The Secret Ingredient (5 page)

Andie had enjoyed a good run back across the bridge, going against most of the peak-hour traffic. She'd called in to her favourite butcher to pick up the lamb shanks she had ordered earlier – they were Ross's favourite, and he had promised to be home at a reasonable hour this evening so they could have a quiet night, just the two of them. He had even had his secretary put it in his schedule so that nothing would get in the way. They hadn't had much time together lately, and they hadn't had sex for quite a while . . . Andie worked out it must have been weeks. Ross always seemed so tired, and it was beginning to niggle. She'd never thought very much about the consequences of marrying a man who was older; Ross had always been so vital, his sex drive rapacious. But Andie didn't really know what happened to men in their fifties. Maybe their libidos did slow down, though popular wisdom would have it otherwise.

As she walked into the apartment, she tossed the keys on the hall table and kicked off her shoes, glancing at the clock on the wall. She had to get dinner on straightaway, lamb shanks needed to cook slowly. She dusted them with flour before setting them to fry gently in a heavy pan, while she chopped onion and celery and carrot. She added the vegetables to the pan along with crushed garlic and her own homemade stock that she always kept on hand, plus a little wine and some fresh herbs. Andie sealed the pot and set the heat low, glancing at the clock again. They wouldn't need to be touched for at least an hour, she'd do the mash later. She wondered how much longer Ross was likely to be. Whatever, it was wine o'clock and there wasn't any point in waiting for him, he wasn't drinking anyhow.

She poured herself a glass of wine and walked over to the window. Their apartment was part of an old warehouse complex that had been gutted and reconfigured into a lofty, open-plan space. Ross had fallen in love with it immediately. He had been so desperate to get away from four-bed two-bath, lawn-mowing, gutter-cleaning, suffocating suburbia, as he described it.

Andie, on the other hand, had taken a while to get used to living in Potts Point, which was Kings Cross by any other name. But she did appreciate the convenience, though she craved peace and quiet occasionally. They used to get away for weekends whenever they could, down the coast, to the mountains or the Southern Highlands. They always ate out, trying new places, or returning to old favourites. They had even talked about moving away from Sydney when Ross retired, Andie opening her own place . . . But they hadn't had a weekend away in ages.

Andie sipped her wine, gazing out the window across rows of terraces towards the city skyline. Lately her life felt like she was just passing the time. She knew it was affecting Ross too. She probably wasn't much fun to be around, no wonder he'd joined the gym. They were in a strange, unsettled, uncomfortable place, and Andie didn't like it. She wanted it back the way it was.

But she also wanted a baby.

Maybe there had been an agreement, but Andie had given up her dreams again and again for the good of their relationship, wasn't it time for some compromise on his part?

She heard a noise in the outer hall and turned around to see Ross letting himself in through the door. He was still in his exercise clothes, juggling his gym bag and his briefcase as he fumbled to extract the key from the lock.

‘Hi darling,' he said without looking up, in that expansive, commanding voice of his that still sent a shiver up her spine. ‘Sorry I'm late. Something smells good.'

Andie took a deep breath as she approached him. She had to make an effort, reconnect . . .

‘Hello you,' she smiled, drawing her arms around his neck, but he pulled back.

‘Andie, believe me, you don't want to get any closer until I've had a shower.'

She reached up and brushed her lips against his. ‘I could join you.'

Now he physically shrank from her, taking a step back. ‘I'm all sweaty from the gym, I just want to get clean.'

‘But I don't mind getting dirty.'

He looked slightly vexed at that. ‘Please, Andie, can you just give me one frigging minute to myself?'

She stepped back immediately. ‘Of course.' What the hell?

‘Won't be long,' he called, striding away from her across the living room to the bedroom.

Andie walked back to the kitchen bench, picked up her glass and drained it. What was that about? The phone rang and she reached over to pick it up from its dock.

‘Hello?'

‘Hi, Andie, it's Joanna.'

‘Oh, hi.' She still felt nervous talking to Joanna, like she was talking to the principal at school. A reasonable, quite pleasant type of principal, but the person in authority nonetheless. Andie always felt young and inexperienced, and somewhat awkward, like she'd been caught out where she shouldn't be. Fooling around with her husband, to be precise.

