Polly's Write ol' Summer

by Penny Kane

  She decided that in the meantime, the best use of her energy would be to put all of Steve’s belongings into black bin liners and get them sent over to Kate’s house. The very thought of her best friend fooling around with her husband made her seethe. How long had they both lied to her? It wasn’t as if it was just a quick fumble – they were going to have a baby. The irony hit her. Kate always said that Brendan was a beautiful baby and she’d love to have one just like him one day.

  “Bitch!” Polly spat as she grabbed the roll of bin bags and opened Steve’s closet.

  She took a deep breath. “Now, Polly Lloyd. Do you still love him?” She thought about that for a second.

  “Yes.” She hated to admit it, but it was true.

  “Then can you forgive his double infidelity?”

  This time her answer came quicker. “No!”

  She took another deep breath. “Then do you want him out of your life?”

  This time the answer came into her head before she’d finished asking herself the question: “Absolutely.” She tore off a bag from the roll.

  “Will you live to regret this?” She shook open the bag.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I do know I can never trust him again, and I certainly couldn’t let him touch me again.” She sighed. “And besides, they’re having a baby. I’d have a stepchild to deal with.”

  She laughed at herself. “And yes, I know I am talking to myself!”

  Polly reached into the closet and pulled out a handful of Steve’s white cotton work shirts still on the hangers. He could have those, too. She didn’t want a single trace of him left in the house. Tomorrow she would call the real estate agents’ office and get them to come and value the house. Then, perhaps, she could move on with her life without Steve.

  Chapter Four

  Polly filled nine bin liners and three boxes full of Steve’s stuff. She was sure no taxi driver would take it all over to Kate’s place. She was exhausted and only realised it was lunchtime when her stomach growled. Polly headed to the kitchen and dialled Brendan’s number as she went.

  “Yeah?” Brendan asked groggily.

  “Bren, it’s Mum.”

  “Oh, hi!” He coughed and Polly heard him getting out of bed, or sitting up. He’d obviously had a rough night of it. “How you doin’, Mum?”

  “Oh, you know. I’ve cleared out most of Dad’s crap, but I don’t think it’ll fit in a taxi. Do you think you could take it, or one of your mates? I’ll pay.”

  “Sure, Mum. Leave it with me.”

  He sounded tired. “Hun, I wanted to ask how your exam went. I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

  “Yeah, I got your text. I just didn’t want to respond when I got in last night. It was gone two.”

  “Right.” She held her breath, hoping he’d continue and tell her about the exam. He didn’t. “Well?”

  “What?”

  “The exam. How did it go?”

  “I dunno, Mum. It was pretty hard and I’m tuckered out now.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “When will you hear?”

  “In a couple of months, I think. The same as usual.”

  “Right.” He sounded dejected and she didn’t know what to say to perk him up. “What do you want to do until then?”

  “I dunno. I thought I might go to the beach with Abi’s family, if that’s ok with you. But I’ll come home and be with you this weekend. I’ve missed you and you haven’t celebrated your book tour or homecoming yet, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “We could go to Clooney’s.”

  “That’d be nice.” She smiled at the thought.

  “Shall I see if I can get us in for Saturday?”

  “It’s a bit pricey.”

  “Come on, Mum. You deserve it.”

  Polly chuckled. Brendan was the best, he really was. “Ok. See if you can ask them to reserve us a quiet table. I’m not up to being recognised, fussed over, or just being around people right now.”

  There was a pause. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about Mr Tiggles, too. He had enough on his plate. She’d tell him face to face when she saw him next.

  “I know. Look, Mum, I have to go. I’ll call you later about Saturday and I’ll get Kevin to come over for Dad’s things. He’ll do anything for a bit of wonga.”

  Polly laughed. “How much should I give him? Twenty, fifty?”

  “Depends on how many trips he makes.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Oh, and Mum, make him some of your peanut cookies. He loves those.”

