Three’s a Crowd

by Dianne Blacklock

  ‘I think we’ve grown apart over the years,’ Rachel started to explain, ‘and we’ve never really stopped to think about it. I mean, you can have different tastes, like different music, movies, that stuff doesn’t really matter. But at the core of a friendship, surely you have to have some kind of shared values? And I just don’t understand Catherine any more. I don’t understand her motivations, her actions, and I don’t agree with them. It makes it difficult to relate to her.’

  ‘But you’ve been friends such a long time.’

  ‘Maybe too long.’ Rachel picked up her cup and sipped her coffee. She didn’t want to rubbish Catherine to Lexie, that was between the two of them. ‘So anyway, like I said, I just wanted to apologise for Saturday night.’

  Lexie shook her head. ‘Listen, Scott and I owe everyone an apology as well. We acted like a pair of five year olds, it was a disgrace.’

  ‘Are you okay now?’

  ‘We are, you know,’ she nodded, a smile forming on her face. ‘Better than ever, to be honest.’ She paused. ‘We’re actually thinking of selling up and moving to the country.’

  Rachel blinked. ‘You’re kidding? Where did this come from?’

  ‘Totally out of the blue,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s been a dream of Scott’s for a long time, but he thought it could never happen so he never told me. And when I got it out of him the other night, I can’t explain it, but it felt so right. It was like a light bulb going on, making everything clear. We were up half the night talking, and on the internet all day yesterday, looking up restaurants for sale. We’re going up to Orange next week to check some places out.’

  ‘Wow, that’s quick.’

  ‘I know,’ said Lexie, holding up her hands, like it was a surprise to her as well. ‘But you know, why muck around? Life’s short.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  Lexie sighed. ‘Well, now I feel like a hypocrite.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought you and Tom were . . . well, wrong, because it seemed like it was too soon . . . But what do I know?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  Lexie looked at her. ‘Do you love him?’

  Rachel could feel her throat tightening. There wasn’t any point evading the question, but she didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded.

  Lexie reached over and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out,’ she said. ‘You know what Scott told me?’

  Rachel shook her head.

  ‘He reckons that Annie would have been happy for you two to be together.’

  ‘Did he?’

  She nodded.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Rachel.

  Lexie took a moment. ‘I think Annie would say, if it’s meant to be . . .’

  Wednesday

  Catherine was sitting in the restaurant, positioned so she could see the door, preparing herself. She had made sure she got here a full fifteen minutes early, so there was little chance James would be the first to arrive. She needed time before she had to face him to get centred in the surroundings so she would be in control of this meeting.

  She could barely believe what she was about to do, and there was still a chance she may not, it depended on how the conversation went. Alice had come to her again that same evening; she’d decided they should test the waters. No point putting off the inevitable, she’d said, trying to sound offhand. ‘Might as well suss him out,’ she’d added. ‘But don’t give anything away until you’re sure about him . . .’ She reminded Catherine of a child hiding behind a curtain, peering through a chink, intrigued and fascinated by what she might find out, while at the same time terrified that she would be discovered. So she trusted her mother to judge the situation and do what felt right. That was pretty amazing in itself, that Alice trusted her judgement, at least a little, at least insofar as this was concerned. The only proviso Alice had made was that her mother refrain from drinking. That had pulled Catherine up, especially the way Alice put it. She wasn’t being smart or derogatory, she just said it straight. ‘Maybe it will go better if you don’t have anything to drink.’ It was sobering, quite literally.

  So the plan was to get his side first. Weigh it up, analyse it, analyse him. Catherine was good at that, it was what she did every time she sat a client down for the first interview, to help her decide how to proceed with a case. With James, she had to decide if he was going to be open to hearing the truth. But before that, if she even wanted him to know the truth.

  James arrived promptly at one, as a punctual lawyer would. He glanced around and spotted her immediately. He didn’t wait to be shown to the table, and Catherine watched him as he made his way over. Something in his gait, the way he held himself, took her right back. He might look a lot different on the outside these days, but somewhere inside was the seventeen-year-old boy she remembered. She hoped so anyway.

  He came to the table as Catherine went to stand. ‘Please, don’t get up,’ he said, pulling his chair out and sitting down. He gave her a cautious smile. ‘I was so pleased to get your call, Catherine. Though a little surprised, I have to say.’

  ‘Well, I suppose your visit brought up some unfinished business for me as well.’

  ‘Good then,’ he nodded. ‘This will give us a chance to clear the air. Shall we order a drink?’

  ‘Not for me,’ she said. ‘But please, you go ahead.’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  Catherine felt inordinately nervous. ‘Then why don’t we order our meals first?’ she suggested. ‘Get that out of the way.’

  He agreed, and they picked up the menus and read quietly until the waiter came along. Catherine ordered a salad, while James went for steak with a rich sauce. No wonder he had that paunch.

  The waiter poured water into their glasses, picked up the menus and left them alone.

