‘And just as it was starting to feel like a right, a habit and not a dirty secret, you upped and went. Just ... disappeared! And I fell over.’ To hear the words out loud made her want to crawl back to her bed and put her head under the cover.
‘I had no choice; I owed money, things were getting ...’
This was an inadequate, pathetic response, paying no heed to her emotional state, the damage he had caused.
‘I don’t care!’ She almost ran at the fence, her teeth bared. ‘I don’t care! You never listen, and I don’t fucking care! There is always a reason, always a problem, always money issues, and you bail, you jump ship, you just go!’
‘What was I supposed to do? Come over, have a coffee with you and Marty, say my goodbyes?’
Anger flared in her veins. ‘And you’ve always got a clever answer, a slippery response. But the simple truth is you don’t give a damn who you hurt, who you let down, how it makes them feel or the shitstorm you leave behind. You’re an unreliable human, Lawrence. You’re unreliable. And that’s dangerous, especially when people are counting on you. You let them down.’
‘Peoplearecounting on me. Jules. The kids ...’ He paused. ‘Things are bad, Lee. I’ve run out of options. I got into a building venture with some guys who have money to burn – footballers, ironically.’ He gave a snort. ‘Do you know Micky Tate? Big league, big money and I got carried away. I agreed to—’
‘Listen to you! I don’t think you’ve even heard me.’ She straightened. ‘I have just opened up, tried to explain to you that for the last three years, since the moment I knew you were back, something broke inside me. Something snapped and I stay in bed and I don’t work. I keep the house dark and my kids and husband creep around like I’m a bear they would rather have sedated.’ Her tears now fell freely. ‘I’m swamped with guilt and fear, and it overwhelms me, paralyses me. Raw fear that Marty will find out what we did, whatIdid. And all you can do is go straight back to talking about you and your problems.’
‘I heard you,’ he levelled, ‘but just to get it straight, and so I understand it right, your sadness and your hiding is not because you cheated or because you still love me—’
‘I don’t,’ she cut in, speaking emphatically, her fingers shaking with a shocking desire to hurt him. How dare he be so cool, so cruel? ‘I truly don’t.’ This was the truth. She was able to recognise the heady mix of physical attraction and nostalgia for what it was and it was not to be confused with love like the pure, unconditional love she shared with Marty.
He ignored her. ‘—but because you’re paralysed with fear about being found out and so you’ve taken to your bed and ruined your life through fear of having your life ruined, is that about right?’
There was no mistaking the hint of amusement in his voice.
It was more than she could stand. ‘You’re a piece of shit and that makes me immeasurably sad because I have wasted time thinking about you and I wasted my youth loving you. Remember that, Lawrie: you’re nothing but a piece of shit.’
‘You don’t mean it, Lee! You’re just mad at me.’
She heard the underlying note of glee, and it galled her. She took another step back towards the wall, just as his hand came through the gap, reaching for her, grasping in the darkness. With her arms by her side, she sidled along the wall, back to the door that led to her crappy kitchen, where her kids ate microwave meals alone and her husband pulled cold cans of cider from the depths of the fridge: his company and his solace.
‘Please, Lee!’ he begged. ‘Please come back. I need to talk to you. I need you.’
‘Goodbye, Lawrie,’ she whispered. Caring little whether the words reached his ears or not, but knowing it was a phrase that was long, long overdue.
CHAPTER NINE
CASSIANKELLEWAY
Cassian sat at the table in his grandparents’ garden. He looked up into the inky June sky that still held warmth, his eyes drawn by the brightest stars. This kind of night, this kind of light, reminded him of Melbourne. Sitting now next to his grandad, who had fallen forward slightly, supporting his head in his hands and with his speech somewhat slurred, he felt more than a little uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be babysitting his drunken grandpa tonight, or any night come to think of it. Bernie had started to waffle, as if his joy was now dimmed by the veil of melancholy alcohol liked to throw over you when its novelty wore off. This he knew, thinking about the early hours when after a night out the twin pincers of self-doubt and fear of the unknown held him in a vice. He wished it wasn’t the case, he wished he had the confidence to stand up, arms wide and run towards his future, yelling to the world, ‘THIS IS ME!’ But even the thought made him quake with nerves.
‘They’ll take the tree, you know!’ Bernie raised his voice to make the assertion. ‘They’ll take the bloody tree, and the truth is, I love that tree!’ He nodded, eyes closed. ‘I do, boy, I love it! I love them all and the thought of there only being three? It’s crazy talk.Winnie’s right!’ He slammed his hand on to the tabletop. ‘But I know I need to keep calm and say it doesn’t matter or your nan will get riled. That’s my job, you see, to keep her calm, to be the steadying voice.’
‘Yes, Mum’s got that job in our house.’ He thought of how she would let his dad rant, nodding quietly, sagely, as if she understood that he needed to get it all out of his system. He thought it must be wearing, having to be so placatory.
‘It’s not easy, son, none of it is easy,’ his grandad babbled.
‘What isn’t?’ It was hard to make out the words now directed towards the tabletop in a low mumble.
‘Life. Life isn’t easy!’ He looked up. ‘Where is everyone? Where did they go?’ His eyes darted around the table, as if only just realising that the guests had thinned.
Cassian had watched the family dwindle. First Aunty Cleo and Georgie had left, and then Domino, off to study with her friend Ruby – yeah, right! He found it incredible how his little sister lied and his family just ate it up. It never occurred to them to question sweet Domino who never put a foot wrong. It was a joke.
This thought, however, was quickly buried under the weight of self-reproach. Who was he to talk? Quiet Cassian who liked to go chasing girls, play cricket, study and dream of the successful life that lay in wait for him. How could it not? Good-looking, polite, smart Cassian Kelleway, son of Lawrence ... Plus there was no denying he felt in no small way responsible for Domino; she was his sister after all, although the idea of her listening to or taking advice from him was pretty laughable. She made her opinion of him very clear, her top lip curling almost involuntarily when he spoke to her. It mystified him and he wished she could at least be civil. Her hostility towards him had started when they arrived back in the UK after living in Australia, as if she resented him as muchas she did their parents, blamed him, too, in some small way for how their new life was unfolding.
‘I think they’ve gone home,’ he finally answered.
‘Who has gone home?’ His grandad had clearly lost the thread.
‘Cleo, Georgie, Dom – I think they’ve gone home. Nan and Mum are in the kitchen, and I don’t know where Dad is. It’s just you and me, Grandad. We’re the survivors!’