  Polly laughed again and they said their good-byes. What would she do without Brendan?

  * * * *

  Polly gave the house one final going over and filled another two bags full of Steve’s belongings. She hoped this time she got it all. The last thing she needed was to open a drawer in a few months’ time and come face to face with something of his and break down.

  Then she went into the kitchen and started to bake Kevin the cookies. It was the least she could do for him. Ok, she was going to pay for petrol, but it wouldn’t hurt to go the extra distance to say thank you, would it?

  Kevin and Brendan had been mates since high school and he was taking physics at the same Uni as Bren. Polly wondered how he was doing with his studies.

  The phone rang and broke her train of thought. It was Jackie.

  “How’s my favourite author today?” She was her usual chirpy self. “How was the homecoming? I bet Steve was really glad to see you!” She laughed.

  Oh God, I’ve got to go through it all again. She put the tray of peanut cookies into the oven, took a deep breath, and told Jackie everything that had happened since she got back from the tour.

  Jackie punctuated Polly’s narrative with Oh my God! and The bastard! Polly was glad she was on her side. She was in dire need of the sympathy. Jackie was great at motivating her, and she’d done so many times during the writing and editing of her book. Polly was in desperate need of her again. Jackie talked on until Polly felt better.

  She took the cookies out of the oven, left them on the side to cool, and then decided to tell her about her suspicions regarding her life echoing her book. How do I begin? She’ll think I’m such a drongo! Polly knew she needed to tell somebody before she went mad. She swallowed and then plunged in, telling her about the dream and everything she feared.

  Eventually, Polly fell silent; she’d said all she had to say. She’d let it all out to Jackie and hoped that she’d believe her.

  “I think you are overworked and need a break,” came the tinny reply down the phone.

  “Overworked? Overworked! What are you talking about? My being overworked didn’t make my husband hump the maid and my best friend, Jackie! It didn’t make my cat get run over!”

  “Polly, you’re overreacting. Please, calm down.”

  “Jackie, if my son arrives home from Uni and says he’s flunked, then will you believe me?”

  “Brendan won’t flunk. He’s a bright kid,” Jackie snapped.

  “Well, that’s what happens next in my book. That’s what happened to Sally.” She stopped talking. She knew Jackie didn’t believe her. Why would she?

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

  The line went dead; Jackie had hung up.

  * * * *

  Polly decided to order a takeaway that night. Although she’d baked cookies for Kevin, she didn’t fancy cooking for herself. There was a vegetarian place not far from her that delivered free of charge, so at least she could eat a healthy takeaway. As she ordered her aubergine parmesan pasta with extra cheese, she wondered if there actually was such a thing as a healthy takeaway meal.

  The food arrived so quickly that Polly didn’t have time to shoot upstairs, chuck on a little lippy and mascara, or even put on some decent clothing. However, that didn’t stop the hormonal delivery bloke from drooling over her cleavage, which she realised her V-necked t-shirt was showing rather a lot of. Her
own hormones seemed to react to him all by themselves. She found herself blushing and giggling at him. What the bloody heck is the matter with me? Has it been that long since someone paid me any kind of attention sexually that I need to flirt with that zitty man-boy? Polly gave herself a mental slap around the face, handed him the twenty dollars, and closed the door on him as politely as she could.

  Still shaking her head at herself, Polly put the extra rice dish that she’d bought in the kitchen and settled down on the couch with her takeaway. She had two more episodes of Shortland Street to watch and then she decided just to flick through the channels until she found something else interesting. On normal weeknights, she and Steve would veg together in front of the TV. He was usually exhausted from his job. She bitterly wondered now if that was the only thing that had been exhausting him.

  As she dug into her meal and watched the TV, Polly’s writer’s brain started to kick in. Once or twice she saw ideas for storylines in the programmes she flicked through the channels. By the time she decided to call it a night, she felt more optimistic. She knew she should begin writing another book soon. She also had to call the real estate agent in the morning and then, hopefully, Kevin would come over to take Steve’s stuff away.

