The Right Time (14 page)

‘Why did you lock the door?' she accused.

He just shrugged. ‘Force of habit, I guess.'

Maybe that was fair enough, they did tend to lock the door now that the kids were older.

‘Well,' Ellen continued, ‘then why didn't you open it when I asked if I could come in?'

‘I was all covered in soap,' he declared.

‘So?' Ellen countered. ‘I could have helped you rinse it off.'

He looked a little uncomfortable at that idea.

‘Is there anything wrong?' she asked, trying to soften her tone.

He turned away, tossing his toiletries bag into the suitcase.

‘Tim, I asked you a question.'

He didn't look at her. ‘Nothing's wrong.'

‘I don't understand what's going on here.'

He turned around. ‘Nothing's going on.'

‘Exactly.'

He frowned. ‘What are you getting at?'

‘Tim,' she said, standing up, ‘we're away for a weekend alone and you lock yourself up in the bathroom. That's not normal.'

‘I didn't “lock myself up”, you're making it sound weird. Locking the bathroom is completely normal at home.'

‘But we're not
at
home,' she persisted, her voice rising. ‘We're staying in a beautiful hotel, we don't have to check out till eleven. What's your hurry?'

‘I just wanted to make the most of the day,' he shrugged. ‘And you don't think lying in together might have been making the most of our time?'

‘I can't sleep in late like you.'

She groaned. ‘I'm not talking about sleeping!'

Now he looked outright embarrassed.

‘Well?' she persisted.

‘Jeez, Ellen,' he said. ‘We had sex last night, and we never have sex in the morning. How am I supposed to know that's what you wanted all of a sudden?'

It was no use. She didn't have it in her to keep arguing the point while he kept evading it. She waited a few days and brought it up again. When she said she couldn't go on like this, Tim was mystified.

‘You're making such a big deal about this,' he said. ‘If I'd known it was so important to you, I would have had sex with you that morning.'

‘That's not the point, Tim.'

‘Then what is the point?'

‘We hardly ever have sex!' she declared.

‘You don't seem interested,' was his comeback.

Ellen blinked. ‘How would you know? Have you suddenly become a mind reader? I mean, you don't touch me, you don't come near me, you're not affectionate. You hardly ever initiate sex.'

‘You don't either,' he accused.

She felt like screaming. But instead she just said, ‘Fine, then don't you think we need to do something about it?'

She suggested counselling, but Tim was reluctant, refusing to acknowledge the problem, or at least that it was such a big deal. But it had been said out loud now, and Ellen wasn't going to let them settle back into the same rut. She gave him an ultimatum, and he was eventually persuaded that he didn't have a choice.

That was the beginning of the end. Tim was noncommunicative in the counselling sessions at first, but thankfully they had an excellent counsellor who was eventually able to get him to open up.

Ellen was well aware that Tim's family was cold and distant and
not given to open displays of affection. But she had never realised just how deeply he had been affected. He said he couldn't ever remember being told he was loved. He recounted cruel punishments, dispassionately administered, which would be considered abuse in anyone's language these days. Slowly Ellen watched her husband open up, admitting how much it had hurt, how much it hurt still, and finally in the middle of a counselling session he broke down sobbing.

Ellen saw it as a major breakthrough, but before their next session Tim sat her down and told her he was through with counselling, he didn't want to deal with all that, he couldn't, it was too hard. He begged her not to make him. He was like a child. And Ellen feared that's exactly where he was stuck, emotionally.

So they stopped the counselling, and things deteriorated from there. They couldn't go back to where they were before, but Tim didn't have either the will or the skills to work on their relationship. The sex, or lack of it, was only a symptom. There was no genuine intimacy, no real connection between them. Eventually the writing on the wall was as plain to him as it was to Ellen. Their marriage was surviving on life support, but there was no hope for the long-term, and eventually someone was going to have to pull the plug.

Ellen locked the car and tucked her arm through Kate's as they walked up the street. ‘So, this should be fun,' she said brightly, not really believing it herself, but she didn't want Kate to realise that. ‘Are you excited?'

