Distractions (7 page)

‘Jesus,’ said Emma, on seeing it was nine-thirty on the oven clock. Where had the night gone? She decided then and there that a barbecue was out of the question. Who knew when Sally and Mark would come down? To distract herself she began putting together a small buffet of leftovers, cold meats and bread. When she was done, she poured herself a glass of wine. She leant against the kitchen bench and swallowed the wine in one gulp.

An hour later, having fed herself and downed two and a half glasses of wine, Emma was seated on the balcony in the dark, wrapped neatly in one of the throws from the couch. The bottle of wine was on the table beside her. She was snug but for her drinking arm, which was chilled to the bone. She was suspended till further notice. No thoughts could disturb her mind and the periodical movement of her arm to raise the glass to her lips was like the beating of her heart, an involuntary act.

Mark startled her when he spoke from the doorway.

‘You can’t blame us, can you?’ he asked, stepping onto the balcony. She took a while to take in the meaning of his words. He made her skin crawl. His familiarity was obnoxious. This was exactly what she had hoped to avoid.

‘What?’ she asked, in a vacant tone, to keep him at a distance. He sat in the chair across from her. She averted her eyes. The great black nothingness that had kept her company for the last hour seemed to retreat. He lifted the bottle and poured more wine into her glass. She had not wanted him to and she didn’t acknowledge the act. She felt he was like a salesman, trying to force his foot in the door. She wasn’t having any. Out of the corner
of her eye she saw him sitting with a beer. He was in a pair of blue jeans, had no shoes on and wore a jumper. She wouldn’t look at his face. She knew what sort of look he would have. He oozed self-satisfaction.

‘After having to listen to you guys going for it, well, I couldn’t keep my hands off Sally. Best fuck ever.’

He was just too grotesque for words. He threw his legs up on the table and Emma caught the scent of a cigarette. She wouldn’t look at him.

‘It didn’t seem that great from the door,’ she said, in a monotone. She actually was as bored as she sounded. Malice was the lazy option, she knew, but she was tired and he irritated her like a buzzing mosquito.

‘You were watching?’

‘For a moment. Have you put on weight?’

‘What?’ he asked, incredulous.

‘Ever thought about waxing?’ she added. ‘It ain’t a pretty sight.’

‘Fair go!’ said Mark, laughing off her words effortlessly. ‘Where’s David? You too haven’t had a tiff, have you?’

‘He’s asleep.’

‘Wear him out?’

‘Just be thankful I didn’t tell him how you behaved,’ she said. ‘To be honest I forgot to. But that’s how I am with you, I forget everything you do or say.’

‘I’m sensing hostility here, Emma. Now, honey, let’s be friends.’

‘If I am civil to you, remember it is because you are the husband of my best friend and that is all. Ordinarily I have nothing to do with men like you.’

‘Like me? I’m a type?’

‘Very much so. Here comes Sally, so shut up, and remember I don’t like you. Be good to her or I will harm you in any way I can.’

ELEVEN

Emma moved quietly through the beach house in the dark. The house was silent. She went from room to room and her naked feet padded soundlessly on the polished floorboards. As she passed the kitchen she noticed the oven clock; it said it was half past four. She was looking for David. She had woken in bed having missed her husband’s large, reassuring form. His side of the bed was empty and cold with the covers thrown back.

She darted through the beach house, her expectations rising at every new turn. She approached the downstairs bathroom and smiled to herself –
why didn’t I think of it? She was sure he was in there, but when she knocked softly and received no reply she suddenly panicked.

In the kitchen she called his name softly, reluctant to disturb Sally and Mark who were asleep upstairs. Again there was no reply. She stood in the kitchen worrying. He had never done this before. He was always so loud and he shook the bed so roughly when he went to the toilet in the middle of the night. This was different.

Emma rushed to the window overlooking the street. She wanted to know if his car was still parked outside. It was. She had had the idea he had gone. Gone, gone. Never before had she thought that David might just up and leave her. But there it was. David
might
just leave her. For good. For reasons he might never be able to explain. God, I’m so self-obsessed, she thought. She felt relieved, but still had no idea where he was. Walking to the beach side of the house she could see the balcony. It was empty. Beyond, in the darkness, was the beach. She opened the glass sliding door slowly, making sure it didn’t squeak.

