Didn’t even need travel curlers.
She’d dabbed a musky scent on her pulse points and contemplated not wearing any underpants. But her mother’s voice had triumphed from the grave: What happens if there’s a big gust of wind? Or you have an accident and go to hospital? What will the doctors think?
Paula settled instead on a new pair of silk knickers. For years she’d been buying black lace for Hamish’s benefit, but this time she chose fire-engine red, feeling positively dangerous as she slipped into them.
‘My word,’ said her father, as she walked from the amenities block just before seven-thirty. ‘Someone’s going to be impressed.’
She almost told him she was meeting Marcelo.
‘Where are you off to, Mum?’ Caitlin looked at her mother with admiration. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Oh, out to dinner with an old friend from university,’ she lied. For tonight, at least, Paula wanted Marcelo all to herself.
‘Have a good time,’ said Lachie, peering over the top of his book.
She made her way to the front gate of the caravan park and waited for the taxi.
The restaurant was perched at the far reaches of the old timber wharf overlooking Darwin Harbour. Paula stood at the doorway, fidgeting with her hair, feeling deliciously nervous.
She walked in and scanned the room for Marcelo.
A figure stood up from a table in the far corner.
She stopped in her tracks, immobilised, as he walked towards her.
Before she could move he was at her side, bending down and kissing her cheek.
‘You’re beautiful, Paula McInnes.’
She stared up into Hamish’s face.
‘You’re like a different woman.’
The message she’d received from ID withheld hadn’t been from Marcelo at all. Somehow, she’d unwittingly agreed to have dinner with her husband.
The disappointment was crushing.
‘Are you alright?’ Hamish asked, taking her elbow and guiding her towards the table.
Flustered, she told the truth.
‘I don’t really want to be here, Hamish.’
And it was about time for more truth, she decided.
Hamish pulled out a chair for her all the same.
‘Look, I know you’re still angry with me, and I deserve it. What I did was wrong, Paula, I know that now.’ He looked at her with pleading eyes. ‘But please, sit down and let’s have a drink. It’s taken me forever to find you.’
His apology was disarming; Hamish was usually so convinced of his righteousness.
‘Alright,’ she said finally. ‘One drink.’
He took a seat opposite her.
A waiter appeared with a bottle of champagne and a crystal flute.
‘Madame.’ He moved to pour the sparkling liquid into the glass.
‘No thanks.’ It was just like Hamish to order for her. ‘I’m off alcohol at the moment.’
‘You’re kidding?’ Hamish beamed. ‘So am I.’
He waved the waiter away, before calling him back. ‘Just make it two sparkling waters, please.’
They sat in silence, looking at each other. With anyone else, she might have felt awkward. Hamish appeared to be noticing all the small changes in her. And he liked what he saw, evidently.
For his part, Hamish looked gaunter, with more signs of stress around the eyes. His skin was peeling in patches across his neck, evidence of a recent sunburn. But his knee appeared to have healed well, since she hadn’t seen any sign of a limp.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
He grinned. ‘What do you think?’
‘A business trip?’
The waiter reappeared with their drinks.
Hamish raised his glass at her. She didn’t reciprocate.
‘I followed you, Paula,’ he said. ‘It’s taken me a month to catch up with you on the road.’
‘What, in the hatchback?’
‘Yes, it’s a long story. I got as far as Perth, but it broke down and I had to leave it there.’ He laughed. ‘A mate of mine drove me from Perth to Darwin.’
‘Which mate?’ She couldn’t recall any friends of Hamish’s living in Western Australia.
‘His name’s Frank, a bloke I met on the Nullarbor. Got me out of some tight corners. He’s a tour guide, drives for a living. I’ve been staying with him up here, at his family’s place. He’s an Aborigine.’
She looked at him, wondering whether to castigate him for using the term Aborigine. For years she’d explained just how offensive it was to some Indigenous Australians; a fact that had been drilled into her during her social work degree.
