Three’s a Crowd (55 page)

His face went a whiter shade than it already was.

‘I'm sorry,' said Catherine. ‘I realise this is a shock, and it's not the best place to tell you, but I just can't lie any more.'

He waved his hand, dismissing that. ‘So you actually gave birth?'

She nodded. ‘To a girl. A very beautiful girl.'

‘Oh my God.' He seemed to be catching his breath. ‘Do you know what happened to her? Have you had any contact with her over the years?'

‘I'm sorry?'

‘Well, you know, I'm just thinking, quite often adoptions are open these days, or isn't there a register so if the child wants to make contact –'

‘James, I didn't give her up.'

He stared at her. ‘But you said . . .'

Catherine realised then, she remembered what she'd told him at the Law Society function. ‘Oh, I'm sorry James. I don't have any other children, none with my husband. I didn't want to blurt it out to you that night.'

He was obviously in shock now. ‘Oh my God,' was all he could say, his voice barely making it out of his throat.

‘Look, it's okay, I know this is a shock, you don't have to –'

He waved his hand again to stop her. ‘A girl, you said?'

‘That's right.'

‘She'd be going on eighteen,' he said quietly, almost wistfully. ‘You know, I never stopped wondering. And when I met you that night, I went home to Elizabeth and I said, “That's that. I finally know.”'

‘Your wife knew about this?'

‘Of course,' he said. ‘It's not the kind of thing you keep from your wife.'

Catherine was impressed. He really was a decent man. And his wife sounded pretty decent as well.

‘Her name is Alice.' She suddenly felt like she could tell him everything, and not only that, she wanted to tell him everything.

‘Alice,' he repeated. ‘What's she like?'

Catherine thought about it. ‘She's very bright, she can be very funny, and she's quite strong-willed, definitely has her own mind.'

‘She's like you then, at that age,' said James.

Catherine supposed she was, in some ways.

‘Do you have a picture?' he asked.

‘Yes, of course,' she said, reaching for her handbag. She took out her wallet and flipped it open, passing it to him across the table. ‘That was taken about a year ago.'

He was just staring at it. ‘Oh, she is beautiful. She looks just like you.'

‘She has your eyes.'

He looked up, and those eyes were filled with emotion, and gratitude . . . and now they were filling with tears. And involuntarily, and quite uncharacteristically, Catherine's eyes filled with tears as well.

They both laughed then, embarrassed, taking up their napkins at the same time, dabbing at their eyes.

The waiter returned to their table. ‘Was there anything wrong with your meals?' he asked, looking at the untouched plates.

‘No, nothing at all,' James assured him. ‘We just decided we weren't hungry after all.'

‘Shall I take them?'

‘Yes, please.'

‘Can I bring you anything else?'

James glanced at Catherine and she shook her head. ‘No, thank you.'

He removed the plates and left.

James sighed deeply. ‘Do you mind if I ask . . .?'

‘Anything,' said Catherine.

‘Does she know about me?'

‘Not until just recently,' she said. ‘She only knew her father was called James, and he was a one-night stand. Under the circumstances, I didn't want her to know any more than that, I didn't want her to go looking for you.'

‘I understand.' He nodded. ‘What does she think now?'

Catherine shrugged. ‘She's curious, but wary. She has no expectations, after all this time. To be honest, I think she's still taking it all in.'

James leaned forwards. ‘Look, I can't make any promises till I talk to Elizabeth –'

‘James, it's fine, this is a difficult situation,' Catherine assured him. ‘You have children of your own.'

‘And now I have a daughter,' he said with a kind of wonder in his voice. ‘Elizabeth is a wonderful woman, she's kind and understanding. She'll be fine with it. We just have to work out the best way to proceed.'

‘So you would like to meet her?' Catherine asked.

‘Of course,' he said without hesitation. ‘If that's all right with you, and if it's all right with Alice?'

Catherine felt a deep sense of relief she hadn't felt since . . . probably since before those two lines had appeared on that pregnancy test.

‘It's all right with me,' she assured him. ‘Let's just take it a step at a time. Give everyone the chance to adjust to the idea.'

