Almost Perfect (39 page)

‘What does she do?'

‘She's a psychologist. She works in private practice.'

Georgie wanted to know how she really was. This poor woman who had been through hell and back and ended up with nothing. Georgie felt almost guilty, like she was having the baby Anna should have had.

‘Georgie?' said Liam, breaking her reverie.

‘Mm?'

‘What made you decide to tell me?'

‘Not what, who,' she returned. ‘Nick maintained from the start that you had a right to know, but what it really came down to in the end was what was best for the baby. He has a right to know his father. Not that I'm asking for anything,' she added quickly.

‘Georgie, I want to be part of this child's life, more than anything.' He paused. ‘I still love you–'

‘No, Liam, don't,' Georgie said firmly. ‘Don't go there.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because that's not what this is about. I said before that this doesn't change anything between you and me.'

‘It changes everything, Georgie. We're having a baby and I'm separated now–'

‘Liam!' she interrupted. ‘We can't play happy
families and pretend the past never happened. At least I can't. I don't even know who you are–'

‘Yes you do.'

‘How can you say that? My God, Liam, you had a whole life I didn't even know existed.'

‘Well, now I can tell you everything. Ask me whatever you want, I promise I'll tell you the truth.'

Georgie shook her head. ‘Don't you see, that's the problem, Liam. How can I know what's the truth with you, what's real and what's made up?' She paused. ‘Sometimes I think about all the excuses, the meetings and trips and conference calls . . . It must have exhausted you keeping the deception going.'

‘Georgie, I told you the truth wherever possible–'

‘Liam!'

‘I know it sounds lame,' he said, rubbing his forehead, ‘but I was so stressed out, I didn't know what I was doing. It made sense to me then. But I have no reason to lie to you any more, Georgie. Can't you learn to trust me again?'

Georgie was staring down at her glass. ‘Anna was the name of your flatmate. You turned your wife into a crazy woman you felt sorry for?'

He looked guilty. ‘I never said she was crazy. But the reality was that I was living with a woman who was going through a hard time, and she was emotionally unstable–'

‘And she was your wife!' Georgie declared. ‘You left that little detail out.'

He sighed. ‘It was wrong, I know that. But I won't lie to you again, Georgie. I promise.'

‘Well, that remains to be seen,' said Georgie. ‘But
regardless, anything we may have had has been spoiled, it's tainted, Liam. You're not the person I thought you were, the person I fell in love with. He doesn't exist.'

But he does. He was that person, the one she had fallen in love with, and he was going to prove it to her. She was carrying his baby, she couldn't resent him forever, not Georgie. Liam was a patient man. He would wait, this was worth it.

‘I understand,' he said seriously. ‘I'll never do anything to hurt you again, Georgie, and I'll support you in any way I can. Whatever you need, money–'

‘I'm not asking for money,' she insisted.

‘Still, I want to be fair about this. I'm not going to let you bear the whole burden.'

‘Look,' Georgie said. He was getting her back up a little. She was going to be the one controlling how this played out. ‘I'll decide what I need and what I don't need. I don't know how I'm going to handle it all yet, on my own.'

‘You don't have to do it on your own.'

‘Liam,' she warned.

‘I'm just saying, I'll only ever be a phone call away.' He looked at her earnestly. ‘I'm so grateful you told me, Georgie, I promise I won't make you regret it.'

‘Hi Georgie, it's Liam.'

‘Hello,' she said guardedly.

‘I'm calling to see how you are.'

‘But you only saw me yesterday.'

‘I know, but under the circumstances–'

‘Liam, you can't phone me every day.'

He paused. ‘Then how often can I phone you?'

‘I don't know.' He could hear frustration in her voice. He didn't want to annoy her.

‘I think I just needed to make sure it wasn't a dream,' he tried to explain.

‘It's real, Liam.' Her tone had softened. ‘Look, I'll keep in touch, I promise.'

‘Okay,' he said, resigning himself. ‘How often?'

‘Liam!' she exclaimed, but she didn't sound annoyed this time. Perhaps a little amused, maybe even flattered. ‘I'll phone you when there's anything to tell you. After my doctor's appointments, for example.'

‘How often do you go to the doctor?'

‘Once a month.'

