The Secret Ingredient (12 page)

Andie didn't have to close up the shop, by the time she got there Donna would have closed and left already. But she was going to hide out for a while. She needed time to think, on her own, with no distractions. Of course she knew Ross was protecting himself, of course she knew a lot of what he said was bullshit . . . she just wasn't sure which parts, or how much. Jess would say it all was, she would write off everything he said.

And Andie would have a clean rap sheet.

As she made it to her car in the parking station, she heard the beep of another text message arriving. It was Jess again.

Whats going on?

Andie unlocked the door and sat in the driver's seat to answer it.

It's over. On my way to the shop to do paperwork
.

No debrief?

Later. Glad I don't have to hide from him any more. Thanks for making me do it. xA

There was a slightly longer pause before Jess replied.

Glad 2 :) Talk L8r, take care xJ

Andie did feel some solace at the shop; it was the only place left that was hers now, where she wasn't a guest or an interloper. She was going to have to do something about her living arrangements; she couldn't stay on Jess's fold-out forever, her flat was way too small anyway to accommodate two people for any extended length of time. She got herself a plate from the kitchen, and went to inspect the containers in the fridge. She wasn't all that hungry, but she knew she should eat something; her jeans were sagging a bit around the bum, and her face looked wan staring back at her in the mirror. But she had a whole shop full of food and nothing appealed, like that poem,
Water, water every where
. . . In the end, Andie sliced some bread and made a simple sandwich of cheese and ham. But she couldn't eat it, she just sat in the quiet, semi-dark, thinking.

Andie didn't know what was going to happen down the track, but she had to do something now to prove to Ross that this was serious, and that it wasn't going to be fixed overnight. She wasn't going back to the apartment, so she had to find a place of her own. The idea was actually appealing – somewhere she didn't have to answer to anyone, or allow for anyone else . . . A small studio apartment would do, she didn't need much space, but it would be her space, and hers alone. A refuge.

Andie needed time out, to take stock, to decide if this was where she wanted to be. Whether or not Ross was telling the truth, if he ended it with the girl and had no intention of seeing her again, how would Andie ever be able to trust him again?

She wasn't falling for his hype, but neither could she absolve herself of some of his accusations. She knew how much the baby issue had thrown him. She had expected him to change his mind for her, to completely turn around on something he'd stated emphatically from the beginning of their relationship. There was nothing wrong with Andie's desire for a baby, that was natural, but to expect Ross to fall into line without question, well, perhaps that was unreasonable. A fifty-four-year-old man with grown children and a granddaughter had every right to recoil at the idea of starting all over again.

But to have an affair? He was drawing a rather long bow there. It didn't excuse him. Not that he'd said it was an excuse, or did he? Some of his double-talk had confused her. The big thing was whether to believe him on the matter of Tasha. And there was a part of Andie that really wanted to believe him, not to exonerate him, but so that she could differentiate herself from the girl. Ross had had an affair with Andie, but she was not unstable, or unhinged or whatever terms he'd used. She had not flirted outrageously, or pushed herself onto him . . . She hadn't been needy, had she? She had certainly never stepped foot inside the marital home. She had always made him do the decent thing by Joanna and the kids. In the murky moral morass of a marriage breakdown, Andie had tried to do the right thing. She was not like Tasha, and she did not want Tasha to be anything like her.

The ringtone of her mobile startled her.

‘Are you all right?' Jess said as soon as Andie picked up. ‘What's going on, where are you?'

‘I'm fine,' said Andie. ‘I told you I was going to the shop.'

‘But what are you doing there so long?' she persisted.

‘Well, I'm just having something to eat, and then I'm going to do some paperwork – like I said.'

There was a pause. ‘Are you sure you're okay?'

‘I am, Jess. Thanks for your concern, but really, I feel better since seeing him.' That was mostly true. ‘You were so right, I couldn't avoid him forever. Now I can move on, start making some decisions for myself.'

‘That's great.' She sounded a little tentative. ‘What did he have to say for himself?'

‘Oh, I don't want to go into it all now over the phone. We'll talk about it later.'

‘Well, that's the thing,' said Jess. ‘You know my friend, Alex, and some of the others? Well, they're meeting for a drink, she invited us along.'

‘Oh, thanks anyway, but I think I'll pass,' said Andie. ‘I'm feeling a bit drained actually.'

‘Oh, okay, I'll stay in then, and wait for you.'

‘No you will not,' Andie retorted. ‘Jess, I'm perfectly fine. I'll probably just crash when I get back to your place anyway.'

Jess still hesitated. ‘Are you sure? What if you need to talk?'

‘We'll have plenty of time to talk, Jess. You should go out, have some fun.'

‘Okay,' she finally relented. ‘But I'll text you where we end up, in case you change your mind later.'

She wouldn't, but she said, ‘Okay,' before hanging up. Andie was glad she wouldn't have to go over it all with Jess tonight. Her thoughts were still too chaotic.

