The Mothers' Group

by Fiona Higgins

  ‘Va-va-voom,’ said Bill, his eyes lingering on her chest. She lay down in the sun next to Freya, arching her back for effect.

  ‘Now that’s just not fair,’ he said. He bent towards her and whispered, ‘I’d fuck you now if it wasn’t so family-friendly here.’

  A group of Indians was playing a lively game of cricket on the grass nearby, slanging each other in Hindi. Suzie smiled at their strident arguing. Bill began unpacking their purchases, arranging them neatly on disposable plates. He opened the orange juice and poured it into two plastic glasses.

  ‘But wait.’ He grinned. ‘It won’t taste the same without this.’ He removed a wine cooler from his backpack and unzipped it.

  ‘Wow,’ said Suzie as he produced a bottle of French champagne. ‘That’s expensive.’

  ‘Only the best for you.’ He popped the cork with a flourish. ‘We’re celebrating two things this morning. One, Freya is ten months old.’

  Suzie smiled. ‘You remembered.’

  ‘And it was exactly four months ago that we met.’

  He topped up their glasses with champagne.

  ‘You’re one hell of a woman, Suzie. Here’s to you.’

  She blushed. ‘Thank you.’

  Freya reached for a croissant. ‘Not for you, little one,’ said Bill.

  ‘I’ve got some oatmeal for her,’ said Suzie. She found Freya’s food bag in the bottom of the stroller.

  ‘I’ll give it to her,’ said Bill. ‘You relax.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I know what to do.’ He laughed. ‘It’s not rocket science.’

  He pulled Freya onto his lap and looped the bib around her neck. With the spoon clenched between his teeth, he unscrewed a tub of organic baby porridge and settled Freya into the crook of his arm. She gazed at him, blue eyes wide with interest, as he spooned the porridge into her mouth. He smacked his lips and made exaggerated ‘mmm’ sounds every time she swallowed. Freya threw her hands up into the air and giggled, revelling in the attention.

  ‘You’ve not had breakfast this way before, have you?’ laughed Suzie. ‘I think you’ll have to do this more often, Bill.’

  ‘Bi bi bi bi,’ Freya babbled, smiling up at him.

  ‘She’s saying your name, Bill!’ Suzie’s voice caught in her throat. ‘She’s not said anyone else’s name, apart from mine.’

  All the other milestones—first smile, first tooth, first night without waking—had been solitary moments of joy. But shared with Bill, the joy was multiplied.

  Bill smiled. ‘She’s such a happy baby, isn’t she?’

  Suzie nodded. ‘She’s always been pretty easy, but I’ve got nothing to compare her with, except the other babies in my mothers’ group.’

  ‘My sister belongs to a group like that,’ Bill said. ‘She’s always out with them. Do you get along with the other women?’

  She nodded. ‘I do now. But in the beginning, it was a bit hard. I was the only one without a husband.’

  She remembered her embarrassment at their first meeting, when she’d cried about Nils. After that, she’d never felt entirely comfortable in the mothers’ group. She’d resented their endless chatter about forgetful or careless husbands. Ginie was particularly grating, constantly detailing Daniel’s inadequacies. Try not having a husband at all, Suzie had wanted to scream, then you might think differently. The urge to do so had receded lately, now that Bill was in her life.

  ‘Now it’s really good,’ she continued. ‘We catch up at a café every week, and go to each other’s houses too. They’re some of my best friends now.’

  Freya started to grizzle.

  ‘Had enough, have you?’ Bill wiped her mouth with the bib. ‘Why don’t we leave Mummy to relax, and we can go and look at that puppy?’ He pointed at a Great Dane tied by its leash to a bench nearby.

  ‘You’re spoiling me,’ said Suzie.

  He picked up Freya. ‘Let’s go, little one.’

  Suzie lay on her back on the picnic rug, staring up at the massive branches above her. She couldn’t remember feeling this happy, ever. She rolled onto her stomach and looked around. We are part of this Sunday morning scene, she thought, our little family.

  A sudden movement caught her eye. A woman was waving at her. A man carrying a child trailed behind her. Suzie smiled and waved back.

