The Happiness Show (18 page)

‘Point taken, Lizzie. I'm just a bit run-down. And so are you: check out those bags under your eyes. And you've lost a stack of weight. Those jeans are hanging off you.'

‘Too much computer, not enough sleep. Maybe we should both detox and do tai chi.'

‘Nothing two weeks in Bali and four hundred beers won't fix.'

‘You're right. Okay, kids, hop into bed and Mummy will read you a story.'

‘It's okay, I'll do it, Lizzie,' said Jim, scooping up Scarlet.

‘No, Jim, listen to your voice. It's so worn down. Have a bath or chill out in front of the telly or your phone-sex career will be over.'

Lizzie tucked the children in and read
Where the Wild Things Are
. Little did she know that the wild rumpus really was about to start. Once the kids were asleep, she sat down at the computer and yes, she did have mail and yes, it was from Tom. As usual, a shiver went through her at the sight of his name. The subject line said, ‘Plans May Change.'

 

Alright, Lizzie?

Everything OK over there in the land of the happy bronzed extras from
Neighbours
? Strap yourself in and take a deep breath.

Earlier this year I agreed to go on a family holiday with words to the effect of ‘You buy the tickets and I'll turn up at the airport.'

I'm not sure if you recall but Felicity and Keith's wife are sisters. As sisters do, it seems they have organised a holiday in Bali.
With your family
. As much as I like the mystery between us, it seems we are going on holiday together.

At first I was stunned but now I can't wait to see you. You'll like Felicity but it will be rather weird.

Anyway, off to the gym. More later.

 

Lizzie reread the email as fast as she could and then blurted an involuntary and very loud ‘FUCK.'

‘What's the fucking about?' said Jim, walking up behind her.

Lizzie hit a few keys, madly trying to remove Tom's email from the screen while looking like she was engrossed in work.

‘Ah, this arsehole of an, um, fuck, this prick-fucking computer, mother …'

‘I've told you before, stick with the pen and paper, my love, they'll never let you down.'

‘You're right. The old legal pad never got a virus.' She was safely in a blank document.

‘Lizzie, I was thinking, maybe we should go out for dinner some time next week. It seems like so long since we've spent any time together.'

‘Sure. That sounds great. You organise it and we'll get one of the 3Ds to babysit. Maybe the kids could have a sleepover.'

‘Yeah, and come home with tatts.'

Lizzie turned her chair around and faced him. ‘Tomorrow is the last day of shooting, and then life will go back to normal. It's been busy, I know, but we'll have time for everything later. You just get well and, who knows, I might even make you some soup.'

Jim kissed her on the head. ‘I love you, Lizzie.' He was wearing a sarong and a polar fleece. He disappeared into the kitchen and when Lizzie heard the dishwasher start, she felt very, very guilty.

 

JESUS, TOM! I didn't even know Keith and his wife were coming. The last I heard he said he was hanging to get back to Asia. I had no idea he'd booked anything.

I'm speechless! And a little bit scared. But I can't wait to see you.

Gosh!

xo

 

The next morning Lizzie arrived just as the crew was setting up for the final shoot – a laughter workshop.

‘Blimey. Yep, sure. Got that. No problem. Okay then.' Keith hung up. Lizzie handed him a coffee, knowing full well what he was going to tell her next. ‘Lizzie! Good to see you're looking like something the cat dragged in. So, listen, remember how I told you the other night that I was keen to get back to Asia?'

‘Vaguely,' said Lizzie, hiding behind her macchiato.

‘Well, I've booked a holiday at the Shangri-La with my missus. Thought it would be a nice way of relaxing once we finish up. They're leaving London on 3 April and I'm leaving a couple of days later.'

‘We'll be there at the same time. It'll be great! How long are you staying?'

‘Ten days.'

‘I think we're there for twelve or so. Well, that'll be fun.'

‘And that's not all. Guess who else is coming?'

Lizzie's eyes twinkled as she threw her paper cup into the bin. ‘Surprise me.'

‘Tom. Trans-Siberian Tom.'

‘Terrific. So much for a quiet family holiday – it's turning into a full-on reality show. Will we be voting people off or swinging?'

‘If I have my way, a bit of both.'

