Three’s a Crowd (52 page)

‘I'm sure we can.' He smiled at her. ‘It's funny, before I met you I always thought I'd probably marry someone in the industry and that we'd end up running a restaurant together.'

‘You used to talk about that when we first met,' said Lexie. ‘Not the part about marrying someone in the industry.'

‘No, because you were a lab assistant.'

‘Which is not so different to someone who works in a kitchen, when you think about it, Scott.'

He shrugged. ‘I guess.'

‘So why did you drop the restaurant idea?'

‘It was only a vague dream.'

Lexie rested her head back in the crook of his arm, looking up at him. ‘Tell me about it.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Tell me about the restaurant you would have had with your other wife, you must have had some kind of picture in your head,' she urged.

He shrugged. ‘I don't know.'

‘Scott, we have to start telling each other everything,' said Lexie. ‘Hopes, fears, dreams, frustrations – everything. We've stopped doing that. We've stopped talking. And look what ended up happening. We can't let things ever get that bad again. I don't want to become one of those couples, at each other's throats all the time.'

He stroked her hair. ‘I don't either,' he said. ‘The way I treated you this last week . . . I don't know what was wrong with me. I couldn't seem to stop once I got started. You didn't deserve that, you were only trying to help.'

‘Yeah, but I was manipulating the situation, instead of being honest with you.'

‘No,' he denied.

‘I'm just saying, we have to be totally open and honest from now on, okay?'

‘Okay,' he said, leaning down to give her a kiss.

‘So, tell me, did you dream of owning a big swanky place in the city?'

He pulled a face. ‘No, never.'

‘Well, what did you imagine?'

He stared out across the room, thinking about it. ‘There was this guy, Todd, I haven't thought about him in a long time. He was the sous chef in the first place I ever worked when I was an apprentice. Lovely guy, much too gentle a temperament to ever become a head chef in a busy city restaurant, and he knew it. So he and his wife moved up to Bellingen, and they opened a restaurant there. A couple of years later I called in to see him when I was on holiday up that way.' Scott shook his head, remembering. ‘I'd never seen anything like the set-up they had. They'd converted this rambling old house on a huge block of land, and they actually lived upstairs, above the restaurant. They had three little barefoot kids running around the place, and they grew their own vegetables and herbs, and they had chooks. They made everything on the premises, bread and pasta . . .'

Lexie sat up again, facing him, her eyes wide. ‘What, you mean everything on the menu?'

He nodded. ‘Just about. And they sold stuff as well: bottled sauces and preserves, that kind of thing. They had this whole little cottage industry going.'

‘It sounds wonderful,' Lexie sighed.

‘Yeah, it was,' he agreed.

‘Couldn't we do something like that?'

He shook his head with a smile. ‘It's only a dream, Lex.'

‘What do you mean “only a dream”,' she argued. ‘They did it.'

‘But we couldn't.'

‘Why not?'

‘Well, for a start, we couldn't do it in Sydney, it'd be too expensive, and you wouldn't want to move away from your family,' he said simply.

‘Oh, wouldn't I?' she returned. ‘What else wouldn't I want to do, Scott?'

He frowned, considering her. ‘You'd actually consider moving away from your family?'

‘I wouldn't be moving away from my family, I'd be moving
with
my family.' She took hold of his head with both hands. ‘God, Scott, when are you going to get it? You're it, you and the kids, you're everything to me.'

He still looked uncertain. ‘You wouldn't miss your mum?'

She sighed, releasing his head again. ‘Of course I'd miss her. But she'd visit, and we'd visit. This is about us, Scott, and our family, and what's right for us.' She paused, biting her lip. ‘And there's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time.'

He looked worried. ‘What is it?'

‘I want another baby.'

Now he looked shocked.

‘But you don't?' she sighed.

‘No, it's not that, honey,' said Scott, ‘I'd have a houseful. But that's the problem. We have a houseful now.'

‘I know,' she agreed. ‘That's why I've never said anything. I knew it wasn't possible the way things are, and I didn't want you worrying that you couldn't give me what I wanted.' Then she smiled faintly. ‘But if we were to move . . .'

He was gazing at her with a kind of disbelief in his eyes. ‘You'd really think about moving away from Sydney?'

‘You know what, Scott, I've lived my whole life in about a ten-kilometre radius,' said Lexie. ‘The hospital where I was born, the house I grew up in, where I went to school, uni, got married, had my own kids, all in shooting distance. Maybe I wouldn't want to go quite as far as Bellingen, but I think moving away could be a wonderful thing for us, Scott. Isn't it worth looking into at least?'

Catherine had decided to take a few days' leave, perhaps even the whole week. She hadn't had any time off in ages, and she wasn't scheduled in court; there was nothing so urgent she couldn't catch up on it later. Martin was in the guestroom when she made it home Saturday night, and he packed his bags Sunday and moved to a hotel. They exchanged not more than a few words, his to the effect that he'd have his lawyer get in touch with her in time. Catherine felt bad about the way it had happened, but it had to happen sometime. And strangely enough it felt good to be free. She'd always been accustomed to having a man in her life, but she and Martin had not been in sync for a very long time, and she hadn't realised how draining that had become. And she certainly didn't need Tom and all his complications; Rachel was welcome to him. Catherine had tried to call her yesterday to debrief, but she couldn't get past the answering machine. After the dust had settled, the more she thought about Rachel and Tom together, the more it seemed absolutely right. Normal. Natural, even. Good luck to them. She could see why they'd kept it under wraps from the general public, sake of appearances and all that, but Catherine didn't understand why Rachel would think she couldn't confide in her, instead of making up that whole Matthew Harding fiasco.