  As she fell asleep, she told herself off. “Now, no more imagining your life is playing out like your book!”

  Chapter Five

  The real estate agent was extremely enthusiastic about Polly’s house. They always are, though, aren’t they? Polly was bitter. It’s when they get potential buyers through the door that they magically notice for the first time (yeah, right) the crack in the ceiling and knock you down ten grand! She put on her fake interview smile and continued to show the agent round the house.

  Polly was astonished at what the agent valued the 1970s brick house. It had substantially increased in value since they bought it almost twenty years ago. She quickly did the sums in her head and reckoned she could afford a nice, two-bedroomed flat in Auckland City for her and Brendan. She had some savings of her own from the royalty payments and believed she’d be ok, if Steve didn’t kick up in the divorce court. Luckily, she was the one who caught him in the act of adultery. She held all the cards.

  She thought more as the agent prepared the documents. Perhaps if I move out Northland way, I’d be able to afford a small house. She was beginning to feel more positive. Now all she had to do was get Steve to sign the sale papers.

  Soon the agent was gone. Polly promised to pop the signed papers into the office as soon as she could. She looked at the clock. There was time to see her solicitor. She swallowed hard. It was a tough decision to make, but Steve had been unfaithful. He was starting a new family. There was no going back.

  Polly called a taxi and set off for her solicitors’ office. If he wasn’t a family friend, she supposed she’d have had to make an appointment. She was very pleased that she didn’t. Max would see her any time. She frowned. Steve and Max play golf together. What if he knew all along and hid it from me?

  Max really didn’t know and was shocked and appalled at Steve’s behaviour. “We haven’t played golf together in about six months. I was going to call you this weekend and see if you fancied coming over for a barbecue. I guess not.” He looked down at his bronzed, manicured hands and shook his head. “I am sorry, Polly. Truly I am.”

  Polly broke down and cried. She knew that coming to begin the divorce process would be hard, but it was harder when you knew the solicitor and he sympathised with you.

  He made her a cup of coffee and they got down to business.

  * * * *

  Polly had been home from the solicitors’ for half an hour when Kevin knocked on the door.

  “Hey Mrs L! How’re you doin’?” He slapped himself on the forehead. “Dumb question! What a drongo!”

  “Ah, don’t worry about it, Kevin. How are you?”

  He said he was doing well and she asked him about his parents. They were fine and Polly couldn’t think of anything else to talk about, so she pointed to the black bags full of Steve’s stuff.

  “All that?” Kevin rubbed the back of his neck. “Blimey, that man has a lot of crap!”

  Polly laughed. “Yes, he does, and I will pay you handsomely to give it all back to him.”

  Kevin smiled at her. “Anything for you, Mrs L.”

  Polly knew it’d take Kevin at least three trips to take it all over to Kate’s house, so she was more than willing to give Kevin fifty New Zealand dollars to do the job.

  “Mrs L, I’d have done it for nothing.” He blushed.

  “I don’t believe in slave labour,” she replied, slapping his arm. “Do you want a hand putting all this into your Ute?” she asked as she handed him a fifty-dollar note.

  “Nah, you’re all right.” He looked around and nervously into the kitchen. “Er…Bren said…”

  “Oh yes! I baked you some of my peanut cookies!” She grabbed the tub and handed them to him.

  “Awesome, Mrs L. You’re a good sort.” He beamed at her, grabbed a black bag, and headed out to his car to begin loading.

  “You’re welcome, Kevin.” You’re a good sort, too.

  She walked out to the front porch, sat, and watched while the young, redheaded man put all of Steve’s things into his Ute. Polly didn’t know whether to feel sad or not that she was now putting Steve out of her life completely. Of course, she’d have to see him from time to time with regards to Brendan, but a chapter of her life was over. It was time to begin the next one.

