Stella Makes Good (3 page)

esse drove like a maniac the two kilometres to her house and then felt guilty. She’d had two glasses of wine. Imagine if she got pulled up for drink driving and lost her licence. She’d never live it down.

She drove into the garage, then took three deep breaths before getting out of the car and walking inside the house. As she neared the family room, she could hear Anna, the babysitter, talking on her mobile. She stopped outside, exhaled deeply, clenched her hands tightly and entered the room.

Anna looked up and smiled. ‘Gotta go,’ she said into her mobile, before putting it in her handbag and standing up. ‘Good night?’

Jesse nodded. ‘Sorry about the mix-up. I thought Steve would be home by now.’

Anna shrugged. ‘No drama.’

Jesse walked her to the front door, paid her sixty dollars and said goodnight. Then she started her nightly routine. First, she checked on her nine-year-old twins, Ollie and Emily. She kissed them both lightly on their foreheads and whispered, ‘I love you.’ In the darkness, she picked up discarded clothes and toys scattered on the floor, then went about checking that all the doors and windows were securely locked.

Satisfied her home was in order, Jesse texted Steve and got ready for bed. But she couldn’t settle, annoyed that once again Steve had ruined her night out. She flipped the light switch on and off three times before climbing into bed.

Light on again, she reached across to her bedside cabinet, pulled a leaflet from the top drawer and scanned its headline.
Take charge of your life TODAY! Join the Secret Women’s Business society. Let US help YOU make a difference!
Jesse’s head was nodding. Yes! She desperately wanted to take charge of her life.
Don’t put your life on hold. Start living TODAY, in the NOW!
The words spoke directly to her, compelling her to take action.

She slumped back against the headboard. Who was she kidding? Jesse couldn’t imagine going to a meeting, or getting along with the types of women who would frequent such gatherings. Deflated, she shoved the leaflet back in the drawer.

She checked to see if Steve had returned her text. Nothing. No doubt he was angry with her. She shook her head. That was the wrong way round: it should be Jesse who was angry at him. It wasn’t as if her going out should have posed a problem. Anna was more than willing to babysit, and Jesse was the one who had organised her, as well as cooked dinner for the twins. The house was tidy—as it always was. No, the real problem was that Steve was a control freak. He didn’t like her going out, and he hated her friends. The last time Jesse had been out with the girls was close to three months ago.

Her last social outing with Steve had been his work Christmas party, but that had been a fizzer. Jesse would have liked to have had more fun; she was certainly open to it. It was a Hawaiian theme so she’d worn a hula skirt, a coconut bra, the whole bit. Everyone had made an effort to dress up. But Steve was on edge the whole night. Every time she opened her mouth, he’d stared at her, silently urging her to keep quiet. So she’d sipped her soda and limes (of course, it was expected she would be the designated driver, as always), made superficial chat with a few people and spent the rest of the time on the outskirts of conversations.

At one point, she’d overheard some of Steve’s work colleagues complaining about the hours he kept. ‘His lack of commitment rivals Max’s in accounts,’ said one sales guy, who Jesse recognised but didn’t know by name. She’d put it down to jealousy. Steve knew how to network—he’d spent most of the night doing just that, talking ‘global economies’ with various people.

After ignoring her most of the evening, a pissed Steve had demanded a head job in the kitchen when they’d arrived home, fluorescent lights and all. Yes, they still had regular sex, but sometimes it felt to Jesse that they were just two bodies going at it. Steve didn’t like to kiss, so they hadn’t for the last couple of years. It was all about getting on with the job and getting his rocks off. She thought it would be nice if he occasionally returned the favour, but he wasn’t interested. That’s what her marriage seemed like to Jesse most of the time—a job. And not a very fulfilling one at that.

Still, she reasoned, she lived in a lovely home and they had two adorable children. At least she wasn’t Stella who was about to go through a divorce. Okay, Stella actually seemed quite fine with it, but who wanted to live with a divorce under their belt?

Jesse shook her head. Despite her reluctance to acknowledge it, sometimes she thought that was where her marriage might be heading, too. She and Steve hadn’t been entirely happy for months. His moods had been getting worse and she was losing patience trying to figure out why. He seemed to have lost interest in her—they never talked properly any more—but at the same time he’d become completely paranoid about what she was doing, where she was going, who she was seeing. The combination of his neglect, his increasing absences and his obsessive need to know what she was doing twenty-four hours a day had brought on Jesse’s quirks again. Then again, Jesse believed marriage was for life. Her own parents had stuck it out, so why couldn’t she? She had children, after all.

She’d been truly shocked when Stella and Terry split. They were like one another’s best friend. She laughed at his jokes; he listened attentively when she told stories. Their kids were well-adjusted, normal. If it had been Carly and Brett who were divorcing, Jesse wouldn’t have blinked. But Stella and Terry? They’d seemed solid.

The way Stella had explained it, they were friends more than lovers these days. ‘Terry’s like a pair of old slippers,’ she’d said. ‘And they’re not comfortable any more. They’re tired, thin and worn. I still love him, but I’m not in love with him.’

But wasn’t that what marriage was supposed to be, Jesse thought. Best friends who have sex?

She checked the bedside clock: 1 am! She considered phoning Louisa in San Francisco, but thought better of it. Her sister would be rushing out the door for work. Instead, she ran through the next day’s to-do list in her mind. There was an open morning for Ollie’s class; she had to shop for dinner; and Valentine’s Day was fast approaching. What to buy Steve?

