Nobody Knows (15 page)

I returned to my stool at the bench and awaited the inquisition. I’ll admit I watched with fascination as Rhiannon systematically got things happening. She refilled my wine glass, opened a jar of Bolognese, put on a pot of boiling water, and sent a text before sitting down beside me, taking both my hands in hers. “Right! Start at the beginning and leave nothing out,” she commanded in the most loving and supportive tone that she could muster.

Chapter Nineteen

Joel

He was drunk. Obscenely drunk. “Another shot, Pete,” Joel said, tossing a wad of notes across the bar. He’d been in the dark, dingy pub drinking by himself for hours. Every time he began to think about the mess that was his life he got so angry that only a combination of tequila shots chased with a rum and Coke numbed the pain.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Pete asked with a wink.

“Fuck off!” Joel slurred. “I’ll say when I’ve had enough. Pour another one while I take a piss.”

Joel stumbled his way to the bathroom. Almost forty minutes later, Joel managed to make his way back to the bar and his phone perched beside his drink, he saw that he had forty-two new messages. All from work, not one from his errant wife.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered to no one in particular. “Shows how much she cares. Hasn’t even bothered to call and see if I am alive.”

“Maybe you should go home then,” Pete offered, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Don’t tell me what to do! Whatta you know?” Joel crumpled.

“I’ll call you a taxi,” Pete offered, disappearing behind the bar.

Joel started mumbling and babbling incoherently to himself. A fiery redhead perched her bony bum on the barstool beside him. She had tacky fire-engine red plastic fingernails that she tapped rhythmically on the bar. It took mere seconds for Joel to become infuriated at the annoying noise.

“Can you not?”

“What?”

“Tapping.”

“Tapping what?”

Joel rolled his eyes, his frustration growing. Taking another look at Miss Cheap, he said, “Look, I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight. Just stop the fucking tapping or I’ll stop it for you.”

“Wanna take me home?” She grinned, running her nails up and down his arms.

“I’m married.”

“Don’t care.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

“We’re leaving?”

“Now!”

“My place?”

“Easy.”

“I heard.” Joel dumped a fistful of cash on the counter, wrapped his arms around her scrawny waist, and together they fell out the door. Joel half staggered, half crawled towards the one place that he could never come back from.

They stumbled through the door into the cold night air. He climbed into the backseat of the taxi, pausing momentarily to vomit out the door before slamming it behind him. Disgusted with himself, Joel didn’t even care as he wiped his mouth on his hundred and eighty dollar Gucci tie, covering it in tiny bits of vomit.

With her fake nails digging into his thighs and biceps, Joel didn’t know what to do or say. He just sat there stunned. Joel just stared blankly ahead as the Indian taxi driver mumbled along with a song that Joel had never heard before while the whore beside him kissed and caressed and nibbled and groped at him with a desperation that was completely unexpected.

By the time they reached Joel’s driveway, he’d fallen into such a deep depression that he didn’t want to be with anyone. Silent tears streamed down his face as the sobbing began. With yet another wad of cash thrust towards the driver, Joel turned and faced the woman still in the taxi. Then unexpectedly and without a word, Joel slammed the door with her still inside. “Take her wherever she wants to go. Just get her away from me.”

Shocked, a spray of abuse burst forth from her. “You are nothing but a fucking tease, you know that? You think that having money makes you better than me? That you can just buy me off? I’m better than that. I’m not some cheap whore. I deserve better than you. You’re an arrogant son of a bitch…” her voice trailed off as the taxi crunched the gravel and turned back onto the road. Joel was left standing in the centre of his front yard looking up at a darkened house, feeling completely alone.

After minutes of fidgeting with his keys, trying to fit the key into the lock, Joel found himself standing in his lifeless, loveless bedroom. For a moment he had forgotten about what he had done. He had forgotten about all the problems and all the arguments and all the drama that had plagued his life. But standing in his bedroom with nothing on the dresser and half the wardrobe empty, he couldn’t hide from the truth. Nothing he did would make him forget what he’d done.

Then, unexpectedly, a cold shiver ran through his body. Where was Gillian? Where was all her stuff? He remembered packing it up, but he had left the boxes stacked by the door. Now there wasn’t a box in sight. The house creaked, and Joel realized that for the first time in a long time it was quiet enough to hear it doing so, something he couldn’t recall hearing since the day they’d brought Charli home and that first night when she screamed and howled for hours.

Instantly Joel was frantic. He was running through the house, throwing open doors with wild abandon and switching on every light. She hadn’t taken the girls and left. Their rooms looked like they did every day. The pink bedspreads pulled up neatly, all the toys packed away in their homes, and all the clothes folded neatly in the cupboards. Joel breathed a loud, heavy sigh of relief when he spotted Morris, Bianca’s much loved moose, laying on the end of the bed with his velvety antlers drooping over the side. He knew she would never leave without Morris. So where the hell was Gillian’s stuff?

