Stella Makes Good (6 page)

Had Carly forgotten what it was like having nine-year-olds in the house? As if Jesse could take off to the movies at a moment’s notice!

She peeked into the lounge room where Steve was playing with the twins. He was still handsome. Most men his age were losing their hair and gaining a paunch. Carly’s husband, Brett, was getting rounder by the day. Terry was a bit like that, too, but Stella had said that since he’d moved out, he’d joined the gym.

‘Dinner’s ready,’ she called out.

She dished up the laksa, determined to stay optimistic and bright. As she sat down to eat, she kept telling herself she could do it. She had to do it. It was her job to ensure harmony. Marriage was a compromise. Sometimes you had to do things you didn’t want to, to keep the peace. It was called managing the situation.

Thankfully, Jesse didn’t have to work too hard at dinner. The kids had so much news to share and their enthusiasm was contagious. They chattered on about school, swimming classes and sport. Then Ollie mentioned a movie he wanted to see on the weekend because ‘all the other guys have seen it’.

‘Not me?’ said Emily.

Ollie shook his head. ‘Of course not you. You’re a girl!’

‘I’ll take you,’ said Steve, looking up from his laksa.

Wow, that was a surprise, Jesse thought. Progress.

Ollie beamed and punched his fist into the air. ‘Yes! A boys’ afternoon.’

Jesse smiled. ‘Excellent. Carly’s invited me to the movies tomorrow, too. I’m sure we can see something that you’d like, Em, so all three of us can go.’

‘Yay,’ said Emily, bursting with excitement.

‘You see too much of that woman,’ Steve cut in. ‘She’s a bad influence—I don’t want her around Emily.’

On and on he went. Jesse couldn’t understand it, especially in front of the children. It was only an invitation to the movies, not an invite away on a girls-only weekend to Melbourne. In the end she said, ‘Forget I ever mentioned it,’ and set about clearing the bowls away.

She put the kids to bed, read them each a story and then took herself off to bed, too. If Steve was in a foul mood and didn’t have the decency to explain why, so be it.

But by the time he came to bed, she’d calmed down.

She rubbed his back. ‘What’s up? Have I done something wrong?’

He shook his head. ‘Just tired, that’s all.’

‘Maybe you need to get away from us for a weekend. Why don’t you and your mates go up to the Gold Coast for a golfing weekend?’

Steve loved the Gold Coast, but Jesse found Surfers Paradise seedy and depressing. Too many cracks in the pavements, too. She reasoned that Steve heading up for a weekend with his mates every few months might mean they could avoid a family holiday there later in the year.

‘So now you’re trying to get rid of me, is that it?’

She couldn’t win.

She thought about sneaking out of bed once Steve was asleep and phoning Louisa, but she knew that if she let her guard down and told Louisa her troubles, her sister would say what she always did: ‘Get outta there, Jess. Run away. Come over to San Francisco and stay with me.’

It was best just to try to get a good night’s sleep. She’d ring Louisa first thing tomorrow.

Louisa shut her laptop at the end of her working day, ready to catch the Nob Hill cable car home to her cat, Ziggy, and boyfriend, Philippe. Ah, Philippe!

She’d only introduced him to a handful of her friends, and those who had met him had instantly started teasing her for being a ‘cradle snatcher’.

‘So it’s just sex, is it?’ one of them had asked.

‘No . . . and yes,’ Louisa had replied.

Philippe made her happy. He massaged her toes, and she liked the feel of his young unwrinkled skin against hers. He didn’t have any of the bitterness that came with age and experience. He was free, unburdened. Louisa didn’t question why he was with her. He was and that was all that mattered.

She’d wanted him the first time she saw him: when he walked into her Wednesday afternoon tutorial group five months ago, at the start of the semester. He was late. Late and laughing, acting like everyone else in the room had just missed out on hearing the funniest joke. She kept her eye on him. It helped that he had a toned, muscular surfer’s physique (those arms!), sun-bleached blond hair and a cheeky broad smile. He was late to other classes too, but was always beaming and full of energy. How did people get to be that sparky? Louisa blamed his youth. Occasionally, he’d disrupted the class with his antics, but she never cautioned him because he was a good student and his assignments were always handed in on time.

In October last year, however, he’d handed in a truly shocking piece of research. There was nothing to it; it was transparent and juvenile. Louisa had failed him. To his credit, he’d come to see her in her office that same afternoon.

‘Philippe,’ she’d said, ‘you can do better than this.’

He’d grinned at her. ‘Really? Can you teach me? I don’t have any experience but I’m a quick study. If you want me, I’m available.’

