Flying the Coop (9 page)

Once in the bath, Chris let her head fall back and closed her eyes. It had been a very relaxing afternoon and she had been marginally successful, at times, in dragging her mind away from the whole Healesville situation and, specifically, Garth's reaction to it. Now that she was back at home though, and facing another meeting with him soon, the problems came trickling back. She wasn't taking the custody threat particularly seriously, because she knew Garth well enough to know that although he loved his children fiercely, he didn't really want them living with him. He was smart enough to know what it meant – curtailed freedom, sulky teenagers, broken crockery, scattered toys, phone calls from the school, extracurricular activities, endless transporting and the legally sanctioned requirement for regular meals. Not to mention the extra washing and ironing and cleaning. And the effect two resident children would have on his sex life. Chris narrowed her eyes and let herself sink slowly beneath the surface. But what was she going to do if he didn't agree to put the house on the market? If that happened, how did she stand legally?

Chris popped her head back up again and took a deep breath. Then she wiped the froth from her eyes and flicked it towards the tiles, where it slid obligingly down the smooth ceramic and slithered back into the bath. Perhaps she should have a word with Virginia on Monday to explore her options. But also,
why
didn't he want to put the house on the market?
She would have thought he'd be thrilled at the very prospect. Thrilled enough to even come to terms with the children moving further away. Chris mulled over this morning's conversation for a while and finally decided that Garth's resistance was a knee-jerk reaction. It was obvious that he hadn't really taken the whole idea seriously at all, and was quite shocked to realise that she herself was deadly serious. If there was one thing Garth hated it was to be wrong-footed, to relinquish control. So of course his natural response had been to thwart her in any way possible. Because that's basically what he was – a thwarter.

Chris ran this word around her mouth for a while, and then said it out loud: ‘Thwarter'. It had a lovely robust sound with a slightly ludicrous edge that, she decided, suited her ex-husband perfectly. ‘Damn thwarter'. Chris grinned and, closing her eyes, let herself slide under the water again, where she tried to relax the way she had once been taught during yoga, starting at the toes and working her way gradually upwards. By the time she reached her armpits, her lungs were starting to crave some air so she lifted her head slowly until just her mouth was clear and took a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed.

‘Um, Mum?'

Chris sank like a stone and took a mouthful of strawberry-scented water before she floundered her way back up and, coughing, stared at her daughter with astonishment. Grace was standing just inside the doorway, her hand ostentatiously over her eyes.

‘Mum? We're back. And Dad wants to talk to you.'

‘Happy to come in there if you like,' Garth's voice came from down the passage, sounding remarkably more cheerful than it had this morning.

‘Gross,' said Grace with disgust.

‘Why're you back so early?' Chris sank underneath the
bubbles protectively, keeping a watchful eye on the door. ‘I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour.'

‘Oh, we went to this restaurant in Fitzroy and there was this pond inside with all these fish and –'

‘Michael fell in,' finished Chris. She grimaced, partly because of her son, and partly because the strawberry bubblebath had left a foul taste in her mouth.

‘Yep. He's dripping wet.'

‘Okay, give me two minutes and then send him in here. He can jump in this bath.'

‘And don't forget Dad wants to talk to you.'

Chris watched the door close and then stood up, pink-tinged froth sliding down off her wet body as she did so. She grabbed a towel, got out of the bath and dried herself off. Then, with the towel wrapped around her securely, she quickly ran a brush through her hair and shook it, so that it settled into damp waves, before opening the door. A shivering Michael was already standing on the other side, also naked and also wrapped in a towel, his ginger hair plastered to his scalp and, over his left ear, a narrow streak of something greenish that Chris hoped was just pond scum.

‘Can't you see water without falling in?' asked Chris conversationally.

‘I didn't mean to!' replied Michael with amazement, as if such a thing had never happened before. ‘See, I was just looking at the fish and –'

‘Doesn't matter. Hop in,' Chris grabbed the boy's towel as he passed and watched as the pale, skinny little body launched itself eagerly into the bath, sending a cascade of soapsuds over the edge and onto the floor. Chris dropped the towel she was holding onto the now wet floor and straightened it out with her foot. Then, leaving the bathroom door open, she exited the room and tiptoed down the passage and into her bedroom,
half expecting Garth to pop his head around the corner any moment and start chatting.