With trepidation, Joel pushed back the door to the last room in the house, the spare room. He knew that it would have made sense to look there first, but even with as much as he’d had to drink Joel found that he was unexpectedly sober. Steadying himself with the door frame, he could see everything that Gillian had done today. No longer was her stuff thrown roughly into boxes in his hurried attempt to get her out of his life, but it was all neatly put away—typical Gillian. But then the punch came. The hardest hit Joel could imagine and he had no one to blame but himself. Sitting on the bedside table was a photo of Charli and Bianca smiling happily, Gillian between them. He recalled the afternoon when it was taken. He was at work. They had been so excited. Gillian had taken the girls butterfly hunting. It was the first crushing blow, but not the only one. Sitting beside it, like almost an afterthought, was an ultrasound photo. One Joel had never seen before. It was the first picture of his son.

“Gillian!” Joel cried out with anguish and torment. But no answers came. The house was sadly silent—no giggling, no arguing, no singing, just heart-breaking silence.

For the first time since Joel’s life began to take a nose dive, he realized what his life would be like without family. And he wasn’t yet convinced that he liked being completely alone.

Joel collapsed onto the sofa in the dark and waited. Surely if Gillian was out with the girls she wouldn’t be late. She was a lot of things, but an irresponsible mother wasn’t one of them. So he sat. And he waited. Three hours later she still hadn’t shown up. Frustrated, Joel finally gave up and found his phone. He’d been ignoring the calls and messages since he had walked out of the office this morning, but now he was anxious to see if Gillian had even bothered to contact him. Forty-six unread text messages, none from Gillian. Eighteen missed calls. Not one from Gillian. He couldn’t blame her, he’d been an arse, but she still should have called. Joel suddenly realized that he was hurt more than he thought he could be.

Bored and with nothing better to do, Joel started wading through the messages to try and kill some time until they got back. It was the same usual crap. Messages from his mother checking in, another an automated reminder about his dentist appointment tomorrow, a few from unknown numbers asking him to call them about a property they had seen on a website. Then there was a mysterious, cryptic message from Samantha.

Samantha: Answer ur phone—don’t come 2 the office til u speak 2 me. Not a joke. U r not allowed in office—under investigation. Work from home til advised.

And there it was. In less than one hundred and sixty characters Joel’s world tumbled further and further into disarray. He was suspended indefinitely. And now his mind raced. What had he done to deserve it? Or, more frighteningly, which indiscretion had he been caught doing to get him suspended? There were just so many. Depending on which one they were referring to would ultimately determine whether or not he would even have a job to go back to.

Chapter Twenty

Gillian

“Mum, I’m tired,” Bianca whined, squirming into my lap.

“I know, sweetie,” I tried to placate her, stroking her soft hair. She wiggled and squirmed, trying to get comfortable, and eventually nuzzling into my neck and sighing heavily. “I should really get these girls home. It’s getting late.”

Rhiannon looked at me with drunk, sympathetic eyes. The past four hours had been full on. Like the friend she was, Rhiannon let me dump everything on her. I’ll admit it felt good to finally share all the pain and all the trouble that I had been going through. And Rhiannon said all the right things. She promised me that I hadn’t asked for it and it wasn’t my fault. Repeatedly, she had stated that Joel was just an asshole and he had his own issues that he just seemed to be taking out on me.

“Charli,” Rhiannon called out to her.

Surprisingly, she came bouncing in, still full of beans. “You called?” she asked. I knew that sneaky smile any day of the week. She had been lying low, in hopes that we would forget she was still not in bed and let her stay up past bedtime.

“How would you and Bianca like to have a sleepover at Aunty Rhiannon’s tonight?” Rhiannon offered, briefly glancing in my direction.

“What about Mum?”

“I suppose she can stay too. What do you think?”

“Can we, Mum? Please?” Charli begged, looking up at me with cocker spaniel eyes.

Stealing a glance at Rhiannon, she just nodded, and without a thought in my head, I found myself nodding along with her. “Yep, just for tonight though,” I stated, more for my own resolve than to make a point.

“What about my pajamas?” Bianca added.

Instantly I felt guilty. This wasn’t a planned slumber party and I knew all the things that they should do and have that they didn’t. They didn’t have a toothbrush or their pajamas, and Morris wasn’t there for Bianca to snuggle up to, but as soon as I considered the alternative of taking them home, I knew we were staying.

“Well, Bianca,” Rhiannon began, scooping her up from my lap, “I am pretty sure I have some Elmo pajamas that will fit you and a spare pink toothbrush that I keep especially for you. So it’s okay. What do you think?”

“Okay,” she sang happily.