Louisa didn’t need to be asked twice. She’d locked the door and banged him on her desk right then and there. She’d never done it on a desk before. It was exhilarating. They’d been so frenzied, there was little time for foreplay. He’d whipped out his erect cock, Louisa gasping at the sheer thrill and decadence of it, and that was that!

Eventually, they’d moved from the desk to the carpet, and again the sex had been hurried, hungry.

Despite knowing she was risking her professional reputation, not to mention making a complete fool of herself with a student, Louisa had invited him back to her place.

‘I can be there in thirty minutes,’ he’d said, tucking himself in and zipping up his jeans.

‘Better make it an hour,’ she’d replied, doing her best to sound casual.

Fifty-seven minutes later when she buzzed him in, just on dusk, they’d barely made it to her bed, kissing, pulling and tugging at each other’s clothes as if they might never see each other again—which was the way Louisa usually played her sex life.

When Philippe ripped off his T-shirt, she’d marvelled at his muscled chest. She’d had her hands all over it barely hours before, but now it was as if she was seeing him properly for the first time. She slid her fingers inside his jeans in search of . . . ah! Her gaze dipped, taking in his tight, tanned body, his obvious arousal.

He pulled her close, slipping her black jersey dress easily off her shoulders. He released her bra and started gently exploring her nipples with his tongue, before moving down to lick her stomach playfully. ‘You’re perfect,’ he murmured, before moving lower and finding her inner thighs . . . He’d kissed her and teased her, his tongue hot and nimble, bringing her right to the edge of orgasm.

Dizzy with a desire she hadn’t experienced in a long time, Louisa felt the hot spasms coursing through her body. She groaned as his hands wrapped around her butt, pulling her closer.

He lifted his head. ‘I think you’re ready for me now.’

Louisa had let out a strangled ‘yes’ as he snaked his way up her body and kissed her with passionate force. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust into her, loving the feel of him, all of him, deep inside her. She felt desirable, fuckable. Philippe was definitely going to prove to be a distraction at work, no doubt about it.

And he was! He was all she could think about those first couple of months—his skin, his lips, his eyes, his touch. She practically orgasmed looking at him. He was extraordinary. Still, there was no way she was going to fall for him.

Several years before, when Louisa had first started working at the university, she’d fallen in love with an older colleague, an English professor, who had wooed her with all the best lines from the Romantic poets. They had a brilliant two-year affair, right up until his announcement that his tenure was coming to an end and he was moving back to New York City and his wife. Devastated, Louisa had vowed never to fall in love again.

Standing on the cable-car platform, the wind whipping her hair around her face, Louisa smiled to herself as she recalled Jesse asking about Philippe when they’d spoken on the phone last night.

‘When am I going to meet him?’ Jesse had wanted to know.

Louisa had been her usual non-committal self. ‘Maybe during our summer break. It really depends on what courses I’m teaching.’

‘Can you at least email me a photo then?’

‘I guess I could do that,’ Louisa had laughed. ‘How are things with you?’

‘Busy, the usual.’ It wasn’t like Jesse to be so brusque.

‘And the library?’ Louisa had pressed her.

‘There’s a full-time position coming up that I’d love to get.’

‘But?’

‘But nothing. Steve doesn’t want me to apply for it.’

Louisa had wanted to scream, but it wasn’t her place to interfere . . . Though sometimes she just couldn’t help herself. ‘Jesse, you should go for it if that’s what you want.’

‘I guess.’

Jesse had changed the subject, clearly not wanting to pursue that conversation. Instead, they’d made small talk while Jesse cleared cereal bowls and fussed over the twins. It was seven in the morning in Sydney and Jesse had sounded tired and fed up.

‘How can you stand it, Jesse?’ Louisa had asked. ‘Day after day? Don’t you want to scream?’

‘This is my life, I have to get on with it. My home, my kids, my life. No one else is going to live it for me.’

‘But some part of you must yearn for freedom and adventure,’ Louisa had persisted.

‘Maybe. But it’s not my time yet. One day it will be, but not today.’

When the call ended, Louisa had put down the phone feeling like she’d missed something important during their conversation.

She couldn’t quite believe that her sister had remained married to that prick for so long. If she ever found out the truth . . .

But Louisa quickly put that thought out of her mind. Jesse never would find out the truth—that was why Louisa had stayed out of her life all these years.

sually I was up by seven, even on a weekend, but today I’d slept in until eight thirty. Something of a miracle for me. Must have been all those dreams about Colin Firth, or maybe Mike. It was now mid-morning and I was driving over to see June. Terry had called me half an hour ago to remind me. As if I’d forget.

