Stella Makes Good (8 page)

She raced back up to Nick’s room and read the letters again. They made her feel sick. B made his feelings very clear, but clearly Nick didn’t feel the same way and had tried to distance himself. The poor child. Why hadn’t he told them he was being harassed by a teacher? They could have helped him. Maybe he had tried to talk, but she and Brett had been so caught up with their own problems, they hadn’t listened to him. They’d shut him out because they were too busy arguing.

No wonder the kid had been excited about going to Wales—he was escaping B and leaving his parents as well, who’d done nothing whatsoever to protect him from this vile predator. While Carly had been conjuring up imaginary fuck buddies, her son had been pursued by a lunatic and scared out of his mind. It would have been too much for him to handle: a young kid being sexually harassed by a man. Why hadn’t he spoken to her about it? Carly had let him down. She had failed him.

Now the question was: what to do with the information? Tell Brett? She didn’t want to say anything to him, not yet. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t know how to start. Maybe she could talk to Stella about it? Although just what evidence did she have? Maybe those letters hadn’t been written by this Mr Busby at all. Maybe they’d been written by a girl Will didn’t know about. It was possible. Perhaps the best course of action was to send Nicholas an email.

She went into the study and turned on the computer. She stared at the screen a very long time before starting to type.

Hi Nick, how are things in Wales? We miss you. The house is empty and quiet without you. Hope you are doing fine and the weather’s not getting you down. Please write soon. Love you, Mum xx
(She added one of those ridiculous smiley faces.)

It was impossible to ask the question she desperately wanted to ask. What was she supposed to say?

Hi Nick, I found a bunch of letters from your admirer, Mr Busby. Was this guy harassing you? Or did you have a friendship together? Just wondering if there was anything going on, because at the moment when I put two and two together, I keep coming up with four. Please tell me what’s going on.

If she started down that road, she’d never stop. Besides, it really wasn’t a conversation they could have via email. The most sensible thing was to let the matter drop, at least until she could talk to Nick.

Sunday had been a disaster. Steve was being a complete misery. Jesse was trying to be supportive—she understood he had a demanding job; he told her often enough—but it was the weekend. Time to let up. But no, nothing Jesse said or did was right. Not only that, he wanted to know what she was doing, where she was going and who she was seeing—even when she’d popped to the local shops to buy a loaf of bread and the morning papers. It was weird. And he was jumpy, as if he was nervous about something. Normally, Jesse was the one who was anxious.

That afternoon, when Emily had been helping Jesse in the garden, planting petunias into clay pots, Steve had come outside just as Emmy had accidentally spilled some potting mix.

‘Emily! Would you be more careful?’ he’d shouted. ‘You’re making a huge mess.’

‘Settle down,’ Jesse had said, seeing that Emmy was about to burst into tears. ‘It’s just a driveway.’

‘She has no respect for other people’s property,’ he yelled back. ‘It’s a filthy mess now.’

‘It’s okay, Steve. We’ll wash it down.’

It had been a totally bizarre outburst. He’d calmed down eventually, but his foul mood had lingered.

When Jesse had cooked the kids’ favourite, spaghetti bolognaise, for dinner, he’d barked, ‘Couldn’t you cook a decent meal once in a while?’

Straight after eating, the kids had scurried to their room to play a game of Monopoly by themselves, clearly not wanting to deal with their bickering parents. Jesse was tired and completely fed up. After yet another outburst—this time about his business shirts not being ironed correctly—she lost it.

‘Our marriage is hanging by a thread,’ she shouted, itching for a scene. Not only had Steve been behaving like a spoilt brat all day, but he’d ruined the kids’ day yesterday by reneging on his offer to take Oliver to the movies.

Steve just looked at her like she was insane. ‘One minute you want another baby, the next minute you’re telling me our marriage is crumbling. You’re all over the place, Jesse.’

She shook her head. Maybe she was. She couldn’t control herself. She was clenching her fists so she wouldn’t start switching lights on and off. Or closing doors, or checking the oven.

Instead, she walked out the front door and got in her car.

‘You’re not leaving me,’ Steve shouted after her as she revved the engine. ‘I’ll never allow it.’

How could she have let things get out of hand like that, she asked herself as she drove to her mum and dad’s. She was the one who needed to keep things running smoothly. Her role was to support Steve and look after the kids, not to storm out of the house. That was definitely not managing the situation.

Arriving at her parents’ home, she composed herself to face a barrage of questions.

‘Where are Steve and the twins?’ her mother asked the minute Jesse walked in. ‘Why aren’t they with you? What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing, Mum,’ Jesse said wearily. She nodded to her dad, who was watching
MasterChef Unplugged
.

