Breach of Faith (13 page)

“Same town, different house,” I confirmed. Rummaging through my bag I found a pen and scrap of paper and began to write quickly. “Here’s the address and phone number,” I mumbled, holding the pen lid in my teeth. A quick hug and I sighed heavily as I watched my old friend disappear into the crowd. I stretched as high as I could but there was no sight of the dark hair. Angus had gone.

Why didn’t you tell him?
my omnipresent little voice enquired.

I gritted my teeth, tell him what?

That you’re married. He called you Kate Hunter; you haven’t been known by your maiden name for years.

I frowned; it hadn’t registered at the time. Of course Angus would know me by that name and when he had referred to me as Kate Hunter it had just seemed natural.

I don’t know, I thought finally, I guess it just wasn’t important.

Catching sight of my mum out of the corner of my eye, I waved and began to shuffle through the crowd. I could sense the little voice concentrating intently upon something and just as I reached my mother and children, it piped up again.

That crush you had on him at school, Kate, it’s still there, isn’t it? That regret you always carried that you’d never shared your body with him, never made love … all still there.

“Hello,” mum called, “I was starting to think you might have got lost.”

But you
are
lost, aren’t you Kate? What are you going to do now?

*

Mum sipped her tepid brew and looked thoughtful, “Angus? I think I remember him. Wasn’t he the short one, dark hair, part of that group of kids you used to hang around with?”

I nodded, “that’s him, although he’s not so short now. He said we should catch up, lunch or something, talk about old times.”

Lunch … or something? … or what?
The little voice enquired.

“Lunch … or something?” mum asked, “what exactly does ‘or something’ mean?”

“Are you two collaborating now?” I asked sullenly, not sure whether I was asking my mother or that bloody voice.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Mum looked startled.

“Nothing,” I muttered, “just answering the bloody voices in my head. I may have made the mistake once and shared another man’s bed. Doesn’t mean I’m going to make a habit of it.”

Mum looked a little worried. “Voices?” Then shrugged. “Love, I just want you to be careful. If I remember rightly, you had quite a crush on this lad.”

I threw my hands in the air in exasperation, narrowly missing taking off an elderly man’s hat as I did so. “Mum, I was fifteen years old.”

“Settle down, love. I was just saying –”

“I
know
what you’re saying, but I am quite capable of having a meal with a man without feeling the need to take my clothes off and fall into bed with him.”

Mum sighed, “I know, I’m sorry, Kate.”

I nodded, the anger receding as quickly as it had come. “It’s okay,” I gestured towards my belly, “it’s the baby making me over-emotional and irrational.”

We wandered for a time, taking in the sights, smells and tastes of the Christmas fair. Father Christmas made an appearance, making Tom squeal in excitement and drop his bag of hot chips into the bearded man’s big, black boot.

“Mummy,” enquired Kensie, her eyes round as she watched Santa limping away through the crowd. “What did Santa just say?”

I snorted in amusement, “well … Santa just said a naughty word because those chips were very hot on his foot. Come on, let’s get some more.”

Driving home the two children snoring lightly in the back of the car, I turned to my mother. “It’s funny, you know.”

“What is, love?”

“I once read that when you meet someone again after many years, it doesn’t matter what they actually look like because a split second after meeting them again all you can see is the person they were before. It’s as if they never changed, never grew up.” I turned away to look out my window. It was the twilight hour, the hour when the world turned from glorious technicolour to infinite shades of grey, only the tips of the highest leaves in the tallest trees managing to catch the last of the waning light.

“Sometimes I look at you,” I smiled, “and you haven’t changed at all in twenty or thirty years.”

Mum laughed, “try telling your father that.”

I snorted. “When I met Angus today I didn’t recognise him, not at first. But as soon as I realised who he was … it was like someone clicked their fingers,” I snapped my own making mum jump, “and we were back there; teenagers again. And when he hugged me, saying goodbye, even his smell was familiar, even though I haven’t smelled him in twenty years.”

“So what does all this mean?”

Yes, Kate, what does this mean?

I shrugged, “nothing, I guess. It’s just such a weird feeling. There was something, though, something … unusual, different about him.”

“Well, I expect it’s because it’s been so long since you saw him.”

The car came to a halt at the top of the driveway and Mum turned lights and engine off, throwing the little interior into darkness. I shrugged again.

“Probably,” I admitted dubiously, “I just can’t help thinking that there is more to it, that’s all.”

26 December

I closed my eyes and moaned; it was all happening so fast. Too fast. The fingers entwined in my left hand squeezed gently in reassurance, or maybe fear, but the voice came from the right, a harsh whisper, so close to my ear that I felt the little hairs move gently with the passing rush of air.

“Push!” Will was urging, “push hard.”

“Come on, Kate,” Frank’s voice now, from the left, and my fingers were crushed in a vicelike grip. “You can do it.”

“Push!”

“That’s the way. When you’re ready.”

“Push!”

“Not long now, Kate. Not long now.”

“PUSH!”

I screamed. A full-bodied, throaty screech full of anger and pain, effort and longing, desire and hate.

“You’re doing well, Kate, really well.”

Both hands were on the verge of being crushed now. Both voices speaking at the same time, both wanting to be heard over the panting and moaning. I wanted to tell both men to shut up, to leave me alone. I wanted to scream and cry, swear at the top of my voice.

Shut up. SHUT UP. Shut the fuck up!

But all of a sudden, it didn’t matter. The voices were a blur, coming from a great distance, another planet, another solar system.

And someone else had arrived.