It was difficult to imagine Hamish driving the length of Australia with an Aboriginal for company, then staying in his house. For as long as she could remember, Hamish had been ambivalent about ‘blackfellas’, as he sometimes called them in private. Singing their praises when it came to sport: That blackfella can really kick a footy around. But quick to criticise them for laziness and neglect in almost every other domain. Yet here he was describing his first ever Aboriginal friend, which was more than Paula could claim in her own life.
So he had changed too, on some level.
Hamish looked up at her, his eyes moist.
‘I’ve missed you and the kids so much. I wanted to say . . .’ He reached across the table for her hand.
She pulled it back into her lap.
‘I was an arsehole. What I did was so wrong. It’s been really hard without you and the kids. I’ll never ever take you for granted again.’ His lips trembled. ‘Will you come home to me, Paula?’
She stared at him.
The reality was, she hadn’t decided that yet.
She’d imagined having an answer by the time she crossed the Victorian border. Darwin was way too early for a resolution.
And sitting across from Hamish now, her uncertainty wasn’t dissipating. She didn’t feel angry, she didn’t feel disappointed; she simply didn’t feel much at all. A curious, flat, emptiness was spreading across her chest.
‘I . . . I don’t know.’ She searched for the right words. ‘A lot has changed for me. I don’t want to slip back into old habits.’
He looked at her appreciatively. ‘You’ve obviously changed your eating habits. You look fantastic.’
She dismissed his approval; those weren’t the sort of habits she’d meant at all.
‘What do I have to do?’ he asked suddenly. ‘How can I make things better, Paula?’
Suddenly she felt as if she were at a job interview, but she hadn’t researched the question.
‘It’s not about specific things, really.’
‘Go on,’ he said, leaning forward.
She began to feel irritated. Hamish was bulldozing her into a discussion she wasn’t ready to have.
Paula shook her head.
‘Please tell me,’ he persisted. ‘I’m ready to hear it.’
‘What am I supposed to say, Hamish?’ she blurted. ‘That your breath smells in the morning and you always kiss me before you’ve brushed your teeth? Now that’s easily fixed.’ It had been a daily irritant for seventeen years.
Hamish sat back in his chair, looking slightly winded.
‘That you leave cups all over the lounge room, sports socks on the floor, and you never change the toilet roll? That sometimes I feel like I have three children. Does that help?’
She knew she sounded unhinged.
‘Alright, Paula.’ Hamish lowered his voice. ‘This is all a bit trivial, isn’t it?’
‘Well, you badgered me into it,’ she snapped. ‘You’re not even ready to have the real conversation we need to have.’
‘What do you mean?’ He looked defensive.
‘We’re murdering our marriage, that’s what I mean. We’ve stopped doing everything that ever meant anything to us as a couple. It’s like we’re roommates who never have sex.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re always too tired.’
‘Probably because
I’m flat out running after our kids,’ she retorted.
‘Oh, and I’ve got it easy at work?’ Hamish looked put out. ‘You’ve always resented me for working full-time.’
‘And you’ve always expected a gold medal for it.’ She was getting worked up now. ‘Along with a bloody pipe and a throne at the end of each day.’
‘I do earn the money.’
‘Most of it,’ she corrected. ‘I work part-time too, remember. And I run the household, look after the kids, cook the meals . . .’
He snorted. ‘If you can call it cooking.’
‘But who else is going to do it, Hamish?’ Her voice was shrill. ‘Who else is lining up for all that domestic drudgery?’
‘I pull my weight on the weekends.’
A young couple at an adjacent table looked askance in their direction.
It’s all ahead of you, she felt like calling out to them. Enjoy your bliss now, people, because it’s downhill from here.
Paula took a deep breath. ‘You’re right, Hamish. Arguing about housework is petty, but our relationship hasn’t been working for a while. What you did with that girl online was just the last straw.’
