by Fiona Lowe
It drove Margaret nuts.
Prior to her marriage, if anyone had asked her about Kevin’s drinking habits, she’d have told them that if he felt it necessary to seal a business deal, he’d drink wine, but otherwise he preferred beer; she’d certainly seen him drink enough of it at the footy club. Football. Margaret shivered. The club was the bane of her life. She hated the game. She hated the camaraderie. She hated how much football excluded her and influenced Kevin. Most of all she hated how much Kevin loved it. From the moment they’d returned from their honeymoon, Margaret worked towards separating Kevin from football—and from Gary Longmuir. As disappointing as Sarah’s gender was, her daughter’s arrival had become the unexpected solution to this sticky problem. Cameron’s wonderful and timely arrival ten months later set it in stone.
The day Margaret came home from hospital with baby Sarah, she delegated the evening and early-morning feeds to Kevin. It was the reason she’d chosen not to breastfeed—that, and her breasts belonged to her, thank you very much. The idea of having to curtail her wardrobe and only wear clothes that allowed for breastfeeding, not to mention leaking milk and having a child paw at her, made her both indignant and squeamish. Fortunately, Kevin took to fatherhood like a duck to water and happily did the late and early feeds while Margaret slept. Sarah was a relatively content baby and the first month of motherhood was tolerable.
Kevin, who was sitting on the chesterfield sipping Amaretto, opened his eyes. ‘Gary and Pete are going shooting this weekend.’
Margaret felt herself stiffen and forced herself to appear unaffected by the news. ‘Really? Kaye told me that she and Pete have a family reunion in Euroa.’
Kevin frowned. ‘Perhaps you misunderstood which weekend she was talking about. Anyway, I thought I’d tag along. If I leave Saturday morning, I’ll be back by mid-morning Sunday. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.’
Margaret knew she hadn’t misunderstood Kaye, which meant, in typical Pete style, he’d got the dates wrong. Pete would pull out at the last minute but as Gary didn’t have a wife or girlfriend, the trip would still go ahead. The perennial bachelor was a thorn in her side. Not content with seeing Kevin at the footy club, Gary called around to the house uninvited and stayed for hours. Not even a crying baby put him off; in fact, he seemed to enjoy holding Sarah and bouncing her up and down during her periods of colic.
Before the wedding, Margaret sensed she was in competition with Gary for Kevin’s attention and now, ten months later, she still hadn’t managed to boot Gary out of their lives. There’d been occasional moments of success but then Gary would turn up like a bad penny. This time, she was determined not only to win but to force change.
‘I’d rather you didn’t go.’
Kevin gave her his bone-melting smile. ‘I’ve been home every night for a month. Don’t I get some time off for good behaviour?’
No. ‘Of course you do.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
She bit back the word ‘Gary’ and thought fast. Kneeling between Kevin’s legs, she pressed her manicured hands on his thighs and pouted. ‘I just wish you’d asked me earlier.’
‘I checked the calendar as instructed and it’s blank. We don’t have anything on.’
Damn. ‘Actually, we do. It was supposed to be a surprise.’ Her hand brushed his crotch as she trailed it up to rest on his chest. ‘A lovely, romantic surprise.’
Understanding slowly dawned in his hazel eyes. ‘I thought the doctor said we had to wait six weeks.’
Sarah was a honeymoon baby and Margaret had experienced a difficult pregnancy, starting with extreme nausea followed by worrying bleeding. Her doctor had banned sex, saying it was far too risky. Her new husband took the news stoically, not complaining once. She’d offered to pleasure him but he’d said it wasn’t fair that he got to enjoy himself if she couldn’t, so kissing and cuddling was as intimate as they’d been in months. But now, four weeks after Sarah’s birth, Margaret’s libido was at fever pitch and every time she watched Kevin dress or undress, her body throbbed and ached for him.
She unbuckled his belt. ‘Six weeks is only a recommendation. Other women might use it as an excuse but not me. After all your patience over these long months, you deserve a treat.’
