The Right Time

by Dianne Blacklock

  Steve glanced at her. ‘No, she did. I told her I was worried that I wasn’t enough for her any more, that I couldn’t fulfil her needs. But she assured me that she was happy with me, that she felt going to the club enhanced our marriage. She went to a lot of trouble to prove that to me. The sex was good, still is. I can’t complain . . . until the third Saturday comes around every month.’

  ‘But doesn’t that change everything else?’ said Evie.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She stared out ahead. ‘I used to be so happy, I thought I had it all – a husband who loved me and who I was certain would stay with me forever, three beautiful kids, a nice house. A future. Craig reckons we can afford to put a pool in next year, and he said we might manage a trip to Bali when Cody’s a bit older. I mean, I always felt like I was living the dream. Now all of that stuff means nothing – I don’t mean the kids, of course. But I can’t look at Craig the same way. Everything’s changed.’

  They came to a bridge and walked across, pausing to lean on the railing and look down at the river.

  ‘It’s like when my mum started wearing glasses,’ Evie said. ‘We’d been hounding her for ages, her arms weren’t long enough to hold the paper out to read it any more. And so she finally got glasses, and then she was amazed at everything she’d been missing. Some of it was good, like being able to read more easily, but mostly she was alarmed – by her own wrinkles, the dirty windows and mirrors around the house, smudges on all the furniture, dust. She was horrified. That’s how I feel now. I can see the smudges and the dirt and the flaws.’

  ‘So you think it was better when you couldn’t see them?’ Steve asked.

  ‘No, maybe not. It just makes me realise how short-sighted I’ve been. And now that I have seen them, I can’t ignore them. I have to do something about them.’

  Southside Auto Care

  Ellen pulled into the service station and parked against the side fence, where her poor broken car had been unloaded from the tow truck a few weeks ago. She could see it inside the garage, facing out, ready to drive away. It looked all new and shiny, but that was probably just in comparison to the car she’d been driving. She had been a little embarrassed when she had first come to pick it up, with its panels in different colours, some only undercoated. But beggars could hardly be choosers, and she was most certainly the beggar in this scenario, so she had put up with the sniggers and jibes from the kids at school. Besides, she had to admit it had been reliable, which was all that mattered; she never would have survived this long without a car.

  When she walked into the office, Finn was sitting behind the counter, his crossed feet resting on the desk, the phone wedged under his chin. It was Friday afternoon, so he was holding his customary beer which he raised to her as she came to stand at the other side of the counter. He hung up the phone and looked up at her with a wide smile.

  ‘Well, ma’am, your chariot awaits.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ellen. ‘I saw it sitting out there, it looks brand new.’

  He rose to his feet. ‘I took it around to the smash repairers earlier and had them detail it for you.’

  Ellen’s eyes widened.

  ‘No extra cost,’ he assured her quickly. ‘It’s part of the –’

  ‘– service,’ she finished for him. ‘I swear I’ve never had service like this before.’

  ‘It’s just all part of my plan to keep you coming back,’ he said.

  Ellen felt herself blush, which was faintly ridiculous. He was talking about keeping her as a customer, of course. What else would he be talking about?

  She cleared her throat. ‘So you lavish your customers with free extras to make sure they stay your customers? Isn’t that a rather expensive form of marketing?’

  ‘Oh but see, once I’ve lulled them into a false sense of security, then I start ripping them off. So it all works out in the end.’

  Ellen smiled, shaking her head. ‘Well, before we go down that path, I would like to show my appreciation.’

  He frowned as she lifted a six-pack of beer up onto the counter.

  ‘Aw, you didn’t have to do that,’ he said, and she wondered now if he was blushing just a little. ‘You even got the right beer.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she dismissed. ‘Please, it really is nothing, just a small token. You’ve been so decent, after I was a raving lunatic.’

  ‘That’s going a bit far,’ said Finn. ‘I never thought you were a lunatic.’