‘We’ve got two beautiful kids, Paula,’ he countered. ‘We’ve had a good marriage . . .’
‘You think? I’m not so sure now.’
Hamish looked at her in astonishment.
‘When we first met, we made love all the time,’ she said. ‘Now I can’t even remember when we last did it.’
‘But you’re always exhausted,’ he insisted.
Paula deliberated a moment before speaking.
‘Can you remember that conversation we had years ago, when Lachie was three months old? We were making love and—’
‘Paula . . .’
She ignored him. ‘You stopped in the middle of lovemaking and asked me a question. Can you remember what you asked, Hamish?’
He looked embarrassed. ‘This isn’t helpful, Paula.’
She glared at him. ‘You asked me, “Can’t you just tighten up?” That’s what you said.’
‘It was years ago,’ he said. ‘And I told you I was sorry.’
She nodded. ‘But I’ve remembered that question every single time we’ve made love. I’ve spent years wondering if I was “tight enough” for you—or if you’d really rather be with someone else, like one of the girls in that porn stash of yours.’
Hamish gawped at her.
‘Your online affair just proved to me that I wasn’t enough for you, Hamish. I’m not sure I can trust you again. I doubt I’m what you want, anyway, if I ever was.’
His eyes were glassy. ‘You are what I want. You always have been. You still are.’
‘I think you just like the idea of me,’ she retorted. ‘You’ve got the great career and the kids, so you need a compliant wife.’
‘That’s not true, Paula.’
They sat looking at each other.
Finally, Hamish spoke again.
‘That thing I said . . .’ He reddened. ‘It was the stupidest thing ever, Paula. You’d just had a baby. I didn’t think it would . . .’
‘Stay with me forever?’ She glowered at him. ‘Well, it did. No wonder I’m tired all the time. It’s a horrible thing to be worried about, Hamish, because there’s not much I can do about it. A bit like penis size.’
Hamish looked like he’d just been hit with a bat. ‘Isn’t mine . . .
big enough for you?’
He was almost whispering.
She sighed. ‘I don’t really know, Hamish. I haven’t had much to compare you with.’
They fell into silence again, avoiding each other’s gaze.
Eventually, Hamish looked up at her. ‘Have you finished?’
Paula shrugged. ‘Probably not. I’m still angry.’ She stood up from the table. ‘But for tonight, yes.’
He looked subdued. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you, Paula.’
For the first time that evening, his voice sounded real. Disheartened and uncertain, like she’d been feeling for months.
Paula sat back down.
‘I can’t guarantee anything in the future, Hamish,’ she said, looking out at the harbour. Noticing for the first time the boats, like fairy lights, floating out at sea.
He nodded, as if he understood. ‘I’d like to see the kids before I fly home on Sunday. For Christmas, you know.’
‘Of course.’ The sadness pressed down on her chest. ‘They’ve missed you.’
‘It’s been nice getting their texts. Sounds like they’ve been having an amazing time. More than once I’ve . . .’ Hamish rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘I’ve remembered the trip we wanted to do together.’
‘Our adventure scrapbook.’ Her hands were shaking as she drained her glass. ‘Well, I’m doing it.’
Hamish looked broken. ‘If you need anything on your way back home, let me know. You’ve still got the number for my new phone?’
Paula nodded, suddenly recalling what had happened to the old one; she’d flushed it down the loo. ‘I’ve behaved badly too,’ she said, looking at her hands. ‘I’m not perfect by any means. This is something I never, ever wanted for us. I don’t know how we got here, really.’
‘We can reverse the damage,’ said Hamish quietly. ‘I know we can.’
She looked into her husband’s eyes, seeing vulnerability there for the first time.
‘I’m sorry, Hamish,’ she said. ‘But I need more time.’
Paula stood again to go.
‘Call me anytime,’ he repeated. ‘For anything.’
She walked out of the restaurant and into a taxi.
She heard the beeping of text messages before she was ready to get up.
