A Perfect Marriage (7 page)

 
He gave her a rather peculiar look at that. "From the time I was-what, fourteen?"

"Some men marry their very first girlfriend. She said you couldn't be too careful."

He shook his head bemusedly. "What on earth did she think she could do about it?"

Celine laughed. "If you looked like you were getting too serious about anyone she didn't approve of, she'd have thought of something. You know Michelle."

"Indeed I do." He tossed the screwdriver gently in his hand. "I know she was over the moon when we announced our engagement. Did my sister take the credit for that?"

"I don't think so. As I remember she was rather surprised, though she certainly took to the idea."

As if the thought had just struck him, he added, "You two don't still tell each other everything, do you?"

"Not quite. No secrets of the marital bed," she assured him.

"I'm relieved to hear it. Well, I'll go and have a look at this lock."

Celine wondered if she'd been tactless. Michelle had liked Juliet, Max's fiancée. She had done nothing to break that up, but certainly she had done her best to further things when Max turned to Celine and began taking her out. Both of them had been through disastrous love affairs, and afterwards had drifted in and out of several superficial, temporary relationships. "You'll be good for each other," she'd said. "The two of you were always alike, even as kids. Sometimes what you need is a friend who understands."

Celine had thought they might have problems explaining their decision to marry to Michelle, but her fears were groundless. Michelle, incurably romantic, had simply taken it for granted that in their own quiet, understated way, Celine and Max had fallen in love. Her congratulations contained enough exuberance for all of them.

When Celine left the bedroom after putting away her bag and stowing the presents in her wardrobe, Max was squatting at the door of the other bathroom, manipulating
the
 
lock
with the screwdriver, the brass face-plate lying on the floor. Celine went to lean on the wall nearby, her arms folded. "Can you fix it?"

"I think so. There's a worn shaft, but I've managed to turn the damaged bit.
Might last a bit longer."
He picked up the face-plate and began screwing it back on.

"You didn't really notice when I started developing a bust," Celine accused him, returning to their earlier conversation.

"Oh, no?"
He cast
her a
brilliant, laughing look before returning his attention to the lock. "Remember that swimsuit you used to have with the sort of rainbow thing in front?"

"I wouldn't have expected you to remember it!" It had been white and featured multicoloured curved strips running diagonally from one leg opening to the neck edge. At twelve, bordering on being a teenager, she'd thought it extremely glamorous. "It was very modest!" she said.
"A one-piece."

Max grunted as a screw fell from his fingers to the carpet and he had to grope for it. "Modest, she says!" He found the screw and placed it carefully, holding it while he fitted the end of the screwdriver into the groove. "When it was wet and
clinging
it didn't leave a lot to the imagination."

"I didn't have a lot," she reminded him, half laughing. "You must have had an overactive imagination!"

"Huh! There I was in the pool, minding my own business, and you and Michelle came along, disturbing me with your giggling and splashing-"

"I suppose we did giggle-girls do," she admitted.

"And when you got out to dive-" he gave a final, decisive twist to the screw "-there you were with that wet suit clinging to you, and I realised you'd grown bumps in front, and the cold water had-well. .:'

Amused, Celine nevertheless felt her cheeks grow warm. If she'd known then what he was seeing, she'd have died of embarrassment.

 
Max picked up another screw and began fastening it. "I couldn't get out of the pool for half an hour."

"What-? Oh!" Celine began to laugh.

Max tightened the screw and stood up. He was grinning, but she could see behind the adult humour the abashed teenager he'd been. "It was bloody embarrassing," he told her sternly. "I was scared stiff-and that wasn't meant to be a pun-that someone would notice. No wonder I hardly dared look at you for ages after that. I'd known you so long it was almost like lusting after my sister."

"Oh, poor Max!" Still laughing, she put a hand on his chest near his shoulder, and moved close to him.
"Never mind.
We're not teenagers anymore, thank goodness." There were definitely some advantages to growing older, she thought as she briefly, teasingly, kissed his mouth.