  ‘I thought it was you,’ called Cara, picking her way across the grass.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

  ‘It’s a family tradition for us, every Sunday morning at Shelly Beach,’ Cara replied. ‘You’ve met Richard, haven’t you?’ Cara beckoned to the man behind her.

  Richard waved at Suzie. ‘Yes—hi, Suzie. We met at the Fathers and Partners session. Back when our babies were actually babies.’ He laughed and let Astrid, who was straining in his arms, slide down onto the grass. She rocked on her feet before taking several unsteady steps forward.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ said Suzie. ‘She’s walking! That’s early isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, she is the oldest in our group,’ said Cara. ‘An April baby, remember? But you know what she’s like, always into everything.’

  ‘Yes, it’s only started happening in the last few days,’ added Richard. ‘Luckily, she doesn’t get very far.’ He picked her up again.

  ‘Let me introduce you both to Bill,’ said Suzie. ‘My boyfriend,’ she added, for Richard’s benefit.

  ‘Oh, so this is the Bill,’ said Cara. ‘I can’t wait to meet him.’

  Suzie stood up. ‘Come on over.’

  They walked towards the bench where Bill was crouched with Freya, just out of reach of the Great Dane. The dog was tugging at its leash with excitement, but Suzie was relieved to see that Bill was not attempting to pat it. You could never truly trust a dog with children, as far as she was concerned.

  ‘Bill,’ she called. He didn’t look up.

  ‘Bill,’ she repeated, louder this time.

  He turned and smiled, Freya in his arms.

  ‘Bill, this is Cara, from my mothers’ group. We were just talking about the mothers’ group, weren’t we? And this is Cara’s husband, Richard, and baby Astrid.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Bill, shaking Richard’s hand. ‘Nice day for it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Beautiful,’ said Richard. ‘Do you live in Freshwater too?’

  Bill shook his head. ‘No, a bit further up the Peninsula.’

  ‘You look very familiar,’ said Cara. ‘Where have I seen you before?’

  ‘A lot of people say that,’ he said, smiling. ‘I must have one of those faces.’ He turned towards the picnic rug. ‘I think Freya’s nappy needs changing.’

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ said Suzie, delighted he’d noticed. They watched Bill carry Freya back to the picnic blanket.

  ‘Wow, he’s hands-on,’ said Cara.

  Astrid wriggled in Richard’s arms. ‘Want to get down again?’ Richard placed her on the grass and she tottered away, swaying like a drunkard. ‘I think she wants to go and see Freya.’

  ‘She’s really moving now,’ said Suzie.

  Cara nodded. ‘Yes, I can’t believe it. Freya won’t be far behind. They’ll all be turning one soon and we’ll be having our first Mother’s Day. The year has just flown, hasn’t it?’

  Suzie watched Bill from a distance, digging around in the base of the pram.

  ‘I’d better go and help him with the nappy change,’ she said.

  ‘Sure, we’ll let you get back to it,’ said Cara. ‘Bye, Bill.’

  Bill sat back on his heels and waved.

  ‘He seems really nice,’ said Cara. ‘See you Friday.’

  Suzie waved them off before turning towards the picnic rug. Bill had answered his mobile phone and was crouched next to Freya. Suzie reached the rug and Bill looked up at her, telephone to his ear, a curious expression on his face. Surely there couldn’t be a work issue today? She bent down to pick up Freya, who was shredding a disposable wipe between her fingers. Suzie heard the distorted sound of the caller’s vo
ice. It was a woman, she could tell, and she didn’t sound pleased.

  She carried Freya over to the fig tree and lay her down on the grass. As she pinned a clean cloth nappy around her bottom, she glanced back at Bill. He sat motionless on the picnic rug, his jaw set with displeasure.

  He stood up and thrust his BlackBerry back into his pocket.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he called, walking towards her. ‘That was my assistant. Something’s come up at work. I have to go.’

  They cleared the rug in silence.

  For a moment she considered confronting him.

  Just tell me now, Bill—is she your girlfriend, or your wife?

  ‘Hey, I’m so sorry,’ he said, catching hold of her hands. ‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’ His tone was gentle, contrite.

  He ran his hands down her cheeks, as he always did.

