She pushed the sugar dispenser across the table to him. “You’d have plenty of reasons.”
“Yes, all right, reasons, but choice, that’s a different thing. In the beginning I didn’t have a choice about the anger, it was part of the injury. Later on, I chose to be angry and to take it out on you, on everyone, really. I didn’t have to do that.”
The waitress was back with their scones and a selection of jams. Georgia went with blackberry and Hamish with strawberry. He made a joke with the waitress about loganberries that made no sense, but sent her away laughing. It made Georgia shake her head. Before Jeffrey, Hamish’s wit was sharp and sly and funny. After, he didn’t care for social niceties and he could be abrupt and picky.
“I didn’t know what to make of your letter, and then for the first week I was here I was on my guard, ready for you to forget to be nice.”
Hamish snorted with a scone piled high with whipped cream held up to his mouth. “I deserved that.”
“I did love you, when we were young, when we were married.”
“In your thrift shop dress,” he said, words muffled by a mouthful. And there was old, sarcastic Hamish, except he was grinning at her, licking his lips. “I’m joking. I can do that now. I know you did. What wasn’t to love? Plus I had my own wheels and you could push me around.”
She slathered dark jam and cream on her scone, and smiled at him. “You were very full of yourself.”
“I still am, thank you very much.”
“Good to know some things never change.”
“I have changed too. You do think so?”
She nodded. It was like the past decade had dropped away. Hamish was more like the boy she’d loved than the man she’d married. It was a head spin. So was staying in the old house with him. She’d moved there out of pride, so she wasn’t accepting Damon’s charity at first, but now it made sense to be there. She and Hamish didn’t hate each other anymore and she could live cheaply without dipping into her redundancy money.
Hamish started on his second scone. “I did love you too, you know.”
“But you weren’t in love with me.” She knew the difference now, though the lesson had been hard. She’d confused love with dependence and duty.
“Don’t think I really know what that is. I mean, being in love,” he rolled his eyes and did finger quotes around the words, “what does it mean anyway?”
It meant part of you was attached to someone else and when you were separated that part of you didn’t function as well. It meant all the colours of your life ran to pastel. It sucked loganberries.
“I thought I was in love with Eugenia and look where that left me. I really thought it was love. You’d think if it was really love, I’d have wanted to be a better person.”
“You are a better person.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
“But still smug. So very smug.”
He laughed. “And still hungry. Are you going to eat that other scone?”
She pushed her plate across to him. This time around living with Hamish was easy. He didn’t require anything of her. He liked being a music librarian, and extra consulting work paid well, bringing the kind of financial security that might have made a big difference to their marriage.
He piled sweetness on the scone. “You have changed too, you know. You’re not frightened of me for one.”
She sat straighter. “I was never frightened of you.”
“Yes, you were. Look, I was the patron saint of mood swings and you were my favourite cross to bear.”
She looked at the table. “Okay, yes. I was scared of your mood swings, but I didn’t think you’d murder me in my sleep.” She lifted her face to watch him. “I just knew no matter what I did, it wouldn’t be right for you.”
“Exactly. Long after I was meant to have adjusted, I was an A-grade fuck-up. Seriously. I was talented at making you feel small, insignificant and worthless. A complete bastard. You know there was a part of me that was cheering for you when you announced you were leaving me, going back to Sydney. I thought, finally, she’s going to escape me.”
She shook her head. “As it turns out, you left first and you could’ve asked me to leave any time.”
“I could’ve, but the thing is, I needed you. I’d have found a way to top myself in the early days if not for you. And later I needed to be cruel to you to feel better about myself. I’m not proud of it, but I can admit it.”
She sighed. “What a mess.”
“Was rather.”
They stared at each other and Hamish wasn’t angry and Georgia wasn’t confused. Who knows if they’d have made it if there’d been no Jeffrey, but being together again without the anxiety and guilt that’d married them was a comfort. They could be friends again. It was also the best reason to sign divorce papers.
Hamish broke eye contact and picked up the menu. “I’m still hungry.” He looked around for a waitress. “I’m ordering lunch.” He ordered bangers and mash and Georgia went with a sandwich. “Not to be rude or anything, but how long are you thinking of staying? You do know you’re cramping my style. What hot totty is going to want to shack up with me while my ex-wife is in the spare room?”
“You really are full of yourself.”
He grinned. “Fact. Answer the question.”
“Maybe I am home.”
“No, no, no.” Hamish tapped the tabletop. “Go home, Aussie. You need the sunshine and insects that can kill you to be alive.”
“I don’t have any reason to go home. I went home to escape you, remember.”
“And you came back looking more beautiful than I can recall, but sad. You were supposed to be happy after leaving me. You sounded happy when we talked on the phone and I’m not buying this story you’re giving me about the fellow.”
“He’s working on an animation in LA.”
“So why aren’t you there with him?”
“I told you I—”
He gave her stop sign hands. “You are such a dreadful liar. Out with it. Did you dump him or did he dump you?”
“Um.”
“You can’t come to this crime scene neighbourhood and not tell me the truth.”
She fired a stern look at him. “This is none of your business, you know.”
