by Lisa Ireland
Outside of her parenting, there wasn’t much depth to Libby’s world. It was all about how things looked on the outside, and Kit had no idea what was happening on the inside anymore. By contrast, Kit felt her own life was becoming less and less superficial as she grew older. Now that she’d finally turned forty the purpose of life was becoming clearer to her. Life was about people, not things. About experiences. She desperately wanted to spend the rest of her life doing lovely things with the people she cared most about. That’s why the Paris trip had been so important to her.
She rifled through the box, searching for the photos she knew were in there somewhere. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for: a copy of the photo of Libby and her on top of the Eiffel Tower, and then another taken the same evening of the two of them riding a carousel not far from the French monument. At the time they’d laughed and teased each other about what a cheesy, touristy thing it was to do, but they’d done it anyway; looking at these happy, smiling images she was transported back to that moment, when the bond between them had seemed unbreakable. Just three weeks earlier she’d been at the lowest point ever – pregnant and facing the fear and humiliation of an abortion alone. The night before the procedure Libby had appeared on her doorstep. Kit’d never been so happy to see another person in her life.
‘Libby, what . . .? How? Oh my goodness, I can’t believe you’re really here.’
‘Can I come in?’
‘Yes, yes. Oh God, you honestly don’t know how happy I am to see you.’ They’d embraced then and to her complete embarrassment Kit had begun to cry.
Eventually they’d made their way inside and she’d managed to pull herself together enough to make a pot of tea while Libby freshened up in the bathroom. Once they were both seated at the wonky kitchen table Kit interrogated her on how she’d managed to afford the flight.
‘My parents gave me the money as a birthday present. I told them I really wanted to visit you over here so we could spend our birthdays together.’
‘I can’t believe they would agree to that.’
Libby shrugged. ‘I made noises about taking a semester off to work to fund the trip. That loosened the purse strings immediately.’
Kit grinned. ‘Wow. I’m proud of you, Lib. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you to be so devious.’
‘Ha. You’d be surprised at how resourceful I can be when I need to.’
‘Well, I don’t care how you did it, I’m just so bloody glad you’re here.’
At that moment she still didn’t know what was to follow. She thought she was just going in for a day procedure and that Libby would be her support person. They’d get a cab home from the clinic and Libby would make her tea, and then the whole sorry mess would be over. And largely that was what had happened. The deed had been done. She’d quit her job at the pub so she could have a few days to recover and then headed to Paris with Libby for their birthday celebration. Libby kept glancing at her sideways, waiting for her to break down, but it hadn’t happened. The guilt and sadness that the Marie Stopes clinic counsellor had told her was ‘perfectly normal’ never eventuated. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. But the guilt took a long time to kick in. It would be years before she realised the full consequences of her decision.
She looked at her smiling face peering back at her from the photo. The giddy relief she felt at having put the whole ordeal behind her was visible. She didn’t know then about the scar tissue forming inside of her. It would be years before she discovered that she was one of the rare women whose uterus would react to the procedure by forming a ridiculous amount of scar tissue. She didn’t know then that by the time she decided that maybe she would consider the possibility of having a child, it would be too late. Her fate had been sealed many years before her gynaecologist delivered the news that it would be almost impossible for her to fall pregnant naturally.
But on that day in Paris, less than two weeks after she’d aborted the only hope of having a child she would ever have, she was happy. She threw the photo down on the rubbish heap with the others and stood up. If she was going to get through all these boxes today she definitely needed more tea.
*
On Sunday she collected John from the airport. He’d told her he’d get a cab straight to her place seeing as Buffy didn’t need to be collected from the kennel until the following day. She’d actually felt a twinge of guilt about not offering to look after the dog herself, but she didn’t think Hugo would approve. In a stroke of genius she’d decided the surprise airport pick-up – going all the way to the gate to greet him – would definitely atone for the lack of doggy day care. And if the look on John’s face when he saw her was anything to go by, she was right.
‘Wow, this is a big surprise. I told you I was going to get a cab.’ He drew her into his arms and held her close, as if they’d been parted for months rather than only days.
If Kit had been an onlooker who knew their circumstances she would have rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away, and if she was honest with herself, it felt kind of nice. ‘What can I say?’ she asked, when he finally released her. ‘I like the airport.’
John laughed. ‘Well, it’s good to see you. I missed you over the weekend.’
Kit realised she’d missed him too, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Not yet. ‘Do you have luggage to collect?’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. This is it.’ He nodded at his carry-on wheelie case.
‘Okay, well, we’re good to go. Are you hungry? Do you want to grab a bite to eat on the way home?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Let’s just go back to your place. I’ve got something other than food on my mind right now.’ He slid his arm around her waist and grinned.