I’d asked the kids this morning if they’d noticed anything odd when they’d spoken to their nanna recently. They’d looked at me as if I had two heads and gone back to what they’d been doing. Ben and Hannah weren’t really in speaking mode these days. They were teenagers, the world revolved around them, and if it didn’t? Well, they weren’t interested. I got it, but I’d have appreciated more than the occasional grunt from time to time. Ben was the worst. He was attached to his phone, iPod or computer twenty-four seven. Hannah was a bit more communicative: she’d chat about friends, music or the latest movie she’d seen if she was in the mood. But if she wasn’t up for a talk, forget it. It was monosyllabic answers all the way. So I hadn’t really expected much of a response when I quizzed them about June.

Then I’d moved on to their dad. ‘He’d really like it if you both stayed overnight some weekends,’ I told them.

‘Yeah,’ said Hannah.

‘Yeah, you will?’

‘Yeah, no. Can’t this weekend. Lucy’s having a party.’

I shook my head. ‘Ben?’

He was wolfing down an overflowing bowl of Weet-Bix. ‘Nup. Exams.’

‘Come on, guys. You need to see your dad and I need a break.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m sorry we’re such a burden and ruining your perfect life!’

Perfect life? What the . . . ?

‘You’re not a burden, darling, but Dad misses both of you. He wants to see you, take you out to dinner, the movies—’

‘I’m good,’ said Ben. ‘Anyway, if he wants to see us why can’t he come here?’

‘Because he wants to show you his new apartment.’

They’d both rolled their eyes.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Hannah. ‘I don’t want to stay overnight with Dad’s lover.’

Well, when she put it like that.

‘Can you at least call him?’ I asked. ‘Organise to go to the movies or something with him tomorrow?’

They’d both shrugged and scarpered, leaving me to clean up the breakfast mess. As well as that, I had the daunting prospect of baking some scones to take to June’s. She loved scones, so as much as baking didn’t appeal to me, I’d given it my best shot.

‘Hi June,’ I said when she opened her front door. ‘How are you this morning? Thought you might like some scones. They’re still warm.’

Nothing seemed amiss. June was dressed and wearing a purple and cream turban. Clearly, she’d eaten cereal for breakfast—the porridge container was sitting on the bench. She seemed in high spirits as she put the kettle on.

‘Go walking this morning?’ I asked.

June was one of those people who got up before daybreak every morning without fail and walked every morning without fail, unless there was a cyclone warning or blizzard—both unlikely occurrences in Sydney.

‘Of course. Best part of my day,’ she said briskly.

I’d never been up before sunrise, except once, to catch a 6 am flight to Darwin. Of course, when Hannah and Ben were babies I was often awake at that time, but I’d worked hard to erase those memories. Sleep deprivation and I did not sit well together.

June pulled out two teacups from the cupboard. ‘Beautiful morning, but it’s going to be a scorcher.’

I watched as she moved nimbly around the kitchen. ‘Terry tells me dinner last night wasn’t so good?’

June turned to me and raised her eyebrows.

‘What?’ I probed.

‘I don’t know why he had to bring that woman.’

‘And which woman would that be?’

‘Why? Has he got a few?’

‘Good one, June. Not to my knowledge. But seriously, he said you wouldn’t talk to Amanda.’

‘Did he? Well, what does he expect? Taking up with a woman who wears plunging necklines. They should both be ashamed of themselves. What about you and the children?’

‘I’m fine. You know Terry and I are separated, right?’

She looked at me as if I had two heads. I knew which side of the family my kids had inherited that from! ‘Of course I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. In my day, you stayed married until you died. There was no other choice. Marriage or death. End of story.’

‘Thankfully, times have changed.’

I covered several scones with strawberry jam and whipped cream while she poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘Come and sit down,’ I said.

She inspected the spread. ‘Lovely. Where did these come from?’

‘June! I baked them this morning.’

‘Yes, of course. Silly me.’

Over the tea and scones, we talked about June’s plans for the following week. I listened carefully to her every word. She certainly seemed to know what was going on with Terry. She dismissed last night’s events as him being ‘overly sensitive’.

She adjusted her turban. ‘Terry’s never liked confrontation. One bark and he’s off like a dog with his tail between his legs. In some ways, he’s still a child.’

I couldn’t argue with that—she was spot on.

After an hour and a half, I’d decided that June had her wits about her, but was pissed off with Terry for not staying married and miserable like half the population. Yes, she was unimpressed with Amanda, but I was sure she’d come around.

