Wife on the Run

by Fiona Higgins

  ‘Okay.’ Caitlin said softly. ‘But can we visit Dad again before we go? I mean, it’s disgusting what he’s done.’ She looked conflicted. ‘But I still want to see him, you know?’

  ‘I understand, honey,’ said Paula. ‘Gramps can take you first thing tomorrow.’

  Caitlin stood up from the bed and took a few steps towards the door, before turning and launching herself at Paula.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ She hugged Paula to her. ‘I hate what Dad’s done.’ Paula took Caitlin’s face in her hands and smiled, unable to speak. As she watched her daughter padding down the hallway, Paula’s stomach clenched with fear.

  It’s real now, she thought. I’ve just made it real.

  The following evening, her sister Jamie sat opposite Paula in the kitchen. ‘This Thursday? You’re not serious, are you?’

  Catie and Lachie weaved around them, carrying equipment in and out of the lounge room. Catie was sorting through the linen, including the sleeping bags. Lachie, having appointed himself providore, was busy selecting non-perishable items for the caravan’s pantry.

  ‘Does it look like I’m kidding?’ Paula asked, nodding at her children. Jamie peered at the half-packed crates littered across the floor. ‘But surely you can’t just pull the kids out of school and run away?’ She’d had a similar reaction from the two friends she’d told about her plan. Shocked silence, followed by random protests.

  It’s madness to go in summer—you’ll go troppo up north.

  The flies will be shocking. And what about the snakes?

  You can’t escape your troubles, Paula.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Paula, studying Jamie’s face.

  ‘It just seems like . . . an overreaction.’ Jamie lowered her voice. ‘I mean, Hamish’s behaviour was more than bad, maybe unforgivable. But if you uproot Catie and Lachie when they’re vulnerable like this, it could destabilise them even further.’ Jamie’s words carried all the weight of her professional authority as a school teacher. ‘I know you’re hurt, Paula, and I really feel for you—but you’ve got to put the kids first.’

  While she’d hoped for her sister’s unconditional support, Paula had anticipated this lukewarm reception. Jamie had always been the quintessential first child: the sensible, mature, responsible one.

  ‘Not this time,’ said Paula. ‘Catie and Lachie will be fine without their social networks. It’s bloody social networking that’s got us into so much trouble lately.’

  Jamie opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  ‘Well . . . what about Dad?’ Her tone was more subdued now. ‘Who’s going to take care of him while you’re gone?’ Jamie and her family lived a thirty-minute drive west of Glen Waverley.

  ‘He’s coming with us.’

  ‘But he doesn’t travel! He’s never been out of Victoria before.’

  ‘Well, he loves the caravan. He even wanted to take it for a spin to Canberra a few weekends back, to see the Impressionists exhibition.’

  Jamie looked bewildered.

  There was a shuffling sound from the kitchen doorway. ‘Ah, my two favourite girls. I thought my ears were burning.’

  Sid walked over to his eldest daughter and kissed her cheek. ‘How are you, sweetheart? Want to come with us?’

  Jamie let out an uncomfortable laugh. ‘Some of us have to work, unfortunately, Dad.’

  Paula detected the barb. Jamie’s financial situation was precarious, particularly now with three teenage children. As a teacher married to a teacher, and both committed to public education, Jamie and Rick had never been able to afford much beyond the bare necessities. By contrast, Hamish’s career success had allowed Paula a level of flexibility that Jamie had never enjoyed. While Jamie returned to work within three months of each of her children’s births, Paula had stopped work completely after Caitlin was born, only choosing to resume a part-time career almost a decade later.

  ‘Oh, well,’ said Sid, patting Jamie on the shoulder. ‘Maybe you and Rick and the kids could meet us somewhere along the road?’

  Jamie looked bemused. ‘Are you sure you’re up to it, Dad?’

  ‘Absolutely. Never felt better.’ He winked at her. ‘Always wanted to see the Nullarbor Plain, ever since I was a little fella.’ His grin faded. ‘And if I stay here with Hamish, I might kill the bastard.’

  They fell silent for a moment.

  Her father looked as disappointed as Paula had ever seen him. She could tell from Jamie’s expression, too, that she was torn: Hamish had been part of the family for more than seventeen years.

