The Chance of a Lifetime

by kendra Smith

  ‘Here, these are for you.’ She smiled, handing Katie a little paper bag.

  Katie peered inside.

  ‘I found a shop selling UK stuff – McVitie’s biscuits. Milk digestives, right?’ added Ann, frowning quizzically.

  Katie was touched. Her lovely friend seemed to have mellowed and had taken the trouble to remember what Katie had told her. She took them from her, opened them and they both took one.

  ‘Everything OK now?’ said Ann, smiling over at Rory.

  Katie told her about the first night, the delivery, the blood oxygen, the cord round the neck, explained that there was one more test to do before they could leave. Ann’s eyes started to well up.

  ‘Ann, I’m so sorry about Christmas, the party—’

  ‘Don’t, Katie.’ She held up her hand. ‘It’s OK. I know how Paul can get, especially when he drinks…’

  ‘Actually—’

  ‘No, it’s fine, Katie. Paul explained,’ she said angrily. ‘You were both a bit drunk on Christmas spirit he said—’

  ‘What? Listen, Ann, I wasn’t exactly—’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it!’ Ann sat down abruptly in a chair. Katie looked at her and watched as she leant over and started to stroke Rory’s cheek in the crib.

  ‘You OK?’ said Katie gently, as she watched Ann rifle through her bag for a tissue. Katie passed her one from her bedside table.

  ‘What do you think?’ She stared at Katie, then turned back to Rory. ‘He’s just so beautiful, Katie – you’re lucky.’

  ‘I know,’ said Katie gently. ‘How’s it going with you guys?’

  Ann’s eyes were dewy. ‘We’re waiting for the follicles to be ready… God, it’s like a mixture of PMT and a bad hangover, with all these drugs; maybe it’s my fau—’

  ‘Ann! It’s not your fault,’ Katie said, sitting up in bed, remembering what Paul had said. How could he! Maybe Ann had started to think it was her fault. She stared at her friend, realised just how lucky she was; that she didn’t have to go through any of the pain Ann was going through, had, in fact, been unsure of having the baby. She felt ashamed now.

  ‘Well, tell Paul that,’ said Ann, looking at her. ‘Doctors have said we have to be patient with the IVF – that it looks like the follicles are growing… I’m going in next week so they can harvest some eggs – I hope.’ She smiled weakly, looked over at Katie.

  Just then Rory murmured. Both of them looked over at him as he snuffled in the crib. They both fell silent, staring at a blissfully sleeping baby covered head to toe in tiny zebras. As Ann got up to leave, Katie couldn’t help noticing a haunted look in her eyes. She watched her kind friend walk through the door and she seemed to be leaving a trail of sadness behind her. She’s on the roller coaster fertility journey that has no certain outcome. Katie sighed, pulling her dressing gown tightly around her. Unlike me, she has to hand her body over to science; how must she feel? She has to open her legs for the man in the latex gloves, close her eyes and pray.

  18

  Ann had come to help unpack boxes. Their new rental house was ready. Thank God, thought Katie, away from those blasted spiders. She’d specifically asked for the house to be sprayed by the pest company using its five-star service; it was costly but she and Tom had agreed that it was worth it. Everyone in Sydney had it done. Ann is being very bossy, thought Katie. She’s acting very peculiar with Tom and me.

  She had already made up Katie’s beds, and had come to ask where Katie wanted some things. Abso-bloody-lutely anywhere, nearly came out of Katie’s mouth.

  ‘Where do you want the computer, Katie?’ Tom marched in looking immaculate in navy cords and a peach polo neck.

  ‘Oh I don’t know… um, over there.’ Katie pointed to a corner of the room that didn’t have any boxes in it. She watched as Tom set it all up, wiped the table down, then polished the computer screen with cleaning products from a box he’d brought from the old house.

  Katie looked up and caught Ann staring at Rory.

  ‘He’s adorable,’ Ann said quietly, as they both watched the rhythmic sucking of Rory’s tiny mouth, watched how his cheeks moved, his miniature hand held on to the edge of Katie’s crumpled white maternity blouse.

  There was a noise from the computer signalling new mail. Katie wearily reached over for her iPad in her handbag to have a look.