Normally Kit wasn’t keen on public displays of affection, and after the gate lounge display her tolerance was pretty much at its peak, but she didn’t have the heart to disengage herself. After a minute or two she realised that having John’s arm around her as they walked to the car park actually felt good. The light pressure of his arm on her back wasn’t possessive at all. If anything it was comforting. She felt included, like she was where she was meant to be.
They’d barely closed the front door behind them when John started to slide his hand up under her jumper and unbutton her shirt. As he took her hand and led her into her bedroom, carefully shutting the door to prevent stealth attacks from Hugo, Kit thought that it had been a long time since she felt so desired. No, it was more than that, because in truth she knew that there wasn’t a shortage of men prepared to bed her. John made her feel cherished, and that was something she’d never experienced before.
Afterwards, they ordered home delivery pizza and ate it in bed, accompanied by a bottle of wine Kit had been saving for a special occasion. Hugo joined them on the bed, although he appeared less than pleased with John’s presence and made his feelings known by hissing any time the interloper tried to make peace by attempting to pet him.
‘So, how’s the Libby situation this week?’ John asked as he got out of bed, taking the now empty pizza box with him. He slipped on his boxer shorts and carried the box to the kitchen bin, despite Kit telling him not to worry, that she could do it in the morning. ‘I don’t want to sleep in a room with garbage,’ he said by way of explanation.
Kit smiled to herself. John was a neat freak. He’d die if he saw the usual state of her bedroom – clothes strewn about and half-drunk cups of tea left on the side table. She’d spent all weekend cleaning and tidying the house, so it was not in its natural state of disarray.
John returned to the room, with Hugo at his heels. Maybe his lordship was finally starting to warm to the intruder in his home. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’ He picked his clothes up off the floor and began to fold them.
She raised an eyebrow.
‘Libby?’
‘I haven’t spoken to her.’
�
��You don’t think you should call?’
Kit shook her head as he climbed back in beside her. ‘I’m not the one who said all those terrible things. I think the first move needs to come from her.’
‘What if she doesn’t call – what then?’
Kit sighed. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. For the last six months our relationship has brought far more angst than a friendship should, for both of us, I suspect, but I can’t imagine my life without Libby in it. I don’t exactly know what to do to fix it, but I’m hoping that once she thinks about what happened, she’ll realise that I wasn’t trying to undermine her. She’s so sensitive about Harry and about her parenting. She’s decided I think she’s a bad parent. I think that’s what set her off the other night.’ And my relationship with you. Kit couldn’t bring herself to say the last words out loud, although no doubt John knew what she was thinking. She snuggled against him. ‘Really this whole problem could have been avoided if she’d behaved more rationally. If she’d taken your advice Harry wouldn’t have had to move schools, he would have got the help he needed and the whole thing could have been chalked up to a valuable learning experience.’
‘Yeah, maybe. Although, who knows? Maybe Harry wouldn’t have gelled with our counsellor. Maybe his behaviour would have escalated, or maybe he would have had social issues with the other kids. I advised the family to the best of my ability, but I don’t have a crystal ball. Maybe Libby was right to pull Harry out of the school. It’s one of those things we’ll never really have a definitive answer to. We just have to respect the choice Harry’s parents made.’
Kit clenched her teeth in annoyance at his ‘teacher speak’. She sat up and edged away from him slightly. ‘Maybe we should change the subject.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Look, I know you mean well and you’re trying to be all professional and objective, but this is my life, not just some work problem.’
His brow creased in confusion. ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘I want you to behave like my boyfriend, not like the principal. I want you to be on my side.’
His face broke into a grin. ‘I’m your boyfriend, huh?’
She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. ‘You know what I mean. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now and . . .’
He threw his arm across her stomach and drew her towards him. ‘It’s okay. I like that you think of me that way. And I want you to know that I am on your side. Always. It’s just hard for me to talk about Libby and Harry, I guess, because what happened directly involves me. It’s hard for me to take my principal’s hat off.’
She giggled at the thought of him wearing a hat emblazoned with the word ‘Principal’.
‘What? Why are you laughing at me?’
‘What are you worried about? That I’ll get the Principal Police onto you if you say something unprofessional?’
He took the pillow from behind his head and playfully smacked her arm with it. ‘Shut up.’
She laughed again. ‘Okay, okay. Look, I get it. It’s hard. But it’s not just the Harry thing that is bothering me about Libby. Anyway, I don’t want to bore you with all that. Let’s talk about something else.’
He stopped fooling around and put the pillow back against the bedhead. ‘No. Honestly, Kit, I want you to feel like you can confide in me and that we can work stuff out together.’
She sat up and averted her gaze. ‘I don’t really know where to start. I guess I’ve always needed Libby more than she needed me. Which is strange really, because I’m not a needy person. She’s the one who cares about what people think of her. I’m really not fussed. There have been very few people in my life whose opinions have really mattered to me.’