  Lachie lumbered into the kitchen, carrying a camp stove.

  ‘Put it here, big fella.’ Her father waved his right hand in front of Lachie, forcing him to put down the stove and return his high-five. ‘This is going to be the trip of a lifetime, matey.’

  Lachie nodded half-heartedly.

  Her son hadn’t reacted well to Paula’s news of his father’s indiscretion and their impending departure. He’d gone all quiet and retreated to his room. When Paula had followed him, trying to explain herself, he’d simply said, ‘Whatever, Mum.’ Which usually meant he was angry. Feeling rather slighted, Paula had to keep telling herself he’s a thirteen-year-old boy. An enigma wrapped in a riddle.

  Later that same day, when he’d emerged for lunch, she’d offered Lachie the option of staying at home with his father instead.

  ‘What, for the whole summer?’ Lachie had asked. ‘I hate Ultimate Fight Club.’

  Paula had nodded in recognition. Hamish’s recovery was sure to involve a lot of television, mostly sports programs that held little or no interest for Lachie.

  ‘Looks like the lesser of two evils, then, Lachie,’ she’d said.

  ‘Guess so,’ he’d replied, before heading back to his bedroom.

  She hadn’t followed him, sensing his need for space.

  Once they were on the road, she reasoned, he’d come around.

  ‘Come on, buddy.’ Her father now beckoned to Lachie. ‘Help me get the last stuff out of the garage.’ As they walked down the stairs, Sid punched his grandson’s shoulder playfully. ‘You know the Nullarbor Plain? We’ll catch a dingo out there. I’ve got a trap downstairs that’s a set of real steel jaws.’

  Paula and Jamie exchanged a wry smile; the dingo trap had been a rustic retirement gift from one of their father’s rural lamb suppliers. They’d never imagined he might actually find cause to use it.

  ‘A butcher on the road.’ Jamie chuckled. ‘This might be one hell of a trip.’

  Paula laughed too, detecting a hint of envy in Jamie’s voice.

  She rested her chin on her hand and looked at her sister across the bench. With only two years separating them, they’d been close as children and practically inseparable as teenagers. They’d adored each other’s company; whiling away weekends together with cycling or hiking in the national park, playing board games, dressing up and styling each other’s hair, or singing and gyrating to the season’s top hits. It had been a natural extension of their childhood closeness, then, when they’d flatted together at university.

  But things had changed after they’d met their husbands-to-be; Jamie first, falling for the handsome Rick and promptly moving to a teaching post in the Riverina. During the course of that posting, Paula had met Hamish, marrying him within a year. Jamie had been Paula’s only bridesmaid and, less than six months later, their roles had been reversed at Jamie’s wedding. Paula had always assumed that her sister would be her closest friend for life, but to her quiet dismay, they’d drifted apart after marriage. A function of circumstance rather than choice, Paula reflected now. The complexities of adulthood—of spouses and finances and careers and children—complicating the natural sisterly bond.

  Not to mention the reality that their husbands, while cordial enough at family gatherings, would probably never choose to be friends. Rick was a science teacher; an introverted, sensitive, cerebral character to whom Hamish had trouble relating. By contrast, Hamish’s untrammelled blokey-ness—his
sportiness and material ambitions for money, cars and home renovations—seemed to grate on Rick. Her brother-in-law often fell silent in Hamish’s presence, which was discomfiting for everyone. While Paula couldn’t begrudge Rick his feelings—Hamish was, after all, larger than life—she lamented the invisible wedge it drove between herself and Jamie.

  ‘Do you want me to look in on Hamish while you’re away, take him a few meals?’ asked Jamie. ‘Since I can’t seem to talk you out of going.’

  Paula nodded. ‘Thanks, but I’ll leave some supplies for him. Don’t go to too much trouble.’

  Part of her wanted Hamish to flounder on his own for a while.

  ‘Is Hamish, you know, okay with all of you going away?’ Jamie looked uncertain.

  ‘I haven’t mentioned it, the kids did.’ Paula evaded Jamie’s eyes, feeling more than guilty. She should have told Hamish to his face in hospital.