I watched as Rhiannon carried Bianca down the hallway. I could hear the giggling and squealing as she got them ready for bed and tucked them in. Both the girls were in the spare bed and my choice was either the sofa or to bunk in with Rhiannon.

While she was gone, I found a bottle of Midori and some pineapple juice and mixed up a deadly concoction. Looking at the three empty wine bottles on the counter and the two empty bags of roasted cashews, I felt drunk and not one bit guilty about not going home. It wasn’t like there was anyone there waiting for me.

Twenty minutes later, I had finished another two Midori cocktails and Rhiannon reappeared. “You have two amazing daughters, Gillian. You know that, don’t you? And with another one on the way. With the exception of the asshole you married, you really do have it all,” she gushed.

I went white. Instantly I felt sick. I had completely forgotten about the child I was carrying. What sort of mother was I? Before I knew it I was vomiting incessantly into Rhiannon’s kitchen sink. Just the hazy thought of what I had done was enough to keep me throwing up. Guilt consumed me and just made me purge even more.

“What happened?” Rhiannon asked, one hand holding my hair out of my face and the other rubbing my back comfortingly.

“Rhiannon,” I gasped between vomit explosions, “I’m pregnant. And drunk,” I said as I burst into tears.

“Oh fuck!” she exclaimed. As she said the words her face dropped too. She’d known I was pregnant, but with everything that had happened this afternoon, it had just completely been forgotten. “Move!” she exclaimed before joining me at the kitchen sink.

Forty minutes later both Rhiannon and I were slumped against the kitchen cabinets, sipping delicately at ice water, too afraid to tempt our stomachs with anything stronger.

“I can’t believe I forgot!” I was so furious at myself that I was no longer angry with Joel. “What sort of irresponsible and stupid mother compromises their unborn child’s health like that?”

“Calm down, Gillian,” she said unconvincingly. “You and your son will be fine. Yes, it’s not the best idea I’ve ever had, but it’s not like you do this every day. And let’s face it—you’re not the first mother to have a few drinks while you are up the duff. And you certainly won’t be the last. Come on.” She pulled me up off the floor and led me towards the bedroom.

I sat on Rhiannon’s bed while she pulled the shirt up over my head as I stared dead ahead, unblinking. The tears had ceased, but the feelings behind them were all-consuming and paralyzing. Rhiannon had managed to get me stripped down to my panties and bra and into her bed. All of a sudden I felt alone. I wanted to be home in my bed, curled up beside Joel, his hands resting on my stomach, promising me that everything would be all right. Just like he had done when I was pregnant with Charli.

I snuggled in under Rhiannon’s quilt and fell into a fitful sleep, Rhiannon sitting beside the bed watching over me like an angel. An angel who had just spent the past four hours feeding me wine and cocktails, who now felt extremely guilty, and was praying feverishly that nothing went wrong with my pregnancy.

It was eleven o’clock the next morning when I stumbled into Rhiannon’s en suite and washed my face. When I saw the clock in the mirror’s reflection I flew into panic mode. The girls were supposed to be at school and I’d slept too late. Again. I’d let them down because I was asleep. More surprising, they hadn’t jumped on me and woken me before now. And the apartment was weirdly silent. I pulled on yesterday’s clothes, scrubbed my furry teeth with my finger and some toothpaste, and ran my hands through my hair, trying in vain to tame it.

Ducking into the kitchen, I saw Rhiannon sitting quietly sipping coffee and reading the paper. “Morning,” she said happily. Where I looked and felt like I had been hit by a bus, Rhiannon was positively radiant. No signs of a hangover or lack of sleep. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and croissants in the oven. They’re still warm.”

“I can’t. I am really late. I have to get the girls up and dressed and to school and somehow explain all of this,” I listed frantically, trying to pull on my shoes, but I was having trouble coordinating my feet with my hands.

“Gillian!” Rhiannon snapped forcefully. “Sit down. Have a coffee and listen,” she bossed, pouring me a steaming cup. “The girls are already up and dressed and at school. I drove them there this morning, after a quick stop at the shops to buy them some new clothes. I didn’t want them in yesterday’s clothes; they would never live that down. I packed lunches, drove your car with their booster seats, and explained to their teacher that I was their godmother, I was just dropping them off, and that you would be picking them up this afternoon. Everything is all okay.”

“But how? What? Why? When?” I babbled, talking large gulps of scalding hot coffee, trying to numb the pounding behind my eyes.

“Just breathe…I was up at six, they needed me to do it, and even if you don’t want to admit it, you needed me to do it. You were absolutely exhausted, Gillian. And I love you and that little boy you are carrying. I know how much you’re going through, so if letting you have some peace and quiet for a couple of hours is how I can help, then that’s what I am going to do.”

