The Family Tree (8 page)

‘I wasn't. Then I thought we can't just leave it like that.' He looked at her expressionlessly for a moment. ‘You're really serious about this, aren't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘So let me get it straight. You want to rent Angie's room and move in for six months to write a book. Then you'll move back and everything'll be the way it was.'

‘Except then I'll have done it. Or not done it. But at least I'll know.'

‘Maybe.' Sam stared over her shoulder for a few moments, and then sighed. ‘Look, I won't pretend to understand why you can't write here. If you can do your editing here, I don't see why you can't write as well.'

‘There's too many . . . distractions.' Kate stared into her glass, the red wine glimmering like liquid rubies. She tried to be honest. ‘Or maybe I'm just using them as an excuse. I don't know.'

‘But you want to find out.'

Kate looked up, nodding. ‘Yes! That's exactly it!' She felt washed by a wave of relief that he might understand. ‘And about the bungalow –'

‘I know.'

‘I didn't have a choice, did I? I mean, Shelley needed us. But I thought you knew how much I appreciated it. And I really did. Enormously.'

‘I know,' repeated Sam, glancing towards the building in question. ‘And I also know you
had
to give it over to Shell. But that doesn't help things here, does it?'

‘No, not really.'

‘Listen, I have to ask. Has this got anything to do with your father? I don't mean the units, I mean like a . . . you know, a sort of reaction to his –'

‘No,' replied Kate shortly. ‘Certainly not.'

Sam held her gaze. ‘Look, I'm not trying to belittle the fact you've always wanted to write. I
know
that. But it just seems to me it only started becoming . . . well, an
obsession
last year. Which makes me wonder if –'

‘Nothing to do with it. Totally separate.'

‘Oh. Okay.' Sam gave a slight shrug. ‘Well then, I'm pretty well stuffed either way, aren't I?'

‘What do you mean?' Kate injected a questioning tone into her voice but really, she knew exactly what he meant. And she sympathised, just not enough to show it.

‘Well, I either agree and go along with all this, or I don't – which means I force you to make a choice.' Sam paused, looking at Kate searchingly. When she didn't respond, he smiled grimly and nodded, as if confirming something to himself.

The silence lengthened uncomfortably as Kate searched for something reassuring to say. Something that would let him know that her feelings for him were unrelated to this. Absolutely divorced. But she couldn't find the right words, and the only ones that came to mind rang with meaninglessness, even before they were spoken.

‘So go for it.' Sam spoke offhand, but with an edge of bitterness that made Kate flinch. He turned back to her. ‘But I want one promise in return. If you're still unhappy after the six months are up, whether or not you've written a bloody book, then I want your word you'll go and see someone. Okay?'

Kate felt a flare of irritation but forced herself to nod. ‘It
is
the writing though, Sam. And I
have
to know. Do you see that?'

‘Oh, I don't doubt the writing's important. It's just I still –' Sam broke off abruptly as the sliding door rattled open again and Caleb came through with a can of beer. He pushed the door shut with a foot and then flopped down into a vacant chair, his long limbs arranging themselves with a sort of rag-doll effect, and held up the beer.

‘Hair of the dog.'

For a moment Kate wondered what he meant, and then her eyes widened as she realised, with a jolt, that it was still New Year's Day. That
it was only yesterday when everybody had gone out partying, and she had come up with her brainwave.

Sam cleared his throat. ‘Did you have a good time then, mate?'

‘Yeah, not bad. What about you two?'

‘Well, it was different, I'll say that.'

‘Cool. Then what's for dinner?'

‘Whatever.' Sam waved a hand dismissively. ‘Listen, can you go get your brother and sister? I think I heard Shelley's car get in just before. We need to talk to you all.'

Kate stared at him with surprise. ‘No! Not yet!'

‘This sounds interesting.' Caleb raised an eyebrow at them both and then, leaving his beer on the table, headed back inside.

‘You could have waited until we sorted
ourselves
out,' hissed Kate.

Sam shrugged. ‘We have. You're leaving and I'm staying. That's it, isn't it?'