Accordingly Chris dressed quickly, in a pair of grey tracksuit pants and a white hooded windcheater jacket that she zipped up just enough to leave a hint of cleavage on show. Then she dusted a touch of foundation over her face and ran her fingers through her hair one last time before going in search of some answers. She found Garth in the kitchen, pouring boiling water into the coffee plunger.

‘Coffee?' he asked, looking up from his task hospitably. ‘Or would you rather something stronger?'

‘Just strong coffee will do. Thanks.'

‘Coming up!'

Chris sat down at the island bench and watched Garth as he got down three mugs and then reached for the china sugar bowl she kept on top of the microwave. He was so at home in this kitchen, and so familiar, that it was easy to pretend he had never left. That the past four years had never really happened. No separation or divorce, no Cynthia, and no need to move to a godforsaken farm in the back of beyond.

‘Why're you staring at Dad like that?' hissed Grace, sliding onto a bar stool next to her mother. ‘You look stupid. And your zip's not done up properly.'

‘I wasn't staring,' snapped Chris, sitting up straight and tugging the zip on her jacket up as far as it would go.

‘Here we are.' Garth put a mug of coffee on the bench in front of Chris and another in front of Grace. Then he turned back to Chris and sniffed, frowning. ‘You smell like used bubble-gum.'

‘Thanks. Thanks a lot.'

‘Well, you do.' Garth picked up his own coffee and leant against the wall oven, regarding them both pensively.

‘Where's Cynthia?' asked Chris, blowing at the steam that rose from her coffee.

‘Dropped her off at home after Michael took his header.' Garth put his coffee down on the bench. ‘Sorry about that, by the way. I only took my eyes off him for a second.'

‘That's all it takes,' replied Chris, in an experienced rather than an accusatory tone.

‘I stripped him off just inside, so he hasn't trekked water through the house. And I've chucked all his wet stuff in the machine.'

‘Thanks.'

‘Okay then.' Grace frowned at them both in turn. ‘If we've got all the incidentals out of the way, can we talk about the important stuff now?'

‘Like . . .?' prompted Chris.

‘Like the fact Dad said he'll sign the papers,' replied Grace, with a smug smirk. ‘For the house sale, you know.'

‘You did?' Chris glanced across at Garth, pretending more surprise than she actually felt. ‘Why the change of heart?'

‘Well, it's not that I don't still think it's a stupid idea,' Garth said self-righteously. ‘An
incredibly
stupid idea, actually. But I suppose it's your money and you're entitled to throw it away if you want.'

‘Thanks.'

‘And I'm still not real impressed about the kids moving so far out. And changing schools, especially given that Grace goes to the –'

‘Best school in the state,' finished Grace flatly.

‘Precisely. But I had a long talk with both the kids this afternoon and they seem to have their hearts set on it. So you've put me in an awkward position, haven't you?' Garth raised an eyebrow at Chris. ‘If I stick to my guns and prevent this move, then
I'm
the worst in the world. And if I agree to the sale, then I'm enabling you in this farce.'

‘It's not a farce,' said Grace crossly.

‘And it's not your responsibility anyway,' pointed out Chris. ‘If I want to take a risk, then it's got nothing to do with you.'

‘Well, I don't feel like it's so cut and dried.' Garth looked at her evenly. ‘But you're right, it's your choice. So . . . who am I to stand in the way?'

‘Exactly,' said Grace.

‘So, if you want to put the house on the market, then I'll sign the papers.' Garth smiled at her magnanimously. ‘But mind you, I want to be involved in the whole process. I want to help choose the real estate agent, and set the price. And veto the offers. It's my investment too, and I want the best possible return.'

‘Ah-ha,' Chris smiled at him. ‘You've worked out that if I'm willing to sell, then you get your money back and you can buy your own place, haven't you?'