But she had more pressing concerns right now. Alice had locked herself in her room since Saturday night and refused to acknowledge or respond to Catherine whatsoever during her brief trips to the kitchen, or as she left the house this morning for school. In reality, Catherine should have been the one on her high horse, considering the debacle of the dance party; her own actions, involving another consenting adult more than six months ago, were none of Alice's business.

Except Catherine didn't really believe that. She shouldn't have blurted it out the way she did in front of Alice and Sophie; she wondered if Tom would ever be able to forgive her. But it was the heat of the moment, the shock, and she'd had a little too much to drink, which didn't help. But that wasn't her fault, the
whole evening had been quite stressful . . . Still, Catherine felt a deep, nagging dread about the irretrievable impact this could have on her relationship with Alice. If she didn't sort this out, she sensed she might lose her forever. She had to find a way to open a dialogue with Alice again, and it occurred to Catherine that this might be the right time to tell her about James. If she could demonstrate to Alice that she was prepared to be open and honest, perhaps they had a chance of rebuilding their relationship. Or even building a better one.

As she'd thought over it all day, Catherine had gradually felt lighter; the stress of lying, suppressing and avoiding all these years had obviously been draining. So by the time she heard Alice at the front door, home from school, she was quite reconciled about what she had to do. She hurried up the hallway to meet her head-on.

‘I have to talk to you, Alice,' she said.

‘Well I don't have to talk to you,' Alice replied airily, not making eye contact as she walked straight past her into the kitchen.

‘I think you're going to want to,' Catherine persisted, following her. ‘This is not about what happened on Saturday night, this is about something much more important.'

‘Says you,' she retorted, slipping her backpack off her shoulders and dumping it on the floor before heading for the fridge.

Catherine decided she was just going to have to come out with it. ‘I spoke to your father the other day.'

Alice stepped back from the fridge door, turning her head towards Catherine but not actually making eye contact. ‘You don't even know who my father is.'

‘Yes, I do,' said Catherine. ‘I haven't had any contact with him for over eighteen years, until just recently. The thing is, I never told you the full truth about him.'

‘My, what a surprise,' she said dryly. ‘So why are you bothering now?'

The fridge started making that beeping noise like a truck reversing.

‘Could you please close the fridge door,' said Catherine, ‘and pay attention to what I have to say?'

Alice grabbed a bottle of water and closed the door, slumping
onto a bar stool. Catherine could tell she wasn't really taking her seriously yet; she was intrigued, but not convinced.

‘His name is James,' she went on, ‘just as I always told you, and his surname is Barrett. He was my boyfriend at the time. I didn't want to give you more details about him in the past because I was trying to protect you.'

Alice pulled a face. ‘From what?'

‘I'll get to that. Now that he's turned up again, I want you to know the whole truth, so you can make a decision about what you want to do.'

She frowned. ‘Did he ask after me?'

Catherine hesitated. ‘Not exactly.'

Alice rolled her eyes. ‘So I suppose if I say I want to see him, there'll be some reason that I can't.'

‘There are complications –'

‘No! Really?' Alice scoffed. ‘Such as, you're making this whole thing up?'

‘No, I'm not, Alice. I promise you, I wouldn't do that about something like this.'

She was shaking her head. ‘Well, if this is the truth, that means you made the other story up, so obviously you'll make up whatever bowl of crapola suits you at the time.'

‘Well I'm not making this up,' Catherine repeated. ‘And I'll prove it to you.'

Alice looked at her. ‘Okay. Call him up now, let me talk to my dear papa.'

‘I can't do that.'

‘Oh and why do you think that is?' she said, channelling Catherine at her sarcastic best. ‘Could it be that he doesn't exist?'

‘No,' Catherine sighed. ‘He just doesn't know you exist.'

Alice finally relented to hear her out. Catherine knew she had to tell her the whole story, she couldn't edit anything out, even though she found it excruciating to have to mention that an abortion was ever on the table.

But Alice just sat there, listening, not asking any questions, not making any comments.

‘So,' Catherine said finally, ‘what are you thinking?'

Alice shrugged. ‘What do you want me to say?'

‘Whatever's on your mind. The truth.'

‘Okay. Then I don't understand why you're telling me all this now.'

‘Because, like I said, he's back in the country and –'

‘But why now, why today?' Alice persisted. ‘This totally feels like you're trying to distract me from what happened the other night.'

Catherine blinked. ‘That's not what I'm doing, Alice. I thought this would be important to you, and I wanted to show you that I was prepared to tell you the truth, so that it could open a dialogue between us –'

‘Okay, dialogue opened,' she cut her off. ‘Let's start with what happened the other night.'

‘If that's what you want,' Catherine said calmly. ‘What happened between Tom and me was probably a mistake, like he said.'

‘I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about
what happened the other night
,' she repeated, emphasising each word.

Catherine wasn't following her.

‘How could you blurt that out in front of Sophie?' she demanded. ‘It just keeps going round and round in my head, and I don't understand how you could do that. It was so mean.'

Catherine wasn't expecting that. She took a deep breath. ‘Things happen in the heat of the moment. I didn't think it through, it just came out.'

‘Admit it, Mum, you were just so jealous of Rachel, that Tom chose her, and you had to find a way to ruin it.'

‘No, I just –'