‘Yes, you’re my wife.’ He stared at her, as if it was her who just didn’t get it. ‘I borrowed some cash from your purse – it’s not a big deal.’ She watched him wipe the sweat from his top lip with his index finger.
The fact that he just didn’t get it fired fury into her veins. ‘What did you need it for? What came up?’
‘I had to give it to Daisy!’ His voice was now a little raised, his tone a little fraught, his blink fast, as if he knew it was bullshit, but also that he had to tell the truth.
‘Sorry, I ...’ Maybe it was a lack of sleep, but she was failing to make the connection. ‘What do you mean you had to give it to Daisy?’
‘For a tip, for looking after us all. Georgie was watching, everyone was, and I know that the restaurant owners talk to other customers. Word gets around. Mum and Dad were shelling out for the whole meal, and it felt like the right thing to do. It was the least I could do.’ His fingers drummed the countertop. ‘I felt backed into a corner, Jules. It’s not easy for a man like me to have to admit that I had to go begging to my wife for scraps!’
This was typical: his need to show off, to be seen to be flash, to sustain the illusion. It was true to form but no less gut wrenching because of that.
‘But you didn’t come begging to me! You quietly, secretlyborrowedit.’
He ignored the implication. ‘It was only a hundred and fifty quid.’ He shook his head as if the amount made the difference.
‘So, how much of it did you give her?’ Biting her lip, she did her best to keep her rage at bay.
‘How much?’ He licked his lips. ‘All of it. I gave her all of it.’
Julie let out a laugh that was part raspberry. The news was bizarre and typical! And his announcement left her breathless. She spoke now with her hand on her chest. ‘Are you serious? You gave the waitress my last hundred and fifty quid? You gave it to thewaitress, just so the owners might tell another customer, who has probably never heard of you, that you gave a big tip?’
‘You don’t get it—’ he began.
‘No, Loz,youdon’t get it! I stood in that shop with three things in my hands: a box of bloody cereal, some milk and chocolates for your mother, and I couldn’t pay for them, and all the while Daisy or Darcy or whatever her bloody name is, gets to roll around in her hundred-and-fifty-quid tip, no doubt trying to work out how many new lipsticks it’ll buy her! Jesus Christ!’
‘I have a reputation—’
‘And I have near empty cupboards and an almost empty bloody fridge!’ She cut him short. ‘I was so humiliated! Standing there with three measly items that I couldn’t pay for, and I thought I was being smart, thought I’d put enough away in that little purse for moments just like that.’
She hadn’t meant to yell, but it was as if a force greater than her was pulling the strings, a force that had lain dormant for the longest time. She watched him slink back in his seat. It was unusual for her to shout. But now, she figured, was the time for shouting. She downed the rest of her tea. The facts raced around her head: he had given their money to Daisy! It was unfathomable to her, but then no more so than taking out such huge loans, lying about his income to secure their vast mortgages, fudging the figures, wasting cash on cars and shit, and then having to pack in haste to run away. All the times she had heard his garbled excuses with a rising sense of panic, too afraid to speak up, to knock his confidence with the words of proof that she knew he was talking rubbish! How she wished she’d had the confidence sooner to smash the glass, start the difficult conversation. Now was the time. Right now!
‘I’d have thought that after what happened earlier, you’d want to talk about Dom.’ His voice shook with nerves. His suggestion a diversionary tactic at best, if she’d had to guess, and a rather shitty one.
‘I do. I do want to talk about Dom. The thing is, there’s so much I want to talk about, it’s hard to know where to start. But start we must, for all our sakes.’
‘It’s a mess, Jules. It’s all a big mess.’
‘Ain’t that the truth.’ She took a seat opposite him. They were quiet for a moment, and she was glad of the chance to let her anger settle, knowing this needed a calm approach if she was to make any headway, if she was ever going to understand the true size of the shit mountain they were trying to dig their way out of.
‘We are in a mess,’ she asserted, ‘and we can’t go backwards, only forwards. And we need to find a way to do that. It’s time for some straight talking.’
‘When you say “we”, you mean we’ll do it together?’ It appeared he couldn’t contain the tremble to his bottom lip or the tears that pooled in his eyes; it was hard to witness.
She nodded, knowing that to throw in the towel would be the easy thing to do, but life with Lawrence Kelleway had never been easy and she figured they weren’t quite done yet.
‘Yes, we’ll do it together, Loz, like we always do. But things need to change, and this isn’t some idle chat. I mean it – thingsreallyneed to change. Everything needs to change. You need help, we need help. I crave the kind of stability of the lives you mock; it’s what I need, what we as a family need if we are going to thrive.’
‘I know, I know.’ The breath caught in his throat. ‘I want things to be different. I do.’
‘Okay.’ She took her time, working out how to phrase what needed to happen. ‘Okay then. The first thing we need to do is come clean. We need to tell everyone, including your parents, that we are broke and that we are in trouble. We need to stop the lies, the performance. I can’t do it anymore, Loz. I love you, God knows I love you, and I know you can’t help it in a way, but it has to stop. All of it ... We’re living a lie! It’s like we’re a tanker whose coordinates were a little out, but every mile we travel we are heading further and further away from where we need to be. And everyone we know and everyone we love is standing on the dock, flag in hand, waiting to wave us in, but we are way off course! And even thinking about it makes me want to vomit.’
‘Where is it we need to be, Melbourne?’ His voice broke.
She shook her head. ‘No, not Melbourne, that’s done. And it’s not a place we need to arrive at, it’s a way of living. A way of being. I meant what I said: a simple, quiet way of life where you go outand earn what you can, and I do the same. We need to structure our debt, ask for help, do what it takes, live within our means and without being scared of it all being taken away. I want us to live without worrying about every phone call, every piece of mail and the fear of having to run.’ Just the thought of a life like that was soothing. ‘I can’t and I won’t do it anymore.’
‘I hate that you and my kids are going to have to live a life like that.’
‘What do you mean a life like that? It would be blissful! Sleeping soundly and not having the worry, which is exhausting. That would be success, not failure! I envy people who live like that. I envy Georgie in his granny car!’