‘That's got
nothing
to do with my decision,' snapped Garth. ‘Let's not forget,
you're
the one who suggested selling, not me. But if we're going to sell, then I'm damn well going to make sure we do it right.'

‘So we can start ringing agents asap,' Grace instructed her mother, ‘because time is of the essence. Besides, we really need to get a firm idea of what the house'll go for before we can do final calculations.'

‘Yep. Great.' Chris took a sip of coffee and wondered why she didn't feel more excited that, thanks to Garth's acquiescence, the next stage of the plan was about to unfold. Instead she felt a curious numbness.

‘And Dad agrees with me about my name.' Grace fiddled with the handle of her coffee mug, deliberately not meeting her mother's eyes.

‘What about your name?'

‘Well, see, I think if I'm having a fresh start, I should be able to change my name. And Dad agrees.'

‘What?' Chris stared at Garth, astounded. ‘You're
encouraging
her?'

‘Actually, yes.' Garth looked a trifle pompous. ‘I think she has a point. She hates her name, it doesn't really suit her, and this is her chance to change it.'

‘And this wouldn't be your idea of revenge for me buying the farm without consulting you first?'

‘Don't be ridiculous!' Garth looked offended. ‘As if I'd be that childish!'

‘Well, how about we discuss it a bit more later?' Chris turned to her daughter. ‘After all, this is the first
I've
heard about any name change.'

‘And that just goes to show how much attention you pay!' Grace leapt off her stool and glared at her mother. ‘I've been wanting to change my name for years! You just never listen!'

‘Calm down, Grace,' said Garth soothingly. ‘I'm sure your mother's prepared to listen now. Especially given the conduciveness of the situation.'

Chris stared at him narrowly, quite sure that she had seen the flicker of a grin. She was also quite sure that this
was
a form of petty revenge designed to annoy her. And she should have expected something of the sort, because there always had to be
some
level of thwarting where Garth was involved.

‘So you have a chat with your mum later, hey? And don't forget, I'm on your side.' Garth smiled supportively at Grace and then turned to Chris, his face immediately becoming more businesslike. ‘Now, perhaps, we should discuss some details.'

‘Details?'

‘Yes, details. Like who's going to perform an overview of what's driving the market at the moment, and what needs to be done around here to optimise potential, and a shortlist of real estate agents, and – hang on.' Garth reached into his jacket
pocket and dragged out a wad of folded papers. ‘Here we go. I made some notes this afternoon. Perhaps we'll start by going through these . . .'

From:
Christin Beggs

Date:
Saturday, 22nd July 2006. 8.56PM

To:
Jenny Parker

Subject:
Replies

You asked if I was sure I was doing the right thing? Well, the answer is no, I'm not sure at all. But I think I'll regret it for the rest of my life if I don't give it a try. Besides, I'd be so embarrassed if I backed out now that I'd have to emigrate! With regard to the income, yes, it'll be a bit tight but I plan to get a part-time job as soon as we're settled. There's always a demand for a good bookkeeper. And lucky for you I'm not going to take offence by your slur on my ability to commit. Besides, this time it'll be different – I know it! You're just jealous that I'll be frolicking with a hunky farmer. Now for my news. Garth has agreed to go forward with the sale of the house (it's finally hit him that that means he'll get his investment back!). He's coming around tomorrow with Cynthia to do incredible things in the garden. Then we're both taking Monday off work to show estate agents through and pick one to sell the place. Onwards and upwards!

Love, Chris

From:
Jenny Parker

Date:
Saturday, 22nd July 2006. 9.06PM

To:
Chris Beggs

Subject:
Re: Replies

Hmm, do you really think that fear of embarrassment counts as a valid reason to change your entire life? Besides, you
don't have to emigrate – just shift up here near me. Give me the word and I'll start house-hunting. Or just stay with me, it'll give me someone to talk to in the evenings now that Stuart is hardly ever here. Re your hunky farmer – I bet he's old and decrepit or young and gay. And you didn't answer my query whether you were doing this because once you and GARTH wanted to. As for him and Cynthia doing incredible things in the garden, my mind is boggling. Hope you're not going to let the kids watch.