“What are you going to do, Meg?”
She looked at Ally. “Wait.”
“For how long?”
“For as long as it takes.” Meg stared at nothing across the room. “You know, after he left, on one of the nights I couldn’t sleep, I went into the bathroom and looked at the tiles. You know what they are? Plain white standard tiles. I remember I chose them because they were safe. They would never date, they looked good with anything, and I’d never get sick of them.”
“But you said you were sick of Chris.”
“No, I was sick of myself, and I blamed it on Chris,” she said sadly. “I love those tiles. They’re so perfect and simple and true. I want him back, Ally, he’s a good man, and he has a good heart. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
Ally folded her arms. “Why are you telling me this?”
Meg looked at her.
“You have to tell Chris.”
Eight p.m.
Ally had not let it alone for the past hour. She could mind Harrison. There was nothing to stop Meg from going to see Chris tonight, she insisted.
But there was. What if this was too much for him to forgive? What if there was no hope? Living in limbo was easier than facing that.
Ally had finally picked up the phone and dialed Chris’s mobile, thrusting it into Meg’s hands when it started to ring. He agreed to see her. And now here she was, standing outside the door to his apartment. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so nervous. Meg took a very deep breath and knocked.
The door opened and Chris stood, wearing that faint sad smile she was so used to seeing on his face lately.
“Hi Meg. Come in.”
He stepped back, and Meg walked passed him inside. He’d rented a small serviced apartment on the edge of the CBD. It was little more than a bedroom and sitting room, with a bank of cupboards across one wall comprising the kitchen. A huge picture window faced away from the city, looking out to the east.
“Can I get you something to drink, a coffee?”
Meg hesitated. It would fill in time, occupy them for a moment. But it was only delaying the inevitable.
“No thanks.”
They stood for a moment in silence. Eventually Chris cleared his throat. “Please, sit down, Meg.”
“Okay.” She perched uneasily on the edge of the sofa. Chris sat in the armchair opposite. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.
“What did you want to see me about?” he said quietly.
Meg swallowed. Why was she so nervous? This was the man who had always loved her unconditionally. She had to remember that.
“I want to talk about this whole awful mess,” she began.
He didn’t say anything. Meg watched him staring at the carpet.
“It feels like you don’t want to,” she said after a while.
Chris sighed heavily. “It’s just hard, Meg. I never expected this. I mean, I knew there was something up … but I never expected this.”
She could see the pain in his eyes.
“Neither did I.”
“But you were the one—”
“That went off and had an affair,” she finished. It had to be said, they had to stop skirting around it.
“Why, Meg?”
She paused, thinking. It was important to get the words right. “I was restless, and bored—”
“You were bored with me?”
“No!” she insisted. “It wasn’t you. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt like I was missing out on something. He came along, offering me a bit of excitement, pushing me out of my safety zone. But it was a shallow, empty kind of excitement.”
Chris got up and walked over to the window. He stood looking out, his back to her. “Ever since we met all I’ve done is try and make you happy. I’ve been whatever you wanted me to be. You used me to wipe your feet, then you decided you didn’t want a doormat.”
“Is that what you think?” Meg said, standing up. “That’s not how I see you at all.”
He swung around to glare at her. Chris hardly ever got angry, but there was anger brewing in his eyes now. “Do you think I haven’t felt bored sometimes? And suffocated? By your relentless need to control every little detail of our lives.”
She was shaking. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Christ Meg, when’s the last time you asked?”
Meg was shattered. Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t even noticed Chris was miserable?
“I didn’t realize you were so unhappy.”
He sighed heavily. “I wasn’t unhappy, Meg. That’s just the thing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I loved you, Meg.” She hated that he was using the past tense. “So I stayed in a job I was sick to death of, because you wanted a house in the eastern suburbs and that’s the only way we could afford it. And I let you make all the decisions, because it was important to you. I held my tongue, because it didn’t matter to me as long as you were happy.”
Meg just stared at him.
“So explain it to me, please Meg, explain to me when having things exactly the way you wanted them stopped being good enough?”
The bitterness in his voice rang in the air between them.
“I understand why you’re so angry—”
“Well, what do you expect? You run off to ‘find yourself,’ bugger the consequences. And then come back and say you want everything the same?”
“I don’t want everything the same,” she said plainly.
Chris watched her, frowning.
“That’s what I was trying to say the other day. We can’t turn back the clock, pretend this never happened.”
“No kidding?”
She took a deep breath. “And I’m glad it happened.”
“What?” he stared incredulously.
“I don’t mean I’m glad I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you, Chris, you have to believe me,” she insisted. “But it made me realize what’s important to me, what I want.”
“Well, what’s new, Meg? It’s always been about what you want.”
She didn’t know if he was deliberately trying to hurt her, but his words stung.