  ‘Just raving, eh?’ she smiled. ‘Well, I wanted you to know that’s not what I’m like normally. I really don’t go on like that. I can’t stand people who do, it’s so rude. I mean, it wasn’t your fault that my car broke down, or that it was going to cost so much, so taking it out on you was not . . . Anyway, the thing is, I haven’t been given too many breaks lately, so I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.’

  He looked a little coy. ‘What can I say, I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.’

  That wasn’t very PC, but she’d let it pass, this time.

  ‘So,’ said Finn, reaching for the six-pack, ‘you realise now that you’re going to have to have one of these with me?’

  ‘Oh no, really,’ Ellen held up her hands. ‘I have to get going.’

  ‘Ah, come on,’ he cajoled. ‘Just one?’

  She gave him an apologetic smile. ‘To be honest, I don’t even like beer.’

  ‘I could put some lemonade in it for you, make it a shandy?’ he offered. ‘My mum used to like a shandy.’

  ‘Thanks, but really, I should be getting home.’

  He looked at her for a beat longer. ‘All right, whatever you say.’ He went to the desk and shuffled through some papers, returning with two sheets stapled together which he placed on the counter in front of her. ‘Here’s your schedule of payment . . .’

  Ellen winced. ‘I don’t know, Finn.’

  He looked at her. ‘What? We talked about this.’

  ‘I know, but . . .’

  ‘But what? You pay the cost of the parts, I’m not out of pocket. You pay the rest of it off in the next couple of months, that keeps my cash flow healthy.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It’s an option I offer any customer with a bill this size,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t bother me either way, but if it bothers you, then fine, I’ll take all your money now.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ she relented. ‘Thank you, I’ll take the payment option.’

  ‘All right then. So hand over your credit card,’ he said with a grin. ‘You’re not getting your keys till I get the first instalment.’

  He processed the payment and Ellen signed the receipt.

  ‘And here,’ he said, plucking keys from a row of hooks on the wall, ‘are your keys.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said as she took them from his outstretched hand. ‘For everything.’

  He met her eyes directly. ‘It has been my pleasure.’

  ‘Hi!’ said Ellen, holding up a bottle of wine as Liz opened the door to her flat. Then she noticed the expression on her sister’s face. ‘Oh God, Andrew’s here, isn’t he?’

  ‘No,’ Liz assured her. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ellen winced. ‘I should have called, I’ll go.’ She leaned forward to kiss Liz on the cheek.

  ‘No, come on in,’ she said, taking her by the arm. ‘You’re here now, we’ll have a drink. He won’t be here for a while anyway.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Ellen said, hesitating on the threshold.

  Liz drew her inside. ‘I’m sure.’

  Ellen walked into the flat, trying to hide her disappointment. She’d had it all planned in her head. After she’d left Finn’s, she couldn’t face the idea of going home to the empty house. Liz had been right when she’d said she should try to avoid it whenever possible. They had the bridesmaid dress fitting tomorrow, so she knew Liz would offer for her to stay the night once they’d had a few drinks. Then in the morning they could swing by her place on the way so
she could change. Kate was at her dad’s for the weekend, so she was going to meet them at the bridal place.

  Ellen should have called first; this new streak of impulsiveness wasn’t really working for her. But maybe it was just as well. If she’d known Liz’s was not an option, she may well have accepted Finn’s offer of a drink, and she suspected that was an impulse best left unexplored.

  ‘So how was your day?’ Liz asked Ellen when they were sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine each.

  ‘Not too bad, actually,’ she said. ‘I finally picked up my car.’

  ‘Here’s cheers to that,’ said Liz, clinking her glass against Ellen’s. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Great,’ she said. ‘It’s running smoother than it ever has, and it’s all clean and shiny, they had it detailed.’

