‘I told you I’d be here early afternoon, and it’s early afternoon,’ said Joe, his eyes drifting to the man who had jumped to his feet and taken a step away from Sarah. He knew this guy, who was he?
‘You remember Ian,’ said Sarah. ‘Ian Templeton, he was my cameraman when I was with Global Review, remember?’
‘Hello Joe,’ Ian said, coming towards him with his hand outstretched.
‘Sure, Ian, I remember,’ Joe said, shaking his hand.
‘Ian just arrived in Sydney yesterday,’ Sarah explained, suddenly at Joe’s side. She reached up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. She seemed a little flustered.
Joe nodded. ‘So what are you doing here, Ian?’
‘I just came to say hello to Sarah.’
‘All the way from London?’
He looked embarrassed, dropping his head. ‘No, no, I’m in Sydney on a bit of a working holiday. I’m just here today to catch up with Sarah.’
‘I see.’
There was an awkward pause.
‘And I was just about to leave,’ said Ian. ‘So, good to see you again, Joe.’
‘And you.’
Sarah walked him to the door. ‘I’ll be in touch, Ian, and you have my number.’
She closed the door and turned around to look at Joe, her face flushed.
‘Were you expecting him?’ he asked.
‘He sent an email to say he was coming to Australia,’ she dismissed.
‘When was that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe a week ago. I’m not sure,’ she said vaguely. ‘Did you have a good time with your family?’
‘Yeah,’ said Joe. ‘And I’d like to get back to them.’
‘About that,’ said Sarah, a frown creasing her forehead as she paced across the room.
‘What?’ Joe prompted, watching her.
She stopped, turning to face him. ‘Look, the thing is, Joe, I don’t know if I should come with you.’
‘What are you talking about, Sarah? The family’s all waiting to meet you.’
‘They’ve met me before,’ she shrugged.
‘You haven’t met Hilary or Corinne,’ he reminded her. ‘What’s this about?’
‘Let’s not kid ourselves, Joe, this is an awkward situation for everybody, especially with your dad so ill. I feel like I’d be intruding.’
‘Sarah, you’re carrying my child, you’re part of this family whether you like it or not,’ said Joe. ‘Dad’s anxious to see you. He may not get to see this child, but it will give him some comfort seeing you.’
She clenched her hands together and started to pace again. ‘You’re placing me in a really awkward position, Joe. I mean, I’m heavily pregnant, and your father is dying, what if something happens while I’m there?’
Joe rubbed his forehead with his hand. ‘If you’re suggesting we don’t spend Christmas with my family –’
‘Not “we”,’ she interrupted him. ‘I know you have to be with them.’
‘So what are you saying?’
‘I don’t feel comfortable being there at such a difficult time. I hardly know them.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re the one who’s been pushing me so hard –’
‘Pushing you?’ She stopped pacing, her hand on her hip.
‘You want us to be a family, part of that is joining in with my family at Christmas, for Chrissakes.’ This was beginning to piss him off.
‘Well, you’re the one who’s been keeping me at arm’s length,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve made it abundantly clear that you’ll only consider us a family once the baby is actually here. And I have accepted that. So let’s get this Christmas out of the way, you attend to your family obligations, and then maybe we can get on with our lives.’
He tossed his keys on the table. ‘Well now you’re putting me in an awkward position, Sarah. Are you trying to make me choose between you and my family?’
‘No, not at all,’ she insisted. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well I can’t leave you here alone at Christmas.’
She took a breath. ‘I won’t be alone. Ian is on his own, I’ll spend it with him.’
Joe frowned. ‘What’s going on with you two?’
‘Nothing, he’s a friend. In fact he was a very good friend to me after you left. When I was devastated.’
‘How good a friend?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous Joe. I was pregnant with your child. He was the first to know about it, actually.’
‘This doesn’t make any sense, Sarah,’ said Joe. ‘This guy shows up out of the blue and suddenly you don’t want to spend Christmas with me?’