‘You're right, I know,' he said. ‘We have to work out the best way to introduce it to our boys.' He paused, before looking across at her. ‘But I have to admit, Catherine, suddenly I'm quite anxious to meet her. I've missed out on so much of her life, I feel like I don't want to miss out on any more.'

James insisted on taking care of the bill, and they stepped out onto the street into the bright sunshine. Catherine turned to face him.

‘So, we'll keep in touch. Call me after you've talked it over with Elizabeth.'

He looked at her intently. ‘Thank you, Catherine. Thank you so much for telling me. You didn't have to.'

‘Yes, I did.' She put out her hand. ‘We'll talk soon.'

He took her hand, and then suddenly he leaned forwards to give her a quick, slightly awkward hug. He stepped back again, looking a little abashed.

She smiled at him. ‘Bye James.'

‘Bye Catherine.'

She turned and walked down the street in the other direction. She walked almost a block before she had to stop and think about where she was actually going. Where had she parked the car?

No, she remembered now. She had decided to get a cab in the end, in case there was an issue parking. She didn't want to have to dash out in the middle of things to put more change in a meter.

Catherine was brimming over, she could hardly wait to tell Rachel all of this. But not now. She checked her watch, Alice would be getting home from school and she had to tell her first. And Catherine was going to tell her everything. She had wondered about that, whether she was going to have to edit details to protect her, play it safe. But she felt overwhelmingly positive; the kind, understanding Elizabeth would be kind and understanding, and everything was going to work out, she knew it in her bones. She so wanted to tell Alice that her sweet, eminently decent father's eyes had welled up with tears when he'd looked at her photo. Alice should hear that, every girl should get to hear that. And Catherine couldn't wait another minute. She stepped out on the kerb and hailed a taxi.

Rachel had arrived for her shift at eleven and she hadn't stopped since. It was her first shift of the week, and she was so glad to be here. And especially glad it was busy. She thought she would go crazy if she spent one more hour at home alone in the flat. Apart from visiting Lexie the other day, she hadn't stepped foot outside. She just didn't have the energy or the motivation. She missed Tom so badly it was crippling. She had to keep reminding herself this was her decision, and it was the right decision. And somehow she had to find a way to move on with her life.

So it was good to be at work. She didn't have a moment to feel
sorry for herself. They were inundated as busload after busload of Japanese tourists poured into Bondi. Apparently it was Golden Week in Japan, Mel managed to explain in short bursts, when more Japanese people were on holiday than at any other time of the year. And most of them came to Sydney, and all of them came to Bondi Beach.

There was finally a lull after three, and Rachel turned to the mess and started washing up.

Mel came out from the back. ‘Thank God that's over for today.'

Rachel just gave a faint shrug, murmuring, ‘I'll say,' as she concentrated on dismantling one of the juicers.

Mel busied herself around her, stacking things on the sink, wiping down benches.

‘Hey, I just remembered,' she said suddenly. ‘How did the big coming-out party go?'

Rachel wasn't prepared for that; she stammered something incomprehensible, and then unexpectedly and quite overwhelmingly she burst into tears, sobbing over the sink.

‘Oh my God,' said Mel. ‘Are you okay?'

But Rachel couldn't speak.

‘Here.' Mel moved her away from the sink, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no customers were waiting. ‘Take off your gloves,' she ordered. ‘Go out the back.'

‘No, it's okay,' Rachel whimpered.

‘No, it's not,' Mel said flatly. ‘Hand over the gloves.'

Rachel pulled off the rubber gloves and Mel passed her a tea towel. She trudged out to the storeroom and dropped down onto an upturned milk crate, crying into the towel. A moment later she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up.

‘God, what happened, Rachel?'

She sighed tremulously. ‘It's a long story.'

‘Dammit,' said Mel. ‘And it's still a few hours till closing.'

Rachel wiped her eyes. ‘I'll be okay, just give me a minute.'

‘No, you're going home.'

‘I don't want to, really, Mel, I'd rather be here.'

