Shocked and humiliated, she buttoned her blouse and straightened her skirt. Searching for a skerrick of dignity, she said, ‘What do you want from me, Jackson?’
He kissed her hairline and placed his forehead against hers. ‘Don’t be mad, darling girl. Can’t you tell I’m crazy about you? I think I’m in love with you. And I so want you to feel the same way about me, but . . . this way I’ll just hurt you.’
Her throat was too swollen and rough with emotion to answer. She trembled with the effort not to cry.
Jackson rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. ‘I’m going now. You need to think this through, okay? I know I’m asking a lot of you, CC, but if you’re sure you want this too, I promise I’ll be back.’ He kissed her forehead and turned to leave. At the door he paused. ‘We’d be fantastic together, CC, you do know that, don’t you?’ A grin shadowed his face and he vanished, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.
The downstairs door clicked shut but Christina kept listening, hoping he’d return and say he’d made a mistake. Her body ached from his touch, his scent wafted over her when she moved. She traced his passage over her hips and between her thighs. All she had wanted was to be naked and consumed by him; instead he had left her wound up tight with misery. She slid to the floor, desperate and empty.
In the days and weeks that followed, that afternoon haunted her. In the darkness of her bedroom, she wished the hands pleasuring her were his. It wasn’t about Jackson, she told herself, he was just the first guy she’d been attracted to since Jamie. Lack of sex had made her frantic. But oh how her insides ached, tormenting her, and in her heart she knew the torment would stay until Jackson soothed it away.
Jackson said he didn’t want a casual fling but how could it ever be more? It was easy to say that he was the one contemplating adultery, not her, but he was also right when he said that innocent people would get hurt. To avoid the issue, she scheduled her site visits around when she knew his routine took him away but replayed his voicemail messages over and over. He never referred to that day. He’d said the choice was hers. If she wanted him, she could have him, but she had to take all of him, in the full knowledge she was party to the sin. Her decision.
Christina sang Bianca ‘You Are My Sunshine’, tucking the covers around her and smoothing her curls when she was done. She kissed Bianca on her darling little nose, kissed Bluey Baa-Baa’s nose too, and reminded herself of her priorities. Life came with no guarantees. If Jackson was around for a while and then gone, how would Bianca feel? She’d always been determined that Bianca would not grow up with a series of ‘uncles’. A discreet fling was one thing because it could be conducted without Bianca’s knowledge. A relationship? All good reasons to stay away from Jackson Plummer. The risks were too great. But all her good intentions came to nothing. It began with the late night phone calls.
‘Hey CC, what are you doing?’ No hellos, there was no need. No one else ever rang after nine. No one else had that low easy drawl.
‘Not much. I’ve just put Bee back to bed. She had a nightmare and now I’m watching the news.’
‘She okay?’
‘Fine. Just shattered after a day with Jamie. He never remembers her nap and she ends up overwrought. But she can sleep in tomorrow.’
‘Mmmm. Ashleigh’s snuggled in bed with me. We were watching a movie but she’s passed out. And she weighs a ton.’
Christina smiled at the image of father and daughter snuggling under the doona.
‘Anything exciting on this weekend?’
‘Not really. Bee has her swimming lesson on Saturday morning. What about you?’
‘Sport all day Saturday. Sarah and I drive halfway across Sydney for those bloody kids. Friends are coming over for lunch on Sunday. We’re going to test out that new deck of yours,’ he chuckled.
She held her breath, so alive to him she wanted to scream.
‘I miss you, CC,’ he whispered.
Christina’s heart thudded in her ears.
‘Did you hear me, CC?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘I heard you.’ And hung up before she said something she might regret.
For weeks this went on, although it felt like an eternity. Christina kept her promise. She never rang Jackson and she was never alone with him on site. But night after night, she lay in her bed, edgy and disappointed. Jackson had switched on something inside her. She tried her hardest to ignore it but it seemed staying away from Jackson only served to make him loom larger in her imagination.