‘But Libby’s opinion does.’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. Well, it used to, at least. I guess I’ve always known that I loved her just a little more than she loved me. Or, at least our friendship wasn’t quite as important to her. I get it, you know? She has a husband, and a son, so of course I come lower down the pecking order than them. That’s only natural. But for me, well, other than Mum, Libby was always the most important person in my life.’
‘And now your mum’s gone.’
Tears burned Kit’s eyes and she fought to keep them from falling. ‘Yes. Maybe that’s made me more sensitive to Libby’s behaviour towards me, but I can’t help but wonder if she still feels the same way about me or if she merely tolerates me because she’s stuck with me. And that hurts, because despite all the ways she’s changed and all the differences between us now, if I thought she truly cared about me I think I could see past all that.’
‘Maybe you should talk to her about all this.’
‘Maybe, but I’m worried that I’m not going to like what she has to say. She said some pretty terrible things at the party.’
‘She was drunk on Saturday night.’
‘Yeah, but sometimes alcohol is like a truth serum. Maybe being drunk allowed her to say what she truly feels.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say. How can I help?’
‘I don’t think you can, but that’s okay. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about it. I guess my real fear is that Libby tolerates me because she thinks she has to. I don’t want to be the friend she’s obliged to invite to things because “poor Kit” doesn’t have anyone else.’
‘That’s not true though, is it? Because now you have me.’
Kit kissed him then, partly because she appreciated his kindness and partly to shut the conversation down. Because it wasn’t the same. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings but, as nice as John was, he’d only been in her life for a few months. Maybe he’d be part of her future, but Libby was the only one left who understood her past. And being in a romantic relationship just wasn’t the same as having a lifelong friend.
When they broke apart John smiled at her. ‘I’ll support you as much as I can, no matter what you decide, but if you are going to try to talk to Libby, you might want to do it before the ball next Saturday. I presume she’s still going?’
Jesus. She’d totally forgotten that she’d agreed to be John’s partner at the stupid mid-winter ball organised by Libby’s empty-headed friends. ‘I guess so. But, John, I don’t know if I should go. If things are still strained between Libby and me – and I really haven’t decided whether I even want to attempt to talk to her yet – then me turning up on your arm will only inflame the situation.’
His disappointment was palpable. ‘Really? God, Kit, it’s the first one of these formal events I’ve had to attend that I haven’t dreaded and that’s all because I thought you’d be by my side.’
‘Sorry. But what if I go and Libby chucks a hissy fit like she did the other night? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing for you?’
John scratched his head and then clasped his hands behind his neck. ‘Look, according to the members of the school board this is a huge event. There will be literally hundreds of people in attendance. If you decide that you don’t want to talk to Libby I’m sure it will be easy enough for the two of you to stay out of each other’s way.’
Kit could sense his frustration but she didn’t appreciate being pressured into doing something she didn’t want to. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen between Libby and her and she didn’t need the extra stress of having to ‘sort out their differences’ by a deadline. ‘I really don’t think it’s a good idea. Sorry.’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘So that’s it? You’re seriously not coming?’
‘Libby and I have been friends since we were eleven years old. Our relationship has been the most enduring of my life. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to consider the consequences of my actions when I know full well what those actions might lead to.’
He shook his head. ‘Fine.’ His tone told Kit he was clearly not fine.
‘I’m sorry,
okay? Really I am, but it’s not like you’ll be there on your own. You’re going with people from the school, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Well, how bad can it be?’
‘Pretty damn bad, actually. I mean, it was never going to be a scintillating evening. The board members are either dull or fawning or both. I thought having you there might put an end to Karen Liddleton’s endless obsession with finding me “a nice wife” and that I might be spared at least some of the school politicking on account of your presence. And apart from that it’ll be embarrassing to have that seat go empty. I very much doubt I’ll find anyone to take the ticket now.’
Suddenly Kit saw red. She’d thought he was different, but he was no better than the usual losers she bedded. He might wear nice suits and take her to nice places where his impeccable manners were on show, but in the end she was just a convenience for him. An ornament to bring him pleasure, and make his life more comfortable. Her feelings were a secondary consideration. ‘Well, I’m very sorry you feel slighted, but I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive me for prioritising an almost thirty-year friendship over a guy I’ve been seeing for a few months.’
‘Right.’ He flung the covers back, got out of bed and grabbed his neatly folded jeans from the chair beside the bed.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Is that what you think of me? I’m just some random guy you are screwing around with?’
‘No, I –’
‘Because before when you called me your boyfriend, that meant something to me.’ He pulled the jeans on and started to shove one foot into a shoe, without bothering to put his socks back on. ‘In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m in this thing for the long haul. I don’t want to be just another guy to you. I thought we had something good going.’
‘We do, John. Please don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.’
