Almost Perfect (34 page)

‘Darling, your father and I both feel the very best thing would be for you to move back here to Melbourne and live with us.'

Anna didn't say anything. She was traipsing along in her mother's wake as she made her very determined way around the Queen Victoria Markets. Caroline was on a mission, buying up big for the Easter Sunday luncheon she was hosting this weekend.

She glanced at her daughter. ‘Now I don't want you thinking we're being clingy, Anna. Neither of us wants you wasting your life looking after us in our old age. We're not talking about forever, only until you get yourself sorted. We could help you find a place. You know the real estate in Melbourne is much more affordable than it is in Sydney.'

‘Mum, are you forgetting I have a job?'

‘But you've just been telling me that you're not even sure it's what you want to do any more.'

Anna had flown down yesterday. She couldn't stay in the house another day, especially with the procession of prospective buyers coming through at odd times. And she really didn't want to spend Easter
alone. Eggs everywhere, fluffy bunnies, chocolate on tap. Could there be anything more depressing?

‘You could start afresh, Anna,' her mother was saying, charging ahead into the throng. ‘New place, new job, new life.'

Right back where she started from. How could Anna explain to her mother that it would feel like a backward step? She loved Melbourne, and she did have a stronger attachment to it than Sydney. But it wasn't that. It was the idea of moving back to the place of her childhood, to a time when she was happily married, before she was even aware that she couldn't have children of her own. She didn't see how she could move on by hiding out in the comfort zone of her past.

Caroline was waiting for her a little further along. She was looking at Anna expectantly. ‘Well, what do you think?'

‘Look, Mum, for the moment I just want to get through the auction and settling up with Mac–'

‘I still can't bear thinking of it,' Caroline sighed. ‘I don't understand him. He's having some kind of midlife crisis, Anna. He's going to snap out of it and wonder what on earth he's done.' She lifted her eyebrows. ‘Is that why you don't want to leave Sydney?'

‘No, Mum, it has nothing to do with him.' She decided not to enter into yet another conversation about Mac's crisis, midlife or otherwise. Caroline was constantly trying to nut it out, as though understanding his motivation would prove something, or solve something, or in some way make things better. ‘I want to tackle one thing at a time, Mum. And I
don't want to go through any more changes than I already have to right at the moment.'

‘But coming back here is not a change, Anna, it's your home.'

‘Be that as it may, Mum, I've been in Sydney for seven years and I'm not going anywhere until I've worked out what I want to do with my life.'

Caroline looked at her squarely. ‘Well, you know you have our support whatever it is you decide.'

Anna leaned over and kissed her cheek. Caroline could flog a dead horse as well as the next person, but she would never actively push her daughter to do anything she didn't want to.

‘Well,' said Caroline, taking her arm as they proceeded along, ‘perhaps you'll follow my footsteps this time, become an academic.'

‘But I only have a bachelor's degree. I'd need to do more study.'

‘That's right.'

‘I think I'm getting a bit old.'

‘Nonsense, Anna. We regularly had students at uni who were in their sixties. And even a few older than that.'

‘But I don't think I want to do any more study in psychology.'

‘Who says you have to continue with psychology? Why don't you try something different?'

Anna shrugged. ‘I wouldn't know what.'

‘When you were young I always thought you might end up in the arts, studying literature or something along those lines.'

‘Why?'

‘You always had your head in a book. You loved reading, and when you weren't reading you were scribbling away in one of those exercise books you were always getting me to buy for you.'

Anna was frowning.

Caroline glanced at her. ‘Don't you remember?'

‘Vaguely. How old was I?'

‘The exercise books were primary school. I think you might have kept a journal in high school, and you were still a voracious reader. You always did very well in English and History. But then you became hell-bent on becoming a psychiatrist like your father and you had to focus on the science subjects. You didn't even seem to read much after that. Oh, I want to get olives from here. It's the best place,' said Caroline, steering Anna towards one of the stalls.

She was right. Anna had forsaken everything else in the vain attempt to get into medicine. She'd never really returned to reading with the same enthusiasm, it seemed an adolescent indulgence to lie around and waste whole days absorbed in a book. Anna remembered the exercise books though, she wondered what had happened to them.

‘Mum, you know those boxes of my stuff you brought from the house?'

Caroline nodded, moving up to the counter as a customer ahead of her departed.

‘They're still at the apartment?' Anna persisted.

‘Yes, dear, but don't concern yourself. I know I've been nagging you to do something about them, but that's the least of your worries at the moment.'
She was interrupted by the stall keeper. ‘Yes, I'll start with two large tubs of the kalamatas, please.'