‘It’s not sudden,’ she replied calmly. ‘I’ve been reluctant all along to spend Christmas with your entire family under these circumstances. This is the best way to deal with it.’ She paused. ‘And don’t pretend you’re not a little relieved.’
He was, he had to admit. But he was also uneasy. Something wasn’t sitting right about all this.
‘Well, I’m not going to force you,’ he said finally. ‘Do you want me to stay here tonight?’
‘That isn’t necessary,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘But thanks for offering.’
Christmas Day
Jo had slept the night in Caelen’s bedroom; it was the preferred option to sharing with the twins, but almost four year olds do not sleep in on Christmas morning, and it was barely 5 am when he climbed on top of her, announcing, ‘Santa’s been, Santa’s been, you have to get up, Arnie JoJo!’
There were a number of things she felt like saying to him, but she restrained herself; it was Christmas after all. Eventually Caelen woke up the whole house and the family gathered bleary-eyed around the Christmas tree, the adults sipping coffee Belle had made to get their hearts started.
Jo stood back a little as the children attacked their presents. She’d forgotten how incredibly excited they could get at Christmas. The twins were barely old enough to comprehend, but still they were beside themselves. It wasn’t the presents, per se, it was the magic. Last night they had gone to sleep and there was nothing under the tree. Then during the night, improbably, a big fat man in a red suit arrived on a sleigh pulled by reindeer, delivered their presents, had a sip of the milk left for him, a couple of bites of Christmas cake, and he was off to the next child’s house. And they believed every bit of it. That’s what made it so wonderful. Too soon these little innocents would be all grown up and they’d find out that Santa was not real, wishes don’t come true, and there was no magic in the world.
Jo leaned against the wall, watching them all now; Cascey dancing around through the scrunched-up wrapping paper, sporting a plastic jewelled tiara and waving a fairy wand; the boys vroom-vrooming their toy cars along the carpet, over discarded boxes and legs and anything else in their path. Darren and Belle were bickering as usual, but it had a gentle fun about it today.
‘I said masseur foot sandals,’ Belle was saying. ‘Not a foot massager. When will I ever get the time to laze around with my feet stuck in this contraption?’
‘When we’re watching telly at night,’ Darren suggested.
‘What? Between getting up every ad break to stack the dishes or go to the kids?’
‘Then I might just have to tie you down one night.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t you love that,’ she grinned, leaning over to give him a quick peck. ‘I still want those sandals.’
Even Charlene looked content. It was way too early for her, and she was probably not fully compos mentis, but she appeared happy enough watching the kids play with their toys.
A sentimental Christmas song started to play in the background, about troubles being far away, and the fates allowing us all to be together throughout the years, and suddenly it was all too much for Jo. She slipped out through the kitchen and outside where she could breathe. A few moments later, she heard the doors sliding open behind her. Belle must have noticed her and followed. Jo turned around to tell her to go back i
nside to her family.
‘Mum,’ said Jo, surprised to see it was Charlene instead. ‘Come out for a smoke?’
‘No, it’s a bit early for me.’
‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve cut back a bit since I’ve been staying at your place. It’s too bloody inconvenient going down onto the street every half-hour.’
‘Well, that’s good then.’
Charlene just shrugged. If she didn’t want a cigarette, then what was she doing out here?
‘Is everything all right?’ asked Jo. ‘You’re feeling okay?’
‘Mm,’ Charlene nodded, taking a seat at the outdoor setting. ‘You?’
Jo blinked. ‘What?’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, of course, I’m fine,’ she croaked. ‘I just needed some air.’
Charlene nodded again and they fell silent. Why did she have to come out here? Jo had only wanted a moment alone, and now she had to fill in awkward silences with her mother. The music drifted out from inside the house.
‘Have you ever had a chestnut?’ Jo asked after a while.
‘What?’
‘We play these songs about roasting chestnuts at Christmas,’ she said. ‘Can you even get chestnuts in Australia?’
‘I dunno,’ said Charlene. ‘Maybe they import them?’ she offered.
‘But does anyone roast them at Christmas?’ Jo went on. ‘I mean, who in their right mind would be lighting a fireplace in this heat? And it’s not like you can light one outside, with the total fire ban.’