  ‘Wow, sounds like some mechanic,’ said Liz. ‘I might have to get his number.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Ellen. ‘I couldn’t recommend him highly enough. It’s the best service I’ve ever had from a mechanic, or any tradesman for that matter. He went to a lot of trouble to keep the costs down, and he arranged the loan of a car for me. And . . . well, he’s just really decent. I trust him. He’s a really nice guy, easy to deal with.’ She gave an awkward laugh. ‘He even asked me to have a beer with him this afternoon.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The mechanic.’

  ‘He asked you to have a drink with him and you refer to him as “the mechanic”?’

  ‘You wouldn’t have known who I was talking about if I used his name.’

  ‘So you do know his name?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ellen indignantly. ‘At least, I know his surname, because he calls himself Finn, which is short for Finlayson. I don’t know his first name, everyone seems to call him Finn. That’s the only name I know him by.’

  Liz was watching her with some amusement. ‘You’re getting all flushed talking about him.’

  ‘I am not!’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ Liz taunted. ‘Have you got a little thing for the mechanic?’

  ‘No, he’s just . . . my mechanic.’

  ‘Ellen, you are a snob.’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘Did you have a beer with him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I rest my case.’

  ‘He only offered to be polite because I bought him a six-pack to say thank you.’

  ‘And you’re buying him gifts?’

  ‘It was a token –’

  ‘A lurrve token?’

  Ellen’s mouth dropped open, and Liz couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.

  ‘I was just revving you up,’ she grinned, nudging Ellen. ‘Ha, get it? I was “revving” you up about the “mechanic”.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Ellen grimaced.

  ‘So he doesn’t blow your horn?’

  ‘Liz . . .’

  ‘Get your motor running?’

  ‘Stop it,’ Ellen insisted, ‘you’re hurting my brain.’

  Liz chuckled happily. ‘Okay. So if not the mechanic, is there anyone else on the horizon? Refrigerator repairman . . . plumber . . .?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘You’re being a snob again,’ Liz taunted. ‘Okay, any white-collar contenders?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Why “of course not”?’

  Ellen shrugged. ‘I don’t have time for any of that.’

  ‘What do you mean you don’t have time? You’re free tonight, aren’t you?’

  ‘What? You expect me to walk into a bar on my own?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Liz. ‘You could have had a drink with Finn the mechanic though.’

  ‘Stop it,’ she chided. ‘Oh, I just hate Friday nights now. I used to love them. Getting home at the end of the working week and vegging out with a glass of wine, pizza, a DVD. Bliss.’

  ‘There’s nothing stopping you doing any of that.’

  ‘It just doesn’t seem the same on my own. It feels a bit pathetic.’

  ‘Welcome to my world,’ Liz muttered.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’

  ‘It’s okay. But really, Len, you will adjust in time. It’s not that weird, lots of people live alone, go to the movies alone, order pizza for one, all kinds of stuff. If you can’t handle that, you’re going to have to stop being so fussy about who you have a drink with.’

  ‘I wish I’d never mentioned that,’ said Ellen. ‘He’s just my mechanic.’

  ‘Sounds like he wants to do more than tinker under your hood.’

  ‘Elizabeth!’ Ellen exclaimed. ‘What is it with these dreadful puns?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can’t seem to help myself.’

  Ellen stood up. ‘Well, do you mind if I help myself to another glass of wine?’ Then she hesitated. ‘Oh, but Andrew . . .’

  ‘He’ll message when he’s on his way,’ Liz assured her, holding up her own glass. ‘I’ll have a top-up while you’re there.’ She turned around and rested her arms along the back of the sofa, watching Ellen in the kitchen. ‘So does Tim know about the mechanic?’

  Ellen rolled her eyes. ‘There’s nothing to know about the mechanic, Liz. But actually, while we’re on the subject, I have a feeling Tim might be seeing someone.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  She nodded, pouring the wine. ‘He borrowed the camping gear this weekend, he was going to a jazz festival.’

  Liz gave her a blank look.

  ‘Tim doesn’t like jazz,’ Ellen said meaningfully.

  ‘And that’s what makes you think he’s seeing someone?’