Christina welcomed Christmas with Rosa and Massimo, as much for the opportunity to spend time with her parents as the chance to escape. The Plummer project was finished. Whilst she and Bianca spent twelve days caught up with life on the farm, the Plummers would be enjoying the festive season in the lavish and tasteful home of her creation. Christina and Jackson had no reason to see each other, nothing more to talk about, and she would be free. She returned to Sydney in the new year hopeful and determined that life would return to normal.
She hadn’t counted on Jamie though. Bianca returned from her father’s one day looking completely miserable.
‘Busy Bee, why the long face?’ she asked as Bianca folded herself onto Christina’s lap and concentrated on rubbing her hair between her fingers.
‘Sweetheart?’ Christina untangled the hair and held Bianca’s fingers still.
Every time Bianca spent time with her dad, she came home in a mood. Jamie’s schedule was chaotic and the lack of routine upset her. Now aged three, Bianca had a better sense that her father had no idea what to do with her. From Christina’s point of view, she thought Jamie tried either too hard or not at all. Whichever way it played out, after one of her visits, Bianca retreated to her bedroom, finding her centre by chatting to her dolls or humming tunelessly as she drew. Being that little bit older seemed to have made Bianca more aware of the tensions between her parents and increased her anxiety.
Bianca squirmed and sighed. ‘I hate Summer.’
Today had been hot. Christina ran her hands over Bianca, checking for signs of sunburn or a temperature. ‘Are you thirsty?’ she said, reaching for a glass of water on the side table. Bianca shook her head.
‘She smokes and I’m not a baby,’ Bianca’s forehead creased with indignation.
Summer was a person. A person Christina had never heard of. ‘Who’s Summer?’ she asked, her tone conversational, her heart murderous.
‘Daddy’s girlfriend.’
Now this was news and news Christina would have preferred to have heard straight from Jamie. Biting back her irritation, she said, ‘Well I’ll talk to Daddy. She’s not allowed to smoke around you. But she’s nice otherwise?’
Bianca kicked at the chair leg – kick, kick, kick – Christina held her, waiting.
‘We made peanut butter cookies but they got burnt.’
‘You and Daddy?’
‘No. Me and Summer.’
‘So where was Daddy?’
Bianca shrugged. ‘With Vince.’
Vince from the band, the band Jamie persisted in believing was on the verge of its big break.
Christina hugged Bianca tight, glad she was safe, but the urge to protect burned hot inside her, fuelled by Jamie’s wilful neglect. No one but Jamie would leave his small child with a complete stranger whilst he waltzed off somewhere. Anything could have happened to Bianca. God knows what other filthy habits this Summer had.
Christina lifted Bianca to her feet. ‘C’mon, Bee. Let’s run you a big bubbly bath.’
As Bianca stripped, Christina swooped on her clothes, depositing them straight into the washing machine. She shook the contents of Bianca’s overnight bag on top and threw in Bluey Baa-Baa as well. Adding a liberal dose of nappy wash, she turned on the machine then washed Bianca from head to toe, ignoring her complaints.
To make up for Jamie’s neglect, Christina read Bianca The
Gruffalo a third time without being asked and finished it even though Bianca was already asleep. Tucking her in, Christina retreated to the kitchen and poured a generous slug of wine. She was sick to death of Jamie. He got away with paying no child support because he was paid cash for gigs and the guitar lessons he taught. He’d never turn down a gig but he was more than happy to abandon Bianca at short notice. Other men had serious jobs and were still better fathers. There was Della’s Tony, an investment banker, and Mary-Lou’s husband Brian was a paediatrician yet managed to be hands-on to three boisterous girls. She’d seen Jackson and the way he was with his little girl. All at once she felt overwhelmed by the injustices of life. Poor Bianca, missing out on what other children took for granted. Tears slid down her cheeks as she admitted to herself she was lonely. For the twelve days at Christmas, Rosa and Massimo had spoilt them rotten, then they had to come home to this. Not for the first time, Christina wished her parents lived in the next suburb instead of Tassie. She was sick to death of how hard it was doing everything on her own.
That’s all it took for her to call Jackson. Christina picked up the phone and dialled his number. He answered on the second ring. She poured her heart out, he listened. ‘Take a day off work tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll come round.’