  To: KatieParkes@optusnet.com.au

  From: LucyHolmes@hotmail.com

  Dearest K

  How are you doing? How is the new house?

  How is Rory? Send more pix! The farmhouse is coming along slowly. The wiring was finally finished last week, so we can put the heating on when we want – it doesn’t just cut out every five minutes. The kitchen is going to take a lot longer. Apparently we need to get planning approval for our conservatory as this place is Grade II listed… Nobody told us that when we bought it.

  Been jolly freezing. We have had a huge amount of snow. Snow! Crikey after London, I feel like I’m living in Finland. Getting to Sainsbury’s has been a challenge… Adam has been staying up at his friend’s pad at Canary Wharf. It’s been too hard to come home with all the trains disrupted due to snow. Feeling rather lonely here on my own and pregnant… In fact, we might buy a dog! Had a rather nasty experience with one of the mums at the 2nd-hand NCT sale; some confusion about who was in charge of which stall… Honestly… almost miss London. Can you believe it?

  Lucy x

  Katie decided to tell her some of her plight – a little schadenfreude might make her feel good about snow and snotty NCT mums.

  To: LucyHolmes@hotmail.com

  From: KatieParkes@optusnet.com.au

  Dear L

  Got my engorged breastfeeding boobs out again to feed and am freaking even Tom out with them… Anyway, am so exhausted I don’t care if a class full of art students arrives with notepads and starts sketching them!

  PS: Ditch NCT nightmare mum.

  Kx

  Sitting on the couch a little later with a cup of tea, Katie imagined what a farmhouse in three feet of snow would be like… Lucy didn’t know how lucky she was.

  Suddenly, Ann appeared in front of her and sat down.

  ‘How are you, Ann?’

  ‘The scan yesterday showed that the follicles are getting bigger – soon we’ll be able to harvest some eggs.’ Her eyes were suddenly shiny, hopeful. Katie stared at her, realised that it was only the beginning, that they hadn’t got any eggs fertilised, that they hadn’t even got any eggs yet. It was then that she heard the noise.

  A kind of stifled yell.

  It was Tom. Tom doesn’t yell, thought Katie, frowning at Ann. Ann ran into the next room to see what was going on. After a while, the three of them appeared in front of Katie looking ashen.

  Paul was holding something in a plastic bag; a feeling of horror washed over her and she felt her shoulders rise.

  ‘What IS IT?’ said Katie, slowly.

  ‘Looks like you have redbacks in the house, I’m afraid, honey.’ Ann was peering into the bag.

  ‘Redbacks?’ Katie let out a whisper. She remembered the website she had found last week, the True Spider Stories one on Australia’s Deadliest Creatures.

  In order to capture the female’s attention during mating, the male spider offers her his abdomen by standing on his head and ‘somersaulting’ his abdomen towards her mouthparts.

  ‘Katie? Are you listening? We’ve killed it. Although I think it’s a female—’ added Paul.

  ‘Yes – and they lay eggs – thousands of babies from one female…’ whispered Tom, his face slightly green.

  Katie looked over at her blissfully unaware, innocent little boy in his pram.

  ‘So I have taken Rory into yet another house filled with deadly spiders…’ she whispered at Tom. She stared at Rory’s little mouth, which was moving and doing that ‘O’ thing, like he was dreaming of sucking on a breast.

  ‘Katie, listen, it was only huntsmen in the other house… They were…’ Ann started to say.


  ‘Were what, Ann? Okay? No they were not – they were huge! I hate spiders!’ She stood up, felt immediately dizzy, and sat down again. She couldn’t help thinking about Lucy’s farmhouse. She’s living MY dream.

  ‘All I wanted was a house looking out over green fields and horses, a village pub… and now,’ she sniffed, ‘now I’ve got one swarming with spiders!’ Katie stared at Tom and pouted, angry about the effect her hormones were having on her.

  He looked sheepish. ‘Calm down, Katie, don’t get so worked up. Australia isn’t so bad,’ he said, coming over to her.

  ‘No! Just this house!’ She could feel her breasts leaking milk, immediately put up a hand to cover them.

  ‘Calm down, woman, they’ve got antidotes now.’ Paul had come back into the room and was staring at her, looking her up and down.