‘Jo, what the hell are you going on about?’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know.’
Charlene was watching her. ‘Belle told me what happened with your boyfriend.’
Jo glanced at her warily.
‘Must have pissed you off,’ she remarked.
Jo smiled faintly then. Charlene would put it like that. She was right though.
‘You know what, I am pretty pissed off.’
‘That he chose her over you?’
She bristled. ‘No, he didn’t really have a choice, she’s having his baby.’ Jo took a breath. ‘What pisses me off is that I feel like I’ve missed out.’
‘Missed out on what?’
‘You don’t know what it’s like to be very, very single, and to be constantly bombarded by images of families gathered around the tree, in mangers in stables, roasting frigging chestnuts.’
‘I do have a bit of an idea,’ Charlene muttered. ‘I never thought you wanted any of that, Jo.’
‘Neither did I. Ironic, isn’t it?’ She looked at her mother. It occurred to Jo that it didn’t matter what she said, Charlene was hardly in the position to judge her. She might as well let loose. ‘You want to know the truth? I’m so jealous of Sarah, I could spit.’
‘Sarah?’ said Charlene. ‘That’s the woman?’
Jo nodded, pacing across the paving, warming up. ‘I’ve never even met her but I’m jealous of her. I want to be the one having Joe’s baby, I should be the one having his baby, and I didn’t even know I wanted a baby,’ she cried, raising her hands.
‘You can still have a baby, you’re not quite past it yet.’
Jo spun around. ‘I don’t want a baby, Mum. I want Joe’s baby.’
Charlene looked a little shocked. That was a first; Jo didn’t think she could ever shock her mother.
‘I don’t want the baby he’s having with Sarah,’ Jo assured her. ‘What I’m trying to say is, I found the father of any babies I was meant to have. The one. The guy. And the cosmos laughed in my face. You want to be a real girl? You can’t be a real girl. I feel like Pinocchio.’
‘Didn’t Pinocchio get to be a real boy in the end?’ Charlene frowned, thinking about it. ‘I’m sure that’s how it went.’
Jo shook her head. ‘That was a fairy tale, Mum,’ she sighed. ‘This is real life, you should know better than anyone that it’s no fairy tale.’
Charlene let out half a chuckle. ‘You can put that in the bank.’
‘I don’t even know what I’m going on about,’ Jo groaned. ‘I was never even sure I wanted a baby, I’d probably be a hopeless mother.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’
Jo looked over at her.
‘You’ve been mothering Belle since you were a kid yourself, I think you’ve got it nailed.’
Right on cue, Belle popped her head out of the sliding door. ‘Are you two coming back in? We have to have the traditional photo in front of the tree, after the presents are opened. Darren’s setting up the camera so we can all be in it together.’ Then she disappeared again.
‘You’re to blame for this Christmas obsession of hers,’ said Charlene, getting to her feet.
‘You can’t blame that on me.’
‘Yes I can. We wouldn’t have had any sort of a Christmas if not for you and your secret operation.’
Jo stared at her. ‘You knew?
Charlene laughed. ‘What, did you think I believed it was Santa?’
‘Why didn’t you ever say anything?’ said Jo as they walked over to the doors.
She shook her head. ‘You would’ve been so embarrassed if I sprung you, Jo. You know what you were like, you had your system all worked out, you didn’t need any help from me. You did it better than I could have anyway.’
Jo felt a twinge in her chest. ‘It would have been nice for you to say that some time.’
‘I’m saying it now, aren’t I?’ said Charlene, reaching for the sliding door.
Leura
Christmas had not turned out to be the festive celebration the family had been counting on. Their father was gravely ill; they had hoped he’d make it to the dinner table, even for a brief spell, but he certainly couldn’t sit, and it proved too painful even to prop him up so they could join him at his bedside. He had barely been able to take any food by mouth for the last few days, not even a taste of the clove-studded honey-glazed ham Mim had fretted over, painstakingly following their mother’s recipe. Sometimes he was so weak he could only type yes or no with effort; in fact his answers to their polite enquiries had often become a mere Y or N. But his eyes communicated his pain and despair.