“Hello Kate.”

Familiarity washed through me. Fighting the pain and ignoring the men on either side, I stared into warm, hazel eyes.

“You looked a bit different last time I saw you, Kate.” He looked pointedly between my open thighs, seemingly entranced by my quivering muscles and shockingly stretched perineum. “Not quite so … womanly.”

I gasped as another contraction wracked my body and I could feel the tiny bones in my fingers rubbing together. “You … look … the … same,” I panted.

Angus smiled and patted my knee gently. “I’ll always look the same to you, Kate.” He squeezed my thigh. “The baby’s coming,” he told me unnecessarily.

“Push!” Will interjected urgently.

“Push,” Frank urged impatiently.

My body shook with effort, every muscle tense, expectant. My hospital gown fell open, revealing chunky breasts, pink tipped and squirting milk. Screwing my eyes closed, I pushed with all my might.

A slither, a slip, a rush of fluid and it was over.

Silence. Then …

“Congratulations, Kate,” Angus’s proud voice bounced through the heavy atmosphere in the room and I opened my eyes. He was holding the baby out, one hand beneath its tiny bottom, the other cradling its head. Angus was smiling and I felt an answering grin on my own lips as I pulled my hands free.

“He looks just like his dad.”

Who said that?

I glanced around at the three men in the room and frowned. A ringing telephone cut through the silence and I focused again on my baby.

“Bloody hell!” A tiny, perfect little Frank was smiling back at me. I opened my mouth and screamed.

*

“Kate? Kate, wake up.”

I mumbled and felt my shoulder being shaken again. The delivery room faded, taking the men and the baby with it, leaving me with a vague sense of loss coupled with an overwhelming feeling of liberation. With relief I opened my eyes to find my worried mother looking at me.

“Kate? Is everything all right? You were moaning and calling out in your sleep. Sounded like you were being murdered up here.”

Disorientated, I shook my head, trying to get my bearings and shake the images of my dream from my mind. I rubbed hard at my face and looked at my mum, smiling wanly. “Just a bad dream.”

“Oh?”

I grimaced, “it was a bit creepy.”

“Well, it’s about time you woke then. Tea’s almost ready, your dad’s putting the kids in the bath and Will’s on the phone.”

“Tea?” I grasped the most attractive of the three options in front of me and I threw back the bed covers. “Food sounds good. How long have I been asleep for?”

“A couple of hours. Now, come on, Will’s spoken to the kids, he’s waiting for you.”

“Will?”

“On the phone.” Mum started back down the stairs. “Go and speak to your husband, Kate.”

Go and speak to your husband, I repeated to myself as I followed my mother down the stairs. And say what? Dream residues filled my mind again; the birth, the baby, Frank.

It’s time,
the little voice informed me.
It’s time for the truth.

My heart skipped a beat and I took a deep breath, smiling thanks to my mother as I took the phone. Watching as she left the room, I turned inward for a moment.

“Just for once,” I muttered to my conscience, “just for once, you smug self-righteous bastard, you could possibly be right.” Pulling myself together I put the phone to my ear and made ready to come clean.

26 December

Dry mouth, sweaty
palms; I was close to panicking and only the sound of giggling and splashing from the bathroom next door kept my feet firmly grounded and my heart from popping out of my mouth. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to encourage the flow of saliva;
all the better to speak to you with
, my mind sang gaily.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

The disembodied voice floated out of the phone. Startled, I gasped and almost dropped the handset.

“Kate? Is that you?”

“Oh, um, yes,” I croaked and cleared my throat explosively. Maybe that would help.

“Bloody hell, what was that?” Will’s voice was faint and I realised he was holding the phone away from his ear.

“Sorry,” I tried again, “my mouth’s a bit dry.”

“Your mum said you were sleeping,” I could hear the smile in Will’s voice, “baby still tiring you out, is he?”

“Or she,” I reprimanded without heat, “actually it’s the other two terrors that tired me out. They’re enough to exhaust anyone.”

“They sound like they’ve had a fabulous Christmas,” Will sounded wistful. “Kensie loves her new scooter and Tommy just about managed to drag himself away from whatever a barket set is to say hello.”

I laughed, “he means
basketball
.”

“And what about you,” Will asked gently, “did you have fun?”

“Yes I did, heaps. Did you do anything special?”

“Not really. I missed you all. I wish you’d been here.”

I chewed on my lip, not really knowing what to say. I
can’t
tell him, I thought suddenly, not now, not like this.

Excellent idea,
wait for a while. Maybe until he comes over next month, maybe even wait until the birth. Catch him at his proudest moment with, “by the way, Will, it’s not your baby.” 

“Are you there, Kate?”

I nodded, steadfastly ignoring the truth I had just heard. “I’m here.”

“I said I missed you.”

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and furiously scrubbed it away. I didn’t have the right to feel sorry for myself, not after what I’d done. And the least I could do for Will now was to say the words he wanted to hear.

“We missed you too,” I whispered. “
I
missed you. I wish you’d been over here with us.” I hesitated, “what did you do for Christmas?”

“I worked,” he replied wryly, “earned a bloody fortune working on Christmas day. That’s some consolation I suppose.”

“Must have been terribly lonely.”

“Actually, it wasn’t too bad,” he laughed suddenly making me jump, ‘some of the younger blokes were in and out through the day. Jason, you remember him? Brought me in a plate of his mum’s Christmas dinner. Said she felt sorry for me having to work all day.”

I snorted in amusement, “did he bring you in a beer as well?”