The Right Time (24 page)

‘Absolutely,' said Ellen. ‘I couldn't recommend him highly enough. It's the best service I've ever had from a mechanic, or any tradesman for that matter. He went to a lot of trouble to keep the costs down, and he arranged the loan of a car for me. And . . . well, he's just really decent. I trust him. He's a really nice guy, easy to deal with.' She gave an awkward laugh. ‘He even asked me to have a beer with him this afternoon.'

‘Who?'

‘The mechanic.'

‘He asked you to have a drink with him and you refer to him as “the mechanic”?'

‘You wouldn't have known who I was talking about if I used his name.'

‘So you do know his name?'

‘Of course,' said Ellen indignantly. ‘At least, I know his surname, because he calls himself Finn, which is short for Finlayson. I don't know his first name, everyone seems to call him Finn. That's the only name I know him by.'

Liz was watching her with some amusement. ‘You're getting all flushed talking about him.'

‘I am not!'

‘Yes, you are,' Liz taunted. ‘Have you got a little thing for the mechanic?'

‘No, he's just . . . my mechanic.'

‘Ellen, you are a snob.'

‘I am not.'

‘Did you have a beer with him?'

‘No.'

‘I rest my case.'

‘He only offered to be polite because I bought him a six-pack to say thank you.'

‘And you're buying him gifts?'

‘It was a token –'

‘A
lurrve
token?'

Ellen's mouth dropped open, and Liz couldn't keep a straight face any longer.

‘I was just revving you up,' she grinned, nudging Ellen. ‘Ha, get it? I was “revving” you up about the “mechanic”.'

‘That's terrible,' Ellen grimaced.

‘So he doesn't blow your horn?'

‘
Liz
. . .'

‘Get your motor running?'

‘Stop it,' Ellen insisted, ‘you're hurting my brain.'

Liz chuckled happily. ‘Okay. So if not the mechanic, is there anyone else on the horizon? Refrigerator repairman . . . plumber . . .?'

‘Don't be ridiculous.'

‘You're being a snob again,' Liz taunted. ‘Okay, any white-collar contenders?'

‘Of course not.'

‘Why “of course not”?'

Ellen shrugged. ‘I don't have time for any of that.'

‘What do you mean you don't have time? You're free tonight, aren't you?'

‘What? You expect me to walk into a bar on my own?'

‘I suppose not,' said Liz. ‘You could have had a drink with Finn the mechanic though.'

‘Stop it,' she chided. ‘Oh, I just hate Friday nights now. I used to love them. Getting home at the end of the working week and vegging out with a glass of wine, pizza, a DVD. Bliss.'

‘There's nothing stopping you doing any of that.'

‘It just doesn't seem the same on my own. It feels a bit pathetic.'

‘Welcome to my world,' Liz muttered.

‘Sorry. I didn't mean . . .'

‘It's okay. But really, Len, you will adjust in time. It's not that weird, lots of people live alone, go to the movies alone, order
pizza for one, all kinds of stuff. If you can't handle that, you're going to have to stop being so fussy about who you have a drink with.'

‘I wish I'd never mentioned that,' said Ellen. ‘He's just my mechanic.'

‘Sounds like he wants to do more than tinker under your hood.'

‘Elizabeth!' Ellen exclaimed. ‘What is it with these dreadful puns?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I can't seem to help myself.'

Ellen stood up. ‘Well, do you mind if I help myself to another glass of wine?' Then she hesitated. ‘Oh, but Andrew . . .'

‘He'll message when he's on his way,' Liz assured her, holding up her own glass. ‘I'll have a top-up while you're there.' She turned around and rested her arms along the back of the sofa, watching Ellen in the kitchen. ‘So does Tim know about the mechanic?'

Ellen rolled her eyes. ‘There's nothing to know about the mechanic, Liz. But actually, while we're on the subject, I have a feeling Tim might be seeing someone.'