Her family had been awake for hours, cooking breakfast and moving about the camp site. But after her unexpected meeting with Hamish the night before, she’d slept like she’d been drugged. Even as light poured in through the caravan window, she remained suspended in strange dreams that she just couldn’t shake.
‘Mum.’ The sound of Lachie’s voice penetrated her sleep. ‘You’ve got a few messages here.’ He pushed the phone into her hand. ‘How was your night?’
She raised herself up on one elbow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘With . . . your friend.’
By the expression on his face, she suddenly knew.
‘Lachie, have you been talking to your father?’
He looked guilty.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘You’re allowed to.’
‘I called him this morning with Gramps’s phone,’ he said quickly. ‘Dad didn’t call me, I promise.’
‘Then you know I saw him last night.’
‘Who?’ asked Caitlin, stepping into the caravan.
Lachie turned to his sister. ‘Dad. He’s in Darwin.’
‘Where?’ Caitlin’s voice became squeaky with excitement. ‘Can we see him?’
Paula nodded. ‘He goes home on Sunday.’
‘Mum met him last night,’ said Lachie, turning back to Paula.
‘So that’s why you were all dressed up.’ Caitlin grinned.
Paula felt the weight of their teenage expectations, of Mum and Dad and happy families.
‘Yes, I talked to your dad,’ she said evenly. ‘And we agreed to talk again when we all get home.’
Lachie prompted, ‘And?’
‘And I’m afraid that’s it for now, Lachie.’
He just stood there, gutted.
It was understandable, of course. Thirteen-year-old boys wanted their worlds to operate in simple, predictable ways.
‘I want to go and see him now,’ said Lachie suddenly. ‘Are you coming, Catie?’
His sister nodded.
Lachie stalked out of the caravan without so much as looking at Paula.
Caitlin turned to her. ‘Don’t worry about Lachie,’ she said. ‘I love you, Mum.’
The declaration caught Paula by surprise. ‘Thank you, Catie.’ She watched her daughter climb out of the caravan too.
Paula’s phone vibrated in her hand and she saw she had five new messages. Did she even want to read them?
She clicked on the inbox.
Paula, thanks for meeting me. Trust me, we can rebuild from here. Hamo.
Then another.
Please give me the chance to show you how much I’ve changed. Hamo.
The third was from Jamie.
Why the radio silence? Are you in Darwin?
Paula could just picture Jamie’s alarm at the news that Hamish had followed her there.
She scanned the fourth message, from ID withheld.
Mrs McInnes, please contact me as soon as possible. Derrick Nelson.
She’d completely forgotten to call him, again.
Then, the final message.
Paula, this is Marcelo. I lost your number in Perth, I only just found it. I am in Darwin. Where are you?
Her heart began galloping in her chest.
She stared at the message for a minute longer.
I’m in Darwin too.
The response was immediate.
I was hoping for that. I am staying near George Brown Botanic Gardens. Can we meet today?
It was almost midday. She’d slept the morning away, without even a hangover to blame. And now the kids had gone to see their father.
Yes, 3 o’clock, she typed. Where?
At the water fountain on Gardens Road.
She smiled. OK.
Paula bounded out of bed and down the caravan steps. She greeted her father, who was poring over the Northern Territory News, with a lavish kiss.
Predictability and simplicity were for thirteen-year-olds.
19
She took a cold shower at the amenities block, then rubbed sweet coconut oil all over her body. Its heady, tropical smell reminded her of hibiscus flowers and lost summers, years ago at Brighton. She didn’t bother with much make-up, just a brush of bronzer and a dab of lip gloss. Anything else would streak down her face in the steamy heat.
Just before three o’clock, Paula followed the GPS to a leafy district about two kilometres north of the central business district. As she parked the ute on Gardens Road, the heavens suddenly opened; she was forced to sit in the car, waiting out the downpour. Ten minutes later, she finally emerged into lighter, mist-like rain.
Wife on the Run Page 29