‘Oh.' He couldn't pretend he wasn't disappointed.

‘But in another month or so, it'll be fortnightly.'

‘Okay,' he relented. ‘But you'll call if you ever need anything in between?'

‘I will.'

‘You know, I think I should give you my other numbers. You only have my mobile.'

‘That's all I had before.'

‘Well, it's different now.'

‘Hmm.'

‘Have you got a pen?'

‘Yes Liam.'

‘Really, you're not just humouring me?'

He heard her laugh. ‘Just get on with it.'

Liam dictated his work number, his home number and his address.

‘You live in Queenscliff?'

‘Now I do. I used to live in Mosman, like I told you.'

‘Hmm.'

‘So have you got all that?'

‘Yes, I have.'

‘And you'll call?'

‘If I need to.'

‘Okay.'

‘Bye Liam.'

‘Bye Georgie.'

He hung up, smiling. He hadn't been able to wipe the smile off his face all day. He felt buoyant and light-hearted. He had something to look forward to again and it was something wonderful, the best thing that had happened to him since Georgie had come into his life. They shared this baby, nothing could change that and they would always be connected, that had to put the odds in his favour. He wanted to go to one of those baby shops and buy the place out. He wanted to celebrate, to announce it to the world, but no one would really understand. It would only confuse his mother. She was still digesting the news that his marriage had broken down,
how would he explain this? Then again, if she met Georgie, that would explain everything.

Liam glanced around the office. He didn't really know anyone here well enough yet to share his news. Then it occurred to him. He picked up the phone again and dialled.

‘Good morning, Evan Pratt's office.'

‘Stella?'

‘Mac?'

‘You haven't forgotten me?'

‘As if I could,' she chided. ‘How the hell are you anyway?'

‘I am bloody fantastic, Stella. I haven't felt this happy in ages.'

‘Wow, what's happened?'

‘Let me take you out to lunch and I'll tell you all about it.'

‘Okay, but I do have to get back to the office this afternoon,' she warned him.

‘I understand. Where do you want to meet?'

They worked at opposite ends of the city now so Darling Harbour was central for both of them. Liam was waiting less than patiently where they'd agreed to meet, when he spotted Stella hurrying towards him. He walked forward and, on an impulse, threw his arms around her, lifting her off the ground. Stella shrieked and he put her down again.

‘Mac! What's going on?'

He couldn't hold it in any longer. ‘I'm going to have a baby!'

She looked perplexed.

‘Well, not me actually . . .'

Her eyes grew wide. ‘You mean Anna finally–'

‘No, no . . .' His heart sank. ‘Not Anna.'

Stella frowned.

‘It's Georgie,' he said simply.

‘You're back together?'

‘No,' he faltered. ‘Let's go find somewhere to eat, this is going to take some explaining.'

They walked to the closest restaurant and Liam insisted on ordering champagne before he told Stella the whole story. He admitted it was all a bit complicated, to say the least, but he wanted to celebrate. It was good news after all, wonderful news. And he wanted to hold onto this feeling for a while. It had been a long time since he'd felt so happy.

‘Do you think you and Georgie will end up together?' Stella asked.

‘I don't know. I mean, I want that, more than anything. But it's going to take a long time for her to trust me again. I'm just hoping that after the baby's born she'll see me in a different light, that she might be able to forgive me.'

‘Well,' Stella smiled, raising her glass to him. ‘Here's to you, Dad.'

‘I wonder if I'll ever get used to that.' He sighed happily. ‘The idea of an actual baby seemed so unreal by the end. I can't believe I'm going to have a child, a son or a daughter . . . it's incredible.'

Stella put her glass on the table. ‘This is going to be hard on Anna. Have you thought about how you're going to tell her?'

He stared blankly at her.

‘You have thought about it, haven't you, Mac?'

‘Of course I have,' he said. ‘I just don't like thinking about it.'

Stella was watching him. ‘Sorry, I've burst your bubble, haven't I?'

He gave her a feeble smile.

‘What are you going to tell her?'

‘The truth. What else can I do?'

‘Try to be sensitive, Mac. Can you imagine how she's going to feel?'

‘She's going to hate me.' He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. ‘I thought about not telling her–'

‘Mac!'

