Della stared at her. ‘On the back of the bike, CC.’
‘What?’
Della turned her palms up. ‘Exactly that.’
Christina frowned at Della. ‘But Jamie can’t ride a bike.’ Once she’d seen Jamie on a bike. At the farm. On the quad bike.
‘He has L plates,’ Della added, raising her eyebrows to emphasise the significance of this piece of information.
‘Is it legal for a nine year old to ride pillion when you’re a learner?’
Della shrugged.
Christina didn’t know either. ‘But Bianca had a helmet on.’ A statement because surely Jamie wouldn’t be stupid enough to let Bianca ride pillion without a helmet.
Della glanced at her through her fringe. ‘Yes, but it didn’t seem to fit properly. It looked like an adult helmet.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Precisely.’
The implications assumed graphic proportions in Christina’s imagination. If some frantic mum in a 4WD had rear-ended him, at best Bianca might have been thrown clear. At worse, Christina shuddered. ‘Did you say anything to him?’
‘I couldn’t. He came via the Pacific Road entrance. I didn’t even realise it was them until Bianca took off the helmet. She’s pretty hard to miss with those titian curls.’
‘She could have been killed.’ The thought coiled and settled in Christina’s gut.
Murderous shrieking and splashing erupted in the garden. Startled, Christina shot out to the terrace and checked the state of play in the pool.
‘You’ll talk to him about it?’ Della grabbed a Spanish onion from the bowl, catching Christina’s eye.
‘Yes, of course. I’ll call him tonight when Bee’s asleep.’
‘Why not do it now, whilst Bee’s busy? Get it over and done with,’ Della pressed.
This was the way their friendship always worked. Christina prevaricated. Della acted on instinct and damn the consequences. After growing up with Rosa, Christina hated shouting and arguing. Della thought a good stoush helped clear the air. She saw it as her job to push Christina into action, to stand up for herself instead of always trying to find a way to keep the peace. Poor old Tony might spend his days managing billions of dollars but at home he kowtowed to Della without a murmur.
Tom dropped a bomb in the deep end sending an arc of water raining down on the sunbaking girls. Screaming death threats, Izzy and Bianca chased him around the pool. Tom scrambled to escape but Bianca was too quick. She caught him and shoved him in the back. He toppled sideways into the pool, grabbing Bianca’s arm as he went. Bianca splayed backwards, falling into the water after him. Neither resurfaced and Christina was about to yell Enough! when up bobbed Bianca. One hand covered her mouth, catching her laughter, the other twirled Tom’s swimmers over her head. She flung them into the peppercorn tree whilst Izzy hooted and stamped out a victory dance on the sidelines.
‘Idiots.’ Della chucked Tom a towel to protect his seven-year-old modesty. She waited until he had run back to revenge himself on the girls before continuing their discussion. ‘She wasn’t wearing protective clothing either. Just her summer uniform and the helmet.’
School uniforms designed to cool little bodies in summer, not protect them from skidding along gravel at sixty kilometres an hour. Christina thought of all the times she’d come off horses at half that speed and worn the scabby grazes as badges of her foolhardiness for weeks.
‘Dinner’s in ten minutes, you lot. Get dressed, please,’ Della yelled into the backyard.
The girls ran through the house, screaming and laughing on their way upstairs to Izzy’s bedroom. Christina bit back the nausea, saving her fury for when she got home.
‘What the hell were you thinking, Jamie? Oh, silly me, you weren’t thinking, were you?’ Christina’s anger had had plenty of time to fester between dinner at Della’s and Bianca’s bedtime. Now it boiled over. She had no need of Della in her corner tonight. Christina was furious.
‘I know how to ride a bike, babe. I’m not an idiot.’
‘Ooh no, I think you’re wrong there, Jamie. Only an idiot takes a nine year old on the back of a motorbike with no helmet and no protective gear. Are you trying to kill her?’
‘That’s not fair, CC, she was wearing a helmet.’
‘Della, from two hundred metres away, could see that helmet was too big. Not much use if she’d smashed into the ground headfirst, Jamie.’ The words soured Christina’s stomach.