‘Emma,’ said David, from the darkness.

Emma jumped back, startled. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ he said. He had been sitting on the railing with his back against the wall of the house, just out of view. He was wearing his dressing gown over his naked body. She immediately noticed that he was holding a lit cigarette.

‘But you’ve quit!’

‘Couldn’t do it, Em,’ he said, leading her across the balcony to the far railing, away from Sally and Mark’s bedroom window, which was just above them. ‘Not now. It’s all too much at work.’

She stood motionless on the balcony, still shaken by the shocking thought that he’d end their marriage. He was still here, but he wasn’t himself. She had been so dishonest. Had he discovered something? Did he suspect Paul? Would he forgive her as she would forgive him?

‘Have a smoke with me, Em,’ he said, handing her a cigarette. She took it without considering what she was doing. She was in a bit of a daze.

Please tell me quickly, she was thinking, let me know now.

David waited for Emma to lift the cigarette to her mouth. He held the lit lighter in his cupped hands but she was miles away.

‘Em? Are you awake?’ he asked, with a smile.

‘Sure,’ she said. She didn’t move, so he lifted
her hand to her mouth and she smiled, laughing softly, and said, ‘Sorry. No. I don’t want it.’

David moved back to the railing. He looked out into the night. The dark ocean and the magnificent night sky.

‘This isn’t like you,’ she said.

‘What isn’t?’ he asked, turning back to her.

‘Not sleeping, silly.’ She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him.

‘Maybe I had too much coffee,’ he said. He drew heavily on the cigarette and exhaled dramatically.

‘Tell me what’s worrying you, baby.’

David walked up and down the balcony in the dark, smoking, answering some of Emma’s whispered entreaties and telling her something of his troubles at work but he was no less restless.

Emma was shivering. Behind her, away to the east, the dark night sky was being diluted, drop by drop, by pale, corrosive daylight. Time would not stand still for him. The night would end and he would have to face Emma in the clear light of day.

He had to tell her what he had only just whispered to himself. He stopped pacing and stood in front of her. He took her cold hands in his. Emma’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t speak. He looked into her eyes.

‘I want children,’ he said.

Emma almost laughed. Her worst fears were unfounded. In her relief she failed to realise the importance of his words.

David viewed the situation differently. He wanted children. There were forces at work within him. The years had begun to pass by terrifyingly quickly and the issue of children of his own morphed from being a vague presumption into an urgent need. He had waited patiently for some sign from Emma. But none had come. He was now afraid that all he had built and all he had managed to achieve and Emma’s love were all being risked by this roll of the die.

Emma gathered herself after a moment.

‘So do I,’ she answered.

‘Now?’ he asked. ‘I need to know.’

‘Why do you need to know? What’s got into you?’

‘Something Dad said.’

Emma was at a loss. She didn’t want children now. No. Not now or soon. Maybe not ever. And suddenly she felt the seriousness of the situation.

‘You know he was twenty-four and Mum was twenty-two when they had me,’ continued David. ‘He said the other day that you’re never ready. But
I disagree. I reckon I’m ready now. Look at what we’ve got. We can cope. We are in a better position to have children than most people ever are.’

All through the night David’s thoughts had come back to one piece of knowledge. Emma was unlike any woman he had ever known. He had married her on the strength of that. And since the wedding he had had this view reinforced time and time again. No one had loved him like Emma had, no one had demonstrated their love like Emma had, but then conversely no one was as selfish as Emma. She was bigger than life, better than life and not of this life. Sometimes she seemed so far from him. He became a simple being and his needs became quaint beside hers. Career, wife, home, children. And yet, hadn’t he married her?

‘I’m ready, Emma. I really am,’ he repeated. He still held her hands, still looked at her intently, but his words had no effect. She remained silent. She was looking into his eyes. ‘I never would have dreamed that I would be the one saying all this. I never thought I’d be looking into my wife’s eyes …’

Tears sprang from those eyes.

What could she tell him?

‘I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think. I want to be near you. That’s all,’ he said. Emma melted under the warmth of his words. He kissed her and led her back to bed.