‘For about five minutes,' he insisted. ‘I don't want to hurt her, that's all.'

‘You want to save your skin, you mean.'

‘Probably.' He took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair again. ‘I don't know how I'm going to do it. It seems so cruel. I keep imagining her face . . . '

‘You'd better do it soon, Mac, it's not going to get any easier.'

Anna didn't understand what all the mystery was about. Mac had rung insisting he needed to talk to
her about something important. She'd told him to go ahead, but he'd said he didn't want to discuss it over the phone. Then he'd carried on about whether she wanted to meet at her place or his place or somewhere neutral, it was up to her. Anna had bristled. She knew when she was being handled. Did he think she couldn't cope with whatever it was, that she was so unstable? She told Mac not to be so melodramatic, there was no need to treat her with kid gloves. She had writing class at seven and Mac was in the city till five-thirty, traffic was the only wildcard. She said she'd meet him at a cafe near the college where she could get a bite for dinner while she waited for him, and afterwards she could go straight to class.

It was a little after six when he appeared in the doorway of the cafe. Anna was still waiting for her risotto, so he hadn't done too badly, she didn't know why he looked so ragged. He walked over to her table, his face pinched, his shoulders hunched. God, was it such a trial to have to see her?

‘Hello Mac,' she said breezily, in an attempt to lighten things. ‘You made good time across the Bridge then?'

He shrugged. ‘Not too bad. How are you, Anna?'

She smiled. ‘I'm fine. I'm having the risotto. Are you hungry? Do you want to order something?'

‘No,' he shook his head.

‘Are you going to sit down?'

‘Yeah, sure, thanks.' He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. ‘Do you mind?' he asked, indicating the water jug.

‘Help yourself.'

She watched him pour a large glass of water and gulp down half of it. He dragged his chair closer in and leaned his elbows on the table. Then he sat back again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was clearly very agitated.

‘What did you want to speak to me about, Mac?'

He breathed out heavily. ‘Anna, I've got something to tell you that's probably going to be upsetting. But I'm not doing this to be cruel, or to hurt you. I'm telling you because I don't want you to hear it from someone else. And because . . . well, it's something you should know.'

Anna was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

‘So I'm just going to say it, okay?' He took another mouthful of water. ‘Georgie, the woman–'

‘Yes, I remember who Georgie is,' Anna assured him.

‘Okay.' He nodded, pausing for a beat too long. ‘Well, she's pregnant.'

Anna was confused. Why was this something she needed to know? Unless . . .

‘Are you having a relationship with her?'

‘No, I haven't seen her since January. Not until a couple of weeks ago, that is.'

‘I'm not sure I understand.'

‘Georgie's nearly five months pregnant, Anna. It's mine, I'm the father.'

‘Your risotto, ma'am,' said the waiter, placing a bowl in front of her. ‘Cracked pepper?'

He stood, pepper grinder poised, but Anna was somewhere else. On a hospital bed, her legs in stirrups, holding Mac's hand and watching the screen as
the doctor implanted three embryos. At that precise moment, and for at least a short while afterwards, Anna was pregnant. She only ever said it to Mac once, and he said technically she wasn't really pregnant and it was better not to think like that. So she didn't say it again, not out loud. But in her heart those embryos were her babies, and that's how she used to think of each and every one of them, even though most of them would never survive. Even though, in the end, none of them did.

‘Anna?'

She looked across at Mac.

‘Do you want pepper?'

For a second she wondered what the fuck he was talking about. Then she became aware of the waiter at her side. ‘Yes, thank you,' she said calmly. He turned the grinder above the plate of risotto, showering it lightly with black pepper. ‘And could you bring me a glass of riesling, please?'

‘Certainly.' The waiter turned to Mac. ‘Can I get you anything, sir?'

‘No . . . thank you.'

Mac looked perplexed. He was waiting for a reaction, Anna decided. Perhaps he wanted her to get angry, him and his desperate need for penance. Well, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

‘So,' she began, picking up her fork, ‘are you going to make an honest woman out of her? Is that why you wanted to see me, you want a divorce?'

‘No, that's not why . . .'

‘Then why?' Anna lifted an eyebrow as she scooped a forkful of risotto into her mouth. ‘Mm,'
she swallowed. ‘This is fabulous, Mac, why don't you order something?'