  ‘Bloody country!’ Katie leaned back on the sofa. With that, ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ started playing from under a cushion. She yanked the board book from behind her and hurled it, narrowly missing Paul.

  *

  That evening when she was putting the children to bed, she looked around the room in the dim Nemo night-light. Ann had unpacked all their things, carefully put a picture of Gramps next to James’s bed, arranged all the cushions on the couch. She was such a good friend; she really deserved more children. She stared at the photo again. It was the one where Gramps had his two ‘favourite’ grandsons, as he reminded them (he’d only had two then), protectively huddled under each arm. They had been at the school play. James was a sheep, with a silly black nose, fluffy costume and glasses. Andy was a babe in his grandfather’s arms – a grandfather who was beaming, eyes shining, holding the next generation in both arms. A grandfather who is probably so sad not to see them…

  She felt immensely heavy-hearted. She scanned the rest of the room: all their precious treasures had been unpacked – swimming medals, the carousel night-light, which cast long rainbowy shadows across the room in the dark, boxes of Lego. It did look cosy, even though it was a long way off a village in the English countryside…

  ‘Mummy?’ James whispered in the dark. She went over to him and kissed his forehead. ‘Why has our house not got a swimming pool?’

  Ah well, it may not have swimming pool, my darling, but in the loft we have some super new pets to play with called redback spiders – just be careful of their fatal venom.

  19

  Rosie Alice Harman

  Born: 7.44 a.m.

  St George’s Hospital, London

  Weight: 7lb 3oz

  Mother and baby fine

  The attachment to the email flashed up on the screen in front of Katie. She smiled and looked at the image of a weary but happy-looking Lucy with a tiny bundle in her arms, Adam standing by the bed next to her. She stared at the image of Adam and waited for something. A pang? Nope. Nothing. They’d both moved on, new baby, new chapter. She grabbed Rory and plonked him in the pram, took a stroll to Blake’s shop. She decided to pop in and grab a coffee – maybe cheat and buy something for supper too. The last few months had been tough with Rory; the new house, settling in; she welcomed any shortcuts. As she watched Blake make the coffee, he looked up and caught her eye.

  ‘Was out at Blue Fish Point diving this morning – beautiful. Always is this time of year – March. Saw some box fish, a bull ray – you’d like it.’ He nodded at her. ‘Have you thought any more about the ocean swimming courses? We start in the sea pool first.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She shrugged. Maybe he was right? ‘After I’ve found my get up and go somewhere beneath the whites and coloureds, I might just do that!’

  He grinned at her. ‘You’re funny.’

  They talked about his diving, about the colours of the water up at Byron Bay where he was last week, about the sea life, about the visibility or ‘viz’ as he called it. She watched his mouth, his cherry red lips, beautiful white teeth, the easy laugh. He mentioned that she should come down to one of the training sessions soon and take a look.

  ‘Have a good arvo.’ He handed her Andy’s babycino and stared at her with dark chocolate eyes.

  In the car, she looked at herself in the mirror. She had probably forgotten how to swim, never mind dive. She and Tom used to do such terrific things; half of them had hurt like hell but at least she had felt alive.

  *

  Later that day, Katie stood by the computer, Rory in her arms, and watched her sister who was visibly radiant on the screen. It was her wedding day. Today, she was getting married at a small service in London, in a pale pink dress (new), with their mum’s pearls (old, borrowed) and a camisole Katie had sent her (blue). The car would be kitted out with rose-coloured cushions (Mum’s touch) and champagne. They’d travel alongside the river in Putney; Debs would be deliriously happy. She wondered what the weather would be like for them. She hoped it would be a sunny winter’s day. She had desperately wanted to go – but how? They could barely afford next month’s rent at the moment. She studied Debs’s salmon-pink satin dress shimmering in front of her. Katie watched her sister’s happy mouth tell how excited she was. She had a tiny diamante tiara on top of her head and was beaming at Katie.

  ‘How are you, sis? Katie?’

  ‘Yes, yes, fine!’ She summoned a laugh. ‘Congratulations! You look great! Have a fantastic day – call me later!’

  Just before she said goodbye, Debra peered into the camera, frowning. ‘You OK, hon?’

  Katie felt like she had been shot with an electrical bolt. Debs was so close… yet so far. Katie just held a smile and nodded, put her chin on Rory’s head.