TWELVE

Around noon, having woken late, Emma, wandered down to the balcony to find Sally entertaining the boys. Both men wore only their board shorts and sat in the full glare of the sun. Each held a beer in hand. Their feet were sandy and their hair stood on end in weird and wonderful ways. Sally was perched on the arm of one of the other chairs, seemingly ready to grab either of them another beer. At the sight, old rivalries were reawoken and insecurities rekindled. For the little scene was one from Emma and Sally’s teenage years. Two men fawning over the blonde. Emma
found herself returning to the stereotypical role of bookish brunette. She made herself a coffee and picked up her book and sat in the shade a little way off from the trio. They hardly noticed her. David came over and touched her shoulder and kissed her cheek, but he was on the way to the toilet. Kiss the wife and empty the bladder. Kill two birds with one stone. Lovely. And he wanted her to have his children.

As the pantomime continued, though, Emma relaxed. She could now watch without anger as Mark and David vied for Sally’s attention. When Sally fussed with the placement of the potato salad, leaning over David to do so, David slapped Sally’s bottom and called her a tart for wiggling her arse about. Mark joined in the play but made no attempt to carry that familiarity over towards Emma.

David was the undisputed leader of the pack. Emma found his gregarious nature dominated the mood of the group. Everything was seriously light-hearted and forcefully free and easy. Finally, lunch was ready. David had cooked the meat himself, leaving Mark to stand about with the obligatory beer, talking of past barbecues and the plans he had for building a patio.

The whole show was as natural as could be and Emma was half snoozing through lunch when something David said startled her out of her complacency.

‘I forget to tell you, Em,’ he said, then turned to Sally. ‘You know that boy who lives next door, Sal? Simon and Anne’s son, Jason? He’s gone off the rails.’

Emma was lost for words. Thankfully, Sally took her place.

‘What happened?’

‘Well the other night, I don’t know, maybe Monday night or Tuesday, there was a knock on the door. Jason was standing there on the verandah. He looked upset, he asked whether you were home, Em.’

Emma hoped her pale face wasn’t blushing as red as she felt it was.

‘He said you’d promised to lend him a book for an assignment. I didn’t know you were tutoring him.’

‘I’m not,’ she managed to reply. ‘The last time I saw him I joked about it with him.’

‘She teases the kid,’ David said to Sally.

‘I’m sure he loves it,’ said Sally. ‘I bet he has a crush on you, Em.’

‘Sounds like she has one on him. She’s the one pulling his pigtails!’ said Mark laughing.

‘What happened, darling?’ asked Emma, ignoring Mark. Like the snake that he was, he felt the subtle tremors of a wounded prey. Something was amiss, he was sure of it.

‘I let him go in and have a look for the book he wanted,’ he said, ‘then the phone rang and after the call I went to see what he was up to and I couldn’t find him. I shouted his name, but he was gone. I know he’s shy, but that’s just weird.’

‘Is that what you call going off the rails?’ asked Sally. ‘You probably just frightened him.’

‘That was just a little bit of background information, Sal, you know, to set the scene.’ David paused a moment for effect, before continuing, ‘As I was leaving the next day I stopped to chat with Simon, across verandahs, as one does. Are you following, Sal?’ he asked, and received a playful slap on the hand for his trouble. ‘And he told me about the difficulties he’d been having with Jason.’

David stopped his narrative to butter a piece of bread. They all watched in silence as he leant across and stole an unwanted piece of sausage from Emma’s plate and rolled the bread around it. He
was about to take a bite when he stopped and said, ‘Apparently he’s been fucking that girl – you know, Em, the daughter of that hippy you met at uni.’

‘Simon told you that?’ Emma was certain now that the colour was gone from her face, all of it.

‘Who?’ asked Mark, but he was ignored.

‘Not in those words,’ said David, wary of Emma’s wit.

‘What you mean to say is, in no words at all,’ she said, realising her interest in this point of fact was unaccountable but sure David wouldn’t pick this up.

‘I had a crush on my neighbour when I was a kid,’ said Mark. ‘She used to pay me to mow her lawn. She’d stand and watch. I’d take off my t-shirt. Now that I know more about women, especially older women – she would have been in her thirties, maybe forty – I reckon she was hot for me. Back then I thought it was just one way. I’d spy on her from my bedroom window, just trying to catch a glimpse of her naked. Now I know better. She was probably fantasising about me. You’d better watch this one,’ he said to David, nodding towards Emma. ‘Does the kid mow your lawn?’