‘Seriously?'

She nodded, pouring the wine. ‘He borrowed the camping gear this weekend, he was going to a
jazz
festival.'

Liz gave her a blank look.

‘Tim doesn't like jazz,' Ellen said meaningfully.

‘And that's what makes you think he's seeing someone?'

She shrugged, walking back around the kitchen bench. ‘It's a lot of little things. He always seems to be out whenever I call him.'

‘That's probably better than hanging around on his own at home,' Liz pointed out, taking her glass from Ellen.

‘But he was always so . . . not
un
sociable, I guess,' she mused, sitting down again. ‘Maybe
a
sociable, if there is such a word. He was happy to stay home, weekend in, weekend out, when we were together. Now he's taking time off work, going to jazz festivals . . .'

‘So it bothers you? The idea that he's seeing someone, getting out there?'

‘No,' she denied. ‘Really, I don't care what Tim does in his own time, it's only when it starts to impact on the kids.' She paused. ‘And we haven't had
that
talk yet.'

‘What talk is that?'

‘The one about how we'll deal with either of us dating.'

‘You're both consenting adults, isn't who you date your own business?'

‘Yes, of course. I'm just talking about how we handle it with the kids. There has to be some ground rules, boundaries . . .'

‘Such as?'

Ellen thought about it. ‘Well, for starters, when should they meet, do you even bring the kids into it if it's only casual? But then if it progresses, well, is a “sleepover” acceptable when the kids are with you, that kind of thing.'

Liz was shaking her head.

‘What?' Ellen asked.

‘It just seems to me that you're adults, you're separated, do you really have to answer to each other any more?'

‘When there's kids involved you do,' Ellen said squarely. ‘You can't just do whatever you want when you're a parent. Every action and decision you make affects them. And I think your first responsibility always has to be to the children.'

Ellen's words were going round in Liz's head, long after she left the apartment. There was no escaping it: Andrew's first responsibility was always going to be to his kids, his own happiness came second. Consequently Liz's happiness had to come second to his kids as well. And she didn't even know them.

She finished her glass of wine waiting for him to arrive, and she began to realise why drinking alone wasn't recommended. Her mind was going off on all kinds of tangents. Like, what if he had left his wife years ago? What if Liz had got to know the kids, if she'd worked hard and Danny had eventually responded to her? What if they had tried to build a life together like thousands of people do in second marriages?

Oh God, why was she having these thoughts? She looked at the glass in her hand. ‘It's all your fault,' she muttered.

Just then a couple of light knocks sounded at the door – Andrew announcing himself – and Liz dragged herself up off the sofa as he let himself in with his key.

‘Hi,' she said, coming towards him.

He opened his arms wide and then folded them around her, holding her close. ‘You smell good,' he murmured, ‘and you feel good.' He lifted his head then to face her. ‘And you look good.'

‘So I scored the trifecta.'

‘No, I did,' he said, bringing his lips down onto hers, at the same time as he started to slide his hands up under her top.

‘Andrew, slow down,' Liz protested mildly. ‘Are you in a hurry? How much time have we got?'

‘I said I'd be late, not to wait up.'

‘Then sit, have a drink. Let's talk.'

‘Okay,' he said with a resigned sigh, which Liz decided to overlook. He fell back onto the sofa as she traipsed over to the kitchen and brought back the wine bottle and a glass for him. Once she poured them both a drink, she clinked her glass against his. ‘Hi.'

‘Hi,' he said.

‘So, how was your night?'

‘Nothing special, just an appendix.'

‘Tell me about it,' she said, shifting sideways to face him and drawing her feet up underneath her.

‘You want to hear about an appendectomy?' he said dubiously.

‘Why not?'

‘Because it's boring,' he said. ‘It's routine, why would you want to hear about that?'

‘It couldn't have been all that routine if it was an emergency.'

‘Well, no, it was infected, it had to come out,' he allowed. ‘But come on, Liz, there's nothing very exciting about an appendectomy.'