  ‘Listen, got to go… speak later; bye, darling—’ and Debs had gone. Vanished. Off on a new adventure without her. Leaving Katie drowning in a whirlpool of emotions.

  Clicking the computer into sleep mode, Katie walked back to the kitchen and kissed the top of the tiny tot in her arms. She bent over the counter and watched as a teardrop landed on the chopping board. The phone was going; she sniffed and picked it up.

  ‘Katie?’ It was Ann – thank goodness. She’d missed her.

  ‘Hi, Ann, hi!’ Katie tried to sound normal, quickly moved Rory to the other side, noticed some sick on his chin, wiped it and composed herself. She was delighted Ann was calling, could do with her friend back right now.

  ‘You sound awful.’

  ‘Sorry just a bit teary,’ sniffed Katie. ‘It’s not my finest day really, speaking to my sister on her wedding day and not being there – now Andy’s yelling at me. Andy be quiet! Sorry. He was up last night, very cranky. Sorry about the noise, trying to make dinner with Rory throwing up over me, too.’

  She noticed how comical it sounded, but she didn’t feel very amused. In fact, she thought, I want to run out the front door, maybe live on a space station for a while – anything other than this.

  ‘That’s hard, darl. Bet you wish you could be in London? Listen, sorry I haven’t been in touch… I know – what do you think about coming to a book club evening? Tonight? To cheer you up?’

  ‘Mum, want mote controller RIGHT NOW!’ Andy sounded hysterical.

  ‘Fantastic. Tell me where… See you in an hour.’ She had missed her friend. Missed chatting to her – anything to build the bridges. Even a book club. Even though reading the back of a Cornflakes packet was too challenging at the moment.

  Tom was standing by the patio doors, briefcase in hand. He walked around the room, fiddled with his BlackBerry, looked over his shoulder and said he had to take a call outside to Korea. She watched as he paced up and down, scanned the garden, pulled a few dead leaves from the plants and frowned.

  ‘We need to talk,’ said Katie as she beheaded a carrot and watched the top of it spin across the floor, fly through the dustballs and land by the dishwasher.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘What’s up—’ stay in control ‘—is that my sister just got married on the other side of the world and I should have been there!’ she sobbed.

  He looked at her and sighed, his shoulders slu
mping down. ‘Darling, we couldn’t afford it. I’m sorry.’ He touched her cheek.

  ‘Tom, I’ve had it. Really, really had it.’ She clutched his hand and bent her head down. Then, mechanically, she moved away and started shoving dishes around the cupboard, looking for room.

  He came up behind her. ‘Listen, Katie—’

  ‘No, Tom.’ She turned around, clutching a frying pan. ‘I want to go home where I can get more help, be with my family, where I’m not terrified of spiders every time I look in a cupboard.’ She sniffed, wedging the pan into the drawer noisily.

  ‘Katie, there would still be dishes to do in England,’ he said, gently taking the pan from her and quietly laying it on the surface. ‘Look, we need to talk about things – about you, but, honestly – I’m so caught up at work… and when I do come home you are always so tired…’

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, stunned. ‘Of course I am… And you? Busy in the office, busy in Asia, busy staring at Fiona’s bust, busy going surfing first thing in the morning. Busy – frankly, Tom – with everything but your bloody wife.’ She could feel the loneliness bubble up, about to pounce on her heart. She stared at him.

  ‘I’m so busy so we can pay the blasted rent here, the bills, Katie.’ His eyes were wide. ‘The rental money we get for our London house doesn’t even begin to cover our repayments because of the extra loan we took out to do the extension. I thought…’

  ‘Thought what?’

  ‘Thought that you might just be getting happier here.’ He had turned his back on her, was wiping the kitchen surface with a cloth – swiping at the mess all over it. Some chopped onion fell to the floor. She stared at his back, at the purple stripes on his shirt, stretching across his broad shoulders.

  ‘I want to go home.’ She touched his sleeve, felt the tears begin as the rage became quieter.

  ‘Katie, this is home.’ He turned round. ‘I know we need to talk, but you’re always so, so… caught up with, with, I don’t know – domesticity.’

  ‘Of course I am – I have no help… Tom, sometimes it’s too much. I’m lonely. Really, really lonely sometimes…’