“It wasn’t about getting my own way,” Meg implored. “It was about stopping everything from falling apart!” She took a breath. “Do you know how scary it is for a ten year old to realize she’s the most responsible person in the household? That if she doesn’t remember everything, there’ll be no dinner on the table, no electricity, that maybe someone might even decide you’re better off somewhere else, or they’ll take away the little brothers who were the only thing that kept you going?” Her voice broke. Meg paused, catching her breath.
“I never knew any other way to be, Chris. And then one day I just got tired. I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted to be free for a while. That’s all it was.”
They stood in silence, the hum of the refrigerator filling the room.
“Is it over?” Chris said eventually.
“It was over before you even found out about it,” Meg assured him. “I shouldn’t have gone off with him that weekend. But I promise you, Chris, when…” Meg hesitated. She didn’t want to give him a mental picture of her and Jamie together. “I couldn’t go through with it,” she sighed. “I didn’t want to be with another man.”
He sighed heavily, thrusting his hands into his pockets.
“I did the wrong thing, Chris. I’m starting to understand that people genuinely make mistakes. They make stupid decisions and bad choices. But they don’t necessarily plan to hurt people. I didn’t think anyone would get hurt.”
“Well, that was a pretty major error of judgment.”
“I know that now. I made a terrible mistake.” She paused. “But I’m not a bad person, Chris. I just made a mistake.”
“I know you’re not a bad person, Meg.”
“Then why can’t you forgive me?” she said, biting her lip, holdin
g back the tears.
He sighed. “I can forgive you. It’s trusting you again that’s going to be hard.”
A huge sob finally escaped from her throat. Meg covered her face with her hands as tears poured from her eyes. Then she felt Chris’s arms around her, pulling her close.
“I said it would be hard, not impossible.”
She looked up at him, her face crumpled from crying. “I wish you would believe how sorry I am that I’ve ruined everything.”
He stroked her hair away from her face. “Well, if everything is ruined, we’ll just have to start all over again.”
Wednesday
Ally blinked at the numbers on the bedside clock. 7:43. Surely Harrison must be awake by now? As she came out of her room she could hear his giggles, but walking up the hall she realized they were coming from Meg’s room.
“What are you doing here?” said Ally from the doorway, watching Meg playing with Harrison on the bed.
“I live here, remember?”
Ally shuffled over and climbed onto the bed next to her. She patted Meg’s arm. “Didn’t it work out last night?”
Meg looked up at her. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, you’re here and Chris isn’t.”
“We have to take it slowly, Ally,” said Meg. “At least I know that he still loves me. And the rest of it, we’ll work out as we go along.”
Ally looked at her. “You’re okay?”
Meg nodded, her eyes shining. “I’m kind of, excited. We’re starting over. And we’re going to be completely honest with each other now, about what we want, what makes us happy. Things are going to be better, Ally.”
“I’m glad.” She leaned back against the bedhead, yawning. “Don’t you have to go to work today?” she said eventually.
Meg shook her head. “Didn’t I tell you? I don’t have a job anymore.”
“What?” That woke her up.
“I quit,” Meg said simply.
“Why?”
“Because I’d had enough.” Every time she tried to go back, she found an excuse to put it off for another day. Finally last week she dressed in her best power suit, dropped Harrison at his grandmother’s, and drove determinedly into work. She went straight to Simon’s office, handed him her resignation, and then took him to lunch for the rest of the day.
“But you’ve got a mortgage, and a child.”
“Ally, I’d appreciate a bit of support,” she frowned. “I feel like I’m leaping off into the great unknown without a safety net.”
Which was not entirely true. Simon assured her there would always be contract work with them. Plenty of it. But she warned him not to ring her for at least a month.
“Sorry, it’s just so unlike you.”
“Well, it’s time for a new me.”
“You’re not getting another haircut are you?” Ally eyed her suspiciously.
Meg laughed. “Well, thanks a lot. I take it the last one was not to your liking?”
Ally smiled at her. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been toying with some ideas,” she said vaguely.
“Such as?”
Meg shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll probably think I’m being silly, or romantic.”
“No I won’t!” Ally insisted, intrigued. “As long as you’re not running off with anyone called Junior?”
“Ally!” Meg frowned.
“Well, come on, out with it.”
“I’ve had this secret little dream about owning my own gallery,” she started.
“Really?”
Meg nodded, her eyes lighting up. “I know it can be a hard slog running your own business, and we’d have to move out of the city because it would be too expensive otherwise, and it probably wouldn’t make much money.” She took a breath. “But I’ve always loved art, that’s why I went to college. And then the pragmatist in me took over and I went commercial. I never followed my heart, I’ve always taken the sensible route.”
Ally smiled at her. “What does Chris think about all this?”
“I never knew, Ally—he’s been sick of his job for years. But you know Chris, he’d never complain.”
“And he likes the idea of moving out of Sydney, running a gallery?”
“Well, he’s open to it. But he wants to take a break first.”
“A holiday?”
“At least. Maybe an extended holiday. We talked about traveling across Europe, just for a few months.”
“So you two really are okay?”