 

The shoot that day was incredible. The laughter workshop was run by a woman named Angelica whose mother and three children had died fifteen years before in a house fire lit by her ex-husband. Lizzie watched as Angelica led the class in blissful hysteria. She couldn't believe this woman could breathe, walk or talk after such a tragedy, let alone commit herself to improving the happiness of champagne socialists and self-funded retirees – the worried fucking well. Anyone else would have felt ripped off, pissed off and angry at the world.

Everybody's idea of happiness was different, Lizzie mused. For one person it might be to lose twenty kilos, for another it would be a nicer car, for another an end to incessant grief. Lizzie wondered what her happiness would be. What would she change? What was it she wanted?

There was nothing, really. Just to see Tom, to get him out of her system. To know that her kids would be safe and well. Maybe slimmer ankles? She was living a life without pain, but everybody wanted something. There was always a hole to be filled. And when that one was filled, another one would open up.

She thought of how Tom and Felicity must have felt when Celia was at death's door, and how Jules felt when her babies died. She could try to imagine, but she'd never really know. As she laughed along with Angelica, tears ran down her face. They weren't tears of pure joy or pure sadness. They were tears of both.

Later, as Lizzie drove from the shoot to the wrap party, she recalled Angelica's interview after the workshop. ‘We would all be much happier if we woke up every morning, looked around at our lives and felt that we had enough. There were times when my children and my mother were alive when I wasn't happy, but I could have been. I had enough. And I have enough now. I've lost everything but I still have enough.'

Yes, I have enough, thought Lizzie, and she took a detour. Instead of going straight to the party, she went home and helped Jim put the kids to bed first.

 

Jules was back at work and Lizzie was at home, hung over and doing fuck all but lying on the trampoline with the kids, looking up at the sky for answers.

The phone rang. It was Jules, with a mouthful.

‘What are you eating?'

‘Tim Tams. I can't afford to go to Russia for arse-caning therapy, so I'm trying to boost my natural endorphins with chocolate.'

‘Hey, you know how we're off to Bali next week?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Well, guess who's coming with us?'

‘Tony Abbott?'

‘Nope. Keith and his wife and kids.'

‘He's got the hots for you something shocking, Lizzie.'

‘Get off the crack, Jules.'

‘He does. You watch. He'll be stalking you next.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘Satan.'

‘Stop being a fuck-knuckle, Jules.'

‘Hey, Lizzie, be nice, I just almost had cancer. You'll see. I have a feeling.'

‘Didn't you have a feeling that Lost in the Moment was going to win last year's Melbourne Cup?'

‘Yeah, but—'

‘I'm not finished. And didn't you put five hundred dollars on this feeling?'

‘Yeah, but he did come fifth.'

‘I will speak no more about your feelings and I suggest you do the same. So Keith and his missus are coming but wait, there's more.'

‘Okay.'

‘Strap yourself in.'

‘I'm strapped in.'

‘Sitting down?'

‘Yep. Sitting down.'

Dramatic pause. ‘Fark. Tom's coming too.'

‘Jesus, Lizzie. What are you going to do?'

‘Muddle my way through, I suppose.'

‘Come over for Scrabble on Friday night. Cam's going away with clients for some suck-up golf weekend. We need to talk.'

 

Lizzie told Jim about Keith with a vague mention of Tom thrown in. ‘Yeah, I'm sure I told you about this guy. When I went to Christmas drinks at Keith's in London, I thought I recognised his face and it turned out we were on the Trans-Siberian Express at the same time.'

Jim was packing his bag to go off to a meeting at Trades Hall. ‘Probably. Well, that'll be fun. Keith's married, isn't he?'

‘Yeah, remember, with twin boys. His wife and this guy Tom's wife are sisters.'

‘Okay, I get it. I'm going to the supermarket on the way home to pick up some batteries. Do we need anything else?'

‘Probably. Yeah, bin liners, that salami Reuben likes, and chocolate. This thing of holidaying with other families is very in at the moment. It's called – you're gonna love this – “togethering,” and apparently it's been on the rise since 9/11.'

‘Togethering. What a wank. Kiddies are dying of cancer and there are people getting funding to research stuff like this. What kind of chocolate?'

‘Anything. It's for medicinal purposes.'

 

The emails between Lizzie and Tom stopped as the holiday approached. Instead Lizzie pored over photographs of the two of them from the old days. She looked so slim, so young and so gorgeous. No wonder Tom was gagging for her back then. She had no idea at the time, of course. She'd hated her ankles and believed her skin was too blotchy and her body too fat. Maybe women go through life always thinking they are not good enough, she thought. There will be a moment in our lives when we will be the prettiest, the thinnest and the happiest we'll ever be, but we will never know when it is.