She didn’t so much step over the line as charge over it.
When Jackson walked in the next day carrying lattes and patisserie éclairs, the coffees went cold and the cream from the éclairs ended up smeared between her breasts. He talked dirty whilst he explored her body, creating fantasies about where they were and who was watching. It was a bit weird at first but when he laughed at himself, she laughed too. Unlike Jamie, he wasn’t interested in black lace and suspenders; he wanted her naked beneath her clothes, always available. ‘It turns me on,’ he said, ‘knowing I only have to run my hand up your skirt to find heaven.’
Week after week, she dripped with desire, desperate to see him again; curious to find out what Jackson had dreamed up for their next encounter. One day it was a roll of black plastic and a bottle of olive oil. Another, she watched her first porno movie. The ménage à trois made her squirm but she still went down on him like he asked as he played it again.
One day he arrived empty-handed. She wore a sundress with no bra, acutely aware how her dark nipples showed through the thin fabric, aroused when she saw him noticing. He slid the shoestring straps from her shoulders, kissed the top of her breasts, rested his hands on her hips and rocked her into him. He whispered in her ear what he wanted her to do. She flushed and shook her head no, unable to meet his gaze.
‘It’ll bring us closer,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘It’s a sign you trust me.’
‘I can’t,’ she said but her resolve was weaker than her ardour. Jackson persisted with his kisses but stayed above the dress line, hands firm on her hips, rocking her, persuading her, arousing her until she submitted.
‘Can I leave my dress on?’
‘No.’
Her hands shook as she wriggled out of the dress and reluctantly let it slide to the floor. Her skin tingled as Jackson appraised her body. For weeks he had pushed the boundaries of what pleasured her. Sex with Jackson was electric, but this request made the shyness return. Naked, she climbed onto the bed and, unsure how to start, she fussed with the pillows.
‘Spread your legs, I want to see everything,’ Jackson said.
She did as she was told. Embarrassment made her shiver with goosebumps, he fully dressed at the end of the bed whilst she lay naked before him. In a low voice he guided her hands over her body, instructing her, his voice mesmerising. Her cheeks burned with desire but she wanted him inside her, not left to finish by herself. He kept her coiled tight, playing with her body under his direction. She was desperate to climax in the hope he would then come to her. When she did, it was a frustrating hollow spasm. Christina felt exposed and curled away from him. Jackson lay down beside her and stroked her spine.
He kissed her earlobe, whispering, ‘I knew you would do that for me.’
Christina turned to him and strained for a kiss but Jackson pulled away. Taking her hand, he led her into the bathroom.
Running the shower, he drew her into the warm water. He soaped her breasts, ran slippery hands over her stomach, pressed into her until she ached with wanting. Leaning against the shower wall, she arched her back, willing him inside her. Jackson turned her around and soaped her neck and shoulders. His hands slid down her back and over her buttocks, prising her legs apart. Christina arched, a silent yearning for him to take her. When he did, she screamed. ‘No!’
‘Shush,’ he whispered, covering her mouth, smothering her shock and pain. ‘Shush,’ he said again as if quietening a frightened child. He pushed further into her and to her surprise, the pain soon eased. All the time he kept whispering how good she felt, how hot she made him, and she came when he did.
Despite having been married, Christina didn’t know if this was what normal couples did. She had never had a proper boyfriend at school. She was too shy to do much more than kiss. The boyfriend before Jamie had turned out to be gay. Christina had been his attempt at figuring that out. Needless to say, the sex had not been worth mentioning. Jamie came along and he was so cool. Everyone said they were such a good-looking couple. Up until now she had thought their sex life had been fine, not part of the reason they’d split up, although Jamie’s antisocial hours and boozy habits often meant they were ships in the night. But sex with Jackson was a whole other experience. He was pushing her out of her comfort zone, challenging her to understand what her body was capable of. It was scary and thrilling and it was the best sex she’d ever had.
But one question gnawed at her. Christina didn’t know how to ask Jackson and kept putting it off. Finally, on a day he had surprised her with a purple dildo, she built up the courage to ask. ‘Have you ever done this stuff with Sarah?’ She gestured to the dildo but she meant all of it.