  Kevin worked quickly and soon he’d loaded up and left. He thanked Polly profusely for the cookies and said he’d be back for the rest of the stuff as quickly as he could. Polly was amazed that it’d only take two trips, but that was good, she supposed. She didn’t want to prolong it.

  * * * *

  The phone was ringing. Polly hadn’t realised she’d fallen asleep. She’d gone upstairs to the spare bed and laid down and cried after Kevin took the final lot of Steve’s stuff away. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was Jackie. “Hello?”

  “Sweetie, were you asleep? Did I wake you?”

  “It’s ok, Jackie. I didn’t mean to nod off.”

  “Oh, you must be exhausted. How are you holding up?”

  “Better than I expected, to be honest. Kevin, my son’s mate, was just here. He took all of Steve’s stuff to him.”

  “Really? So, you’ve made your mind up then? It’s over?”

  “Yes, Jackie. It’s over. I can’t take him back and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him. Besides, they’re having a baby.”

  Jackie paused and Polly heard her breathing. “Does Kate know about the maid?”

  “I doubt it.” Polly sighed. “He seems to be very good at lying. But she’ll find out in the end. It’s all in the divorce papers.”

  “You filed for divorce already?” Jackie sounded shocked.

  “Yes. There’s no point in dragging it out, Jackie. We have to sell the house and I have to move on. The last thing I want is for my marital problems to get into the magazines.”

  “No, absolutely not. I’ve had a word with our PR department about that. They’re on the lookout for any negative publicity with regards to you and Steve.”

  “Ok, that’s great. Thanks.” Polly really didn’t want her dirty laundry aired in public.

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

  “Yes. I’m going to get this all sorted out – get myself a place, have a holiday, and start another book.”

  “All in that order?”

  Polly knew the new book would be at the top of Jackie’s priorities. “Not necessarily.”

  “Good. I’m pleased to hear it.”

  Polly paused. “Jackie, have you thought any more about what I said?”

  “Polly, darling, you’re under tremendous strain. There is no way that your life is mimicking your book. I suggest that you relax and concentrate on yourself and your career.”

  She doesn’t be
lieve me. “Right.”

  “Darling, you know I am. What plans do you have for the weekend?”

  “Brendan and I are going out for a meal, and maybe we’ll see a show.”

  “Splendid, splendid! I’ll call you on Monday, then, to see how you’re doing.”

  “Ok, Jackie. Have a good weekend.”

  “You too, darling. Ciao!”

  Jackie hung up and Polly shook her head. Would no one believe her? Was she going mad? She decided to check the book and see what the next event would be.

  * * * *

  As she sat in her over-stuffed reading armchair, Polly shook her head at her own words on the pages of the book. Do people really read this kind of crap? It was the first time she’d ever thought that about her own work. I worked really hard to write this. The editors and Jackie made me change so much to give it general appeal, but the bits I’ve changed are trashy!

  She re-read the passage again and burst out laughing. “Sally actually went to bed with the takeaway delivery man!” Polly wiped her eyes. She was laughing so hard that they were watering. “There is no way on this planet I would have slept with the zitty delivery man-boy!” Perhaps Jackie is right after all. I’ve read too much into this.

  Polly turned the page and began the next chapter. She took a sip from the mineral water bottle always kept by her reading chair and almost spat it out. “What the heck?” She flicked back the page and read the passage again. “I thought they cut that. I told them it was absurd and wanted it cut! It’s still in there.”

  Polly sat wide-eyed and thinking about what she’d just read. She then laughed again and shook her head. “Wrong, just plain wrong! What kind of slut-heroine did I create if she slept with her son’s best mate, too?”

  It took Polly a few minutes to recover from that revelation. Once the book went to press, she hadn’t read it again. She assumed the alterations she asked for were made. She was a little cross about that. She went into the kitchen and put the coffee pot on. She was so mad that she made the brew extra strong. I shall have to read the final draft through thoroughly before it goes to the printers next time.