‘I’m careful.’
‘Ha!’ Christina thought she heard Bianca stirring and went out onto the back stairs. ‘You’re not careful, Jamie. A careful father would not put his daughter’s life in jeopardy in the first place. Careful is caring so much about her wellbeing that you would never dream of letting her ride on a motorbike, no matter how many layers of protective gear she’s wearing because everybody knows, everybody but you, Jamie Davies, that riding a motorbike is incredibly dangerous.’
‘Not if you know what you’re doing.’
Even without being able to see his face, years of trying to reason with Jamie made his reaction all too familiar to Christina. He’d be leaning against the bench, arms folded across his chest, a nonchalant cross of the ankles, and he’d be wearing that smirk. The picture fuelled her anger.
‘Christ, Jamie. In case you hadn’t realised, this isn’t actually about you, it’s about our daughter. You know, the one we’re both supposed to cherish and keep safe?’
‘I do, CC.’
‘What? Leave her with Summer whilst you’re off playing rockstars with Vince?’
Silence.
‘Well?’ Her heart beat so hard it felt like it was trying to escape her chest. Reasonableness was a distant idea abandoned the moment Jamie answered hello. What she didn’t expect was for Jamie to bite back.
‘You know what, CC? I’m sick to death of your rules,’ Jamie shouted down the phone. ‘Bianca is my daughter too and how I choose to spend the little time you let me have with her is my business. You treat me like I’m the worst father in the world but you have no idea how bad some blokes are. I love Bianca. And as much as it kills you to admit it, you know she loves me too.’
‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, CC. You’ve disappeared so far up Jackson’s arse you can’t see daylight any more.’ Here he put on a falsetto voice. ‘Oh, Jackson’s bought Bianca a new bike for her birthday. Jackson’s taking us to the Gold Coast for the Easter holidays.’
‘Which is more than you’ve ever done for her,’ she hissed.
His words stung. If for one minute Jamie had managed to inject genuine affection into his relationship with his daughter, Bianca might not strive so hard for his approval but her father was oblivious to her naked yearning. It broke Christina’s heart how hard Bianca tried. It would be better for all of them if Jamie just gave up the pretence that he cared.
‘Fuck you, CC! You can’t tell me what to do with my own daughter in my own time.’
‘The bottom line is she’s not safe with you, Jamie. That you can’t see that is the real issue here. You don’t deserve to have a daughter.’
With that she slammed down the phone, vowing that from now on she would make it as difficult as possible for Jamie to be alone with Bianca. And then Jackson made the decision that made it nigh on impossible for Jamie to see Bianca at all.
chapter seven
By the time their seventh anniversary came around, Christina had loved Jackson for so long and in such desperation that the twinkling possibility of achieving her heart’s desire seduced her. Not once did she stop to think, Why now? Never did it occur to her that agreeing to Jackson’s plans might extract such an intolerable price. To her perennial shame, she relished her victory.
Jackson had taken his sons Simon and Josh to the Mentawi Islands for a boys’ own surfing adventure. Three weeks in wh
ich Christina received not a phone call, a postcard nor any indication whatsoever that Jackson’s proclaimed last-ditch attempt to bond with his sons had been a success or a failure. The only communication she’d had was an SMS message telling her he would be home Friday. If he had remembered it was also their anniversary, he had failed to mention it.
Those three weeks had scraped Christina hollow. The enforced silence frightened her, allowing her insecurities, normally soothed by Jackson, to rise to the surface. What if he repaired the bond with Simon and Josh? What if distance made him realise their relationship was nothing more than a petty dalliance that really had dragged on for far too long? What if he decided that in the end he could never leave Sarah? This was the fear that shouted above all others.
By the day of Jackson’s return, Christina had worked herself into a state of high anxiety. Over the years she had shut out the women with whom she would have normally shared every obsessive thought. Her distance from Rosa was as emotional as it was physical. Della, well, she had never wavered from her stance of disapproval over Christina’s relationship with Jackson, and Christina didn’t see enough of Mary-Lou to feel comfortable sharing those kinds of confidences. Over time, Christina had developed the habit of saying as little as possible about her relationship with Jackson. Alone, with all her fears bottled up inside her, she waited for his return. She sat in the afternoon light of her lounge room, watching the digital clock in the kitchen tip over the minutes and then the hour. The shadow of the jacaranda tree had travelled from one side of the room to the other by the time she heard the sound she had been willing into existence.
