‘You want to call her Julia?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t think it’s up to me, Sarah.’
‘Joe, she’s your daughter too.’
‘I know that.’ He gazed down at his little girl. ‘Julia it is then.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sarah, her voice catching in her throat.
Joe straightened, perching on the end of the bed to look directly at her. ‘What were we thinking, Sarah?’
She seemed taken aback by that.
‘We never had a chance, you and I,’ he went on. ‘We kept saying we had to put the baby first. Well, I think I’m finally putting her first, ahead of my ego and everything else that has gotten in the way. She needs a mother who has the love and support of a good man. She needs two parents who are committed to each other, and who have a better than average chance of staying together and giving her a happy childhood. I’m her father, nothing can change that, and I want to be a part of her life. But you should be with Ian, Sarah.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘What are you saying? Do you want us to stay in Australia?’
‘No,’ he assured her. ‘I don’t expect you to do that.’
‘Then what?’
He sighed. ‘I guess I’m going to build up a lot of frequent flyer points in the next few years. Or probably I’ll live some of my time overseas, I don’t know. We’ll work it out.’
‘Joe, are you sure? You always wanted to settle here.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Julia comes first from now on, okay?’
When Joe walked out of the room a short time later, Ian was anxiously pacing the corridor.
‘Go on in,’ said Joe. ‘Your family’s waiting for you.’
He looked a little startled. ‘Joe, I would never presume . . . she’s your daughter –’
‘I know she is,’ he said. ‘So I’m going to expect you to take incredibly good care of her when I’m not around. Are you up for that?’
He blinked. ‘Yes, absolutely.’
‘Okay then. What are your intentions with Sarah?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Are you going to marry her?’
‘Why, yes, if she’ll have me.’
‘I don’t think you have to worry about that,’ said Joe. ‘So, if you’re going to be married to the mother of my child, I guess that makes us some kind of in-laws.’ Joe offered him his hand and Ian took it, still a little wary.
‘It’s okay, Ian, I’m not going to move in with you or anything,’ Joe reassured him.
Ian finally smiled, shaking his hand.
‘So, could you say goodbye to Sarah for me?’ said Joe. ‘Tell her I’ll see her later.’
‘Are you sure, Joe?’ said Ian. ‘You don’t have to go, you know.’
‘I do actually. There’s something important I have to do.’
Joe walked away down the corridor, and although he felt as if he was leaving a piece of his heart behind in that hospital room, he had no regrets. This was the right thing to do, the only possible way to proceed. It wasn’t going to be simple, he didn’t really know how it was going to work logistically, but for the first time he actually felt happy about bringing this child into the world. His daughter was going to have a good life, surrounded by an amazing array of people, near and far, who loved her very much and who only had her best interests at heart.
He wondered if Jo would be prepared to be one of those people. He got into the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor. Was it too late though, what if she’d moved on? Could he expect her to have feelings for him still, and not only that, to want to take this complication on board?
He had to try, what did he have to lose? He checked his watch; it was early, just coming on six. Was that too early to call? His heart started to race at the thought of hearing her voice, seeing her. Maybe he should just go straight to her place, that’d take twenty minutes or so . . . But what if she wasn’t there? God, he hoped she wasn’t away somewhere on holidays. Bugger it, so what if he woke her, he had to know where she was and if she was prepared to see him. Suddenly he couldn’t wait another minute.
The lift doors opened as he took out his phone and turned it on. As it came to life, it started to beep repeatedly. He stepped out of the elevator frowning at the screen. There were six missed calls, all from Mim and Hilary.
He called Hilary. ‘Joe,’ she said when she picked up. ‘Thank God, we’ve been ringing you all night, at home, on your mobile. Where have you been?’
He couldn’t explain everything now. ‘Never mind, what’s going on?’
‘You have to come, Joe. You have to come as fast as you can.’
JO LIDDELL
BITCH
You know what? I’m tired of bitching. That’s right. I’ve had enough. I don’t see the point any more. Bitching, harping, carping, moaning, groaning, whingeing, whining. It’s all the same, and I’ve learned that it doesn’t get you anywhere. In fact it just drags you down into a pit of self-righteous self-absorbed self-pity, which is a pretty dark smelly pit, let me tell you.
But I want to share with you what else I’ve learned – and this is of far greater value. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. You’ve heard that before, haven’t you? Your mother probably said it all the time. Well listen up, she was right. If you can’t say anything nice – read pleasant, encouraging, positive, kind – then keep your trap shut. You’re not doing anyone any favours, least of all yourself.
So, in the spirit of practising what I preach, this will be my last column, and it’s a short one, but this is all I have to say. I need to move on and start smelling the roses instead of complaining about their thorns.
Thank you for having me at your breakfast table these past few years, but I’m kind of hoping you’re glad to see the back of me. That you’re relieved there’s finally an end to the griping, sniping and sneering, at least in this space.
Look out for my by-line in greener pastures. By that I don’t mean I’m going soft and heading for the gardening pages. It’s just that I want to write about things that matter, things that will inform, educate, perhaps even make a difference. I hope you’ll consider joining me from time to time.