His hands moved, resting over hers and stalling her progress. ‘The thing is, Margaret, I promised Gary I’d go.’
Anger blew through her so hard she almost lost control and screamed. But a short fuse didn’t win a long game. ‘Darling …’ She breathed out the endearment, giving herself time to regain composure. ‘I know for a fact that Pete won’t be going. Meanwhile, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble arranging for someone to mind Sarah so we can have a day and a night alone. I know you didn’t mean to spoil my special surprise and it’s not like Gary will lose a deposit like I will if we don’t go. Surely the best and easiest thing to do is to reschedule the shooting trip for a time that suits the three of you?’
First thing in the morning, she’d be on the telephone finding a babysitter, booking a night in Melbourne and then systematically filling every weekend for the next few months until the idea of a shooting trip was forgotten. By the time the next footy season was upon them, Kevin would be so deeply involved with fatherhood and outings with other young families, there’d be no time for football or Gary. Better yet, she’d talk to George about promoting Gary to a position at the Swift’s Creek saw mill, four hours and a very difficult drive away.
She pulled her hand out from under Kevin’s and slid it down his fly. ‘Gary will understand. After all, he’s a good friend and he knows what we’ve been through these last ten months. He wouldn’t want you to miss out on a weekend of this.’ She lowered her mouth.
Sarah’s cries rent the air.
Kevin tensed, his hands delving into her hair. ‘Sarah’s telling us we should wait for the special weekend you’ve planned.’
Margaret ignored him and, taking him deep into her mouth in the way she’d learned made him hard, she smiled. The baby could wait. She had her husband by the balls, just the way she liked it.
A thudding sound brought Margaret back to the present and she was surprised to see a bottle of vodka lying on the carpet. As she picked it up, she got a craving for a Bloody Mary. She opened the bar fridge but the familiar box of tomato juice wasn’t in the door so she carried the bottle out of the living room. As she entered the east-facing kitchen, sunshine streamed in, hitting something and dazzling her with refracted light. She stopped short and squinted. The bright light was bouncing off gleaming copper pots, which hung from a rack over the Aga. Willow-pattern platters decorated the walls, which were suddenly cream in colour instead of the pale green they’d been for years.
Agitation sank its tenacious claws into her. What was going on? This didn’t look like her kitchen. She’d never liked Kevin’s mother’s Willow pattern and she’d certainly never used it, leaving it instead to languish at the back of the cupboards. Not once had she used the copper pots; they took far too long to clean. She spun around and was instantly reassured by the familiar sight of her blue woollen coat hanging on the hall stand, the portrait of George painted when he was in his prime, and a family photo with Ellie sitting on Kevin’s knee, her blonde curls vivid and golden against his darker hair.
The portrait was the last photo taken of them all together as a family. It froze the five of them in a time she’d come to refer to as ‘before the accident’. A time before everything changed. Although, if Margaret were honest with herself, and she’d avoided that sort of scrutiny most of her adult life, change was already hiding in plain sight well before the accident, visible to anyone who cared to look. Neither she nor Kevin chose to look and thankfully the children had no inkling there was anything amiss.
Margaret’s initial reaction on seeing the photo was to burn it, but grieving widows didn’t destroy a family portrait taken two weeks prior to their husband’s tragic death. There’d been no way on God’s green earth she was doing anything that might draw
attention to her and tarnish the image of a perfect marriage and family she’d spent years refining. Twenty-six years later, people still commented in awestruck tones on her enduring love for Kevin. She had no intention of disabusing them of their opinion.
Margaret, we’ve been lying to each other for years. It’s time we told the truth.
The faded voice was a passing breeze on banked coals and her anger flared. ‘Bastard!’ Her hand shot out and slammed the photo face down, and then she swung back to the kitchen. Again, she was caught off-guard by the pots and platters. Bloody Rita Bosco. She’d been telling Sarah for weeks that instead of doing the hard cleaning, Rita was spending her time doing easy things like polishing furniture. More than once she’d caught her fiddling with her things and rearranging them so Margaret couldn’t find anything. Hiding some things to taunt her. But this! Redecorating was too much. Rita Bosco was toast.