Meg smiled. “We will be.” Harrison climbed on top of her, straddling her stomach. “I won’t pretend he’s not still a little shell-shocked. It’s going to take time. But we’ll get there.”
Ally was quiet, reflecting. Chris and Meg were going to pull through after all. They’d survived. She wondered how much you had to love someone to get past so much pain.
“So what about you, Ally, what are your plans?” asked Meg.
“I’ve got a meeting…”
Meg groaned. “Aunty Ally’s a silly-billy,” she chanted to Harrison.
“Silly-billy!” he repeated.
“I have to go, Meg. I’m expected.”
“That’s not much of a reason.”
“Come on! It’s an incredible opportunity.”
Meg frowned at her.
“It’s the one thing I know I can do, and do well. I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I’d stuff it up most likely.”
“That’s not true, Ally.” Meg’s voice softened. “Matt would be a lucky man to have you.”
Ally sighed. “You know, he’s been through a lot of pain too. It wouldn’t be fair on him, if I wasn’t sure.”
“Still worrying about everyone but yourself? You deserve this, Ally. You deserve to be happy, to be loved. Don’t you believe that yet?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not ready. If I come back to Sydney for a while, I could get a little perspective. I need to make a decision about what I’m doing with the rest of my life, not just fall into the next thing that comes along.”
“You think Matt is just the next thing that came along?”
Ally shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out for sure.”
* * *
Ally parked her car in a station at the Rocks and strolled the short distance down Hickson Road. She walked through glass doors into the restaurant but the place appeared to be deserted up on this level. She decided to check down by the water. Ally took the stairs around the side of the building to the front, where enormous canvas sails shaded the outdoor tables. She stood near the reception desk.
“Ally!” Bryce must have been looking out for her. He was already weaving his way through the tables toward her.
“Hello Bryce.”
“Well, look at you!” he said, clasping her hands and kissing both cheeks. He stood back again, holding her arms out. “Look at you!”
“You already said that!” she quipped.
“You look like a million dollars. Even better than the photo in the magazine!”
Ally knew the tone in Bryce’s voice, the look in his eye. He was working her. This would be entertaining.
“And you look…” she hesitated. “As trim and terrific as you always do.”
“Is that a veiled way of saying I haven’t changed?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Because I work very hard at that. Consistency is important in my profession, Ally. Whereas, in yours, it’s change, reinventing yourself. And you’ve done that, might I say, admirably.”
She smiled. Enough with the sucking up.
“Come and meet Paul.”
He led her back through the tables to where a low sandstone wall divided the diners from the passersby. The location was superb. The Harbor Bridge Pylons towered above them to their left, the bridge itself spanning north in its impressive arch. A replica eighteenth century sailing ship sat anchored in the cove just in front of them, and beyond to the east the sun illuminated the sails of the Opera House. Ally was determined to enjoy
it all today.
“Ms. Tasker.” Paul Silvestri stood up from the table and offered his hand to Ally. He was probably in his fifties, short and rotund, though impeccably groomed, in an immaculate suit and tie.
“Please, call me Ally,” she returned, shaking his hand.
“If you call me Paul.”
“Ally,” Bryce continued, “I’d also like you to meet Lynda Bowden.”
Ally turned to the woman at the table. She had noticed her as they approached, presuming she was Silvestri’s assistant.
“Lynda is a publicist,” Bryce explained.
“Oh?” said Ally, taking the hand she offered. Lynda looked like she had just stepped out of a makeover session. Blond hair swept into a perfect French roll, flawless make-up, designer power suit that fitted her like a glove.
“I’m very excited to meet you.”
Was she? Didn’t this woman have a life?
“I think we’re going to have a fabulous relationship.”
Well, that was very forward on the first date, Ally thought, suppressing the urge to laugh. What on earth were they up to? A publicist? She was a painter and decorator, not a celebrity. Still, she was here now, she would enjoy the show.
“I ordered champagne,” Paul said as they took their seats. “I thought it was appropriate, under the circumstances.”
The waiter appeared at Ally’s elbow, brandishing a bottle of Piper-Heidsieck.
“Just half a glass,” she said to him. “I’m driving,” she explained to the rest.
“Why don’t we order now, so we can get straight on to business?”
“Excellent idea, Paul,” Bryce enthused.
If he wasn’t careful, his head was going to get stuck up someone’s bum one day.
Ally looked over the menu. There was really only one choice. She was going to milk this for all it was worth.
“Lobster sounds good,” she announced.
“The live lobster, madam?”
“Why not!”
“Sashimi, or grilled with Cognac butter?”
Ally wasn’t about to have live raw lobster. She had visions of chasing it across the table with her fork.
“Grilled, thank you.”
“Would madam like to make a selection from the tank?”
Ally handed him the menu, winking up at him. “It’s okay, I trust you.”
The men ordered grilled fish, Paul on doctor’s advice and Bryce because Paul did. Lynda ordered a garden salad, no dressing. Typical, thought Ally. She weighed as much as a photograph of herself, and this would probably be her biggest meal of the day.
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