‘It's not so simple,' Kate glared at him. ‘Now you're trying to punish
me
.'

Sam smiled at her, without humour. ‘Not me.'

Kate turned away, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. It tasted acidic and she grimaced as it settled in the pit of her stomach, emitting sour fumes. She was just pushing the wine away as Caleb came back out onto the decking, followed by his sister, who still looked very much like an advertisement for the pitfalls of the morning after. Her heavily-made-up eyes actually emphasised her pallor rather than disguised it. She flung herself down into a spare chair and closed her eyes tiredly.

‘Where's Jake?' Sam asked Caleb, who had made himself comfortable again.

‘He's coming.'

Kate looked over at Shelley. ‘And where's Emma?'

‘I told you before, she's with Daniel today. He's dropping her off after tea.' Shelley opened her eyes and stared at the table for a few moments before suddenly glancing at her mother with more interest. ‘Hey, could you do me a huge favour?'

‘What?'

‘Well, I really need some sleep because I have to work tomorrow.'
Shelley paused for a moment to roll her eyes, reminding everybody, rather needlessly, that she hated her waitressing job. ‘So could you have Em this evening and just bring her down to the bungalow later? I'd really appreciate it.'

‘Anyway, what
is
for dinner?' asked Caleb, finishing his beer and crushing the can. ‘I'm starving.'

‘Where's bloody Jake?' asked his father irritably as, right on cue, Jacob emerged from the house. If his sister looked like an advert for the benefits of abstinence, then he seemed more like a poster boy for the homeless. Sandy hair cowlicked in several directions, while his face bore clear creases from the pillow he had evidently just been lying on. Leaving the sliding door open for a quick getaway, he leant against the side of the house and peered at the gathering suspiciously.

‘What's up?'

Kate looked at them all brightly. ‘Why does anything have to be –'

‘Just thought we'd fill you in on a few things,' interrupted Sam. ‘Firstly, your Uncle Oscar is going to sell his house because it's too big.'

‘About time,' said Caleb with little interest.

‘Where's he going?' asked Shelley, tucking a leg underneath herself and yawning.

‘Town. He's going to buy an apartment there.'

Shelley nodded. ‘Cool. So was that it? Can I go to bed now?'

‘Not quite yet,' said her father with rather theatrical grimness. ‘And maybe this next piece of news might get your attention. Your mother's leaving too.'

This announcement had the effect he was obviously hoping for as all three recipients gazed at him in surprise and then, almost in unison, turned to stare at their mother. Shelley opened her mouth and then closed it again.

‘That's not quite true,' snapped Kate, glancing crossly at her husband. ‘I'm not
leaving
. . . well, that is, I
am
leaving but not . . . not –'

‘Not
what
?' Shelley's black-rimmed eyes stood out even more.

‘Not really
leaving
,' finished Kate, trying desperately to remember the words her father had used that sounded so
right
. ‘It's not like a
separation. Not like Uncle Oscar and Auntie Angie. More a time-out, a sort of long service leave. A hiatus.'

Caleb cocked an eyebrow again. ‘A who ate what?'

‘I thought a hiatus was a type of hernia,' said Shelley, frowning.

‘No, it's not medical,' explained Sam helpfully. ‘Psychological perhaps. A form of escapism. Like going AWOL.'

‘But
why
?' Jacob's evident confusion shaved years off his age and made Kate's heart lurch. ‘Oh, frigging
hell
! You're moving in with Uncle
Oscar
, aren't you?'

‘Mu-
um
!' wailed Shelley, sitting up straight.

‘Don't be ridiculous!' Kate frowned at them all, and was even more annoyed to see the slight smile on Sam's face. ‘It's got nothing to
do
with Uncle Oscar!'

Shelley sneered. ‘So you're saying it's just a coincidence?'

‘Of
course
it is!' Kate paused, taking a deep breath. ‘See, you know how I've always wanted to write?' She waited for some acknowledgement of this, from anyone, but when none was forthcoming, closed her eyes briefly and then continued regardless. ‘Well I've finally realised that I can't do it here. There are too many distractions, and I'm not saying it's your fault because it's mine too, but the thing is it's not going to happen. Not here. So I've decided to take Mel's old room in Auntie Angie's unit and give myself a few months to see if I really
can
write. Then I'll be back again.'