As soon as she’d made herself a Bloody Mary, she’d ring Sarah and get her to come straight over and see for herself what the meddling woman was doing now. Walking into the floor-to-ceiling pantry, she stared up at clearly marked containers stacked on every shelf. No wonder her bathroom had mould; Rita was busy in here instead of scrubbing the shower. She better not have touched her supply of tomato juice. Margaret bent down to retrieve a Tetra Pak from the box of twelve but her hand only touched cardboard and air.
Hell’s bells. There was nothing for it but to drive to the IGA.
CHAPTER
8
‘What do you mean I can’t fire her?’ Sarah paced around Dan Horton’s office on Tuesday morning, her anger a living, breathing beast growing bigger every day. ‘I sure as hell can’t work with her.’
Dan, who’d already suggested twice that Sarah take a seat, took one himself. ‘Have they had sex in the office?’
‘No!’
‘Has Kelly ever been issued with a workplace warning?’
‘No. Right up until making a play for my husband, she’s been the perfect employee.’
‘Going on what you’ve told me, you don’t have any grounds to sack her. If you do, she can file a very expensive unfair dismissal claim against you and win.’
‘Dan, I don’t think you understand.’ Sarah pressed her hands on his oak desk, a beautiful piece of furniture that bore the scars of the previous generations of Horton solicitors, and leaned in. ‘This woman wants to have sex with my husband.’
Dan flinched. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I really am, but if she’s doing her job well, that’s not grounds for dismissal.’
‘The law sucks.’
‘Perhaps she’ll do the right thing and resign.’
Sarah snorted. ‘If she had a moral code, she wouldn’t be having an emotional affair with my husband.’
‘You’ve got a point.’
‘I’ve got a lot of points. Morality and ethics are on my side. It’s the law that’s got it wrong.’ She slumped into a chair. ‘You’ve been to our offices, Dan. How can I go to work every day with her sitting mere metres away from me?’
He pressed two fingers of his left hand into the crown of his head in the exact same way he’d done when they were lab partners in Year 11 chemistry. ‘It will be uncomfortable.’
‘You think?’ She leaned forward and picked up her coffee cup, needing to do something. ‘Are you charging me for this useless advice?’
‘Mate’s rates.’ He pushed a plate of Mint Slice biscuits towards her. ‘What about taking leave?’
‘And leave her and Alex alone together?’ Her chest tightened. ‘Whose side are you on?’
‘Yours. Alex’s.’
She sat up straight and shot Dan an accusatory stare. ‘How does that work?’
He looked as if he was sitting on shards of glass. ‘Sarah, you know I’m not just Mingunyah Bread and Cheese’s lawyer. Lacey and I consider you both close friends.’
‘You’ve known me longer.’
He ignored her pouty tone. ‘I’m not a counsellor but I do know this. You and Alex have different business strengths. It’s what makes you a great team. If you stop going into work, he’s going to notice your absence.’
She thought about Mother’s Day. ‘I’m not so sure about that. Kelly’s pretty good at the admin stuff.’
‘Yeah, but anyone can do admin. Not everyone has the ideas. You’re the creative person in the business.’
Her battered ego accepted the balm. ‘Thanks, Dan.’ Would taking leave help or hinder the situation? God, she wished she had a crystal ball. She could have done with one weeks ago to detect her husband’s dissatisfaction and Kelly’s opportunistic sympathy.
‘You’re welcome.’ He stood up to see her out. ‘Your mum’s looking well.’
Sarah, who was busy searching in the depths of her handbag for a tissue, was only half listening. ‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, she was in the other day. Whenever I see her name in the appointment book, I wish I had the ability to bring Dad back from the grave.’
‘My mother’s formidable.’ It occurred to Sarah that her mother had only been a few years older than she was now when she was widowed. Margaret had lost her husband in a car accident on a wet, dark and cold July night and Sarah was fighting not to lose her husband to another woman. She wasn’t sure which was worse. At least her mother hadn’t suffered the indignity of her husband telling her she didn’t understand him or that she made him unhappy.