Later that night after her parents had gone to bed, Anna carried the stepladder into the guestroom and climbed up to investigate the very top shelf of the built-in wardrobe. She remembered seeing the row of boxes, each one simply marked ‘ANNA', and her mother prompting her from time to time to sort through them. She reached in and slid the first box out. It didn't feel too heavy, so she lifted it off the shelf and stepped carefully back down the ladder. She rested it on the bed and opened the lid. Anna smiled. It was packed full of stuffed animals. She'd had a bit of an obsession during her teens and even though she outgrew it eventually, she had never been able to bring herself to part with them. But Caroline had finally made her cull the collection when she was getting married. Anna had narrowed down her favourites to one box, she supposed with the idea of keeping them for her own child. She picked up a koala nestled on top and smoothed the fluffy fur on its ears. What on earth was she going to do with all these now? Anna felt a prickle in her nose, and then she sneezed loudly. She replaced the koala and the lid and climbed back up the stepladder.

The next box felt heavier, so Anna only pulled it part way out and lifted the lid, peering inside. She sneezed again. It looked like university stuff. She removed the lid completely and drew out a cardboard folder from the top. She was right, it was one
of her final assignments. She decided to leave that box for the moment, doubtful she would find what she was looking for there. The next box felt heavy as well. Anna slipped her hand under the lid, feeling around inside. She drew out a book and looked at the cover.
Anne of Green Gables.
Anna was suddenly catapulted back in time, lying on her bed, tears streaming down her face as she read. She slid the box out, and though it was heavier than the first, she managed to climb back down the stepladder and dump it on the bed. As she sifted through the contents it was like her childhood flashing before her eyes. There were more books:
Black Beauty
,
The Diary of Anne Frank
,
To Kill a Mockingbird
,
Wuthering Heights
. There were school reports, ‘Attendance –
perfect
; Uniform –
perfect
; Conduct –
perfect; Anna is a model student, serious, diligent, with poise beyond her years
.' There were photos from school, from formals, from her debutante ball. There was one from her graduation, all gowned up, her parents on one side and Mac on the other. He looked so young and his eyes were full of pride as he gazed down at her. It felt like another lifetime.

There were certificates and merit awards and birthday cards, but no exercise books. Anna sneezed again. Her nose was itchy and she was beginning to feel weary. Maybe she'd look through the other boxes tomorrow. She replaced the lid and carried the box over, putting it on the floor against the wall. Then she returned for the box of stuffed toys. When she picked it up she realised it felt a little heavier than it should. She gave it a shake, there was something
solid in the bottom. She set it back down on the bed and opened the lid. After extracting a couple of bears, a tiger, a monkey, assorted bunnies, she finally came to a flat rag doll lining the base of the box. It was a pyjama bag, Anna remembered. She picked it up, giving an almighty sneeze at the same time. There was something inside. She turned the doll over and unzipped the back, pulling out a bundle of exercise books tied together with a green ribbon. Anna sat down on the bed and unravelled the bow. Some of the books were covered with wrapping paper, some had doodles scribbled all over them. ‘Private', ‘Keep Out', ‘This Book is the Private Property of Anna Caroline Gilchrist. No Peeking.' Anna kicked off her shoes and shifted backwards up the bed till she reached the bedhead, propping the pillows and settling herself against them. She ran her hand across the cover of the first book in the bundle. It was as good a place to start as any.

At two-thirty Anna rubbed her eyes and told herself she had to get some sleep. She had read almost every word through eight exercise books. She'd worked out that they must have been written throughout grades four, five and six, when she was nine up to about eleven or twelve years old. There was mention of going to high school in the future, but not of being there yet. Parts were autobiographical, like a diary, but mostly they were filled with stories and poems. The poems were often clumsy and self-conscious, though Anna was impressed by the
vocabulary she had used at such a young age. The stories were sometimes bizarre fables with talking animals or fairies and goblins, or girlie tales of best friends and sleepover parties, or blatant ripoffs of books she'd obviously been reading at the time.

But throughout, to Anna's surprise, there was a great deal of anger, anger that Anna couldn't even recall feeling, let alone expressing. And she was quite sure she never had, but clearly she had found a way of venting it. Some seemed to be directed towards her parents for not being around as much as she would have liked, though other people earned her ire as well – various teachers, some of the girls from school. It was a strange feeling, like looking into a mirror and seeing features she had never noticed before.

Anna was too exhausted to even change for bed. She rolled over on her side, drawing the covers around her and hugging her pillow. That night she dreamt of a little girl. At first she thought it might have been her daughter, but then she realised it was herself.

Zan threw open the door of the shop and strode in, armed with an oversized bunch of flowers wrapped in purple tissue paper. She spotted Georgie behind
the counter and charged over, thrusting the flowers at her.