  ‘Forget it,’ she mumbled.

  Then she snatched her kaftan from the grass and pulled it over her head. She couldn’t bear him looking at her any longer.

  The following week she confided in Cara.

  It was an overcast Friday morning, the air crisp with autumn, and the group had gathered at Pippa’s house for fear of rain. The babies were playing on the lounge room floor, crawling and shrieking and rolling over toys. Astrid was toddling around with greater confidence, keen to explore other parts of the house. Cara laughed as she ran after her. ‘No, my little escapee,’ she’d say, moving her back onto the rug. On one occasion Astrid made it as far as the kitchen and, when Cara stood up to find her, Suzie followed her in.

  ‘Can we chat for a moment?’ Suzie whispered, glancing back towards the lounge room.

  ‘Sure,’ said Cara. She plucked Astrid from under the breakfast bar.

  ‘I don’t know who else to talk to.’ Suzie’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Oh, Suze.’ Cara put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you alright?’

  Suzie shook her head. ‘I think Bill is lying to me.’

  Cara frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘After we saw you at Shelly Beach last Sunday, he got a phone call. From a woman. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she sounded really pissed off. Like a girlfriend.’

  Cara looked at her. ‘But it could have been anyone.’

  ‘No,’ said Suzie. ‘It didn’t feel right.’ She pushed her hair behind her ears. ‘I mean, we’ve been going out for more than four months and I’ve never been to his house, not once. And he’s always travelling, working odd hours. I’m starting to think I’ve been really stupid.’

  I sound stupid, she thought. She’d never allowed herself to dwell on the negative, she didn’t want to be a naysayer like Ginie. But now, confessing her suspicions to Cara, she felt her uncertainty grow. It all sounded so ludicrous. Why had she waited this long?

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered. ‘What would you do?’

  Cara hesitated. ‘I’m no expert in this department. But I don’t think you’re stupid, Suze.’ Astrid squirmed in her arms and Cara let her down onto the kitchen floor again.

  ‘I just don’t want to get hurt again. Not after Nils.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Cara put an arm around her. ‘You really don’t need this, do you? You’ve got enough to deal with already.’

  New tears sprang to Suzie’s eyes. Cara understood; she always did.

  After a moment’s silence, Cara looked at her. ‘Have you gone through Bill’s pockets to see if you can find anything?’

  Suzie shook her head.

  Cara shrugged. ‘I know, it’s a silly idea. Straight out of the movies.’ She patted Suzie’s shoulder again. ‘I guess if it doesn’t feel right anymore, Suze, you’ve got to follow your gut instinct. Maybe take a break from Bill?’

  Suzie nodded.

  ‘Hey,’ called Ginie from the lounge room, ‘what are you two conspirators whispering about in there?’

  Suzie stiffened.

  Without pausing, Cara called back to her, ‘Some ideas for the babies’ first birthday. It’s not that far away, you know.’ She walked over to the door and leaned against it, blocking Ginie’s view of the kitchen.

  ‘God, you’re organised,’ said Ginie.

  ‘We were thinking about a group birthday party, rather than all of us having separate parties,’ Cara continued. ‘Maybe at Manly Dam where there’s a barbecue area and space for kids to run around. We can invite partners, extended family, that sort of thing. What do you think?’

  ‘Sounds great,’ said Ginie.

  ‘Any excuse to have some champers together.’ Miranda laughed.

  ‘Maybe we could have it on Mother’s Day,’ suggested Pippa. ‘You know, make it a double celebration. Their first year as babies, our first year as mothers.’

  ‘That’s the second Sunday in May, right?’ Ginie was scrolling through her iPhone calendar. ‘Yep, I’m available.’

  ‘I’ll try to make sure that Willem isn’t interstate,’ said Miranda. ‘Eight weeks’ notice should be enough.’

  Made wrote down the date in her brown batik notebook. She smiled. ‘It good for our babies to have birthday together. First birthday, it very important in Bali culture.’

  ‘Yes, and that’s a fabulous idea, Pippa,’ said Cara. ‘I can’t think of a nicer way to spend Mother’s Day than with the most inspiring mums I know. Now, let’s work out who’s bringing what, shall we?’ She glanced over her shoulder at Suzie.