‘Have you heard from your sister?’ Dot continued, barely stopping for air.

Jesse had needed to go somewhere quiet. Big mistake coming here. She should have gone to the movies.

Thankfully, her grandma, Milly, walked into the room with a pot of tea. ‘Jesse, I thought I heard you come in. Cuppa?’

Jesse smiled and took the cup Milly handed her.

‘That husband of yours looking after you?’

‘Of course,’ Jesse replied shakily.

‘Hmm. Drink up. We’ve got apple crumble, too.’

‘Thanks.’ Apple crumble was the last thing Jesse felt like eating. ‘How’s church, Grandma?’

‘Please don’t indulge her, Jesse,’ said Dot. ‘Her and her happy-clappy new friends!’

‘It
is
a church,’ replied Milly indignantly.

‘Do you even pray there?’

‘What are you talking about, Dot? I pray.’

‘I’m not talking about your fancy new age church prayers. I’m talking old-fashioned, word in the Lord’s ear type praying. The kind of praying that gets answered,’ Dot said putting her tea cup down on the coffee table.

‘Mum,’ Jesse said. ‘Don’t be mean.’

‘Mean? You don’t have to live with her.’ Dot shook her head. ‘Now drink your tea, Mum, and be quiet.’

‘See how she bosses me,’ Milly said to Jesse. ‘I don’t know how Tom’s put up with her for thirty-six years.’

‘Thirty-nine actually,’ Tom said, looking up from the television.

Milly walked out of the room whistling an unfamiliar tune. No doubt about it. She was shrinking by the week.

The house was dark when Jesse got home. The kids were asleep and so was Steve, though he rolled over when she lay down beside him. A few moments later, he’d wrapped her in his arms and was pressing his naked body against hers.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘This is the third month in a row that the team haven’t made target and I’m taking it out on you and the kids. I can be a moody arsehole.’

Jesse tugged off her T-shirt and underwear and turned to face him. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, stroking his hair.

‘Mmm,’ he groaned as his hand reached up to take hers and guide it towards his erection.

Moments later, his full weight was upon her and she was grinding into him. She wanted him to kiss her, but he turned his face away and started pumping. She wanted to believe that things would be all right between them, but the hurt and rejection was too much and she cried silently after he’d fallen asleep.

ould this weekend get any more bizarre? I’d spent most of Sunday afternoon in the emergency ward. June had taken a fall while doing some gardening and hurt her arm. Her neighbours had driven her to hospital and then rung me. I’d chased around trying to find Terry, without success. I found out later he’d been sailing on the harbour with Amanda. By the time I arrived at the hospital, June was receiving her X-ray results. And one of the attending doctors was Toby, Carly’s friend from the other night.

‘Small world,’ he said.

‘Are you looking after her?’ I asked in what I hoped was a pleasant manner. Yes, he was old enough to be a doctor, and his name badge said
Dr Toby Mitchell
, but all the same I was nervous.

‘Relax, Stella. Yes, your mother-in-law’s had a fall, but I’ve mended many broken arms, mostly belonging to seven-year-old boys and seventy-year-old women. You’ll be all right, won’t you, June?’

‘You scared me,’ I said, bending down to kiss her.

‘As it turns out,’ Toby told June, ‘there are no broken bones, but you’ve got extensive bruising and swelling. I’m going to wrap you up and keep you under observation for the next couple of hours.’

‘That won’t be necessary, young man,’ said June, then winced in pain.

‘June,’ I said quietly, ‘we should let the doctor get on with making you better.’

‘I’m not sick.’

Toby gestured to the nurse to wheel June into a nearby examination room, then said to me, ‘The other night was weird, hey?’

I nodded and looked around at the other doctors, nurses and orderlies. ‘I don’t know what I’d say to Pete if I ran into him again.’

‘No fear of that. He’s not on today. Neither’s Mike for that matter.’

‘Mike?’ It took me a moment to register. ‘The three of you work at this hospital? Together?’

Toby nodded.

Small world, indeed.

I left him to get on with wrapping June’s arm and sat in the waiting room with a watery cup of tea and a copy of
Woman’s Day
circa 2003. I glanced up at the wall mirror. I was a mess: no make-up and my hair was definitely in need of a good wash. I’d left home so quickly, I hadn’t changed out of my house clothes. I was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a faded blue T-shirt. I guessed now wasn’t the time to be worrying about my appearance, but I was relieved Mike wasn’t at work given that I looked so scruffy.