‘I hear congratulations are in order,' she barked. ‘It would have been nice to have heard it from you instead of Nick. But at least somebody told me.'

Needless to say, heads turned. It was nearly five-thirty and it was a windy day, so the shop had become the bus shelter. People tried to be discreet about it, as though they were genuinely browsing amongst the books, not simply getting out of the weather. They walked idly up and down aisles, stopping whenever they came near the front window to peer up the street, looking out for their bus. And then all of a sudden they'd make a break for the door, hoping they wouldn't be noticed. Why they bothered with the charade was anybody's guess.

‘Zan,' Georgie said, lowering her voice in an effort to quiet her sister. ‘Come into the office.' She caught Adam's eye and gave him a look that said ‘Zan's having a nutty, we'll be in the office, take care of things out here'. He gave her a look that said ‘No worries', and suggested ‘Better you than me'. It was amazing what could be communicated with eyebrows, a tilt of the head and a bit of judicious eyeball rolling.

Georgie stepped back to allow Zan into the office. She closed the door behind them.

‘Where's Louise?'

‘It's her early day.'

Zan nodded, crossing her arms. ‘So you've decided to keep the baby,' she began rhetorically, pacing the small square of floor in front of the desk.
‘It's great, really, it is. I don't know how Jules is going to take it, but I suppose that's not your concern. I haven't even told her you're pregnant yet. You were so negative last time I spoke to you, I really didn't think you'd actually keep the baby. But you've swung right around again I see.' She stopped and looked at Georgie. ‘This is your final decision, I trust? I don't want to upset Jules for nothing.'

Georgie leaned back against the desk. ‘Yes, Zan, it's my final decision.'

‘I figured it had to be,' she dismissed, resuming her pacing again. ‘You couldn't disappoint Nick now anyway. You'd think it was his baby the way he's carrying on. He's certainly never been that excited about the idea of Jules and me having a baby.'

Georgie sighed. ‘Is that what this is about?'

‘What?' said Zan, swinging around, her hands on her hips.

‘Do you think I'm having this baby to spite you and Jules? To show you up somehow?' Georgie shook her head. ‘I didn't plan for this to happen, I didn't wish for it in my wildest dreams – well, not like this anyway. Do you have any idea how terrified I am? I don't know if I'm making the right decision, but I'm too gutless to do anything else.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I'm not strong enough to go through an abortion. I don't think I'd be able to handle it. That's what it came down to.'

‘And you think having a baby is going to be easy?'

‘No. I don't think one thing about this is going to be easy!' Georgie exclaimed. ‘I'm shit scared, Zan,
which is why I'd like to have my only sister's support, rather than her envy . . . or whatever this is.'

‘It's not envy,' Zan declared. ‘It's shock, frustration, mixed feelings . . . all right, maybe a little envy.' Her shoulders dropped and she came over to sit on the desk beside Georgie. ‘I'm sorry, George. I'm just worried about Jules. The frozen cycle failed as well.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘So now she has to either face another drug cycle here, or we go to the States. There she is, jumping through hoops trying to get pregnant, and you do it by accident. It's going to be difficult for her to come to terms with.'

‘Her and I both,' Georgie muttered.

Zan looked at her. ‘Are you really that scared?'

She nodded. ‘Petrified. You know how hopeless I am around the house. I can't cook, I can't even keep my place in any kind of order. I don't know how I'm going to manage with a baby.'

‘That stuff doesn't matter, George. You'll make a fantastic mother.'

Georgie looked at her.

‘I mean it, you're a natural. Look at how you get on with Molly and Grace.'

She shrugged. ‘That's the fun stuff, playing with them and fooling around. But I'm going to be completely responsible for this little person. I'm not even responsible enough to handle my own life, let alone someone else's.'

‘Come on, George, you're financially independent with your own business and your own flat. You're not doing too badly.'

‘I'd swap all that for a supportive partner,' she admitted.

Zan eyed her suspiciously. ‘You're not going to tell the dickhead are you?'

‘I said
partner
. If I do decide to tell Liam, it won't be about us getting back together,' Georgie said flatly. ‘Don't forget, he's still married.'

‘It pisses me off, you know. Women are always the ones left holding the baby, literally,' said Zan. ‘You tell the dickhead, and then he gets to decide whether he wants to be involved, whether he wants to provide for his child, or whether he wants to stay out of it altogether. Why should he get the choice? And how will you end up feeling if you decide to tell him and then he says, “Sorry, not interested”?'

‘Well, I have to be prepared to accept that. I ended it because I didn't want to break up a marriage, so I'm not going to do anything to threaten it now.'

‘Then why tell him?'

She sighed heavily. ‘Because, regardless of all that, he is the father.'