He shook his head. ‘I'm not hungry.'

The waiter returned with her glass of wine. ‘Honestly, Mac, you should at least have a drink with me, so we can make a toast.' Anna raised her glass. ‘What's a good one? How about, “To the victor, the spoils”? What's that from, is it Shakespeare?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Or . . .' she mused. ‘I know! “Winner takes all.” That's appropriate, don't you think, Mac?'

He sighed heavily. ‘Georgie and I are not back together, and she doesn't want to get back together, okay? I'm not the winner, I don't have it all.'

‘That's right, you said you weren't sure you even wanted a baby any more, didn't you? So how do you feel now?'

‘What do you want me to say, Anna?'

‘Just be honest. Don't pretend you're not glad this has happened. Come on, you were so keen for us to stop the treatment, I'm half wondering if you and Georgie weren't actually trying to fall pregnant at the time–'

‘Oh for Chrissakes, Anna!'

‘What? It's a perfectly reasonable question.'

‘It is not reasonable and you know it. How could you think for a minute that I planned this? It just happened–'

‘I seem to remember you saying the same thing about the affair. “It just happened”, like it was all completely out of your control. You have women throwing themselves at you, bearing your babies no
less, and there's not a thing you can do about it. Poor Mac.'

He stood abruptly, shoving his chair back. ‘I'm not going to listen to this, Anna. I thought I was doing the right thing letting you know, but I can't talk to you, you're so incredibly bitter.'

‘Well, what do you reckon, Mac?' She glared up at him, meeting his gaze. She saw something flicker across his eyes, maybe pity? That was the last thing she wanted from him. ‘I'd like to finish my dinner now,' she said calmly, picking up her fork and focussing on her plate. She didn't look up again, but she was aware of him walking away and leaving the cafe. Anna dropped her fork and picked up her glass, emptying it. The waiter came over.

‘Would you like another?'

‘Yes, thank you.' He went to take the glass. ‘No, bring the bottle,' Anna told him. ‘And do you sell cigarettes?'

‘Sorry, but this is a non-smoking restaurant.'

She smiled at him. ‘Of course.'

‘I'll get your wine.'

Anna drank two more glasses while she considered her options. She could pick up another bottle and a packet of cigarettes and go home. But drinking alone sounded a big warning bell for her. It was all right here, she was technically on her own but there were people around. And it used to be acceptable when she was expecting Mac home any time. She started to feel melancholy, remembering how he had always
looked after her, staying with her even while she threw up into the toilet. Did he do that for Georgie? Maybe when she had morning sickness? No, that couldn't be right. Her head was beginning to feel fuzzy but she was pretty sure he said he saw her for the first time only a couple of weeks ago. Was that when he found out? And she was five months already? Why had she waited so long to tell him? Maybe he'd found out by accident, or she'd taken that long to decide what she was going to do. Perhaps she'd even considered a termination, which would be the cruellest irony of all. Whatever, she'd obviously decided to keep it, and to involve Mac. But didn't he say they weren't back together, that she had no intention of getting back with him?

Anna's head was beginning to hurt. She probably shouldn't drive. She was only on her third glass, but it was under the hour. The thought of going home alone was more than she could bear. And then she remembered writing class, she was supposed to be going to writing class. That's exactly what she would do. And what's more, she'd go for that drink with Vincent afterwards. She signalled the waiter for the bill. She felt much better. She had something to do, people to be with, and someone to drink with. She didn't have to go home alone and be pathetic.

Anna left the cafe and bought a packet of cigarettes in the convenience store further up the block. She could walk to the college from here, giving her a chance to have a cigarette. It made her head spin, which she always found a strange though not
altogether unpleasant sensation. By the time she arrived at the college she was feeling a little jittery, probably from the jolt of nicotine. She mounted the stairs and walked along the corridor, the heels of her boots clunking all the way. When she came through the door, there was only Deb and Vincent in the room. Anna winked at Deb as she strode determinedly over to Vincent's desk. He looked up as she approached and his face broke into a smile. Deb was right, he was damned sexy.

‘Is your invitation still open?'

Vincent frowned slightly. ‘You mean for a drink?'