‘My dad always said your mother had a better head for business than Kevin.’ Dan suddenly looked aghast. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.’
‘Don’t be silly, Dan. It’s no secret that the finances at the saw mill weren’t great when Dad died. I know Mum valued Robert’s sound financial advice. We all appreciated his fatherly interest in Ellie, especially given how difficult she got after Alex and I went to France. I really don’t know how Mum would have survived without his help.’
‘Thanks.’ Dan got a wistful look in his eyes. ‘Dad was pretty special. I miss him every day. I’m convinced Margaret thinks I’m a poor replacement. She always scared the bejesus out of me when we were kids and not much has changed. By the end of the hour, I was feeling emasculated and Cam was looking like he’d regretted his offer to drive her.’
‘Cameron brought her?’
‘Ah, yeah.’ His gaze slid to the door as if he was expecting it to open. ‘Something about your mother’s car being serviced and it was raining pretty hard. Not a good day to walk.’
It struck Sarah that both her husband and her brother were acting out of character. Perhaps the universe operated on a limited amount of goodness and Alex had gifted his generosity to Cameron and accepted her brother’s self-centeredness in return.
‘I don’t suppose she asked your advice about selling Mill House and buying something smaller?’
A pained look crossed his face. ‘You know I can’t breach client confidentiality. I probably shouldn’t have even told you she’d come in.’
She sighed and kissed his cheek. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.’ His hand paused on the door. ‘Sarah, this thing with you and Alex, it puts me in a difficult position. If you need a family law specialist, Rebecca Chin in Valley View is scarily good.’
Every muscle in her body tensed. ‘I don’t want a divorce lawyer.’
A doleful look appeared into Dan’s big brown eyes. ‘But you might need one.’
A squall of fury at Alex propelled Sarah from Dan’s office and onto the street. It wasn’t until she’d pressed the ignition button on the car and thought about where she was going that she realised she was utterly displaced from her life. On a normal day after an early appointment with Dan, she’d pop into the bakery for a coffee and a chat with the staff. After she’d dealt with any issues there, she’d drive to the office. Today, the office was out; going there required monumental amounts of emotional energy that she lacked. She didn’t have enough reserve to deal with the day-to-day demands
from staff, let alone Alex and Kelly.
Thinking about Dan’s suggestion, she turned off the ignition and dictated an email using her phone.
Good morning,
As of today, I’m taking annual leave. During my absence, Alex Hadfield will be dealing with the day-to-day running of the business, so any and all concerns should be directed to him either at [email protected] or on 0457 754 547.
Best wishes,
Sarah Hadfield
She brought up her address book and selected all their staff, customers’ and suppliers’ email addresses, including Alex’s. As the swishing sound of a departing email winging its way into cyberspace filled the car, a rush of righteous rebellion filled her. ‘That’s going to keep you well and truly occupied, Alex.’
But what would keep her occupied? Usually, when she had a free hour in her day, she shot home to Riverbend and threw on a load of washing and unloaded the dishwasher. Only Riverbend wasn’t currently home and any dirty washing was now Alex’s domain. Thoughts of washing led to thoughts of Gus and her heart crumpled.
The day before had been a public holiday, so today was his first morning at school since she’d moved out. She texted him: Remember, you have a geography excursion tomorrow. Have baked you triple chocolate brownies. See you after school. Love you. Mum x.
Now what? The idea of returning to the flat didn’t appeal. Holed up there over the long weekend and surrounded by happy memories had been bad enough. She only had to cross the threshold to remember their return to Australia when she was pregnant with Finn, learning to be parents of a baby and owners of a fledging business. During those frenetic days, she and Alex had unwittingly combined three of life’s top six stressors. According to the experts, it should have been an incredibly fraught time that stretched their relationship to breaking point. She laughed and the bitter sound reverberated back to her. How ironic that she and Alex had thrived on the challenges that sank other couples, but now, when life was less stressful and far more stable, their relationship was floundering.