Joe was up early on Boxing Day. He hadn’t been sleeping well; he blamed the heat, but he probably didn’t need an excuse. As he walked down the hall, a nurse was just coming out of his father’s room. He couldn’t remember the names of all the different nurses now, and they’d had to use locums over Christmas to fill in for the regulars who had family commitments.
‘Your dad’s not too bad this morning,’ she told Joe. ‘We’ve just had him on the coughing machine for a spell. He’s comfortable. He’s talking a little, you should go in.’
‘Thanks.’ Joe walked into the room and crossed quietly to the bed. He wondered if his dad had gone back off to sleep; he was very still, and his eyes were closed. Joe stood back, watching him. He had seen a lot of dead bodies, too many probably, and it always struck him how the body was not the person any more. It was actually reassuring. The body was left behind in death, and with it all the pain and suffering and disease. It seemed like his dad was slowly leaving his body; he was still there, but he was fading, fading from their lives, from this world. Joe was not at all sure there was anywhere to go after death, but at least he was glad his dad would be rid of the burden of his useless body.
He opened his eyes then, and they came to rest on Joe.
‘Hey Dad,’ Joe smiled, taking a few steps closer to the bed.
‘Sit,’ he managed to squeeze the word out.
‘Don’t try to talk, Dad,’ said Joe, reaching for his keyboard and attaching it to his seemingly lifeless forearm. He wheeled the table with the monitor closer, and took a seat beside the bed.
‘Where’s your girl?’ he asked with difficulty.
‘Maybe she’ll come up later,’ Joe said. ‘I have to call her.’
He began to type slowly. Is she frightened to come, frightened of me?
‘No, Dad,’ Joe dism
issed, but he couldn’t look at him. ‘She’s nearly due, she doesn’t want to be too far away from the hospital. You know what the English are like, they don’t go this far on their annual holidays.’
LOOK AT ME came up on the screen. Joe turned to face his father.
‘Are you happy?’ he breathed.
‘Sure.’ But he had to look away again.
I wish I had the strength . . .
‘I know, Dad. It’s okay, don’t upset yourself.’
‘. . . to shake you,’ he finished.
Joe looked at him, looked into his eyes, and he actually saw anger there.
‘Do you love her?’ he gasped.
‘I’ll learn to love her.’
Joe heard the clicking of the keyboard again, and turned back to the screen.
It’s not something you can learn.
‘There’s a child, Dad.’
People think a child brings you together, but that’s not how it works. I loved your mother more than I loved you, or the girls, or Will. And still it was hard. She’s what kept me coming home. I was only any sort of father because of her. Because I loved her.
Joe looked at him, there were tears pooling in his eyes. He covered his hand with his own. ‘Dad, don’t worry about this, don’t worry about me.’
A tear escaped down the side of his face. He was genuinely distressed, and his breathing was becoming laboured. Joe didn’t notice the nurse had slipped back into the room.
‘Oh dear,’ she muttered. ‘You mustn’t let yourself get upset,’ she said loudly to his father as she approached the bed.
She arranged the oxygen mask over his face while Joe detached the keyboard from his arm and quickly deleted the words on the screen, pushing the stand out of the way.
He looked down at his dad, who was gazing sadly up at him. Joe bent down and stroked his head, and then kissed him on the forehead. ‘Get some rest, Dad,’ he said, and then he turned away and walked quickly from the room. He didn’t look to see if anyone was around as he continued through the kitchen and out the back door, and then off into the bush at the back of the house. He started up the ridge, picking up his pace.
This was getting too hard; his heart felt like it couldn’t take much more. What had he come home for? To have his heart broken, to watch his father die? He’d lost Jo, and he was going to lose his dad soon. But he didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. He had to keep it together, he had a baby on the way, with a woman he struggled to have any feelings for. His future felt uncertain and unhappy. There, he’d said it, he’d admitted it, if only to himself. He couldn’t feel happy, or positive, or certain about anything. In fact, he just felt like shit.
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