Christmas was, as usual, a happy blend of childish excitement, timeless ritual and family cheer. Crackers were pulled, and presents were opened before the meal of turkey, ham and several salads, with new potatoes and freshly shelled peas. Nancy's homemade pudding was set alight with brandy and ceremoniously set on the laden table. And the men had a cigar after the meal just as they always did, although neither Tony nor Max was really a smoker. His father normally used a pipe, but for Christmas and special occasions like the birth of his grandchildren he liked to offer cigars. The Christmas pack Nancy tucked in with his presents usually lasted the entire year.

When Michelle and Tony and the children had gone, Celine and Max helped to pick up the scattered Christmas wrappings and cake crumbs, and went home with leftovers pressed on them by Nancy to have for their evening meal. They had a swim, watched television for a while and went upstairs.

As Celine climbed into the bed, fumbled for the bedside light and switched it off, Max leaned over and brushed a kiss on her cheek. "Tired?" he enquired softly.

"Mmm, nicely so."
She turned her face to him, smiling in the darkness. Then the telephone by the bed shrilled, making her start, and Max, with a muttered curse, leaned over and picked it up to answer.

"It's your father," he said, switching on the light and handing her the receiver.

"Dad?"
Celine sat up, knowing it was bad news.

"Dora's taken a turn for the worse," he said. She could hear that he was making a heroic effort to keep his voice steady. "I think this time she's going, Celine."

Chapter 4

Max drove with Celine to her father's home early next day, stayed for one night in the cramped second bedroom with its twin beds, and then left by bus for Auckland.

He had cancelled their holiday plans. Ted was in a state of near collapse, and Celine said simply, "I'm sorry, I can't leave him."

"No, I can see that," Max agreed resignedly. "Do you want me to stay? I was going to be on holiday, anyway."

"There isn't much you can do," Celine told him. He hated being idle, and she knew he'd find plenty to do at home. "I'll phone if we need you."

Dora died five days later. Max arrived for the funeral, and between them they persuaded Ted to come back to Auckland with Celine. He seemed so shattered that she didn't think he would look after himself.

"He's suddenly become an old man," she said worriedly to Max as they got ready for bed after settling Ted in the guest room. "He wasn't as bad as this when my mother

"He's older now, not so resilient. And maybe the second time is worse. Dora was younger than he is, wasn't she?"

"Yes, I suppose he wasn't prepared for her to go before him, too." She yawned as she got into bed. "He doesn't seem to know what to do. He said he can't see himself living in that house without her."

"When he's got over it a bit maybe he'll change his mind." Max slid in
beside
her, drawing her into the circle of his arm.

"Rotorua's so far away, though. I don't like the idea of him being there on his own. Dora's family can't be expected to take him over." Celine yawned again. She'd spent long hours keeping a bedside watch at the hospital, while trying to make sure that her father got sufficient food and rest. And the funeral had been difficult. Dora's family had expressed definite ideas about how it should be conducted, not always in accord with what Ted wanted. Somehow Celine had adopted the role of go-between and conciliator. "Sorry," she said, "I'm bushed."

"I realise that." Max kissed her forehead and withdrew his arm. "Good night."

"Mmm," she murmured gratefully, and hunched down into the blankets. "Good night."

Max lay on his back, one arm behind his head, his eyes open, until she had dropped off to sleep. Looking towards her in the darkness, he couldn't see her face except as a pale blur. Along the circular gallery, a door opened and shut softly, and a few minutes later he heard the toilet in the spare bathroom flush and the door open again, Ted returning to his bed. Max sighed, turned on his side and gave his pillow a punch. Then he closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

Max would never have believed that one extra person in the house could make such a difference to his comfort. Ted had been an early riser all his life, and at six sharp he was up and using the bathroom. Max was thankful that he didn't have to share theirs. Celine got up at seven now, even at
the
 
weekend
, and went down to make breakfast for her father, who would be waiting at the kitchen table.