‘So you're moving into Auntie Angie's place?' asked Shelley, clearly relieved.

‘Yes. And it's not like I won't ever be here. I'll still be doing your father's books and dropping in and staying over and all. It's just that I'll have this place where I can go and see if I can write. Like an office.'

Caleb leant back again, nodding approval. ‘That makes sense.'

‘
What?
' Sam stared at him.

‘Good on you, Mum.' Shelley stood up, stretching. ‘Now can I go to bed?'

Kate smiled at them both as a surge of relief warmed her. She turned to Jacob. ‘What about you then?'

‘Yeah, cool,' Jacob nodded also. ‘Whatever. I mean, good idea.'

‘I'm so glad you all understand.' Kate relaxed, beaming. ‘And I have to say it makes me feel proud of the lot of you. Really proud.'

‘Great,' Caleb grinned. ‘Now what's for dinner?'

‘I'm skipping dinner in favour of sleep.' Shelley yawned again as she rose, pushing her chair in. ‘
Some
of us have to work tomorrow. Goodnight all.'

Kate watched her daughter head down the little path towards the bungalow, her stilettos dangling from one hand. Then she snuck a glance at Sam, and almost grinned when she saw his set expression. Checkmate, she thought with satisfaction.

‘I might go get a pizza.' Caleb looked at his mother hopefully for a moment but, when she didn't offer any other meal choices, sighed exaggeratedly and headed inside.

‘Can you grab me one?' Jacob followed, shutting the door behind him for once.

With the smile still hovering around her lips, Kate sat back and watched Sam, waiting for him to speak first. He sipped his wine slowly, gazing over towards the pool.

‘So when do
I
get long service leave?'

Kate let her smile finally settle. ‘When I get back. First come, first served.'

‘I'll do that,' replied Sam firmly, still without looking at her. ‘And after a few months with this lot, I'll probably need it.'

‘Fair enough,' Kate spoke lightly.

Sam finally looked at her. ‘So what are you going to tell everybody?'

‘The truth. That I'm going to try my hand at writing.' Kate contemplated this for a moment and then grinned. ‘Actually, maybe I should just tell them that we've separated. It'll be less embarrassing if the book never eventuates.'

‘Tough. Or if you
do
tell everyone that we've separated, then I'll find myself a little blonde floozy to keep in the wardrobe.'

‘It'll have to be on my side, your side's too messy.'

‘That's okay. She can clean it up while she's waiting at my beck and call.'

‘I don't think they make floozies like that nowadays. Besides, she'd probably exhaust you inside a week.'

‘Probably,' Sam grinned lasciviously. ‘But, oh, what a week.'

Kate smiled back, feeling so many different levels of relief that it was almost impossible to entangle them. Relief that the conversation had lightened, relief that Sam was no longer overtly annoyed, relief that the kids had taken it so well. And amazing, overwhelming relief that it looked like it was all going to happen, and soon.

‘This wine's pretty foul.' Sam examined his glass critically and then, standing up, flung its contents briskly into the garden. Hector immediately crawled out from underneath the table and loped off to give the wine a second opinion.

‘How about a cup of tea instead?' Kate pushed her chair back.

‘Good idea.'

Sam took her glass with his and then led the way inside, kicking off his damp runners just outside the sliding door. Before she entered, Kate had a sudden thought. She bent down to flip them over and examine the underside for any signs of the bee that had disappeared earlier. Suddenly it seemed important to find out the insect's fate. But both soles were bee-free, with not even an errant leg or wing stuck between the herringbone tread. This, of course, did not guarantee that the bee had survived, but Kate chose to take it as a good sign. And a very good omen for her.

‘H
i, Angie, it's me. Listen, could you give me a ring when you get –'

The phone suddenly clicked as it was picked up. Then came the sound of some rather heavy breathing before finally Angie spoke: ‘Hi, Kate. I'm home.'