Anna leaned over the desk. ‘Uhuh.'

‘Tonight?'

‘Uhuh.'

‘Absolutely.'

‘All right then.' She turned on her heel and walked over to sit next to Deb. ‘Hi, how are you?'

‘Fine.' Deb considered her curiously. ‘How are you?'

‘Wonderful, couldn't be better,' she chirped. ‘And I'm going out with the teacher after class,' she added in a whisper.

‘You go, girl,' Deb grinned. ‘What made you change your mind?'

‘I feel like celebrating. I've just seen my ex. He and his tartlet are having a baby.'

‘Are you all right?'

‘Of course I'm all right,' she said briskly. ‘Why shouldn't I be all right?'

She busied herself finding paper and pens while the rest of the class sauntered in. Finally Vincent
came around in front of his desk and perched himself on the edge.

‘Okay,' he said, getting everyone's attention. ‘We're going to leap straight into a writing exercise so that we'll have time to workshop it in class tonight. Hopefully we'll get through most of you if we get started right away. And,' he added, over the rumble of discontent, ‘quit moaning. If you can't cope with other people reading and criticising your work, then give up now. What I want you to do is use as your starting point a familiar story. It may be a fairytale, a Bible story, Shakespeare, whatever, but you're going to rewrite it. Now, I don't just want the same story in your own words. I want you to do something different with it. Write it from a minor character's perspective, or write in a new character or characters. Or play with the genre, turn The Three Little Pigs into science fiction, or Little Red Riding Hood into a murder mystery, which is not so far from the truth, when you think about it. Or write a gritty social realist piece where Cinderella discovers the Prince is an elitist bore, and starts snorting coke with the servants before joining a resistance movement plotting to overthrow the aristocracy. Choose your source and your treatment and go with it. Don't falter, just try it out, and let's see what we come up with.'

He looked around the class at the faces staring blankly back at him. ‘And we're starting now,' he added, clapping his hands together. That roused a few of them and they began to rummage inside their bags. The three Barbie dolls who always sat together,
dressed alike, spoke alike, thought alike, were clearly flummoxed. They were screwing up their pretty painted faces and whining amongst themselves. Vincent knew he would have to go and talk them through it. Others in the class were staring up at the ceiling, or out the window, or at blank pages, some doodling, jotting words, oiling the machinery till inspiration chugged to life. He scanned the rest of the way around the room coming finally to Anna. Only she had begun in earnest. She was writing furiously, her head bent over the desk while her hand moved at a lightning pace across the page. His gaze lingered on her a while longer before he stood and made his way over to the Barbie aisle.

‘So what made you choose that particular story?' Vincent asked Anna. They were seated in a booth at a bar up the road from the college and Anna was already making steady progress through her first glass of wine. But she felt exhilarated now, not depressed.

‘Hmm, do you want the long or the short answer?' Anna mused.

Vincent leaned forward. ‘I'm not going anywhere.'

She smiled. ‘Well, I guess the story of Abraham and Sarah strikes a particular chord with me. You're aware of the original, I take it?'

‘Sure, it's one of the first they feed you at Sunday school,' he remarked. ‘I always remember the part about God telling Abraham his descendants would number the stars in the sky. It's a good image. God must be a poet.'

‘I think it reads more like Stephen King. When Abraham takes Isaac off secretly to kill him, binding his hands and feet . . . ?' Anna shuddered. ‘Poor boy would have been in therapy forever.'

Vincent laughed mildly. ‘Anyway, in your version you have Abraham fretting that he'll never have children and pursuing the slave girl. But in the Bible, as I recall, Sarah was the one who panicked and actually arranged for Abraham to sleep with Hagar.'

‘A likely story,' Anna scoffed. ‘I bet that was Abe's spin. “Oh my wife made me do it”, “It just happened”. Sounds like my husband.' She took out a cigarette and lit it. ‘Poor Sarah, how did she put up with Abraham and his unbearable ego, believing he had a direct line through to God and that he was meant to be the father of his generation. These days he'd be diagnosed as schizophrenic and put on medication.' She drew deeply on her cigarette. ‘Maybe I should have placed the story in a modern setting and Sarah could have had Abe committed. He meets Hagar, a cleaner, in the psych ward . . .'