"Shouldn't he be getting used to doing things for himself?" Max queried once as Celine left their bed. "He won't have Dora to make his breakfast when he gets home."

"It's more to keep him company," she explained. "At least while he's here I can give him that."

:How
long is he here for?" It had been ten days now.

"Until he's sorted out what he wants to do, I suppose." Celine headed for the bathroom.

That evening Max, as usual, found Celine preparing dinner while Ted read the newspaper in the lounge. He wondered what on earth Ted did for the rest of the
day, that
he had to read the morning paper in the evening, when Max himself would have liked to have a look at it. To give him his due, Ted always offered instantly to hand it over, but courtesy demanded that Max invite him to finish reading, first.

Celine, busy washing a lettuce at the sink, said, "Dad's talking about going back to Rotorua in a few days. But he thinks he'd like to sell up and move to Auckland."

"Shouldn't he give himself some time before he makes a decision?" Max felt slightly guilty about his morning irritability.

"It's not as though he has family there." Celine shook the lettuce leaves and placed them in a basket to drain.

"You're the only family he has here," Max pointed out.

"That's better than nothing. I still don't like the idea of him being on his own. Max ...?"

He had a sinking premonition, even as he said, "What is it?"

"This is a big house for the two of us. Would you mind if Dad moved in with us for a while?"

, Yes, he would mind, Max knew. He minded that he could I never read his own newspaper when he wanted to, that he ' was woken each morning by stealthy door-closings and
un
accustomed stirrings and the sound of the plumbing working. He minded that last Sunday evening his father-in-law

  
 
had
sat in a comer alternately grumbling because he didn't understand the plot of the TV play they were watching, and noisily shaking and folding the pages of the Sunday paper.

There were a lot of things that he minded. And he knew that every one of them was trivial, that he was a selfish human being to be minding at all when Ted had so recently lost his loved wife, when the older man had so much more to complain about.

"How long?" he asked Celine cautiously.

"Well, until he settles on something. If he does sell the house, I thought he might buy a flat in Auckland, but this afternoon he mentioned something about a retirement home."

"Is he ready for that? What about one of those villages where you can buy a
flat,
and later progress from one stage to the other?"

"Maybe.
I don't know, though. We'd need to go into what's involved. And I don't want him to feel we're pushing him into anything:'

"Well, if you think it's best, of course he can stay
. ..
for
a while. You're not seeing it as a permanent solution, are you?"

Celine shook her head. "Not if you wouldn't like it." "I wouldn't!"

She looked away from him, and wiped her hands on a paper towel.

"Look," he said, going to her and touching her shoulder, "I'm
sorry,
I know he's your dad. But I just don't think it would work."

"I thought you liked him."

"Of course I like him! It isn't that. But-1 guess I'm used to just the two of us being in the house. I find it a bit ... unsettling."

She turned her head to give him a pained smile. "It's just as well we don't have children, then, isn't it?"

"You know that would be quite different!"

Celine shrugged. "Anyway, half the time you're working late, and even when you are here, most nights you're
shut
 
away
in your study. It's not as though we're together that much."

Nettled, he retorted, "Well, you know, when I'm home you're just as likely to be out at your bridge or badminton, or your night class or your book club. Although I notice you've stayed around for your father more than usual."

Celine threw down the crumpled paper towel on the bench. "What am I supposed to do, wait around every night twiddling my thumbs in case you come home and want my company? I thought you were pleased that I had interests of my own. You said so!"

"That was years ago, when I was still a struggling junior partner." He had been at least relieved that Celine was self sufficient enough to find plenty to do when he was busy forging his career. "We ought to have more time for each other now," he said.

"I see. Now that you have time for me, I'm supposed to give up my own interests to cater to your whims!"

"I don't mean that!" Max flushed angrily.