‘It's more exciting than what I got up to today.'

‘Then,' he said, putting his glass down on the coffee table, ‘why don't we leave our work behind and get up to something much more exciting.' He went to take her glass out of her hand but Liz pulled back.

‘Don't, Andrew.'

He slumped back against the sofa. ‘What's the matter?'

She paused, looking at him. Did she really want to do this now? She might spoil their whole night.

‘What is it, Lizzie?' he asked with a bit more tenderness.

She took a breath. ‘We don't seem to have a relationship any more.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘We used to talk and talk all night.'

‘I just don't want to talk about work,' he protested. ‘It's been a long day and I want a break.'

‘Okay,' said Liz, ‘but aren't there other things to talk about?'

‘Fine, go ahead, you want to talk, then you do the talking,' he said, picking up his glass again and sitting back.

Liz decided to push ahead. She'd been wanting his input on something for a while anyway.

‘Well, you know my work hasn't been very fulfilling for some time,' she said.

He nodded.

‘So I've been toying with the idea of going back into surgery.'

‘Why would you want to do that?' he frowned.

‘Same reason you're doing it. Because it's exciting, and a challenge . . .'

‘That's not why I'm doing it. You know I don't really have a choice, I'm the breadwinner. Do you have any idea how often I look at your life and envy it? Regular office hours are something I can only dream about.'

‘Then why didn't you do another specialty?'

He rubbed his eyes. ‘Liz, you know all the reasons why. I was already a surgeon by the time Danny was diagnosed. To start all over again then would have been impossible, the study, the hours. Why do you want to go over old ground?'

‘I don't,' she said. ‘I'm just saying, things aren't as green as you imagine on my side of the fence. I've never stopped missing surgery, you know how much I loved it.'

‘You shouldn't be thinking the grass is greener for me either,' said Andrew. ‘Don't forget the hours, the stress . . . It'd impact on our time together.'

‘So what are you saying? I should put my life on hold so I'm available at your beck and call, whenever you have a spare moment to drop in for a quickie?'

‘Hey,' he said, putting his glass down and turning to her. ‘What's going on?'

‘Andrew, you're it, you're the only partner I've got. I would appreciate your support when I share things like this with you.'

‘Okay, but Liz, you have to know you'd be a long shot for a surgery program.'

‘I realise that, but I've been looking at the criteria –'

‘You have? So you're serious about this?'

‘That's what I've been trying to tell you,' she insisted. ‘Anyway, a letter of recommendation from a surgeon of your reputation –'

‘Liz, you can't ask me to do that.'

She stared at him. ‘Why not?'

‘Well, ethically . . .' He just shrugged, like it was so obvious.

‘Andrew, you worked with me, you were my supervising registrar.'

‘Ten years ago,' he reminded her. ‘And yes, you showed promise back then, but I don't know what kind of weight that would hold now. And anyway, you know I can't write a letter . . .'

‘Because we're sleeping together,' she said flatly.

‘It opens us up to all kinds of scrutiny, if someone wanted to dig a bit and challenge it.'

‘I don't believe I'm hearing this.' Liz shook her head, slamming her glass down on the coffee table. She got up off the sofa and walked over to the window.

Andrew followed her across the room.

‘I have made so many sacrifices and compromises for you,' said Liz, without looking at him, ‘and for your wife, and for your kids. People I don't even know. Danny's needs are paramount, and you can't forget about Samantha, and then Jennifer needs support, so your job is vital. And I come last.'

‘No you don't,' he said, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. ‘Not to me.' He turned her around then, to face him. ‘I know it doesn't always seem that way to you, and I'm sorry for that. But you have to know that you are so precious to me, you are the best part of my life. And because of you, and only you, I can face the rest of it.' He held her face in his hands. ‘You're the only thing keeping me together, Liz, and that makes you more important to me than anything else.'