Jackson laughed. ‘Never. I told you, Sarah’s a cold fish. You, on the other hand, are a natural.’
Of course, she was flattered and his compliment had a powerful impact on her. Christina couldn’t recall Jamie ever telling her she was good in bed. Not beyond the ‘That was great, babe’ kind of comment. Nothing that ever went further than skin deep. Whereas one word from Jackson and she knew she would do everything he ever asked of her. She would be the woman who brought him pleasure.
She never shared the details with Della. Partly because it was an intimacy too far and partly because Christina knew Della disapproved. She made it clear right from the start that she wanted no details of Christina’s relationship.
‘You’ve never even met him. Why don’t you like him?’ Christina pressed her.
‘Because he’s married and he will hurt you.’
Christina laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Della. It’s not like that.’
Della gave her a sorrowful look. ‘All I want is for you to be happy.’
‘I am happy, Della. Jackson is the best thing that has ever happened to me.’
Della handed her a glass of wine, her fingers lingering on the stem, reluctant to let go. ‘Can’t you see? It’s the wrong kind of happiness.’
chapter four
Four Weeks Till Christmas
The day after Sarah’s visit, Christina wakes, her head heavy from another restless night. She dreamed of when she first met Jackson and thought he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. How he had put her up on a pedestal and she had been foolish with happiness. Della had been right, the wrong kind of happiness.
She blinks and groans, forcing her feet to the floor, escaping her bedroom as soon as she’s dressed. In the kitchen she makes a thermos of coffee and grabs a bread roll before heading out to the ute. She drives up to the top paddock where the heifers have pushed through the fence and escaped onto the common. This part of their property is shaded in the mornings, giving her plenty of time
to fix the fence and herd the cattle back in before the sun comes around.
As she works, she reflects on yesterday’s revelations. Last night, Sarah’s words haunted her dreams but in the twist of her imagination, Bianca hung from the wardrobe railing, not Josh. She woke gasping for air, knocking a glass of water from her bedside table where it stained the floor.
Grabbing the mallet, she bangs first one and then the other star post into the earth, threading the wire through the holes. She searches through the footwell of the ute for the wire strainers and a box of clips. How could Sarah even suggest Christina make peace with herself when there are so many opportunities to reflect on what might have been. Wishing she had never met Jackson slips into if only she had never met Jamie – an impossibility because without Jamie there would be no Bianca.
She takes an almighty swing and pounds another star post in as far as it will go. The effort rocks her back on her heels and she staggers downhill a few steps before pausing to regain her breath. In a cruel twist, without Bianca there would never have been a Jackson. She understands that now. It was always a two-for-one deal.
Christina twists the wire strainers around and around, her muscles burning as the wire tightens. When she was little, Massimo insisted she help him fix fences. She’d bustle about him, bursting with self-importance. Not once did she realise, as she ballooned her cheeks with the effort, that Papa was doing all the work. He just liked her company. She releases the clip and tests the tension with her thumb. Papa would have been proud.
Madness lies too in thinking about arts college where she met Jamie and qualified as an interior designer. Christina was good enough to win a coveted graduate placement at the uber-stylish Peterson Partners. Whilst working there she met Jackson, but then again, she also met Della. Thank goodness for Della. Without her friendship, Christina and Bianca would have had nowhere to hide.
Christina throws the dregs of her coffee on the dirt and piles the tools in the tray of the ute. Striding to the top of the rise, she seeks out the tan and white rumps of the cattle, wondering how co-operative they’ll be about returning to their paddock. She follows their wet tracks through the grass, watches the sun cast the hills in gold. She should take a picture but she no longer owns a camera and the camera on her cheap mobile is rubbish. Bianca does. She bought a digital for the trip. Before she escaped to Costa Rica, Christina asked her if she could take a photo, a keepsake in her absence. Always a reluctant subject, Bianca moved at the exact moment Christina clicked the shutter. In the photo two images of Bianca shadow one another, a frowning spectral vision staring out from the fridge.
The Making of Christina Page 4