  Their father suddenly popped his head up from the stairwell. ‘I took the kids to see Hamish today,’ he said. ‘Catie told him about the trip, but he didn’t say much at all. He knows what he’s done to this family.’

  No one said anything for a moment, then Lachie emerged carrying another box of camping gear. Sid helped him carry it to the lounge room.

  ‘Three months away is a long time. How will you pay for it?’ Jamie asked. Money was always one of her chief concerns.

  Paula shrugged. ‘I’ve withdrawn enough to keep us going.’

  Try ten thousand dollars. She could only imagine how livid Hamish would be when he discovered that. But what else was the alternative? She didn’t want to leave a tell-tale trail of ATM withdrawals across Australia on the bank statement of their joint account. So she’d walked into the bank earlier that day and signed for the biggest wad of cash she’d ever handled in her life. Burdened by its weight in her bag, she’d sequestered most of it inside the broken freezer compartment of the caravan’s fridge.

  Paula looked at Jamie again. ‘On second thoughts, it would be good if you could check on Hamish. He’s never really fended for himself. And he’s injured too.’

  Am I doing the right thing?

  Jamie suddenly reached across the bench and placed a hand over Paula’s. ‘I get it,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit rash, but I totally understand why you need to get away. If Rick had done that to me, with a girl of that age . . .’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘But come back soon, okay?’

  Tears pricked Paula’s eyes as she gripped Jamie’s hand.

  Life had taken them in different directions, but her sister still knew her best.

  Jamie’s mobile beeped.

  She checked her phone and rolled her eyes. ‘Rick’s sent an SOS. The kids are going berserk. Nothing that some baked beans on toast wouldn’t fix, I imagine, but I’d better get home. You know how it is.’

  ‘Sure do.’ Paula smiled. ‘Thanks for coming over. Sorry to drop a bombshell like this.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ Jamie’s expression softened. ‘I’m just sad it’s happened at all. You deserve so much better.’

  She stood up and walked around the bench, pulling Paula into a hug.

  Paula leaned into her taller, slimmer older sister. Wiser too, in all probability, she thought.

  ‘It’ll be alright,’ Jamie said quietly. ‘I don’t know why I say that, but it will be. I’ve always just felt your life would work out, in here.’ She tapped her chest. ‘There’s a sort of aura around you, protecting my little sister.’

  ‘Really?’ Paula smiled. ‘Thanks, Jamie.’

  Jamie picked up her handbag from the bench.

  Paula didn’t want her sister to leave. ‘Why don’t you think about Dad’s idea?’ she asked. ‘You could meet us somewhere like Margaret River. Maybe even leave the kids with Rick and have a few days to yourself? We could do girls’ stuff, like old times.’

  Jamie smiled wistfully. ‘Sounds nice, but we’re driving up to Coffs Harbour to visit Rick’s mum these holidays. She’s sick, you know.’

  Paula nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Promise you’ll take care of Dad?’ Jamie looked unsteady for a moment. ‘He’s . . . all we’ve got left.’

  So Jamie felt it too. Grateful for the unexpected gift delivered by their mother’s death, in the form of their father.

  Paula pulled Jamie into a final hug.

  ‘It’s only for the summer,’ she murmured. ‘We’ll be back before you know it.’

  In the next thirty-six hours, Paula somehow managed to finalise everything for their departure.

  She called Burwood Secondary College on Wednesday morning and informed Mr Nelson that the children wouldn’t be returning for the rest of the term. He was clearly taken aback; she filled the ensuing silence by requesting that he cancel her canteen roster.

  ‘Mrs McInnes . . .’ The principal scrambled to keep her on the line. ‘There’s no need to take such drastic action. We might get some news from Facebook sooner than we expect.’

  ‘We just need some family time now,’ she explained. ‘We’ll see you first term next year, Mr Nelson.’

  Her next phone call, to Bella Vista Aged Care, was more difficult. Paula dialled the number, hoping the gossipy administration manager, Janelle, wouldn’t answer.

  ‘Good morning, Bella Vista. Janelle speaking.’

  Paula attempted to sound chirpy. ‘Hi Janelle, it’s Paula. I need to cancel my shifts, sorry.’

  ‘Oh.’ Janelle made some tut-tutting noises. ‘Are you sick?’