Rhiannon was so different than the carefree girl I had known years ago. The old Rhiannon would have gotten me drunk and then laughed as I stumbled through the next day feeling sorry for myself. But now she was going above and beyond. She was the epitome of the helpful and caring girlfriend. And as much as it pained me to admit it, she was exactly right. I needed the break. Usually Adele helped, but right now I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what was going on. I knew she would find out eventually, but right now I couldn’t tell her. If Joel did, that was his business, but I wasn’t prepared to answer those questions.

“So, your girls are sorted. Now, what are we going to do with you?” Rhiannon asked, refilling her coffee cup.

“I need to go home.” As soon as I said the words aloud I felt shivers run through my body. I knew I had to go home—I had never planned on staying away this long—but the truth was that I was terrified.

“Well, let’s get you home then!”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’re unbelievably kind and caring, but this is something I have to face. On my own.” I felt bad. Rhiannon had put herself and her apartment at the mercy of my tears, drunken tantrums, and daughters, and now I was telling her that I didn’t want her help.

“It’s okay, Gillian. I know. And I understand. Just remember that my door is open if you want to come back. Today. Tomorrow. In a week. Or even in a year. Just don’t let him win!” She hugged me tightly and I felt the unwelcome but all too familiar tears gather on my eyelids.

“I’ll try,” was all that I could commit to.

“Gillian, please just remember one thing for me. You are a strong, fiercely independent woman with the world at your feet. He might be your husband by law, but if he won’t man up and be the husband he should be, don’t you settle for anything less. You deserve better.”

“Thank you. For everything. You don’t know how much I appreciate it, I really do. But I have to go. I have to face the truth and deal with it. Besides, it’s almost lunchtime. He won’t be home for hours. He’ll be at work, ’cause he is very important, remember?” I laughed aloud and I was shocked at how good it felt.

“Yep, that’s what he keeps telling himself, anyway. Call me if you need me.”

“Promise,” I agreed, and with one final hug I forced myself out the door and into the elevator.

As I turned the key in the ignition and turned onto the main road towards the inevitable, I cast my mind back over the past twenty-four hours. I can’t begin to describe how thankful I was to Rhiannon. She had done all she could, and I knew there was nothing I could do to ever repay her. She had said and done all the things that I needed her to do, with, of course, the exception of feeding a pregnant woman large quantities of alcohol.

I pulled into the driveway, pleased that no one was there. I felt cheap and dirty. I could think of nothing that I wanted more desperately than a long, hot bubble bath filled with salts and relaxing lavender oil. I parked on the driveway; I would have to go out afterward anyway. I had to collect the girls from school and today I had promised myself I would be early. There was no way I was risking being late two days in a row. God knows the last thing I needed was to be known as a negligent mother.

I got to the front door and was astounded to discover the front door wasn’t locked. Immediately I panicked. I couldn’t help it. Joel was such a security-conscious freak he wouldn’t have deliberately left it unlocked. And why wasn’t the security alarm blaring and deafening the entire street? Carefully I pushed open the door and jumped almost a meter off the ground as it squeaked open. Typical. It had never squeaked before, but the one time that I needed it to stay quiet it made more noise than Charli and Bianca fighting over Barbie’s wedding dress.

I stepped cautiously into the lounge, but nothing seemed out of place. The television was still there. The DVD recorder, even the digital camera on the coffee table hadn’t been touched. We obviously weren’t being robbed.

“Hello?” I called out. No one answered. Just the eerie sound of my own trembling voice echoed back.

Maybe Joel had just stuffed up and not pulled the door shut hard enough when he ran off to work this morning. It was weird but not completely impossible. Standing in the middle of the lounge I looked more closely. The only thing out of place was a throw on the couch. There was no sign of anyone, so it was the only plausible explanation.

I dropped my handbag on the bench and headed straight into the bathroom. It felt strange taking my bath in the main bathroom instead of the en suite. I’d never used it before. As I sunk into the steaming water I felt all my anxiety simply evaporate. I closed my eyes and simply went with it. The relaxed sensation began in my feet and travelled all the way through my body until it felt like I was floating on air.

“About time you got home!” Joel boomed, throwing the door open and letting it slam against the wall, leaving a hole in the wall where the handle had punched through the plaster board.

In that moment my heart stopped. When it started again it was racing. I jumped five feet in the air, water spilling everywhere. “What the fuck!” I swore, scrambling out of the bath and almost slipping as I reached out to grab a towel hanging on the rack beside me.

“This is my fucking house. Where have you been? And where the hell are my girls?” Joel spat angrily.

I looked at him and didn’t recognize the man standing there staring at me. Tragically, in that moment, I remembered the first time Joel had caught me in the bathroom. It seemed like a million years ago and I had never imagined that all the romance and love would fade as quickly as it had. But that just went to prove how young and stupid I really had been.

“The g-girls are at school,” I stuttered, too afraid to offer anything more.