‘I'm returning your call,' Joanna prompted her. ‘From earlier today?'

‘Oh, yes, of course.' Andie cleared her throat. ‘I was ringing to let you know . . . Well, the thing is, I don't think I can make it to the christening on Sunday.'

‘And Ross?'

‘Oh, no, of course he'll be there,' Andie said quickly. ‘He wouldn't miss it for the world.'

‘I should hope not.'

She took a breath. ‘It's just . . . well, I don't know if it's my place . . . you know, it's a family thing.'

The truth was, Lauren had never warmed to Andie the way the other two had. Andie was good mates with Brooke and Matty now, that's all she had ever tried to be. But Lauren had never dropped her guard. She was older when the split happened, she was close to her mother and, as the eldest, extremely protective of her. Andie envied their relationship and she respected it, she would never have done anything to undermine it.

There was a measured pause before Joanna responded. ‘Well, whatever you think's best.'

Good, that was good. It's not as though Andie expected Joanna to talk her out of it. Why would she? ‘So, anyway, I wanted to send a platter —'

‘We're having it catered.'

‘Still, I'd like to contribute.'

‘Andie, it's being catered,' Joanna repeated calmly. ‘I assume you've organised the gift? Ross certainly wouldn't have thought to.'

‘No . . . I mean yes, of course, there's a gift.'

‘Then, there you are, you've contributed. Lauren will appreciate it.'

Andie suddenly had the urge to ask Joanna what she would make of Ross's behaviour – had he had periods when he'd withdrawn from her? Joined the gym out of the blue, given up drinking? Did any of that happen before he left . . .

Hell, where did that come from?

‘Was there something else, Andie?' Joanna was asking.

‘No, no, that's it. I'll let you go,' she said quickly. ‘Thanks.'

Ross wandered out into the living room as she hung up. He was rubbing his head with a towel, making his hair stick out in all directions. It made him look boyish, even at his age. Blond hair didn't show the grey much so he really didn't look like he was over fifty. He was still a handsome man, his eyes as blue as the first time they looked into hers when he asked her for her name.

‘Feel better now?' Andie asked him tentatively.

He smiled, walking towards her. ‘Much better, thank you,' he sighed loudly as he drew her into his arms. ‘So, where were we?' he murmured as his lips came down on hers and he kissed her soundly.

And just like that, it was over. This was happening too often lately, small flare-ups that went nowhere, truncated discussions – especially anything to do with a baby – and just general avoidance of conflict, and each other. It wasn't only him, Andie knew she was guilty of it as well.

‘How was your day?' he asked after a while, drawing back to look at her. ‘Did you see your dad?'

‘Hm.'

‘How is he?'

Andie sighed. ‘The same. I think he's just lonely. I'm wondering if I should go over more often, maybe have dinner with him one night a week.'

‘You should, you know,' he said. ‘That's a good idea, actually.'

‘You wouldn't mind?'

‘Of course not.' He released her and walked around the kitchen bench. ‘I have to work back so often lately, you might as well go and keep your old man company.' He opened the fridge door and peered in. ‘Was that the phone I heard before?'

‘Oh, yes, it was Joanna.'

He looked back at her, frowning. ‘What did she want?'

‘It was about the christening,' said Andie.

He picked up the bottle she'd already opened. ‘Do you want a top-up?'

‘Oh, not if you're not drinking.'

‘I'm not drinking, darling, but that's no reason for you not to.'

‘Okay.' She gave him a smile, sliding her glass across the benchtop towards him. ‘Thanks.'

Ross poured the wine. ‘So, what about the christening?'

Andie hesitated. ‘Oh, well, Joanna was returning my call, actually.'

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.

‘I phoned her earlier today, she was busy.'

‘Andie, would you just get to the point?'

She took a breath. ‘I was just letting her know that I don't think I'll go on Sunday.'

‘What?' He passed her refilled glass back to her.

‘I think,' Andie said slowly, ‘that this is a family occasion —'

‘Oh, for Chrissakes, not this again, Andie?'

She flinched.

‘I'm so tired of going over the same ground every single time,' he said. ‘You've known these people for ten years. You are my wife, Emily is your step-granddaughter.'