  ‘Hamish and I are . . .’ Paula’s voice began to wobble. ‘We’re going through a difficult patch.’

  ‘Oh.’ Janelle was listening intently now.

  ‘I need some time off work. I’m taking a break with the kids for . . . a couple of months.’

  ‘Oh, Paula. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I just hope my job’s still here when I get back.’

  ‘Of course.’ Janelle made more sympathetic sounds. ‘We’ll work something out. Are you alright, Paula?’

  Paula screwed her eyes shut against the rising sadness. ‘I’m fine, Janelle.’

  She replaced the receiver and cried into her hands. Telling someone beyond her closest circle was harder than she’d imagined. In addition to her private pain—the revolving door of anger and grief—the public telling triggered another emotion: shame. The indignity of perceptions:

  You couldn’t keep your husband happy.

  You failed your marriage.

  It’ll screw up your kids.

  As an antidote to sadness, Paula threw herself into logistical overdrive. Cleaning out the freezer and stocking the fridge, packing and repacking, crossing off items from multiple lists: First-aid kit, spare tyre and car jack. Tarpaulin, tent, sleeping bags. Insect repellent, fly zapper, mosquito nets. Solar-powered lamp, matches, picnic set. Bicycles, helmets, beach towels.

  Just before midnight on Wednesday, eight hours before they were due to depart, her father poked his head around the lounge-room door. ‘Is this the last of it?’ He nodded at two milk crates of equipment.

  ‘I think so. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ He grinned. ‘We can still buy things on the road, you know. This is Australia, not darkest Peru.’

  She smiled at the reference to Paddington Bear, one of her favourite children’s books. Decades ago, he’d read it to her as a bedtime story.

  ‘Go to bed, Paula.’ Her father’s face was earnest now.

  ‘I will, Dad. I’ve just got one more thing to do.’ She picked up her notebook from the coffee table.

  ‘Don’t stay up too long.’

  He disappeared down the stairs.

  Paula walked to the sideboard, where she stored their best dinnerware. Her grandmother’s Royal Doulton tea set, her mother’s favourite Wedgewood pieces, the Sheffield cutlery. She opened the bottom drawer and found the 1940s set of splayds they hardly ever used.

  Slipping her gold wedding band and sapphire engagement ring off her finger, she placed them inside the velou
r-lined box and snapped it shut.

  Then she tore a sheet from the centre of her notebook.

  Dear Hamish . . .

  Pelting rain greeted them early the next morning. Sid reversed the ute up the drive and parked it in front of the caravan, before donning his raincoat and gumboots to load the final items. Paula held a red-and-white-striped golf umbrella over him as he attempted, with Lachie’s help, to hitch the caravan to the ute’s towbar.

  They huffed and heaved until, finally, the knob slipped into place.

  ‘That’s tough work for an old bugger,’ her father said. ‘Thanks, Lachie.’

  Lachlan joined his sister in the ute.

  ‘Better pack this brolly,’ Sid said, taking the umbrella from Paula and folding it up. He opened the ute’s rear tray and skewered it between two bags, just beneath the canopy. ‘How about I drive first, love? Might be a bit slippery out there.’

  ‘No thanks, Dad,’ said Paula. ‘I’ll do it.’

  This was a moment she wanted to savour; defying her own doubts to set off for an adventure without Hamish.

  ‘Right you are.’

  He peeled off his raincoat and climbed into the front passenger seat. Paula walked around to the driver’s side and took her place behind the wheel. Her stomach fluttered, as though she was poised to strut out on stage.

  This is it.

  ‘Couldn’t have asked for a wetter day, could we?’ Her father wiped his face with the edge of his t-shirt.

  ‘It’s an omen,’ said Lachie, a small voice from the rear of the ute. ‘It’s pissing on your plan, Mum.’

  ‘Lachlan McInnes!’ Paula spun around. He’d never spoken to her like that before.

  Her son squirmed, clearly aware he was out of line.

  Paula drew herself up as tall as she could in her seat.

  ‘Let’s get a few things straight before we leave, kids.’ Her voice was steely. ‘If either of you don’t want to come on this trip, now is the time to say so. You can stay with Aunty Jamie until Dad comes home from hospital.’ She looked between her children. ‘Any takers?’