By the time June had been given the all clear—she’d probably badgered Toby into submission—Terry and Amanda had joined me. It didn’t surprise me that Amanda looked stunning. Her lipstick had been carefully applied and her short black hair was shiny and neat. She was also wearing a plunging neckline, which, while perhaps inappropriate for the hospital, showed off her generous cleavage.

‘Mum,’ Terry said, after a nurse had wheeled June into the waiting room, ‘what were you doing standing on a ladder in the garden?’

‘Trimming hedges. I told you they were growing out of control. Who’s this?’ she asked, pointing to Amanda.

‘June,’ I interrupted. ‘You know Amanda, Terry’s friend.’

Amanda smiled but said nothing.

Toby introduced himself to Terry, and asked him to sign several sheets of paper before handing over a bottle of painkillers.

‘Mrs Sparks is free to go,’ Toby told Terry and me. ‘But she won’t be able to do much for herself the next few days.’ He turned to June. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the bandage and sling soon enough.’

Terry nodded and the penny dropped. ‘Doctor Mitchell,’ he said, ‘Mum lives by herself.’

Toby regarded the three of us. ‘Mrs Sparks should be fine to go home in four or five days, when the swelling and bruising have subsided, but in the meantime it’s best if she stays with family.’

He smiled at me. ‘Nice seeing you again, Stella. And, Mrs Sparks, I’ll see you in two days’ time, okay?’

June nodded and Toby left the room.

Terry did a double-take. ‘You know him?’

I didn’t answer. ‘So, June, what are we going to do with you?’

‘I guess you can come back with Mandy and me,’ Terry said.

‘But I don’t have a spare bedroom,’ Amanda said, looking anxious.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ June said. ‘I don’t want to be a burden. Nor do I want to be in the same house as that woman.’

‘Mum,’ said Terry firmly, ‘you should be with me.’

‘I’m not a bloody invalid,’ June barked. ‘My arm’s bruised, that’s all. I’m sorry I’m such a bother. Anyway, I want to go to my own home. I’ll manage quite well on my own, thank you very much.’

Terry sighed. ‘You can’t do that. The doctor said you need to stay with family for now.’

‘That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a babysitter.’

‘Maybe not,’ I soothed. ‘But we’d all feel a lot happier if you stayed with Terry.’

Amanda shot me a warning look.

‘Or perhaps,’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘You could stay at your mum’s, Terry.’

‘That wouldn’t work,’ he replied, genuinely horrified.

‘Okay,’ said June quietly. ‘I’ll stay at your house.’ She nodded to Terry. ‘Yours and Stella’s.’

‘But, Mum, you know I don’t live with Stella any more. It’s hardly fair—’

‘If your mother wants to go home with Stella,’ said Amanda, placing her hand firmly on his arm, ‘that’s what she should do.’

‘I said I want to stay with you, Terry,’ said June, her voice rising. ‘You and Stella.’

‘But—’

‘But nothing. You can’t expect Stella to look after me while you go off with one of your dalliances.’

Amanda flinched. ‘I’d hardly call me a dalliance.’

‘Really?’ said June, looking her up and down. ‘I would.’

‘June!’ I said, taking her hand. ‘It isn’t like you to be so rude. Is it the drugs?’

Amanda snorted.

‘No, it’s not the drugs,’ replied June. ‘I just don’t like her.’

‘Mum!’ Terry was almost hyperventilating. He took Amanda’s hand in his. ‘I’m sure it’s the medication, sweetie.’

The nurse coughed. ‘Shall we go?’

She was waiting to wheel June to the lobby, where she could relieve the hospital of any further duty of care. We followed her and June down the long corridor to the hospital’s front doors.

‘What are we going to do?’ Terry whispered in my ear.

‘Well, clearly she’s not going to Amanda’s, which will be a huge relief to—’

‘I’m right here. I can hear you,’ Amanda said.

I turned to her. ‘And are you relieved?’

‘Well, yes, of course, but—’

‘Okay so, Terry, if June’s not going with you, and you’re not prepared to stay at her place for a couple of days, then obviously she’ll have to come home with me. It’s not as if I don’t have the room.’

I patted June’s good shoulder. ‘The kids will be thrilled to have you stay, darling.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘My own son doesn’t want me. Is this the way I brought you up, Terry?’

I loved the way she spoke to him as if he was still twelve.

We thanked the nurse and Terry carefully helped June out of the wheelchair. ‘Where’s your car?’ he asked me. Clearly, he’d decided he wasn’t up to arguing any more—with his mother or with Amanda. June was coming home with me whether she liked it or not.

‘Good question,’ I said. ‘I was so flustered when I arrived . . .’ I looked around. ‘I think it might be . . . yes, this way.’ I set off down the hill towards the underground car park.