It bounced off him without leaving a skid mark. “Georgie, really.”
“I never know when to walk away. He dumped me.”
“Plonker.”
“He gave me the flight, organised a car and an apartment. He paid my rent in Sydney for me.”
“Skeevy plonker.”
“No, that was thoughtful. He wanted me to have time with you.”
“Still. Plonker. He was virtually paying you off.”
“Right. Yes.” She looked down at her hands, that’s what Damon had done, shuffled her off when he was tired of everything but the sex, when he was ready to go back to his celebrity lifestyle and she didn’t fit. After the things she’d said to him that last night, he must’ve been laughing so hard at her. “I haven’t talked to him since.”
“Not even to yell abuse at him? That’s a missed opportunity, don’t you think?”
“Hamish.”
“Plonker.”
“Will you stop?”
“No. I’m enjoying this. You clearly don’t think he’s a bastard even after dumping you.”
“I do think he’s a bastard. He led me on. He lied. He used me. He…” She’d thought he loved her, acted out of love for her, but that’s not what the evidence in front of her said. The absence of anything like an apology, a make-good, a tentative contact from him.
“Pillock.”
“You’re not even listening.”
“You’re not really saying anything.”
“He left me at the airport. He let me think we were coming here together. He could be in LA. He could be on the moon for all I know. I love him. I’m in love with him. But I can’t trust him and it’s done and I’m miserable.”
Hamish clapped his hands. “Jolly
good show.”
Their food landed and the waitress thought the clapping was for her.
Georgia waited till she moved away and said, “Bastard.”
“That’s the spirit. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. He gave me the royal shove off and I don’t want to know about him.”
“So you’re not in love with him at all.”
“I am…what?” There was a trick here and she wasn’t getting it.
“If you were in love with him, you’d take another shot at this. You’d at least talk to the man.”
She looked at her sandwich. Hamish’s meal was more appealing. Why did you always want what you couldn’t have? “He could talk to me.”
“Poxy bastard.”
“That’s not helpful, you saying that.”
“Isn’t it? Fancy.”
“Oh God, Hamish. I need to get over this man. I think I’ve got a better chance doing that here than at home where everything will remind me of him.”
“Sounds like a piss poor plan, but if that’s what you want.”
“Piss poor?”
“You used to know how to fix things.”
“I stopped being that girl a long time ago.” So long ago she’d lost the knack for it. She’d not known how to help Damon, she’d failed Taylor. And that night, Damon tried to self-destruct and Fluffy died, Jamie had worn his tattooed heart on his sleeve looking for advice, and she’d dodged the opportunity.
“I loved that fixer girl. What happened to me wasn’t your fault and you couldn’t fix me. I need to keep saying that because you don’t believe me. It never was your fault, but I spent years making you feel guilty. I have no idea why you give me the time of day. Rather, yes I do. You’re a nice person. You care, far too much if you ask me, about all sorts of pillocks and plonkers. And your fellow is not someone you should write off so easily. I’ve looked him up.”
“You looked Damon up?”
“Of course I did. I am an expert stickybeak librarian, as you well know. He’s big time. The Voice. And he’s blind. Something you didn’t think to mention. Didn’t think I’d be interested in, hmm?”
“It’s…” Hamish talked right over the word complicated.
“You know they’ve just released a blooper reel from that dystopian pirate blockbuster thing. He’s bloody funny. Not his pirate character, but in the blooper reel. He’s making other people screw up their lines, or he’s saving them in this like majorly self-deprecating way, where he pretends it’s his fault, not in the least bit a humble-brag. And I would know.”
“Why are you stalking Damon?”
“Because you’re not. And I know you want to. And because huge gossip, and mad researcher skills, and time and stickybeak. He’s one of the super disabled. Wins awards. Travels the world. Gets the girl. I’m quite jealous of him.”
“He didn’t get the girl and he lost his voice.”
“Ohh, now there’s a secret. What do you mean lost? Like chronic laryngitis?”
“Polyps. He had surgery. It was supposed to be routine. But I don’t think it went as expected. He wouldn’t talk about it. He stopped talking much at all.”
“So not in La La land recording then?”
“Probably not.”
“And you can’t fix this.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”
“Quitter.”
“Hamish.”
“Well, at least I didn’t call you a plonker.”
33: Annoyingly Alive
“Taylor, darling. How nice to hear from you.”
Damon thumped the table. He shook his head.
“No, no, he’s not.” Mum’s voice faltered. He made a throat-cutting gesture, knowing she’d be looking at him. “Still travelling, yes.” She couldn’t lie to save her life and Taylor would hear it. “What about your news? Do you have any news, darling?”
God, Mum was hopeless. He stood up and moved across to the wall where the phone was, all the better to menace her.
“Oh, that’s nice. You are? Really. I don’t think,” then in a whisper, “She’s down the road, Taylor and Jamie, they’re here,” back to her normal voice. “I’ll put the kettle on then.”
He’d have to hide.
That was ridiculous.
Taylor and Jamie.
The phone went in its cradle. The stove was lit. The kettle went on. He stood in the middle of the kitchen like a big dumb tree.
