘I think it is when you’re about to dump me for the guy.’
She stopped walking and turned to face him. ‘It’s not like that. We
have to end this, Lachlan, because it’s not right.’
He narrowed his eyes, considering her. ‘When did you get a conscience all of a sudden?’
‘It’s not that sudden,’ said Jo.
‘Yeah, it is,’ he maintained. ‘Ever since Bannister came on the scene. I’ve been right all along. You have been sleeping with him.’
Jo could feel her hackles rising, but she wasn’t going to let him get the better of her.
‘Lachlan, this isn’t about Joe,’ she said levelly. ‘Maybe it is a belated bout of conscience, I don’t know, but I just don’t want to do this any more. I keep thinking about your kids, and Sandra –’
‘This doesn’t affect them.’
‘You have to stop kidding yourself on that one, Lach,’ said Jo, stopping to look at him. ‘We both do.’
He turned away, leaning his hands on the wall and gazing out at the harbour. Jo came to stand beside him.
‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘Sandra’s beautiful. When I saw her again last night . . . I mean, she’s stunning. And she seems like such a lovely person. Is she dull? Or is she a real shrew behind closed doors? What is it?’
He was shaking his head. ‘It’s me. I get bored easily. I put it down to being hyperactive as a child,’ he added ruefully.
‘That would have bode well for us then.’
‘No, Jo,’ he said, turning to look at her, ‘it’s different with you and me.’
‘Oh please, Lachlan, do I look that naive?’
‘But it’s true.’
‘Lachlan –’
‘I was even beginning to think Sandra and I should have a break.’
‘No you weren’t,’ Jo said plainly. ‘Your problem is that you want the unattainable. Sandra should make you work harder.’
‘Is that what you’re doing?’
‘No.’
‘You’ve been flaunting Bannister in my face to test me –’
‘No I haven’t,’ she said firmly. ‘God, Lach, while you had me all to yourself you were never this interested.’
He went to protest but she continued. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I never expected more from you. But as soon as Joe came on the scene you couldn’t stand it. You had to win.’
‘It’s not about winning,’ he insisted, ‘it’s about not losing you.’ He paused for effect. ‘Maybe I did need a jolt to realise how much I wanted to be with you –’
‘Stop it, Lachlan,’ Jo said. ‘You are married, and I have never, and will never, break up a marriage. I’ve said that all along.’
He shook his head. ‘You think that makes you the moral superior?’
She looked at him.
‘Happy to fuck another woman’s husband, but you draw the line at following through.’
‘Lachlan, don’t be like that.’
‘Like what? Honest? You’re a user, Jo. I just never realised how calculating you were about it. I was useful for a time – a good fuck, high enough up the ladder that I could put in a good word for you with the boss.’
When the hell did he ever put in a good word for her?
‘Then you get stuck in an elevator with an award-winning foreign correspondent.’ He wasn’t finished yet. ‘You must have been salivating, especially when you found out he was old friends with Leo.’
‘You sound ridiculous, Lachlan,’ said Jo. ‘Can’t we be grown-up about this? We’ve known each other a long time. We have to work together, I was hoping we could still be friends.’
He had a sneer on his face. ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’
And then he turned and walked away. Without another word.
Jo felt a little rattled, but only for a moment. She realised he had to drag her down so he could feel okay about being dumped. That was Lachlan, Teflon man – he couldn’t let anything sully his own image of himself.
But she didn’t feel any bitterness as she watched him disappear into the distance. Truth was, she felt unburdened, lighter somehow. She was free. Free to be with Joe.
And she could be with him, right now, it suddenly occurred to her. She took off through the gardens, almost running up the path, up stairs, till she arrived at the side of the art gallery. She looked across the conglomeration of freeways towards East Sydney. Joe lived over there somewhere. She was trying to remember the best way to go, she’d only been to his place once, when she’d dropped him off after the climate summit. His street ran off Hyde Park, she’d probably recall it when she got to it. But even if she recognised his building, she didn’t know which apartment was his. So she’d call him. He said to call, didn’t he, when it was done, so they could take it from there.
She took out her phone and called him. He was taking a long time to answer, she wondered why – his place couldn’t be all that big.
‘Hey,’ he answered finally.
‘Hi . . . it’s me, Jo.’
‘I know, your name came up.’