  Suzie smiled back, grateful.

  Then she wiped her eyes with a tissue and moved towards the doorway.

  ‘Maybe we could hire a clown, or a face-painter or something,’ she said.

  They joined the others in the lounge room.

  ‘Got to go, sexy. Early morning meeting.’

  She glanced at her watch in the darkness. It was only six thirty. She thought of Freya, asleep at Monika’s.

  He reached for his wallet on the bedside table, withdrawing six fifty-dollar notes in a fat wad. He held them out to her.

  ‘Get yourself something nice. You deserve it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He placed the notes on the bedside table.

  Bill’s generosity had allowed her to buy things for Freya she never could have afforded herself. She’d relished shopping for new clothes and toys rather than rummaging through the racks and shelves of the Salvation Army store. When Cara had invited the group to Taronga Zoo one weekend, she’d been able to accept, despite the steep entry fee. When a children’s pantomime was playing at the Opera House, she didn’t hesitate to buy tickets. Bill’s regular contribution had been so helpful she’d conveniently dismissed the niggling doubts she had about him.

  She watched him as he stood up and walked naked to the bathroom, waiting for the familiar squeal of water straining through copper pipes. Light was just beginning to creep between the slats of her venetian blinds; the mornings were getting darker as winter approached. She remembered their morning tea on Shelly Beach. How Freya had crawled to Bill and he’d tossed her up in the air, as a father might. How wonderful it had felt to be a threesome, a family on a picnic rug drinking cheap juice and French champagne. Before the phone call, and the woman’s voice.

  She looked again at Bill’s wallet on the bedside table. Then, glancing in the direction of the bathroom, she leaned across and opened it. She dug about for his driver’s licence, anything that might tell her where he lived. Nothing. Her breath quickened as she pulled out a wad of materials concealed behind the notes compartment. A gym membership, a car insurance tag, a card announcing I am a Blood Donor. And then, a pink note tucked behind it. She unfolded it, even as she heard Bill turn the shower off. A gift voucher for a massage. Feminine cursive writing, penned in silver ink, on the note: Happy birthday. Love, M. xx

  She refolded the note and replaced the wallet as she’d found it, then lay down again and covered herself with a sheet.

  Bill walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. She rolled over onto her stomach and closed her eyes. She listened to the sou
nd of him dressing: boxer shorts, shirt, trousers, cufflinks, belt, tie, socks, shoes, jacket.

  Finally, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. Peeling the sheet back, he leaned down and pressed his lips along her spine. Then he ran his fingers across her bruised buttocks.

  ‘Fuck, you turn me on.’

  She felt sick to the stomach.

  He stood up. ‘See you on Thursday at the café. Give Freya a kiss from me.’

  She grunted, as though half asleep.

  ‘Bye, sexy.’ She heard the door close behind him.

  She opened her eyes and began to cry.

  After she’d put Freya to bed, she spent an hour at the kitchen table, composing the text message. She knew he was in Melbourne tonight, or so he’d said. There was part of her that wanted to telephone, to demand to know more, to understand what the other woman meant to him. To call him names and feel the cathartic rush of righteousness. But she was afraid of him, on some level. He was used to winning, always getting his own way. She’d never said no to him for fear of how he might react. She hadn’t really known him at all, she reflected. She rested her head in her hands, ashamed. He’d as good as paid her for sex. ‘M’ might well be his wife, she thought. She just wanted it to be over.

  She settled on two simple sentences: I know about ‘M’, the other woman in your life. I don’t want to see you anymore.

  She sat alone at the kitchen bench until after midnight, half hoping for, and half dreading, a response. She fell asleep with her head on her arms.

  The next morning, she checked her mobile.

  M is my mother.

  She stared at the message, wanting to believe him. But instinct told her he was lying. That he’d lied about everything, right from the beginning. She shook her head and texted him back.

  Bill, it’s over.

  Her telephone rang in the darkness. She sat bolt upright on the couch and looked around, wide-eyed. She couldn’t tell what time it was, or how long she’d been asleep. The television was still on, the volume muted. She checked the caller ID. It was Monika.

  ‘Hello?’ she croaked.