When the Singing Stops (8 page)

In those first months Madi had tried to change him, persuading him to go on picnics and hikes. He'd gone along with an air of indulging her rather than sharing the experience. He'd stopped such ‘frivolous' activities within months after their wedding. At the same time he began to spend long hours at his new job. In leisure time at home, he'd play his treasured collection of classical CDs and watch obscure foreign films. They each became absorbed in their own interests. As time went on, she sensed he suffered low self-esteem because of his career demons, perceived or real. But in the privacy of their marriage, he refused to discuss his problems. Instead, he would assert himself over her and suck the energy out of her. Then he'd sail out to face the challenge of another day.

After a night of insults, Madi was left drained and emotionally wrung out. She cried often in the car on the way to work, wondering what had happened to the dreams that had led her in a frenzied dash to the altar six years earlier. But once she drove into the dark pit of the underground garage beneath the hotel, she'd blot her eyes, take a deep breath, and by the time she reached her office she'd have a cheery smile for all.

Each morning in the shower, Madi would stand and let the hot needles of spray bounce off her neck and shoulders and wonder what she was doing with her life. Then one morning she got up and decided it was time to go. Walk out the door. She did what she did every morning. She ironed his shirt and hung it on the bedroom door knob. She squeezed fresh orange juice and left it by the coffee pot while he was in the shower. She dressed carefully and opened the bathroom door and stood there holding her briefcase and an overnight bag. ‘I'm going, Geoff.'

‘So?' He peered through the misty glass. ‘You have some flash meeting on, some plush lunch, some marketing do?' His voice was critical, sneering. ‘Not like the rest of us hoi polloi who grab a sandwich or eat in a coffee shop.'

‘You told me you'd joined Tatt's Club. Oh never mind, it doesn't matter any more. I'm going.'

‘So? Go. Or are you telling me you won't be home till late . . . some function or other so I should go ahead and eat, is that the reason for this touching farewell?'

‘Geoff, I'm going. For good. Leaving you. I'll stay tonight at the hotel and we can talk about it tomorrow.'

She quietly closed the door and took a deep breath. And another, realising she was close to hyperventilating.

She was halfway down the hall when the
bathroom door was slammed open. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her round. ‘Oh no you don't. You don't walk out of here after a comment like that. Just what do you mean?'

‘What I said. I'm leaving you.' She spoke in a tired, resigned voice, avoiding looking at the dripping, furious man clutching a towel.

‘Like hell you are. What for? If you're having it away with someone else, fuck you. Two can play at that game. Don't think for one minute you'll get out of this lightly. You won't do this to me.'

‘There's no one else, Geoffrey. We're miserable. Have been for ages. Why go on like this? I can't see things changing.'

‘You're the miserable one.' He jabbed a finger in her shoulder. ‘You're the one who needs to change.'

It suddenly struck Madi he was right. She needed to change, to get back to how she used to be, and the way to do that was to make a fresh start. In a flash of clarity, she saw there was no way forward together. This relationship was at an end. Had been for years. She looked at him without expression. ‘It's too late for us, let's face it.'

He dropped an arm about her shoulders. ‘Hey Madi, you're just having a bad time right now. If you want to get counselling, I'll help you. It'll be all right, don't go to pieces.'

Madi squirmed away from his arm, stunned to discover his touch made her recoil. Taking
another step towards the stair, she said quietly, ‘I'm not going to pieces, Geoff. I feel very calm about this. It's sad, I'm sorry, but it's over'.

‘You're a bitch, Madi. A screwed-up bitch. You won't get a bloody penny out of me,' he shouted at her as she went down the stairs.

‘It's
our
money and I don't want your money. And I've never felt less screwed up in my whole life,' she called back.

He leaned over the banister and shouted a parting shot. ‘You're sick in the head, oh yes you are. You're just like your mother. She's never even pretended she liked me. I bet she put you up to this. Other women aren't like you. Believe me, I know. Don't think there aren't plenty of women who will jump into your place in bed.'

Madi reached for the front doorknob. ‘Have them lined up, do you?'

‘Yes! As a matter of fact I do. And have had for some time. You're not the only one who works late at the office, fucking on the floor!'

Madi pulled the door shut, too shocked and hurt to slam it in anger. Moisture stung her eyes as she got in the car, backing it out of the driveway by habit. But within a block she pulled over and burst into tears. It hit her for the first time that her husband had been sleeping with other women. Too many small incidents came to mind which she had chosen to ignore over the past few years. The late nights, the business trips away for a weekend. Phone calls where someone had
either hung up or a girl had asked for Geoffrey and after a Yes-No conversation he'd dismissed it as a query from a girl at the office. Now it seemed so obvious. What a fool she'd been to put up with him for so long. But what hurt most was his assumption that she had been having an affair.

It was true she had longed for someone in her life. Someone she could cuddle and laugh with, who made her feel happy, who told her how clever and wonderful she was, someone to enjoy sex with. Their sex life had dwindled to desultory Sunday morning interludes. She was left unsatisfied and lonely as he'd leapt from bed and gone off on his newly acquired mountain bike. They never kissed or talked during sex and for the past six months he hadn't touched her. When she'd made advances he'd turned away. As Madi continued on her drive to the city, a slow anger took the place of self-pity and fuelled her conviction that she was doing the right thing.