  She shrugged, walking back around the kitchen bench. ‘It’s a lot of little things. He always seems to be out whenever I call him.’

  ‘That’s probably better than hanging around on his own at home,’ Liz pointed out, taking her glass from Ellen.

  ‘But he was always so . . . not unsociable, I guess,’ she mused, sitting down again. ‘Maybe asociable, if there is such a word. He was happy to stay home, weekend in, weekend out, when we were together. Now he’s taking time off work, going to jazz festivals . . .’

  ‘So it bothers you? The idea that he’s seeing someone, getting out there?’

  ‘No,’ she denied. ‘Really, I don’t care what Tim does in his own time, it’s only when it starts to impact on the kids.’ She paused. ‘And we haven’t had that talk yet.’

  ‘What talk is that?’

  ‘The one about how we’ll deal with either of us dating.’

  ‘You’re both consenting adults, isn’t who you date your own business?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m just talking about how we handle it with the kids. There has to be some ground rules, boundaries . . .’

  ‘Such as?’

  Ellen thought about it. ‘Well, for starters, when should they meet, do you even bring the kids into it if it’s only casual? But then if it progresses, well, is a “sleepover” acceptable when the kids are with you, that kind of thing.’

  Liz was shaking her head.

  ‘What?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘It just seems to me that you’re adults, you’re separated, do you really have to answer to each other any more?’

  ‘When there’s kids involved you do,’ Ellen said squarely. ‘You can’t just do whatever you want when you’re a parent. Every action and decision you make affects them. And I think your first responsibility always has to be to the children.’

  Ellen’s words were going round in Liz’s head, long after she left the apartment. There was no escaping it: Andrew’s first responsibility was always going to be to his kids, his own happiness came second. Consequently Liz’s happiness had to come second to his kids as well. And she didn’t even know them.

  She finished her glass of wine waiting for him to arrive, and she began to realise why drinking alone wasn’t recommended. Her mind was going off on all kinds of tangents. Like, what if he had left his wife years ago? What if Liz had got to know the kids, if she’d worked hard
and Danny had eventually responded to her? What if they had tried to build a life together like thousands of people do in second marriages?

  Oh God, why was she having these thoughts? She looked at the glass in her hand. ‘It’s all your fault,’ she muttered.

  Just then a couple of light knocks sounded at the door – Andrew announcing himself – and Liz dragged herself up off the sofa as he let himself in with his key.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, coming towards him.

  He opened his arms wide and then folded them around her, holding her close. ‘You smell good,’ he murmured, ‘and you feel good.’ He lifted his head then to face her. ‘And you look good.’

  ‘So I scored the trifecta.’

  ‘No, I did,’ he said, bringing his lips down onto hers, at the same time as he started to slide his hands up under her top.

  ‘Andrew, slow down,’ Liz protested mildly. ‘Are you in a hurry? How much time have we got?’

  ‘I said I’d be late, not to wait up.’

  ‘Then sit, have a drink. Let’s talk.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said with a resigned sigh, which Liz decided to overlook. He fell back onto the sofa as she traipsed over to the kitchen and brought back the wine bottle and a glass for him. Once she poured them both a drink, she clinked her glass against his. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘So, how was your night?’

  ‘Nothing special, just an appendix.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ she said, shifting sideways to face him and drawing her feet up underneath her.

  ‘You want to hear about an appendectomy?’ he said dubiously.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s boring,’ he said. ‘It’s routine, why would you want to hear about that?’

  ‘It couldn’t have been all that routine if it was an emergency.’

  ‘Well, no, it was infected, it had to come out,’ he allowed. ‘But come on, Liz, there’s nothing very exciting about an appendectomy.’

  ‘It’s more exciting than what I got up to today.’

  ‘Then,’ he said, putting his glass down on the coffee table, ‘why don’t we leave our work behind and get up to something much more exciting.’ He went to take her glass out of her hand but Liz pulled back.