She looked closely at a photo of her and Tom in some London pub. They were radiant. Maybe that was her moment. They were cheek to cheek and Tom was holding out the camera to take the photo. For a moment she was transported back to that instant. She could feel his face against hers, feel his arm around her waist and smell his deodorant. What was it? Lynx or something like that. Then she remembered something she hadn't thought about in ages. When she'd first arrived back from London, in that little gap between Tom and Jim, she would go to supermarkets and smell all the male deodorants, trying to find the one Tom used to wear. She'd sniff it and be back in that pub for a second. And she'd melt.

What the fuck was she going to do? Yes, Jim loved her, but was it enough? Was it as much as she could be loved? Was it as much as she could love?

Lizzie looked in the mirror. What she saw was an aged and slightly puffier version of that pretty young thing in the photo. What would Tom think? What was he expecting and what did he remember? Lizzie put a henna rinse through her hair, swam every day and wrote a million lists in preparation. She tried to work out what it was she wanted from Tom and how far she was prepared to go. These things never ended well, Jules had said. But was that right?

The kids were ready to burst with excitement. Lying on the trampoline, they would squeal every time a plane flew past: ‘Is that our plane, Mum? Is that the plane that will take us to Bali, Mum? When are we going to the airport, Mum?'

‘Not yet, darlings. Four more sleeps.'

She was really enjoying the kids at the moment. Not just loving them and serving them but adoring the two little people they had become. Reuben was up and away with his own mates, interests and opinions. He would be at school this time next year and she wasn't sad about it like she'd expected to be, but excited for him. Scarlet was no longer a big one among the babies but a little one among the big kids. It was a great age for them to travel and Lizzie was thrilled at the thought of being back in steamy, intoxicating Asia.

Sometimes she'd be riding her bike back from the pool and it would hit her. She and Tom, back together again. Even if nothing happened she could see him, smell him, talk to him. Jim and Felicity would be there but even so, there would be moments. A look, a line, a memory.

She couldn't help but fantasise. Sometimes she would make herself stop and sometimes she would let rip. She saw the two of them fucking in hotel rooms, or walking hand in hand along the beach. She saw them stuck in a lift and Tom holding her face in his hands and kissing her slowly, his hard-on pressing through his shorts and his hand up her sarong, the two of them picking up where they'd left off in the London Eye.

 

*

 

‘What's the deal with visas to Bali? I forgot,' asked Tom as he packed, ticking off items from his list as he went.

‘On entry everyone gets a sixty-day visa. I bought you some new shorts – what do you think?' Felicity held up a pair of loud Hawaiian shorts in competing shades of blue and yellow.

‘Rather loud. I think you have me confused with an American.'

‘Try them on,' said Felicity playfully. She was used to Tom's resistance to new clothes, but she also knew very well that once she got them on him, he wouldn't take them off.

‘Okay, but only to humour you.' Tom slid the shorts on. Despite himself, he had to admit that they did look quite good, although his legs were so white they were almost pale blue. Felicity had an impeccable eye for what suited him.

‘They may look garish now, but do keep in mind that we're off to the tropics.'

‘Yes, you're probably right, Flick.' He pulled off the shorts, folded and packed them. ‘Reminds me of a joke. Why do Americans speak in such loud voices?'

‘I don't know. Why?'

‘So you can hear them over their clothes.'

‘Will they have television there?' asked Celia, poking her head through the door.

‘Of course, darling, Oh, Celia, don't forget your happy pills.'

‘You've already told me ten times, Mum,' said Celia, rolling her eyes and bouncing off to her room.

‘I keep having dreams that I leave her pills behind. I've had two extra prescriptions filled so that we'll have a bottle in every piece of luggage.'

‘She'll be fine. What's the worst that can happen if she doesn't have them for two weeks?'

‘She can have a fit, Tom. Okay, paperwork check. Three passports – check?'

‘Check.'

‘Three tickets?'

‘Check.'

‘Five hundred quid?'

‘Check.'

Folding up the tickets, Tom stared at the words BUSINESS CLASS. Of course they were flying business class. After all, it was a fifteen-hour trip. He just couldn't tell Lizzie. He'd never hear the end of it. God, he loved her.