Andie groaned inwardly. She would never forget a particularly angry dressing-down she received from Joanna after she had overheard Brooke referring to Andie as her stepmother. ‘I don't know what you're telling them, but you are not my children's step
mother
,' she had said through barely-gritted teeth. ‘Just because their father decided to update his wife doesn't automatically give you quasi-mother status with his kids. If I died, then maybe. If the kids were younger, and they were splitting their time equally between us, perhaps. However, my children have a mother, who has, incidentally, never walked out on them. Their father's new wife does not, never will have, and moreover doesn't
need
to have a maternal relationship with them. It's insulting to me, and completely unnecessary.'

‘Ross, I think calling her my step-granddaughter is a bit artificial,' Andie said carefully. ‘I'm no blood relation whatsoever to the baby, and Lauren and I aren't even that close.'

‘And you're not likely to get close if you don't bother to show up for her daughter's christening!' he cried, glaring at her.

Andie wanted to say she thought it was a bit late to be expecting them to get close. But she kept that thought to herself, she didn't want to make him any more annoyed than he obviously already was. He stood for a moment, his head bowed, cupping his forehead in his hand, before finally he let out a deep sigh and looked up at her again.

‘You are my wife,' he said, but his tone was gentler now. ‘You are my family, you belong with me at something like this. Please come, Andie, I feel bereft when you're not beside me.'

Andie softened. Ross had a way with words, he could always talk her into anything. She walked around the bench and into his open arms. She leaned her head against his chest, she could feel his heart drumming.

She would go to the christening. Of course she would go . . . she would do exactly what Ross asked of her. Just as she always had.

‘Do you want me to let you out here?' Ross asked, slowing the car as they went to drive by the church. ‘I reckon I'll have to park at least a couple of blocks away.'

Andie surveyed the gathering on the church steps and breathed a sigh of relief. The blue suit had been the right choice; she didn't want to compete with anyone or stand out, but she didn't want to look inappropriate either. And she most certainly did not want to have to hover at the edges alone waiting for Ross to join her.

‘Oh, no, I'll stick with you, thanks,' she told him.

He eventually found a park and took hold of her hand as they walked along the tree-lined streets back to the church. As they drew closer Joanna broke through a gap in the crowd, coming towards them. ‘Ross, good, you're here.'

He dropped Andie's hand and stepped forward to kiss Joanna on the cheek. All very modern and amicable.

‘Lauren has been asking for you,' said Joanna.

‘I'm not late, am I?' Ross frowned, consulting his watch.

‘No, you're not late,' Joanna assured him, taking him by the arm, ‘but you know your daughter. Come on, let's find her so she can relax and we can get this show on the road.' Finally, she turned to Andie. ‘Hello, Andie. You decided to join us after all?'

Andie's face dropped. Ross promised he was going to give her a call. ‘Didn't you tell Joanna I was coming?' she asked him.

‘Yes, he did,' Joanna assured her. ‘I'm just saying . . . nice that you could join us. Now let's find Lauren.'

She drew Ross with her, her hand cupping his elbow, as Andie followed in their wake. She remembered why she generally didn't like going to these affairs. Lauren's wedding had been the worst, because she actually told her father point-blank that she didn't want Andie there. That had been fine with Andie, considering the way Lauren felt about her; the tension had barely lifted since the property settlement had been finalised, and the children subsequently reassured that their mother wasn't being ripped off. Ross was adamant, however, and had gone so far as to say that he would not go to the wedding without Andie. She loved him for that, she just wished he would have made his stand over something else. Joanna had stepped in at that point and assured Lauren that it was the right thing to do, and that she was completely fine with it.

Of course she was. Ross was part of the bridal party, naturally, so he had to escort his daughter to the wedding, while Andie had to make her own way to the church, and sit alone. Between the ceremony and the reception, Ross remained with the bridal party for the extended photo shoot, while Andie waited it out at a nearby café. She didn't feel comfortable joining the other guests at the bar in the reception venue; she didn't know anyone, the only people she did know were in the bridal party. And of course Ross was required to sit at the bridal table, so Andie had been put on the singles' table. The entire thing had been excruciating – especially when anybody asked which side of the family she was with.