As the key scraped in the lock, Christina raced down the hall. She flung it open to be greeted by a crazy crinkly smile and a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers. All her doubts evaporated in Jackson’s arms as he pulled her close and kissed her like a thirsty man.
‘Honey, I missed you so much,’ he declared once they paused for breath.
‘Me too. Come inside quickly.’ Christina needed the reassurance of his skin on hers to confirm that nothing had changed between them.
‘Happy anniversary.’ Jackson thrust the flowers at her.
Christina pulled him down the hall, abandoning the flowers and their clothes in their fervour.
Afterwards, they lay in a tangle of sheets, Christina gazing up at Jackson from where her head rested in his lap. She felt languid and sated. The prickling uncertainty was gone, rubbed smooth by Jackson’s insistent attentions. Never still, Jackson reached for her again.
Christina batted away his hand. ‘Don’t do that! School pickup’s in ten minutes.’
‘Ample time,’ Jackson grinned and rolled her off his lap.
She drew him into her, let her head fall back over the edge of the bed and relished the thrust and pull of desire. When Jackson moved inside her, there were never any doubts, no fear gnawing at her hollow edges. Always, at such times, she knew Jackson belonged to her.
Their lovemaking had made Christina late for school pickup but she spotted Della hanging out under the giant camphor laurel in the school playground. Bianca and Izzy dangled upside down on the play equipment. Christina first apologised to Della and then told Bianca, ‘Jackson’s back,’ and in an instant Bianca swang to the ground and raced to collect her schoolbag from the pile jumbled near the steps.
They arrived home to find Jackson slick from the shower arranging the rescued flowers in a vase. Bianca raced ahead to claim first cuddle. He swept Bianca into his arms and pulled her ponytail, saying, ‘Hey, Busy Bee, break any hearts today?’ Bianca shook her head in a fit of giggles and Christina laughed at the pair of them. Although Bianca kept growing taller and taller, in every other way she was young for ten. Still more than happy to be indulged with cuddles and tickles when many of her friends were developing the haughty indifference they would use to shield themselves through their teenage years. Christina was grateful Bianca wasn’t like that. As far as she was concerned, the longer Bianca stayed a little girl the better.
Jackson tested Bianca on her spelling words whilst Christina fixed pasta. She caught his eye and smiled as much for the pleasure of this renewed domesticity as for the aching reminder of him every time she moved. Over dinner he regaled them with tales from his holiday. Bianca smiled though she pushed her olives into mounds on the plate, concealing them under a roof of penne better than she concealed her disappointment. Jackson had told her this was just a trip with a bunch of old mates but Christina could tell the exclusion hurt. Bianca was jealous.
When she caught Bianca stifling a yawn, Christina seized the opportunity. ‘C’mon, Bee. Bedtime.’
Bianca slumped in her chair. ‘Oh, Mum, do I have to?’
‘Yes. Teeth, toilet, bed.’ Christina shooed her from the room with one hand and cleared the half-eaten plate of pasta with the other. ‘You’re not hungry either?’ she said, picking up Jackson’s plate and taking the stack to the sink.
‘Sorry, CC, but I ate on the plane.’
‘Mummy!’ Bianca yelled down the hall.
Christina turned to Jackson. ‘Why don’t you tuck her in tonight? She’s missed you and she’s put out that you didn’t take her with you.’
‘Really?’
‘As far as Bianca’s concerned, she’s your surf buddy. I think she’d be even more offended if she knew you took Simon and Josh instead of her.’
Jackson looked alarmed. Christina had no idea why. Bianca accommodated the knowledge that Jackson had much older children from his marriage. She just didn’t realise that he still lived with them when he wasn’t around. In Bianca’s mind, he lived in the penthouse because that’s the only place she ever saw him apart from here. Christina swished Jackson with the tea towel. ‘Go on, go and cheer her up.’