She must have dozed off because she woke with a start when Steve climbed into bed.

‘Hey,’ she said, reaching over to cuddle him.

‘Tired,’ he grunted and turned his back on her, falling almost instantly to sleep.

Jesse sighed, relieved that he didn’t want sex. She was tired and still annoyed with him for ruining her night out. She rolled over, thinking back to the leaflet and the phrase
Start living TODAY, in the NOW!
How impossible that seemed.

Carly woke up with a killer hangover. Brett wasn’t beside her, but there was a full glass of water on the bedside table. She gulped it down before looking at the clock. Eight o’clock. Shit! Brett would have left for work over an hour ago.

She struggled out of bed and wrapped a light dressing-gown around herself. A quick survey of the house revealed that Will had also departed for school. She walked back into the bedroom, and was about to flop down on the bed when she saw her phone flashing—a text message from Toby. Instantly, she was transported back to her drunken flirting of the night before when she’d been not so secretly rebelling against her mundane suburban life. It had seemed like a good idea at the time . . .

‘We’re heading to party,’ cute Toby had told her. ‘You keen?’

Was she keen? He could have told her he was off to wrestle crocodiles and she’d have joined him.

But now? In the harsh light of day, it was a different story.

Hands shaking, she read his message.
What a night, hey? Not what I expected. Dinner next week?

God! She shook her head, deleted the text, and dialled Stella’s number.

‘Please tell me we didn’t end up at a suburban sex party last night where we sprang Steve dressed as a baby,’ she said.

‘Okay.’

‘Good. I was hoping it was all a bad dream.’ Carly paused. ‘I’ve driven along that street so many times.’

‘Same,’ Stella said.

Carly took a breath. ‘Toby was cute.’

‘Yeah. Not so sure about his friend Pete.’

‘He sent me a text.’

‘Who? Pete?’

‘No. Toby.’

‘I’m not surprised. You were all over him.’

Carly shook her head at the memory. ‘Don’t remind me. I’m an idiot. What are we going to do about Jesse?’

‘Like I said last night, let’s leave it for the moment. It’s too bizarre. How are you feeling?’

‘Disgusting. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Hungover.’

‘Okay,’ said Stella, ‘you’ve painted a pretty clear picture. Take two Nurofen Plus and go back to bed.’

After hanging up, Carly curled up on the bed and slowly pieced the events of the night together. After their awkward run-in with Steve, the four of them had hightailed it out of the house, leaving Pete behind. Last Carly had seen, he’d been enjoying the attentions of three women dressed up as headmistresses. Where did people find the energy? All she’d wanted to do last night was cut loose—drink some wine, maybe dance. Then she’d met Toby and now he’d texted her.

What the hell had she been thinking, flirting with him? Things weren’t great with Brett, but that was no reason to behave the way she had. Carly wanted to die of shame.

She remembered that, earlier in the night, Stella had been annoying her about behaving inappropriately. Sometimes she really should listen to Stella. But Carly had been having a good time and had wanted to forget for a couple of hours everything that was going on in her life. Forget that her oldest son, Nicholas, had gone overseas for the year; and that her other son, William, had less than two years left of school before he’d be taking off as well. Then what? She’d float around alone in this big empty house while Brett continued to work twenty hours a day, seven days a week.

She missed Nicky intensely. He said he hated her using the pet name, but when she did and he was in a receptive mood, his whole face lit up like he was seven years old again. It made Carly feel like she was dancing on clouds. It broke her heart that she wouldn’t get to see that gorgeous face for another ten months.

She got up from the bed and walked into the kitchen, searching for something to make her feel better. She ate a banana and instantly wanted to throw up.

Had she really told Stella and Jesse she wanted a fuck buddy? She’d only been joking . . . sort of. Bloody hell, she wasn’t a bad person. It was just that Brett spent more time at work than he did at home. And when he was here, he was preoccupied and tense. He had two Blackberries and it wasn’t uncommon for both to be glued to his ears at all hours—when he wasn’t chained to his iPad. The closest sexual companion Carly had these days was her vibrator, the Rockin Rooster. Brett was too busy keeping track of the money market, too concerned about ‘hostile takeovers’ and ‘significant mergers’, to trifle with her.

It hadn’t always been this way. She thought back to the beginning of their relationship when everything was brand new and exciting. The first few times they’d had sex had been awkward: both of them were inexperienced and they’d had to work out how to kiss so their teeth didn’t collide, and how to make their bodies fit together. But six weeks into their friendship, it had all clicked. That was one day she’d never forget.

They’d met up during Carly’s lunch break. As soon as she saw him, the palpitations had started: nerves, excitement, desire. When they’d kissed hello, she’d felt the frisson between them.

‘Hungry?’ Brett had asked, staring at the menu.

Carly had been hungry, but not for food. Underneath the table her foot nudged his. Boldly, she’d placed her trembling hand on his thigh under his shorts, desperate to touch him skin to skin.

He’d reached over and kissed her. ‘I’m already hard,’ he’d whispered. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

She’d smiled, allowing him to take her by the hand and lead her back to his car. They’d leaned against the bonnet and he’d kissed her deep and slow, his hands cupping her butt, their legs entwined.

‘Get in,’ he’d said softly.

Irresistible desire . . . she couldn’t even think about refusing.

Less than ten minutes later, they’d arrived at Lane Cove National Park and he was parking on a secluded track.