[email protected]
It was Jo’s last day at work. She had spent the past week slowly packing up her desk, doing the odd article, just writing up news off the wire. No one really expected anything of her.
She hadn’t seen Joe at all around the office, but she hadn’t asked after him. She didn’t want to hear he’d had the baby. She didn’t want to know, even though she was painfully aware that had to be what was keeping him away.
‘So, was it a boy or a girl?’ Oliver asked at breakfast. He actually joined her and Angie at the table, for a good half an hour. It was Angie’s last day at Earl’s as well, and so probably the last day they would have breakfast at Oliver’s. But he swiftly quashed any whiff of sentiment.
‘If you’re asking about Joe’s baby, I don’t know anything,’ Jo replied. And hopefully she would leave the country without finding out anything, before the congratulations started flowing around the office or, God forbid, he brought the baby in to show it off.
‘Well, there must be someone you can ask?’ Oliver persisted.
‘Hey Oliver,’ said Angie, ‘maybe she doesn’t want to know.’
‘A prize to the girl in the navy blue tracksuit,’ said Jo, talking into her spoon. ‘Hey, looking the part, Ange.’
‘I don’t just look the part,’ she said, consulting her pedometer. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve walked almost six thousand steps already this morning, which puts me well within range of reaching my ten thousand step daily target, especially as I’m going to do a circuit class tonight.’
‘You do understand the main reason people lose weight when they’re on a fitness kick?’ Oliver said wearily. ‘Their friends stop asking them to dinner because they’re so boring. Word to the wise, Angelina, find something else to talk abo
ut.’
‘Okay,’ she took the hint. ‘I do have some news actually. I got a job.’
‘Well done you,’ said Jo.
‘I don’t start till after the fringe festival, but I wanted to focus on that anyway.’
‘So, don’t keep us in suspense,’ said Oliver. ‘What is it?’
She smiled serenely. ‘I’m going to be cleaning the theatres down at the Wharf.’
‘Well, you always wanted to work in the theatre,’ said Oliver.
‘I figure at least I’ll enjoy the surroundings,’ said Angie. ‘And I’ll probably get to be around during rehearsals, who knows what contacts I can make. And like you said, Jo, it’s more physically active.’
‘I think it’s fabulous,’ said Jo, holding up her orange juice in a toast. ‘To all of us in all our fabulousness.’
‘Easy for you to say, Josephine,’ said Oliver. ‘Swanning off to Europe and abandoning us all.’
‘I thought you said we weren’t allowed to get sentimental?’ Jo reminded him.
‘I’m not getting sentimental,’ he maintained. ‘I just want to know why you’re not taking me with you.’
By ten o’clock, Jo was at a total loss as to what to do with herself. So she decided to make her way up to see Leo.
‘Hello Jo,’ said Judith warmly as she approached her desk. ‘It’s your last day! How do you feel, heading off into the great unknown? Nervous, excited?’
Jo shrugged. ‘Both, I guess.’
‘I should think so!’
‘I don’t suppose he’s free?’ asked Jo, cocking her head in the direction of Leo’s office.
‘Well, there’s no one with him,’ said Judith, ‘so you might be in luck.’ She pressed the intercom on her phone. ‘Jo Liddell to see you.’
‘Okay, send her in.’
Judith smiled. ‘Go ahead.’
Jo walked over to the door and let herself in. Leo was staring at the computer screen, but he looked up as she approached his desk.
‘So, are you all set?’ he asked her, sitting back in his chair.
She nodded. ‘I am. You got my column?’
‘Yeah, but I won’t be running it.’
Jo blinked. ‘Oh.’
‘Don’t be offended,’ he said, ‘It’s just that the way it reads, you’re stopping anyone else from doing the column either.’
‘You want to keep the column?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Leo. ‘It’s a good column, people respond to it.’
‘Do you have anyone in mind to take over?’
‘I’ve already asked Carla.’
Of course. ‘Good choice.’
‘Look, if you want to have another shot at a farewell piece –’
‘No,’ Jo shook her head. ‘I think I’ll just disappear mysteriously.’
‘When do you fly out?’
‘A week from today.’
‘You’re going to miss all the hoopla then,’ he said. ‘It looks like we’ll be clear to run your piece the following week.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘I was talking to the subs about the headline only this morning.’
‘Did you settle on anything?’
‘Probably HIGHWAY TO HELL for the banner, then Minister forced to hit the road.’
Jo smiled faintly. Bloody subs and their obsession with wordplay.
‘Well, I wanted to thank you for everything, Leo . . .’
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Just don’t make a fool out of me for recommending you.’
‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘I promise.’
He nodded. ‘So, apparently there’s a cake later.’
‘I don’t want any fuss, Leo.’
‘It’s not a fuss, Jo, it’s a cake,’ he said. ‘See you then,’ he added, returning his attention to the computer monitor.
Her audience was clearly over. She turned to walk out.
‘Oh, by the way, Jo –’
She stopped at the door and looked back.
‘– did you know that Joe Bannister passed away?’
The blood drained from her face and she couldn’t take a breath.