Christina listened in whilst Jackson sang Bianca her favourite song. She stacked the dishwasher and put the kettle on. When he returned and flopped back down at the dining table, she handed him the rest of the bottle of tonic. He looked tired and distracted. Christina warmed her hands on her cup of coffee and tried waiting out his silence.
Within minutes she gave in. ‘So you and the boys had a great time?’ she prompted.
Jackson started at the sound of her voice, pausing to register what she had said. ‘Yeah. God I’m tired though. I’m too old to keep up with the young blokes any more. Mind you, there was this one guy, from Pittsburgh of all places, not much older than Simon but about half his size, who left us all dead in the water. He was brilliant.’
Jackson sighed as if deflating. ‘Anyway, enough about the trip. It’s our anniversary. I’m sorry I should have planned something more romantic.’ He gestured for her to sit on his lap and they started kissing. His hands slipped up under her jumper but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it.
‘What’s the matter, honey?’ she mumbled in his ear. ‘Did this afternoon’s efforts tire you out?’
‘Mmm, sorry, CC. I’ve got a lot on my mind.’ Jackson raked his fingers through his hair and leaned back in the chair.
‘Anything you want to share?’ She rested her hands on his shoulders but her senses switched to high alert.
Jackson smiled a thin tight smile. ‘Can you believe it’s been seven years, CC?’
‘I know, it’s gone so fast.’
Jackson returned a faint echo of her smile.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Jackson, what’s bothering you?’
He didn’t answer, instead picking at a patch of sunburn on his arm. The clock marked another minute and Christina waited for them to reach the point, any point, which meant she wouldn’t be the one to speak next.
Jackson splashed tonic water into his glass and cracked the bottle against the tabletop. He couldn’t even look at her when he said, ‘I don’t know how much longer I can carry on like this, CC.’
The cold words rendered her silent with terror.
‘Seven years of sneaki
ng around like a couple of teenagers trying to hide from the olds. It’s not what you’d call a meaningful relationship, is it?’ He gripped her wrist so tight it burned. ‘You can’t tell me this makes you happy.’
Christina absorbed his bitterness, too wounded to reply. It didn’t matter, Jackson was on a roll.
‘You put your life on hold whilst I am here, then twiddle your thumbs until the next time I show up. It’s pathetic. I don’t know how you stand it.’
His criticism stung. By some unspoken agreement, they always ignored the inconvenient truths of their relationship. It existed primarily within the four walls of Christina’s apartment, without mention of Sarah, school fees or who was going to take the car in for a service. Neither of them wanted a relationship defined by such mundanities. Those rules had been set long ago.
‘So what’s the solution, Jackson?’ she whispered.
‘I think it’s time we put an end to this,’ Jackson stood, forcing her to her feet. He escaped to the window and stared out at the bare branches of the jacaranda.
Seven years together, she thought, and this is it? End of story. Did he expect she’d say, ‘Yeah, it’s been fun but we both know all good things come to an end?’ Shrug it off as nothing more than a budget holiday fling.
In her head, How can he do this? repeated over and over in a vicious mantra. For years she had moulded her life around his, brushed over the times he stood her up or changed plans at the last minute. Alone, crying into her wine, wishing she could confide in Della or have Mary-Lou turn misery into a joke. But she’d made her deal. Bargained with herself about what she was willing sacrifice in order to keep Jackson. Mary-Lou’s words came to her. That statistically speaking, married men rarely left their wives for the other woman and only when their hand was forced. For years her every action, her every word was driven by the need to remind him that she was the good in his life. Every single day for the past seven bloody years.
The fragments of what would remain once Jackson left terrified her. Everything good about herself she owed to him. Around Jackson, she felt capable, clever and sexy. He had mended the self-confidence so shattered by Jamie. She feared that without Jackson her identity would diminish. That she would become a shell of the woman she was today. The panic of it pounded inside her. Only a hair’s breadth of dignity stopped her from flinging herself on his mercy. Christina dared not look at him. She concentrated on staring beyond him to the garden.
The Making of Christina Page 7