His voice sounded a little strained. Of course, he was waiting to hear what she had to say.
‘Joe, I wanted to let you know straightaway. I’ve just talked to Lachlan, it’s over.’
She heard him sigh. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with that?’
That was not the reaction she was expecting. ‘Yes, absolutely, I feel great. He was a little . . . testy, but I guess that’s to be expected. Anyway, it’s over, it’s done.’
There was a pause. ‘That’s good, I’m glad, really,’ he said, but his voice was strangely flat.
‘So, anyway,’ said Jo, ‘I met him at the Botanic Gardens and right now I’m walking home. I’m just passing the Domain carpark, and it occurred to me, why don’t I just come right on over, but I’m not sure which –’
‘Jo, you can’t,’ he interrupted. ‘Um . . . this is not a good time.’
Her stomach started churning. ‘Is everything all right? Is it your dad?’
‘No . . . no, it’s not my dad,’ he said. ‘I can’t explain now. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ Not till tomorrow? Her heart sank. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
She heard him breathe out heavily. ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’ll call you, I’ll explain everything tomorrow. I’m sorry, Jo, I’m really sorry about this.’
‘It’s okay, really,’ she said, recovering. He sounded genuine.
‘I do love you, Jo.’
She smiled as tears sprang into her eyes. ‘I love you too,’ she said. ‘Talk to you tomorrow.’
He hung up. God, now she had to call Angie. She dialled her number and she picked up straightaway.
‘Hi Jo, wassup?’
‘You’re not going to believe this. I wasn’t going to call you, I didn’t think it was fair, after the other day –’
‘The other day?’
‘– I didn’t want you to think I was insensitive and only thinking about myself,’ Jo blathered on over the top of her. ‘But last night I slept with Joe, we slept together, and he told me he loved me and I said it back, and then I broke it off with Lachlan, but then I just called Joe to tell him and he said it wasn’t a good time and he’d call me tomorrow, and I do trust him, I do, or at least I’m trying so hard to trust him, but I’m going to go nuts tonight thinking the worst, you know what I’m like, better than anyone, and so I had to call you, even though I didn’t want it to be about me next time we talked, so we can talk about you, if you like, anything to stop my head spinning –’
‘Jo!’ Angie interrupted loudly. ‘For godsakes, I have my biannual meltdown and you tar me as bitter and twisted forever? Give me a break! You had sex with Joe. You told him you loved him. You broke it off with Lachlan. I’m so coming over.’
Next day
Jo had not woken alone for the second morning in a row, but this time it was Angie lying alongside her in the bed. They had drunk their combined body weight in alcohol last night, and in the wee hours of the morning they had both collapsed, not before Angie had remembered that she had to work the next day and had somehow had the foresight
, not to mention the fine motor skills, to set the alarm. Jo had heard her staggering out of bed, cursing and stumbling about. She had rolled off the bed and offered assistance but Angie had assured her she wouldn’t be much help in her condition, and Jo had had to agree as she climbed back into bed and promptly passed out.
The next time she woke it was ten to eleven. She lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, assessing her condition. The difference between an intolerable hangover and a tolerable one was often just a few hours sleep, and Jo decided that she wasn’t feeling too bad. Poor Ange, she was standing in that sandwich shop, surrounded by food, possibly mixing up that gross green slime right this very minute. The thought of it turned Jo’s stomach, but it passed. She sat up carefully, giving herself a moment to get accustomed to being upright. All good so far. She made her way to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, stood under the shower for ten minutes, and emerged feeling tentatively human.
Her stomach started to rumble and she tottered out to the kitchen to see what the fridge had to offer. Not a lot, unless she fancied limp vegetables and week-old bread. Jo wasn’t sure how old the eggs were, so she wouldn’t risk it. She picked up a bottle of water and closed the door. There was an overripe banana and a shrivelled orange sitting forlornly in the fruit bowl on the bench. Why did she even buy oranges? It must be from some underlying fear of contracting scurvy, even though she never ate them. Her kitchen bin would certainly never get scurvy, she thought, as she dropped it in. She grabbed the banana and walked into the living room, plonking down on the couch. Potassium and a little sugar would help. And hydration. She opened the bottle of water and guzzled down half of it, then peeled the banana, taking a cautious bite. It dissolved in her mouth and she swallowed. Okay. Good. It was staying down.
Crossing Paths Page 36