Kate shrugged. Nothing much seemed to excite her daughter these days. She had settled into uni without any apparent drama, but she didn't tell Ellen much any more. They used to talk about everything, share everything, but Kate had become a bit of a closed book lately. She was particularly spiky whenever mention of her father was made, even though Ellen went to great pains to make sure she didn't say anything negative.

‘He's fine, he seems okay' was about as much as Ellen could get out of her when she asked after Tim. And Sam wasn't any better. If she had any questions about a weekend with his dad,
he seemed reluctant to divulge details. Ellen didn't know why everyone had suddenly got all cagey on her. This was an amicable, mutual separation. She sincerely hoped Tim was holding up his end and wasn't putting her down when she wasn't around to defend herself. But she seriously didn't think he would do that. What Ellen feared was that, despite all her efforts, her family was falling apart in front of her eyes.

They arrived at Emma's building and caught the lift up to her apartment.

‘You're the first to arrive,' Emma declared happily, when she opened the door. ‘Look at you, Kate, you get more gorgeous every time I see you.'

Kate shrugged her shoulders, clutching at her arms self-consciously. ‘No I don't.'

‘Oh, you just don't realise how beautiful you are,' Emma gushed, scooping her arm around her niece and drawing her inside. ‘Wait till we have you all gussied up for the wedding, you'll see. I really think the cinnamon is going to be your colour, Kate, with those highlights in your hair.'

‘I don't have any highlights,' said Kate.

‘Oh, I'm sure I've noticed highlights in your hair in the sun,' she scoffed. ‘And if not, my hairdresser will give you some,' she added with a manic laugh.

They entered the vast living room, where three long racks of plastic-shrouded dresses were lined up against the wall. One was all in tones of grey and silver – the ‘pewter' Ellen assumed – and the next appeared to be the ‘cinnamon' shades. The third rack held a range of jewel colours.

‘You have actual dresses?' said Ellen. ‘I thought you were just going to try the girls up against the fabrics?'

‘I know,' said Emma with a cat-that-got-the-cream look. ‘But I realised we wouldn't get the full effect. I was able to scrounge these from various designers, they were only too happy to help. The wedding's likely to get at least some press, so they're not about to knock back a little free publicity. Besides, this way we can kill two birds with one stone and get some idea of a style that will suit each of the girls. I've already decided I'm not dressing them identically.'

‘Oh?' Ellen remarked. ‘The bridesmaids won't be wearing the same style dress?'

‘It's so passé, Ellen.' Then she winced. ‘Of course it was fine in your day,' she added quickly.

Her day? There were only two years between them! Though, Ellen had to admit begrudgingly, there would be nearly twenty years between their wedding dates.

‘So, what do you think, Kate, aren't these cinnamon shades divine?' Emma drew Kate over closer to the rack, holding a dress up against her. ‘I can see you in this, I really can. But then Cara is so dark, with that porcelain skin, and I'm sure the pewter is going to suit her best. Thus my dilemma!' she declared, dropping the dress so it swung back into line. ‘But, never fear, we'll sort it out tonight. That's why we're here.'

She stepped backwards with a sweep of her hand, like a game-show hostess. ‘Over here I've gathered up a few samples in stronger, complementary colours as well. Just between us, I'm a little worried about Tayla. Unfortunately she's got her mother's pasty colouring, and I'm not sure she can pull off the cinnamon or the pewter. Emeralds and sapphires and rubies could all work in contrast, but what with different styles of dresses, I don't want things to start looking hotchpotch, as though a few stray guests have wandered amongst the bridal party.' She laughed that same manic laugh as before.

The intercom buzzed. ‘Oh wonderful, more arrivals! You two go ahead and browse away.'

Ellen and Kate glanced at each other as she swanned off.

‘Is she on drugs?' asked Kate. ‘She's so wired, she's hardly stopped to take a breath.'

Ellen grinned. ‘She's just very excited. Your Aunty Em has waited a long time for this.'

‘I don't know why she's bothering,' Kate muttered. ‘Such a waste of time.'

‘At least this is better than being dragged around shopping all day.'

‘No, I mean the whole thing, the wedding. It's just a big waste of time, money and effort.'