Mel pulled over another crate and sat down to look at her. ‘Are you sure?'

She nodded. ‘I'd rather keep busy.'

‘Jesus, Rachel, what the hell happened? Can you at least give me a hint?'

‘Tom and I broke up.'

‘Oh no,' she said, rubbing Rachel's shoulder. ‘Okay, that's it, we're going out for a drink after work.'

‘No, I don't want to drink.'

‘Jeez, this really is serious.'

Rachel swallowed. ‘I'm just afraid if I start drinking I won't be able to stop.'

‘Okay,' she nodded. ‘We'll go for a coffee, or a walk on the beach or something. But you stay out here as long as you need to.'

‘I'll be okay in a minute.'

‘Whatever you want, all right?' Mel said kindly, getting up again. ‘It's not going to get that busy again, there won't be any more tourist buses, just the after-school mob. So do whatever you need to do.'

For the rest of the afternoon Rachel manned the sink and Mel handled the customers. Her shift should have ended at five, so with her staying on for the extra hour, washing up and cleaning everything in sight, Mel could pull down the shutter on the dot of six and close.

‘So what do you want to do?' she asked Rachel.

‘Maybe a walk?' she said weakly. ‘A walk on the beach might be nice.'

‘Whatever you say.'

So they walked across the road and over the bridge and down the steps onto the beach, and by the time they made it to the shoreline, Rachel had filled Mel in on everything that had happened on Saturday night, and since.

‘Seriously, the stuff that happens to you,' Mel said when they finally plonked down on the sand, facing the water, ‘you should write a book.'

Rachel grunted. ‘No thanks, then I'd have to relive it.'

‘Good point.'

Rachel had to admit, though, she did feel better getting it all off her chest without having to edit herself, or worry whose feelings she might be treading on. Mel was blissfully uninvolved, the best kind of sounding board.

‘And you don't think there's any hope for you and Tom down the track?'

‘I can't think like that, Mel. He has to work himself out, do the right thing by those girls.'

‘Well, you're very noble, that's quite a sacrifice you're making.'

‘I'm not so sure,' Rachel shook her head. ‘In fact, Tom said something to me, that it was just my stuff, that, as usual, I was walking away from a difficult situation. And maybe I am. I never learned how to deal with conflict. My parents hated each other, my mother became vindictive and my father withdrew. I think maybe I've taken after him.'

‘Who knows?' said Mel. ‘We think we can put together why we do things like pieces in a puzzle, and it'll all fit in the end, it'll all make sense. But it's like when they finally mapped out the human genome. Everyone got so excited, they'd be able to predict everything about a person, but the scientists baulked at that. The myriad combinations of genes, and the myriad effects of the environment, and a whole lot more we don't even understand makes it impossible to predict anything with absolute certainty.' She looked over at Rachel. ‘You'll never know for sure why you react the way you do, Rach, even if your gut instinct is a little skewed, in the end it's all you've got. And you have to be true to yourself.'

Rachel sighed. ‘Well, my gut tells me I can't stand by and watch Sophie self-destruct, if I have anything to do with it.'

‘And I'm saying . . . noble.'

Rachel looked at her. ‘Well, you know what, between you and me, Mel, being noble sucks.'

Mel laughed. ‘What can I tell you, good guys always come last.'

‘Why is that? Who made up that rule?' Rachel wanted to know. ‘I don't pretend to be a saint, but you try and do the right thing, do unto others, all that, and yet the people who only look out for themselves, they seem to get everything they want.'

‘Maybe, on a superficial level, but would you really want to be like that?'

‘Why not? Maybe that's where I've been going wrong. I need to put myself first.'

Mel shook her head. ‘You couldn't do it, Rachel.'

‘How do you know?'

She looked squarely at her. ‘Because you're giving up the man you love for the sake of his daughter's wellbeing. You don't have it in you to put yourself first and screw everyone else, and it wouldn't make you happy.'

‘Well, this doesn't either,' Rachel sighed.

They sat staring out at the water. The sun had disappeared behind them and there was a distinct chill rolling in off the ocean. Rachel drew her jacket around her.