When I arrived home, the house was empty except for the Cavoodle and the Burmese who were engaged in their familiar Mexican standoff routine, this time over a rogue slice of ham. Don’t know why the dog bothered pretending to be brave, the cat always won. Without the kids around, it was almost too quiet. Not that I was complaining. It was nice to have some time to read the papers and play the music I wanted to listen to. However, my peace was shattered a few minutes later when the phone rang.

‘Stella? Did you see Mum? Is she okay?’

I’d forgotten about phoning Terry to report back.

‘She’s fine. She was probably just tired when you saw her, having an off night.’

‘I’m so relieved. I mean, it’s not good she was rude to Mandy, but I was worried it might be something more.’

‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get her checked out by a doctor . . .’ As much as I didn’t want to alarm him, I did think June’s forgetfulness was more than simple absent-mindedness.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really, Terry. As much for your peace of mind as hers. Don’t worry, I’ll organise it.’

He sighed. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’

‘No worries. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.’

‘What are the kids up to?’

‘The usual: hanging out with friends, refusing to clean their rooms. Why don’t you call them?’

‘Because they don’t want to talk to me. Are they home?’

‘Not right now.’

‘See. I’ll catch them later.’

Poor Terry. In my kinder moments, I felt sorry for him. The kids didn’t really want to spend time with either of us, but at least they were living with me. I could nose my way into their bedrooms occasionally and force them to talk. They weren’t about to friend me on Facebook, but they weren’t entirely locking me out of their lives either. I needed to get stricter with them about spending time with their dad.

I was settling back down with the papers when I noticed two text messages and a couple of missed calls on my mobile. The first text was from Carly inviting me to the movies this afternoon. Maybe. The second message was also from her:
OMG! Ring me ASAP
. It had been sent an hour ago.

I checked my voice messages. The first was from Steve. That was a worry. When I heard the message, I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I had to play it again.

‘
Stay the hell away from my wife, hear me? Jesse doesn’t need the likes of you putting silly ideas in her head about working full-time at the library. And on that other matter, I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. I repeat, stay away from her.
’

The second message was from Carly; she sounded frantic. ‘
Did Steve call you? I’m still shaking. Ring me!
’

I replayed Steve’s message. It was clearly a threat. Under the circumstances, I didn’t think he was in any position to be telling us what to do. Besides, regardless of whether we saw Jesse or not, we could still tell her what we’d seen the other night. Steve couldn’t stop us ringing her or texting her. She was our friend. I spoke to her practically every day.

I phoned Carly.

‘Did he threaten you too?’ she gasped.

‘Yeah.’

‘Stella, I’m still rattled. What are we going to do? Did you actually talk to him?’

‘No, he left a message.’

‘Same here. The guy’s a nutter.’

‘Look, I’m shaken, too, but I don’t think he’s going to do anything silly. He’s just scared we’re going to tell Jesse.’

‘He didn’t sound scared. I’m worried,’ Carly said. ‘Maybe we should steer clear of Jesse for a while? We don’t want to make matters worse.’

I was furious, and thankfully that was overriding my fear for the moment. The nerve of him ringing and leaving threatening messages! I forced my voice to remain calm. ‘I’m not so sure. We haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘Shit! I sent her a text message about going to the movies this afternoon.’

‘Carly, did you hear me? We’ve done nothing wrong. If we suddenly stop talking to her, she’s going to think it’s strange.’

‘Yeah, but maybe we should keep a low profile just for the next week.’

‘What is this?
Underbelly Four
?’

‘Worse.’

‘I still can’t believe we saw him at that party,’ I said.

‘Wearing a nappy!’

Despite our unease, we both burst out laughing.

‘Did you tell Terry?’

‘Nah. You tell Brett?’

‘No way. I just keep wondering how long he’s been doing this stuff,’ said Carly.

I shook my head. ‘Who knows? But seriously, I think it’s best if we do nothing for the moment. And just try to ignore Steve.’

‘And Jesse?’

‘Let’s take a step back, try to keep things as simple as we can for a while.’

I heard Carly sigh. ‘Okay.’

After I’d hung up, I sat for a time thinking about Jesse, worried about what Steve might be capable of. No doubt he would be giving her a hard time right now. Most people would be extra nice if they got caught out like that, but that wasn’t Steve’s style. He was always right, no matter what. He could be caught with the crown jewels in his pocket and he’d still deny it.

I couldn’t begin to imagine Jesse’s reaction if she found out. She’d be devastated, her life in tatters.

I deleted Steve’s message and then wondered if I’d done the right thing.