‘I'll just check Celia's stuff and then I think we're done.'

‘What time do we leave?'

‘We fly out at midday. I've booked a cab for 8.45.'

Felicity left the room and Tom looked over the rest of his packing list. TOM SUN HAT, he read. It sounded like something you'd see on a Thai restaurant menu. He peered up at the top shelf of the wardrobe and spied the brim of his old straw hat. As he reached for it, a small metal box with a crank fell to the ground. Tom stared at it for a second, picked it up and wiped the dust off. It was familiar; he just couldn't place it. Then he wound the crank and out piped ‘How Much Is That Doggy in the Window?'

Lizzie.

It all came flooding back. Camden Market, the day before she flew back to Australia to look after her mother. They'd been wandering along and lost each other for a second. He'd been crouched on the ground, fossicking through a box of car magazines, when he heard that tune:

 

How much is that doggy in the window?

The one with the waggly tail.

How much is that doggy in the window?

I do hope that dog is for sale.

 

He turned around and it was Lizzie, holding the little box up to his ear. ‘It's for you.'

‘Wow! That was my favourite song when I was a little chap.'

‘I'm not surprised. You hum it all the time.'

‘Do I?'

‘Of course.'

‘I had no idea.' Lizzie handed the trinket to Tom and he turned the handle, squeezing out the music.

Now Tom sat surrounded by packing debris, cranking that little music box and thinking of Lizzie. Thinking of seeing her again, of what might happen. Fuck he wanted to be inside her, to bury his head in her hair, to open her legs and lick her until she came. He imagined her sucking him off while he felt her tits. He wanted to massage her all over, finger her to ecstasy while sucking on her nipple and then fuck her hard and watch her while she came. He wanted to lie on her and kiss her with a hot mouth and tell her, ‘Fuck I've missed you, fuck I've missed you, fuck I've missed you.' Then he wanted to lie next to her, hold her hand, inhale her and get that part of himself back that he'd lost. Or had he given it away?

The vasectomy he'd never had time to organise suddenly seemed like a good idea. Did he really want to fuck her? Would he if they had the chance? Would it take all the goodness out of it? Should he buy condoms? Oh God, it was all so shabby when you started thinking about logistics. No. He couldn't. It wasn't worth it. He could lose everything. Flick, Celia. No, he wouldn't. And he wouldn't buy condoms.

But deep in his heart he knew that if he and Lizzie could, they would. Well, he certainly would. He knew that a few drinks and a balmy night and the two of them together would be too much. He was jonesing for a hit. But then he remembered what Harry had said:
Take it from me, Tom, if you're ever tempted, don't do it, mate. It's not worth it.

He kept cranking and cranking the music box until Celia came in. ‘What's that, Dad?'

Tom looked up, surprised. The spell had been broken. ‘Ah, just … something I found.'

‘Cool. Can I have it?'

‘Ah, well, yes, I suppose so.'

‘What's wrong, Dad? Do you want it?'

‘Ah, no. It just reminded me of something. Take it.'

Celia ran off with the music box and Tom pulled up a stepladder to see what else was on the shelf behind the hat. It was very dusty and there was nothing else there but a rectangular box, right at the back. He flicked it towards himself with the help of an umbrella handle. It flew off the shelf and onto the floor, where it broke open. A purple plastic toy fell out. Peering more closely at it, Tom realised with a jolt that it was a vibrator.

He was flabbergasted. Felicity had a vibrator! It couldn't be anyone else's. On the front were the words PEARL BIRD. He picked it up and turned it on and the thing buzzed and shook while the pearls on the top of the head rotated. He couldn't think; he knew only that he had to put it away as soon as possible. As he stuffed it back into its box he saw that inside was a tube of lube. An almost-finished tube of lube.

He was stunned. He was annoyed. He was jealous. He knew it was silly but he was jealous that he'd been usurped by a plastic, battery-operated marital aid. Sure, he wasn't the most attentive lover, and he had been pretty preoccupied. Lizzie had been fuelling his morning wanks. But he was put out that Felicity had gone elsewhere for satisfaction. At least it wasn't another man. But who knew – she could be doing that too. Who knew what he didn't know? He was annoyed that she even had a secret. He knew he was being irrational and hypocritical. If he could have a secret life, why couldn't she? But it bugged him all the same.

He closed the box and put it back where he'd found it.