Time passed, things had gradually become more relaxed, but it was still difficult at more formal family occasions, where Ross had a role but Andie did not.

‘Dad, you made it,' Lauren exclaimed as they walked up the aisle of the church towards her.

‘I'm not late,' Ross insisted with an indulgent smile as he received her hug. ‘What are you all stressing about?' He glanced down at the pram. ‘Look at Emily, she's not bothered.'

Emily was sound asleep, and blissfully unaware, but everyone drew closer to gaze down at her. She was a very pretty baby; on the couple of occasions Andie had been around her, she always seemed placid and contented. Watching her now, Andie had to resist the urge to pick her up, bury her face in her neck and take in a deep breath. That baby smell was almost irresistible.

‘Look how chilled she is,' Ross remarked.

‘Hm, and now I'm going to have to wake her,' said Lauren.

‘Why not just leave her sleeping?' said James.

‘I'd rather get her up now, than just before she has her head dunked in water,' Lauren explained to her husband. ‘I want to prepare her.'

‘How do you plan to do that?' Ross asked. ‘Are you going to give her a pep talk?'

‘No, Dad,' Lauren chided. ‘I'm just saying it won't be such a shock if she's already awake.'

She stooped to retrieve Emily from the pram, turning immediately to place her in Ross's arms. He was taken aback for a moment, but then his face broke into a broad smile as he gazed proudly down at his granddaughter.

Andie watched him, feeling torn. With any other baby she'd have swooped by now, cooing and patting and doing that voice thing. But she felt self-conscious – if she cooed too much, they might all think she was just putting it on. Then again, if she didn't coo at all, they might think she was uninterested. Andie would dearly love to have a cuddle of the baby, but that would probably make everyone feel uncomfortable. Certainly Lauren. And she doubted Joanna would enjoy the picture of her grandchild in the arms of her ex-husband's current wife. There was that expression again. But if Andie didn't ask if she could hold the baby, they might all think that she was cold and unfeeling.

Years ago, after the debacle of Lauren's wedding, Ross had tried to reassure her that it wouldn't always be this complicated.

No, clearly it could get even worse.

‘All right, everyone, we'd best be seated,' said Joanna, taking charge as she usually did. ‘Lauren and James and the godparents are in the front pew, of course. Family should sit directly behind.'

Oh, not again. Andie might as well walk to the back of the church now.

‘Okay,' Ross was saying, ‘so Andie and I will sit the next row back.'

Something passed across Joanna's face, but it was fleeting. ‘Good, we're all set then.' She peered down the aisle. ‘I better go see where Matty and Brooke have got to.'

Ross stood back for Andie to go ahead of him into the pew, and they sat down. She reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze, and he glanced sideways and winked at her.

The ceremony proceeded as usual, with the requisite amount of mumbo jumbo, as Ross would put it. Losing his religion was part and parcel of moving out of the suburbs. Not that he'd ever been particularly devout, he'd told Andie back then. The way he saw it, the church seemed to function as little more than an ideal venue for important ceremonies, what with the acoustics and ample seating, and an MC on tap. And the stained glass added a touch of class to the photos. He and Joanna were married in a church – so whatever Andie's mother might have thought, much good it did them – and the kids had all been baptised. Apparently Ross had baulked at that at the time, but Joanna had insisted it was the done thing. They never set foot in the church much outside of those occasions, except for funerals. Again, it was all about the venue.

As Andie watched the ceremony, it did seem to have more than its fair share of mumbo jumbo – the priest prancing around shaking the incense thing, the candle lighting, the splashing of the magic ‘holy' water on the baby's head. And these modern, cyber-connected, iPhone-wielding people were transfixed. There was something comforting in the ritual, something transcendent. Andie didn't begrudge them that.