  James leaned forwards. ‘So, what exactly is on your mind, Catherine?’

  She took a breath. She’d rehearsed this, but that didn’t make it any easier. At least she could get him to do the talking for now. ‘I suppose I was intrigued by something you said the day you came to my office.’

  ‘Oh? What was that?’

  ‘You said that you were upset after your father’s visit to my house all those years ago. That was the word you used, “upset”, and I wondered why.’

  ‘Well . . .’ He looked slightly surprised by the question. ‘I suppose I would have thought that was obvious.’

  Catherine realised she was going to have to be a little more direct. ‘James, at this point it would be helpful if you could explain your side of what happened, without making any assumptions about how it might have been for me.’

  ‘All right.’ He seemed to be thinking about what he was going to say. ‘This is a little awkward. Please,’ he looked at her, ‘don’t think for a moment that I don’t believe in a woman’s right to choose. I do, absolutely. And we were so very young. It was not an easy situation.’

  Easier for him.

  He hesitated. ‘I suppose it was the circumstances that upset me. My father, what he did, I didn’t know . . .’

  Catherine frowned. ‘You didn’t know he came to my house?’

  ‘No, I was aware of that, of course,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m sorry, it probably seemed very weak or cowardly to you, Catherine, but I was terrified, absolutely terrified. I had all that bravado back then, thought I knew everything about everything, and in the end I was just a frightened boy. That’s why I went to my parents first. I should have known my father would take over, that was his way. But he made sense, he said the adults needed to discuss it, that we couldn’t make the decision on our own because it was going to have ramifications for everybody. And besides, how could we be expected to make such a big decision at our age? He wasn’t being condescending, he was actually kind, in a way. He said he would take care of it.’

  Hmm. There wasn’t any discussion, but he certainly did take care of it.

  ‘I have to admit I was relieved,’ James went on. ‘But then, I didn’t
realise what he was going to do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to judge you –’

  ‘Just tell me what you’re talking about,’ Catherine insisted.

  ‘Okay.’ He paused to take a drink of water. ‘He said he intended to discuss the options – having the baby, adopting it out, or . . . well, terminating the pregnancy.’

  Catherine felt like screaming. He didn’t present any other options, he’d said there were no other options as far as they were concerned. But she had to stay calm, let James explain what he knew before she gave anything away.

  ‘Go on,’ she urged.

  ‘What he didn’t tell me, was that he would also offer you . . . the payment.’ James paused, breathing out heavily. ‘I’m an adult now, I see things differently. I understand, really. But at the time, I was just . . . hurt, to be honest.’

  ‘Hurt?’

  He nodded. ‘That you would take the money.’

  Catherine was completely confused. ‘So you were hurt and upset because he offered to pay for the abortion?’

  James looked confused now. ‘No, that he offered to pay you to stay away from me.’

  ‘What?’

  Right then the waiter returned with their meals. James was staring at her, clearly thrown by her reaction. Catherine was stunned, incensed, outraged . . . But she needed to hold it together, find out exactly what he meant, not fly off with accusations that might only put him on the defensive. She took a couple of deep breaths, and when the waiter left she looked steadily across the table at him.

  ‘Please, go on, James,’ she said. ‘Explain to me exactly what your father told you he did.’

  ‘All right.’ He reached for his glass and took another sip of water. ‘He said that he told you, and your parents, that we would do the right thing, meet our obligations, whatever you decided. But this was the part I didn’t know about. He said he wanted to assess . . .’ he hesitated. ‘These are his words, not mine, Catherine. He wanted to assess exactly what kind of girl you were, so that I would know the truth about you. So he offered you a substantial sum of money if you had the abortion, as long as you never made contact with me again and didn’t respond to any contact I attempted. He said you jumped at it – his words again.’

  Catherine felt as though the room was spinning. She looked down at her salad, she thought she might be sick.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, standing up suddenly.

  ‘Catherine, please don’t leave,’ James said, getting to his feet.

  ‘I’m not, I just have to go to the bathroom.’ She rushed off; her legs were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure they would carry her, but somehow she made it to the bathroom, and straight into a cubicle, where she closed the lid and sat down. She was still shaking, her hands were clammy and she could feel a film of perspiration on her face. She tried to breathe slowly and deeply, to stop herself from hyperventilating, as she struggled to make sense of what she had just heard. It felt like her whole life had been predicated on a lie. A callous, calculating, destructive lie. Every decision Catherine had made, every relationship she’d had, everything . . . had all been in reaction to that one event in her life, when she had felt so small and so powerless that she had vowed no one would ever have that kind of power over her again.

  And the man sitting out there now was as much a victim as she was, and he had a daughter he didn’t even know existed.