Maybe it would help if she focused on something else for a while. Paperwork was not such a bad idea. She walked through to the back of the shop and sat down at the desk, switching on the lamp. She began to sort through invoices and orders and general correspondence, but after a while she realised she was doing nothing but shuffling papers around. She sat back with a heavy sigh. Clearly she wasn't going to be able to focus on anything else. She found herself putting pictures to the story Ross had fed her, imagining the dark-haired girl with the pert breasts flirting with him at the office, throwing tantrums when he made excuses not to see her, forcing her way into the apartment and stripping off before he could do anything about it.

It was like a bad soap opera, with Ross coming off as the hero, or at the very least, the victim. How much of what he said was true? Surely he couldn't have made up the entire thing; surely he was only stretching the truth? But by how much?

Andie groaned out loud and got to her feet, pushing the chair away. She was pacing around the room like a caged animal when she heard the beep of a text message. She rushed back out to the shop where she'd left her phone. It was from Jess, letting her know they were at a pub in King Street.

Maybe Andie should join them after all. She wasn't going to get any peace tonight, she might as well get drunk instead. She closed the message, which brought her back to Contacts. Joanna was listed directly after Jess. Andie's heart started to race. No, she couldn't do it again. It was out of the question. Joanna would undoubtedly have a very interesting perspective on what Ross had said today, Andie was sure of it. But, no matter, she was not going to bother the woman again.

She wondered what Joanna would have to say, though . . . It would certainly help clarify some things . . .

But no, it wasn't appropriate. Joanna had been so kind to her that night . . .

And Andie had never thanked her! That was very remiss of her. She should have at least called Joanna afterwards to say thank you. It was too late for that now.

Flowers! She could have some flowers delivered, with a thankyou message. That was an appropriate gesture.

Though it might seem a little distant, impersonal . . . And you send flowers when someone dies . . .

What if she bought some flowers now, and dropped them around to Joanna's house? She wouldn't even go inside, she'd just have a polite chat on the doorstep. In fact, even if Joanna invited her in, Andie would simply decline. It was the perfect solution.

Andie knew a place only a few blocks from the shop. They sold fruit and vegies, and lovely fresh flowers – a limited range, the owner only bought what caught his eye at the markets each morning. Today it was Singapore lilies. Andie bought two bunches which they wrapped together in tissue paper, then she set off for Joanna's house.

It would be overstating things to say that Joanna was shocked to see Andie when she opened the door. Surprised, most definitely, but not shocked. Though Andie was beginning to think that maybe she should have called first.

‘I'm not staying,' she said quickly. ‘I'm only here to give you a belated thankyou.' She passed Joanna the flowers.

‘They're lovely,' said Joanna. ‘You really didn't have to, Andie.'

‘Oh, I did. You were very kind, I'm not sure how I would have made it through that night. I should have done this sooner, but . . .' She left that hanging.

‘How's it going?' Joanna asked her.

Andie shrugged. ‘Fine.'

‘Did you go back . . . home . . . to Ross?'

‘Only to collect my things, when he wasn't there.'

‘Have you seen him, talked to him?'

‘Not until today.'

Andie saw the realisation dawn on her face. ‘Why don't you come in for a minute?'

‘No, I promised myself I wasn't going to impose on you again.'

Joanna sighed. ‘Look, I've been wondering how you were getting on. I was going to call, but
I
didn't want to impose on you.'

‘You wouldn't have been imposing,' Andie was quick to assure her.

‘And you're not imposing now. Come in, Andie.'

She hesitated. ‘Is anyone home?'

‘Only Brooke,' said Joanna, standing back from the doorway. ‘And she's upstairs, cramming for an exam tomorrow. If we sit here in the front room, she won't hear us, she won't even know you're here.'

‘Okay then, just for a minute.'

She followed Joanna into the sitting room. It was such a gorgeous room, Andie had always admired Joanna's taste. Plump sofas that had exactly the right number and combination of cushions tossed artlessly across them; warm timber bookshelves crammed with beautiful books . . . it was perfect without looking like a magazine spread. In fact it was probably more like a film set; one of those fabulous houses in a movie, where Meryl Streep or Diane Keaton might come walking out of the kitchen any moment.

‘Sit down, make yourself at home,' Joanna was saying as she carried the flowers across to the doorway. ‘I'll just put these in water. Can I get you a drink – hard, soft, hot, cold?'

‘No, thank you, Joanna, I'm fine.'

Andie sank into the plush sofa that almost felt like it was hugging her. Joanna soon returned with the flowers in a simple glass vase, perfectly arranged.

‘They really are beautiful, Andie. Thank you,' she said, placing them on the coffee table, off-centre, so they wouldn't be in the way. She sat down on the sofa opposite. ‘So, where are you staying, if you don't mind me asking?'

‘Of course not. I'm staying with my old friend, Jess,' she explained. ‘But her flat is tiny, I'm going to look for a place of my own.'

Joanna raised an eyebrow. ‘So it's come to that?'

‘I guess it has,' said Andie. ‘I mean, I don't know what's going to happen down the track, but I think I need my own space while I work it out.'

Joanna nodded thoughtfully. ‘How does Ross feel about that? You saw him today?'

‘Yes. He wants me to come home. I told him no, I'm never going to be able to live in that apartment again.'

‘Will you ever be able to live with him again?'

‘He hasn't convinced me yet.'

‘He's trying though?'