The ceremony finally drew to an end, and Lauren rounded up all the usual suspects for a photo shoot around the baptismal font. The godparents with the baby, the parents and the godparents with the baby. The grandparents, the godparents, and the parents and uncle and aunty – all in various configurations – with the baby. Andie watched patiently from her pew. Ross looked fit and young for a grandfather; as did Joanna for a grandmother. But they were grandparents nonetheless, they would never be mistaken for Emily's parents. Ross looked at the baby the way a grandfather would, full of a kind of bemused pride, holding her in a slightly awkward fashion, relieved to pass her on. It dawned on Andie there and then, under the light filtering through the stained glass window, that Ross was at a different stage of his life. Entirely. She'd never been so aware that they were from different generations. And even if he gave in and agreed to let her have a baby, there was no guarantee he'd come around once it was born. So where did that leave Andie? Bringing up a child with a disinterested, detached father, or not having a baby at all?

‘Now, I'd like the whole family all together,' said Lauren. ‘Andie?'

She stirred. ‘Yes?'

‘Could you take the photo? That way we won't have to leave anyone out.'

‘Of course.'

Outside the church, Andie hovered at the edge of the crowd, waiting for Ross as he shook hands with old friends and greeted relatives from the extended family. Most of them would be going back to the house. Andie was dreading it already – she thought about the dozens of photos that would be taken, how many times she would have to sidle away out of frame, how Joanna and Ross's old friends were never completely comfortable around her. They weren't rude; they were, in fact, incredibly polite, excruciatingly polite – they really didn't know how they were supposed to behave around her, particularly in Joanna's house. It was all a bit modern for them, and it was beginning to feel a bit modern for Andie.

The hard cold fact was, she wasn't, and never would be, part of this family. They were still a unit, Andie was the interloper. And the other hard cold fact that just hit her was that she didn't have a family of her own. She still had her father, and Meredith, but without Brendan, without their mother, they were only a shadow, a remnant of a family that had once been.

So it was just her and Ross, and as much as he tried to insist she was his family, that didn't make it so. How could they be a family? They were a couple, two adults who had made a commitment to each other. That wasn't a family.

‘I think I might not stay . . .' Andie finally spoke up on the drive to Joanna's.

‘Hm?'

‘I think I might not stay when we get to the house,' she said. ‘I'm getting an awful headache —'

‘You probably just need a coffee.'

‘I had one before I left home.'

‘Then you must be hungry.'

‘Ross,' she said finally, a quiver of frustration coming into her voice.

‘What?' he glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.

‘I just . . . The thing is, I was there for the important part. You know you never give me credit . . .' She paused.

‘Are you really getting a headache?' he asked tersely.

‘I am, actually. I'm getting a bit of a stress headache. From all the —'

‘Stress?' he finished for her. ‘What stress, Andie? Everyone was perfectly pleasant to you.'

She took a breath. ‘Yes they were. But you don't see it from my perspective —'

‘I made sure you and I sat together.'

‘I know, and I appreciate that you did that, I really do,' she said. ‘But all your relatives and old friends are going to be there . . .'

‘Well, what did you expect?' Ross said, with growing irritation. ‘Christ, Andie, we're old news. You think anyone even cares any more?'

Oh, she knew they did.

‘Look, it's a family occasion,' she persisted.

‘And you are my family.'

‘We're not a family!' she cried.

Her voice reverberated in the car as Ross pulled over to the side of the road, turning to face her. ‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘You and Joanna and your kids are still a family, Lauren and James and Emily are a family . . .'

He didn't say anything. He was clenching the wheel with one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other.

‘So here we go again,' he muttered.

‘Well, we haven't dealt with it,' said Andie. ‘You won't talk about it.'

‘Because there's nothing to talk about.'

‘How can you say that?'

‘We made an agreement,' he said grimly. ‘You married me on the basis of that agreement.'

‘You're saying that's the basis of our marriage?'

‘Don't twist my words.'

‘I didn't twist anything. That's what you're saying.'

‘And you're behaving like a spoilt brat who can't get her own way,' he said harshly.

Andie blinked. She could feel the ache rising in her chest, her throat tightening.

‘Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.' He sighed. ‘It's just that you're always flitting from one thing to the next —'

‘What?' she said in disbelief. ‘Flitting?'

‘Exactly. From restaurants to cafés, from being a chef to a hostess to a barista, and now you're bored with the deli so you want a baby. And how long do you think it'll take before you get bored with that?'

Now it was his voice reverberating in the car.

‘That's what you think of me?' said Andie, her own voice barely making it out of her throat.