‘You don't have to do it on such a grand scale.'

‘I won't be doing it at all.'

Ellen looked at her. ‘How can you be so sure?'

‘Because I'm never getting married,' Kate said flatly.

‘Why do you say that?'

She pulled a face. ‘Why do you think?'

Ellen opened her mouth to say something, but Kate turned away, running her hand along the rows of dresses as she walked the length of the racks. Ellen sighed. This was exactly the type of thing that had weighed on her – that the kids would get the wrong idea about marriage and commitment if their parents broke up. Well, what did she expect? Still, Ellen wanted them to be able to recognise that she and Tim didn't have regrets, and that there had been good times. That sometimes in life you have to dive in, hoping for the best. But if it doesn't work out the way you plan, you have to be flexible, even courageous enough to move on. She wanted her children to regard marriage as a positive thing, a challenge but not a trap.

God, that was so convoluted she was making her own head hurt.

She peered closer at the tags on the dresses. Anthea Crawford . . . Lisa Ho . . . Colette Dinnigan . . . Cripes, how was she going to be able to afford this? And if the ‘press' was going to be involved, Ellen knew her sister would be pulling out all the stops. No expense would be spared, which was fine for Emma, but Ellen didn't want to have to take out a loan so Kate could be part of the bridal party.

Evie arrived with Tayla, who made up for her so-called pastiness with unbridled enthusiasm for everything she laid her eyes on.

‘Oh, Aunty Emma,' she gushed, ‘they're all so beautiful.'

Ellen kissed Evie hello. ‘You look –'

‘You've lost weight, haven't you?' Emma broke in.

Evie shrugged, her head down. ‘Maybe, a little.'

‘Well, you look great,' Ellen said reassuringly. Though she noticed her younger sister's eyes were sunken and dull. She hoped she wasn't on one of those crazy diets.

The intercom buzzed again and Blake's sister was next to arrive. ‘You've all met Cara,' Emma announced, escorting her into the living room.

Cara refrained from kissing anyone, she just nodded her head at the assembled group. Sloe-eyed and slender, with sleek black hair cropped close to her head, she oozed a languid kind of glamour; she looked like the girlfriend of a rich gangster in the thirties.

‘I think it's time to open the champagne!' Emma declared. ‘We're still waiting on Liz, but who knows how long she'll be?'

‘I'll be out on the balcony,' said Cara in a tone that suggested she was already bored, ‘having a cigarette.'

Liz actually turned up not long after the champagne was popped, and by the time Emma refreshed their glasses, everyone was beginning to loosen up, even Cara.

‘I'm sorry, Emma,' she said, ‘but I don't wear brown.'

‘It's
cinnamon
,' Emma corrected her, keeping her tone upbeat. ‘I actually think it might look stunning against your complexion, Cara. But nothing's been decided yet. That's why we're here.'

‘I'll try the grey Wayne Cooper.'

‘Pewter,' Emma stressed, as Cara plucked a hanger from the rack and slithered off towards the bedroom. ‘Well then, why doesn't everyone try the pewter first and we'll see how we go?'

Emma busied herself checking sizes and passing out dresses. By the time Ellen followed Kate to the bedroom, Cara had already changed into hers, a slinky backless number with a fishtail hem. She looked breathtaking as she passed them coming out the door. ‘Room's all yours.'

Kate coyly ducked into the bathroom to change as Liz, Evie and Tayla all filed into the room. Evie plonked down to sit on the bed with a sigh. ‘Okay, come here, sweetie, let's get you changed.'

Tayla screwed up her face. ‘I don't like this dress, it's just grey. I want something pretty, like the red one out there, or the purple!'

‘This is Aunty Emma's wedding,' said Evie, her voice strained. ‘You'll get to wear whatever colour you want at your own wedding, Tayla.'

‘Don't be crazy, Mother, at my own wedding I'll be wearing white. Don't you know anything?'

Ellen couldn't stand to hear Tayla speaking to her mother that way, but she bit her tongue, Evie looked miserable enough as it was.

‘Is everything okay, Evie?' she asked.

She shrugged. ‘I'm just tired.'