‘His dad, I mean,’ Leo said quickly. ‘Joe Senior.’
She managed to breathe then, which was just as well or she might have passed out.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Sure, of course.’
‘Anyway, the funeral’s today. I’m not going to be able to get up there, bloody board meeting. We sent flowers from the office, and more from the corporation. He was hugely respected in the industry. They’re running a big piece in the Obits in the Daily. I daresay all the dailies will be running something.’
Jo nodded. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Leo.’ Her hand was still shaking as she fumbled with the doorknob and left the room.
‘See you later for the cake,’ Judith said brightly as Jo came out of the office.
‘Judith,’ she said, approaching her desk. ‘You don’t happen to have the details for Mr Bannister’s funeral, do you?’ she asked.
‘Of course, I had to send flowers.’ She glanced around her desk. ‘I did it yesterday.’ She reached into one of the trays. ‘Here we are. There will be a graveside service at Katoomba Cemetery at noon today.’
‘Thanks.’
Jo hurried to the elevators. She had to do this. She didn’t know why exactly, but she had to do it. She got back to her desk, grabbed her bag and jacket and headed out to the elevators again, taking a lift down to the basement. She’d sign a car out, no questions would be asked, they took the journalists at their word. What were they going to do anyway? Fire her?
Katoomba Cemetery
Joe was glad his father had decided on this form of service. They were not religious people. His parents had seen too many wars waged in the name of too many religions to want to be buried in the name of any particular one. Their mother had never had the chance to make any requests about her own funeral, so they’d had a simple secular service at her graveside. Their father had asked for the same. It was a beautiful, bright summer day, which was incongruous, but was nonetheless preferable to a grey and miserable one.
Although they were a family of wordsmiths, no one had felt up to the task of speaking, but their father had made only one specific request, that Mim read one of her poems. And she had done so, with such exquisite poignancy that not an eye was left dry by the end of it, not least amongst her siblings.
As the grandchildren stepped forward to lay flowers on the coffin, Joe lifted his eyes to gaze across the vast assembly. His father had never been a proud man, but he hoped he would be proud that so many had come to pay their respects.
And then he saw her. Standing back, her head bowed, away from the main congregation of people. And suddenly he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. The proceedings were drawing to a close anyway; he became aware that people were dispersing, coming forward to shake hands, embrace his sisters, but he could barely focus on who they were or what they were saying. He had to get to her, before she left. Joe started to weave his way through the crowd, his heart racing, fixing his eyes on her so she’d notice him, so she’d look up and realise that he’d seen her. And finally she did. Their eyes locked across the sea of people, and she acknowledged him with a faint nod. She’d wait for him now, he was sure, and he accepted the condolences of people mostly unknown to him as he pushed his way on towards her. And then there was no one else in his way, and she was still standing there, waiting for him.
‘Jo,’ he said as he approached her, ‘it’s so good of you to come.’
That sounded lame, like she was just someone who’d showed up. But she wasn’t just someone. What had made her show up? Did she know about him and Sarah, about the baby? But how could she know the whole story, and how could he explain it to her now?
‘Hello Joe,’ she was saying, ‘I was so sorry when I heard . . .’
‘Thank you.’ He was standing right in front of her now. He wanted so badly to take her in
his arms and hold her close. But he couldn’t, not now, not here, not till he had a chance to talk to her. He had to find a way to make her stay, somehow.
‘How are you coping?’ she asked.
‘Okay, we’re doing okay.’
She glanced around, as though she was looking for who else he meant by ‘we’. Damn.
‘I’m so glad to see you, Jo,’ he said.
She smiled a little awkwardly. ‘Did he die peacefully?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘But I didn’t make it before he lost consciousness. I didn’t get to speak to him.’
She reached for his hand instinctively. ‘You two said everything you had to say throughout your lives, you were lucky you had that kind of relationship, Joe. And he would have known you were there.’
He took a deep breath, feeling the comfort of her hand in his. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Jo.’
She dropped her head then, breaking eye contact, and he felt her hand slip away, but he gripped it tight. ‘Can you come back to the house?’
She shook her head regretfully. ‘I have to go. It’s my last day at work, I shouldn’t even be here.’
‘Your last day?’
‘I’m going away, Joe,’ she said, meeting his gaze again.
‘Where to?’ he frowned.
‘I’m finally going to be a foreign correspondent. I’m off to London first, then they’re going to find a post for me in Europe.’
She was going away? His heart was twisting painfully in his chest, his head was spinning. He had to talk to her. ‘That’s . . . that’s really great, Jo. It’s what you’ve always wanted.’
She nodded faintly, staring up at him. ‘Yeah . . . yeah, it is.’
‘The car’s leaving now, Joseph.’
He turned. It was Hilary. She smiled at Jo. ‘Hello, thanks for coming,’ she said, before walking on. He would have liked to introduce them, to tell Hilary this was Jo.
‘I’ll let you go,’ she said, sliding her hand out of his finally.
He wanted to say something, anything, to make her stay. ‘You’re sure you can’t come back?’
Crossing Paths Page 49