  Catherine sat there for a long time, though she didn’t feel all that much calmer by the time she stood up again. At least her legs were not shaking, however, as she walked to the over and washed her hands. She dabbed her face with a damp napkin, staring at herself in the mirror. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. No, no, keep control, you can’t fall apart here. She wished she could transport herself to Rachel’s flat and talk it all over with her before she had to go out and face James again. She still had no idea how he would take the news. He had a family of his own, a wife and children. She wasn’t even sure that she’d tell him everything today, she supposed she would have to play it by ear. But she knew now that, eventually, she would tell him. And that her life was going to change forever.

  She walked sedately back to the table, and James got to his feet.

  ‘Catherine, are you all right?’ he asked, concerned.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, her voice sounding surprisingly calm. ‘Please, sit down.’

  ‘Can I get you something?’ he asked. ‘A drink?’

  She realised she wasn’t going to be able to do this without a drink. She knew she’d promised Alice, but she’d be careful. Just one.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘White wine, please.’

  He motioned for a waiter and ordered them each a glass, and then he sat down, watching her with an anxious frown. ‘Catherine, I’m beginning to feel like I don’t have the whole story.’

  ‘You certainly don’t,’ she said, meeting his eyes. She could see the seventeen year old, and she could see Alice. ‘I don’t quite know how to say any of this.’ She was about to tell him his father was a cold, heartless, despicable liar; maybe he wouldn’t believe her, she hadn’t thought of that.

  ‘What is it, Catherine?’ he urged. ‘Really, you can say anything.’

  ‘That’s not the way it happened,’ she began.

  The waiter arrived with their drinks, and Catherine picked up her glass and took a long sip. She put it down on the table again.

  ‘Please, Catherine, go on,’ James urged.

  ‘Your father, he had papers.’

  ‘What do you mean, papers?’

  ‘Just hear me out,’ she said. ‘He said that your “liability” did not go beyond paying for an abortion, because that was the only alternative he, and by extension you, were prepared to accept. He added a small sum for what he called “damages”; it was by no means substantial, James, let me assure you. He wrote the cheque to my parents, and he made them sign papers to the effect that we relinquished all claim on you and your family. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of it.’

  Now James picked up his glass and took a gulp.

  ‘I suppose my parents might still have those papers somewhere, if you want proof,’ Catherine added.

  He was shaking his head. ‘I believe you.’

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Catherine, ‘I believe you too, what you understood of it.’

  ‘I appreciate that.’ He sighed deeply. ‘My father was used to getting what he wanted, by whatever means. When he told me what he’d done, or what he said he’d done, I was furious. We didn’t speak for weeks. But he didn’t care, he’d proved his point, he said. It was for the best.’ James shook his head. ‘I have to say, it was never the same between us after that.’

  Catherine was watching him. ‘Where is he now?’

  He looked at her. ‘He passed away almost two years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said automatically.

  ‘You have no reason to be.’

  He seemed to become lost in thought. Catherine looked down at the table. Neither of them had touched their food. She couldn’t eat now anyway. She took another sip of her wine and put the glass back down on the table. She felt calmer now. But she still had questions of her own.

  ‘James,’ she said.

  He came out of his reverie and looked across at her.

  ‘It’s strange that we’ve never bumped into each other all this time. Where did you go to uni?’

  ‘Well, in London, of course.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I told you, we only got back a couple of months ago.’

  ‘But I thought . . .’ she paused. ‘When exactly did you go to London?’

  ‘Just after I finished high school,’ he explained. ‘My father took a job, the whole family packed up and went there to live. My wife is English, our boys were born there. But after my father died, my mother wanted to come back home. She’d always missed Australia.’ He paused. ‘Elizabeth, that’s my wife, decided we sho
uld come with her. Her parents had both died years before, and she had one brother living in the US. She said family was more important, and we should be close to my mother.’

  He was a good man. A decent man. Catherine wasn’t thinking ‘what if’, in terms of the two of them. But she couldn’t help thinking what if Alice had had him in her life.

  ‘Catherine,’ he said, getting her attention. ‘I want to say how sorry I am for what my father did, and that I’m sorry for the way that it happened. But what I’m most sorry about is that you had to go through that on your own. It must have been truly awful.’

  She looked across the table at him. She had to tell him now, she couldn’t bear any more lies, any more deception. If she didn’t say it now, she would have to find another time, broach it all over again. That was not an option. It had to be now.

  ‘James, I didn’t go through with it.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t have the abortion.’

  His face went a whiter shade than it already was.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Catherine. ‘I realise this is a shock, and it’s not the best place to tell you, but I just can’t lie any more.’

  He waved his hand, dismissing that. ‘So you actually gave birth?’

  She nodded. ‘To a girl. A very beautiful girl.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ He seemed to be catching his breath. ‘Do you know what happened to her? Have you had any contact with her over the years?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Well, you know, I’m just thinking, quite often adoptions are open these days, or isn’t there a register so if the child wants to make contact –’

  ‘James, I didn’t give her up.’

  He stared at her. ‘But you said . . .’