Terry helped June into the car. ‘I’ll pop in tomorrow to see how you’re doing, Mum. Okay?’

‘Don’t do me any favours,’ she said.

He attempted to kiss her cheek, but she turned away and he ended up kissing her very grey hair.

‘Right, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he called out to me as I got into the driver’s seat.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Bye, Amanda.’

Terry grimaced again, and the two of them walked back in the direction we’d come, Amanda clinging on to Terry as if he might suddenly float away.

‘You okay?’ I asked June as I drove out of the car park and turned left onto the Pacific Highway.

‘I feel silly.’

‘About Amanda? Don’t worry—’

‘Amanda? Certainly not! I’m talking about falling off my stepladder and into the compost heap. I don’t care what she thinks. She’s just a woman who looks like a thin Liza Minnelli with a ridiculously large bosom.’

I grinned. She did a bit.

When we arrived home, the kids were waiting for us. Well, waiting was a bit of a stretch. Ben had arrived back from Will’s minutes before but was already on the PS3 playing some war game and shouting, and Hannah was doing the Farmville thing on Facebook. Her crop of strawberries had just died and she was distraught—as distraught as you can be over the demise of cyber-fruit.

‘So how about you guys stop what you’re doing for a moment and say hi to Nanna,’ I said when June and I walked into the rumpus room.

‘Hey, Nanna, how’s your arm?’ said Hannah. At least she had the decency to look up momentarily.

Ben grunted, ‘Hey’, without pausing in his gunning down of enemy soldiers.

I made June a cup of tea and settled her on the deck with the day’s newspapers while I went upstairs to make up the spare bedroom. I hadn’t stopped to consider how her being here would impact on us. Not that there’d be a problem, but the kids had their routine and I had mine. Everyone was going to have to make some adjustments.

I had to laugh when I thought about Terry. He’d been so hassled at the hospital—his mother, wife and girlfriend in the same room and him trying to keep everyone happy. Amanda looked as if she’d swallowed nails. And Terry’s reaction to Toby as it dawned on him that we knew each other . . . I’d almost seen his brain working as he tried to figure out the connection.

Toby! I rang Carly to fill her in. Sure, I could have walked the fifty metres to her house, but I was feeling lazy. Lazy and tired.

‘Oh my God! That’s so embarrassing,’ Carly said. ‘What did he say? What did you say? I can’t believe the one night I go out and get smashed, I meet toy-boy Toby.’

‘The one night?’

‘Whatever. What I mean is, I was never supposed to see him again.’

‘Even though he’s rung you?’

‘Twice, actually. I was so out of it, I forgot I’d given him my number.’

‘I believe you scribbled it on his arm, several times.’

‘I’m married, for Christ’s sake.’

‘And how’s that going?’

‘Fine. Good. Not that great. The usual. So June’s staying with you?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘And you’ll see Jesse at work on Thursday. What then?’

‘Let’s see how the next few days pan out.’

I hung up and set about cooking a chicken stir-fry. When Terry was here, he’d done most of the cooking. So far the kids hadn’t complained about my average efforts, but they would soon enough.

June was outside resting in the late afternoon sun, the kids were still on their computers, and I had time to think as I chopped broccoli and shelled peas.

I’d felt little emotion when I saw Amanda with Terry today. No jealousy or dislike, envy or sorrow. I’d felt . . . nothing. She was just another person. I was sure she was perfectly nice, but I had no compulsion to get to know her, to find out whether she preferred green tea, Earl Grey or a latte first thing in the morning.

At six o’clock, the phone rang. Speak of the devil.

‘How’s Mum?’ Terry asked.

‘Fine. No problem at all.’

‘Good, good.’

‘And you?’

‘Mandy’s not happy. We fought the whole way back to her apartment.’

‘That’s no good.’

I really didn’t want to have a conversation about his domestic bickering.

‘Anyway, we’ve decided it would be better if Mum stayed with us,’ he went on. ‘I am her son, after all.’

‘Good luck convincing her to move,’ I said as I mixed the vegetables with noodles and chicken.

‘I thought you might—’

‘Look, I’m happy for her to stay with you, Terry, but I’m not going to waste my breath trying to convince her to leave, especially when I know she doesn’t want to.’

‘Please.’

I sighed, and walked out to where June was doing the crossword. ‘June,’ I said, loudly enough for Terry to hear, ‘your son’s on the phone. He wants to know whether you’d prefer to stay with him?’

‘Only if he’s staying here,’ she said, then shook her head and went on with her puzzle. ‘Now, where was I?’