The twelve months formal separation had been a nightmare. The arguments, the accusations, the hassles over the property settlement. At first he'd tried to be civil and placatory and said he'd handle everything with their family solicitor. But Madi quickly realised she was being treated as the cast-off incapable female and so she'd hired her own lawyer, pleased at how angry it
had made Geoffrey. She'd always overlooked his cautious and careful ways with money, realising now he was downright mean. With no children things had been fairly straightforward, the house sold, profits split, possessions shared, although all with acrimony. He'd continued to try to weasel advantages but she'd stood her ground, finally producing evidence of her income, her contributions to joint expenses showing she'd paid more of the household bills while he had spent money on personal indulgences. He'd finally backed down and Madi enjoyed a moment or two of satisfaction for having won a round where he would normally have expected her to cave in to his emotional bullying.

She found it hard being on her own again even though she recognised she was a different person to the girl who'd married so young. But something told her that once over this bumpy patch her life would improve and she'd fly like an eagle. She hadn't experienced that soaring lift-off yet, but she was learning to like herself, enjoying her own company. She'd been incredibly lonely outside working hours sometimes, but now . . . having made the decision to leave the safety and security of her job and fly away to Guyana, even if into the protection of her brother, she felt she was on her way to a new life at last.

The United 747-400 soared into the clear blue sky over Sydney, banking to the east to give a spectacular view of the harbour. Then it slowly climbed to thirty-seven thousand feet for the nonstop flight to Los Angeles. In LA, Madison sat in the Red Carpet Lounge for an hour enjoying a Californian chardonnay and the latest US magazines before boarding a United 767 to Miami.

After disembarking, she found the Guyana Airways flight to Georgetown had been delayed till the following day. The Guyanese girl at the desk was charming but could only offer a smile and a shrug, pointing out it was not unusual. Her relaxed manner gave Madison an inkling that this attitude might reflect the Guyanese approach to life in general. She checked into an airport hotel and attempted to phone Matthew in Georgetown. There was no answer at his house, though the phone made such a strange sound she wasn't sure if it was working or not. She fell across the double bed and slept for a few hours.

Later she showered, pulled on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and tried again, unsuccessfully, to reach Matthew. Finally she rang the mine number he'd given her and was relieved when he came on the line. Quickly she explained she was on tomorrow night's flight.

‘I'm glad you caught me, Madi. I have a problem out here and can't get back into town. But a friend I've made here is going to meet you.
I'll get onto him with your flight details right away. His name is Connor Bain and he's an expat Aussie who's thrilled to have more Australians here.'

‘What was his name? Spell it.'

‘C-o-n-n-o-r. Got that?'

‘Yes. Unusual name.'

‘He'll take you to the house and I'll be back the next day. Just rest up. Really sorry about this, but I'm so glad you're on the way.'

Madi tried to hide the disappointment that her brother wouldn't be at the airport. ‘How will I know this guy?'

‘Don't worry, he'll find you, I gave him a photo of you. Besides, you'll probably be the only blonde in the entire country!' The line crackled and dropped out for an instant then Matthew was back shouting over the phone. ‘So don't worry, Connor will look after you.'

‘What if something happens, what if the plane is late or delayed again?'

‘He'll wait. This line is bad. Take care, see you soon. Luv ya.'

‘Bye, Matt.'

Madi hung up. She was a seasoned traveller but for the first time she knew she was flying into something way beyond her experience. The casual airline staff and appalling phone line did not create a very appealing first impression.

She ate in the rooftop restaurant looking over hotels, a shopping mall and looming aircraft. In the distance, the city of Miami did not
call to her. She scanned the menu offering Tex Mex, Surf and Turf, and a variety of chilli-burgers, and felt a depression settling over her. This was not how she imagined her grand adventure would start. Then she caught herself and wondered why she'd thought of this trip as a grand adventure. She was going to see her brother who happened to be in a Caribbean/South American backwater of a country that sounded weird and had something of a turbulent history.

She ordered an omelette and salad and a glass of wine as the sunset-streaked sky faded to murky twilight and she thought about travelling. She'd always loved travel books. Best of all she loved travel books written by lady travellers of the Victorian era. She'd found her first intrepid lady traveller book one Saturday when browsing in a secondhand bookshop. Since then she'd built up quite a collection.

Her hobby had provided a pleasant diversion while Geoff played his CDs, reducing the need for conversation which invariably turned to conflict. Her friends made fun of this literary indulgence but they also enjoyed hearing occasional anecdotes gleaned from the writings of women like Beatrice Grimshaw in Papua New Guinea, Jeanne Bare who disguised herself as a young man and went to sea in the eighteenth century with French botanist Philibert de Commerson, the adventures and writings of Mary Kingsley, Isak Dinesen, Violet Cressy-Marcks.

These women had inspired in Madison a passion to travel to exotic places. She'd once told Matthew she'd been born a century too late and would have made a wonderful intrepid lady traveller discovering lost Egyptian tombs, chasing butterflies up the Amazon or studying stone age tribes in inaccessible jungles and deserts. To be sitting in an airport Holiday Inn on the edge of Miami wasn't quite the same. Still a journey has to begin somewhere, she rationalised. And the important journeys she had already made in her life had almost always begun tremulously.

She recalled the weak-kneed walk to her car the day she'd closed the door on her marriage and the nervous introspection she'd felt the next day while wandering along Manly Beach. At first, she wished she'd taken the path out of her marriage earlier. But then she'd adopted the Buddhist approach of seeing each experience as a process without necessarily having a beginning or end. ‘Go with the flow,' as her mother had said when they'd discussed what she should do after she left Geoff. She decided this was the attitude needed now—she must let herself go. Madi relaxed at last and ordered a second glass of chardonnay.