“You’ve got about ten minutes to decide what you’re going to do.”
He went to the sink, took a glass out of the dish drainer and filled it with water.
“I’m not lying for you to their faces.”
He drank the water.
“If you don’t have a voice, well, you don’t have a voice. A month after your all-clear is long enough to be hiding out.”
He banged the glass on the draining board. He wasn’t hiding out. He was resting, recovering, and it was easier to do that when there weren’t a lot of other people around to tempt him to talk.
He was completely freaked out.
“Yes, I know you’re not happy about visitors, but what did you expect? You had to know one of them would find you out eventually.”
He listened for their car. There was still time to… He was so totally hiding.
“There’s no reason for you to be here anymore. I love you, but honestly, Damon, your father and I, we’ve talked about it and I’m kicking you out. It’s time for you to go home to the city, back to your friends. You want a dog. I know you do. Well, you need a voice to have a guide dog, so work out what kind of voice you’ve got left and get a damn dog already.”
He’d have laughed if he remembered how to make the sound. He sat at the table.
“All right then,” Mum said, as if that was a decision made. She opened cupboard doors and clinked cups and saucers. She rattled a tin of shortbread, he could smell the sugar. “That’s their car on the drive.”
He heard it. Not Taylor’s, a bigger engine. Jamie was driving. The kettle whistled. Car doors, two. The screen door squeaked. Hugs and kisses. Something brought for Mum that they shouldn’t have. Whispering he couldn’t hear. The quickest ever briefing, they’d know the basics. Feet trooping up the hall and then he was surrounded. No way out.
“Fancy that, Jamie. Damon must be home from London.” Taylor clamped a hand on his shoulder, fingers dug in meanly. She kissed his temple, but she was mad as a wasp stuck in a lace curtain.
“Big surprise,” said Jamie. He pulled up a chair and sat at the table.
Mum clattered about in the background and said a big fat nothing.
Taylor was still behind him, her hands on his shoulders. “Get that nice suntan in Soho?”
“Looking pretty buff too, mate. Lots of spare time for the gym.”
Taylor put her teeth to his ear. “Cat got your tongue?”
He twisted his head to get away from her. Her hands lifted and she moved, joined Mum behind him at the sink. “What’s the story, Midge?”
“Oh Taylor, he won’t want me to tell you.” Mum using a stage whisper you could’ve heard in the far paddock.
“I could threaten to beat it out of you.”
The two of them cackled like kookaburras. Jamie ate a biscuit. Was this a work day? He’d lost track of the week days. What did it mean that they were here together? Was Angus with them and somewhere else now? It wasn’t a problem with either of their families or he’d have known. Which meant they’d come entirely to torture him. Which meant Mum had to have called them in the first place. Double agent.
“Can he talk at all?” Jamie.
“He should be able to.” Mum.
Jamie took another shortbread from the tin. “So why isn’t he?”
“He’s scared, darling.”
Damon put his head on the table and thumped his forehead a couple of times. They weren’t even attempting to talk to him, only at him. Jamie ruffled his hair. Taylor pulled out a chair and sat opposite. He co
uld smell the tea.
Mum put her hand to the collar of his t-shirt and he straightened up. “I’ll go talk to the chooks. I’ll be outside if you need an interpreter. Mostly he just bangs things. It usually means he’s unhappy about something. If you can get him to talk I’ll roast a chook for dinner.”
The scuff of her shoes on the old lino as she left the room. The circular clink, clink of a spoon in a cup. The wap the biscuit tin lid made when someone levered it off and on again. But not a word. He reached for his tablet.
“Oh cute. He’s going send us a postcard from London.”
A sound from Jamie: disapproval, warning. He put the tablet down and opened his arms out. A give it your best shot gesture. Taylor took it, but not in the way he expected. He heard her move and the chair beside him scrape. She bumped his shoulder deliberately. Jamie laughed and said, “Really?”
Next thing, smack, slurp, a satisfied moan; they were making out at the family kitchen table. Not pretend either, they were into it. God, was she dry humping him? He pushed away from the table; he didn’t have to listen to this. He got as far as the doorway and Taylor said, “Where is Georgia? Is she still in the UK?
Not the question he expected. He held onto the doorjamb and Taylor was right behind him. “What did you do?”
Saved a life, that’s what he did. How could Taylor not guess at that?
“She’d think we’re in cahoots, you and me. I totally bought the London thing. Is that where she went? Because you sure didn’t. You packed her off like a problem. I thought she might call until I figured out she’d think I was in on whatever this is. She’s the one for you, you bloody idiot. What are you doing, Damon?”
“Go easy, Trill.”
“Doesn’t feel like easy is going to help.”
“So you’re going for bullying instead?”
“I’m going for anything that will get a reaction out of him. I want him back. I don’t care that he doesn’t trust us. He’s doing something big and stupid but I’m there too. We both were, Jamie, for so long, who are we to judge?”
Hands on his waist, Taylor’s arms around his middle, her face against his shoulder blade. He kept hold of the doorjamb because it was doing a better job holding him up than his spine.
Incapable (Love Triumphs Book 3) Page 32