‘So? That doesn't automatically give him rights.'

‘Nick thinks it does.'

‘Because Nick's a bloke.'

‘Well, you have to admit that's a relevant perspective.'

‘Look, you can't trust the dickhead. That much is indisputable. I think you're better off preparing yourself to do this on your own.' She looked at the expression on Georgie's face. ‘Only you won't be on your own,' she added quickly. ‘You'll have all of us.
This baby's already part of a family.' She looked sideways at Georgie. ‘Even if the aunt is a little bull-headed.'

Georgie smiled. ‘Just a little?'

Georgie walked Zan to the door and waved her off. She stood there for a while, watching the passing traffic. Autumn was already half over, the days were becoming shorter and distinctly cooler. A gust of wind blew in from the street and Georgie stepped back from the threshold and pushed the door shut. ‘Should I lock up, Ad?' she called over her shoulder.

‘Best let the customers out first, boss,' he replied.

Georgie turned around to see Adam tending to two elderly women. He passed them their bags and smiled. ‘You'd better escape while you still have the chance,' he winked. ‘And I'm expecting your review on the biography, don't forget, Judith.'

Adam had a way with everyone, but women, it didn't matter what age, were his speciality. Georgie held the door open as the two ladies walked out, smiling broadly. He'd made their day.

She locked the door and turned over the ‘Closed' sign. Adam had started ringing up the register. Georgie wandered over and leaned against the counter, watching him.

‘What was your sister all fired up about?' he asked.

‘Well, ostensibly it was because I hadn't told her I'd decided to keep the baby, but it had more to do with the fact that I'm pregnant at all.' Georgie shrugged. ‘She came round in the end.'

Adam nodded, preoccupied with counting the cash.

‘Zan thinks I shouldn't tell Liam about the baby.'

‘Mm.'

‘She thinks he can't be trusted.'

‘She's got a point,' he murmured.

‘But Nick thinks he has a right to know, while Louise thinks the baby has a right to know who its father is. And I would have to tell Liam if I was going to tell the child. But telling Liam is not that simple because there's an innocent party involved, namely his wife.'

‘Uhuh.'

‘Adam?'

He made eye contact then.

‘Want to play a game?'

‘Is there drinking and/or nudity involved?'

Georgie ignored that. ‘You get to be the impartial moderator.'

‘Sounds tempting, but can't I be the racing car, or even the boot? Anything but the thimble. That's the wussy piece–'

‘Adam! A little focus, please?' said Georgie. ‘Look, everyone has a different take on whether to tell Liam about the baby. What do you think?'

‘I don't want to wade into this one,' he said, shaking his head.

‘But you're the ideal person.'

‘Why?'

‘Well, you can give a male perspective, but unlike Nick and everyone else who has an opinion, you're not related to me. You can be more impartial.'

‘I can't be impartial.'

‘Why not?'

‘Think about it, Georgie.' He closed the cash register drawer and shoved a wad of notes into the banking bag.

‘Think about what?'

‘How do you expect me to be impartial when I don't even know my own father?'

Georgie screwed up her face. ‘You do so know your own father. I even know him. What are you talking about?'

‘I'm talking about my biological father.'

‘What?' She stared wide-eyed at him.

Adam considered the expression on her face. ‘I'm adopted. You knew that.'

‘You're adopted?'

He nodded.

‘I didn't know that!'

‘I'm beginning to get that,' he said. ‘I'm sorry, I thought you did. It's not like I keep it hidden.'

‘How long have you been adopted?'

Adam looked blankly at her. Georgie shook her head, as though to clear the confusion inside.

‘I mean, how long have you known?' she tried again.

‘As long as I can remember. Mum and Dad handled it really well. There was never any big revelation, we just always knew.'

‘You mean your sister's adopted too?'

‘Sure.'

‘But you all look alike. All of you. Even your parents look alike!' Georgie declared.

‘Maybe that made it easier to find a good match,' Adam suggested. He picked up the cash bag and turned towards the office.

‘So you've never met your birth parents?'

‘I met my mother a couple of times.'

Georgie was fascinated. She followed him into the office where he was already down on his knees, opening the floor safe.

‘How did you get to meet her? What was she like?'

‘Mum and Dad asked if I wanted to put my name on that register they keep for birth parents and children to find each other. They said maybe it was a good idea to find out her medical history, that kind of thing. I was a little curious, so I thought why not? Anyway, she didn't respond straight away. But eventually she did, and we set up a meeting.'

‘What's she like?'

Adam shrugged. ‘She was all right. She was a little awkward. I think she was worried I wanted more from her. She was married with kids, they didn't know anything about me.'

Georgie's face dropped. ‘That doesn't seem right.'

‘It's her choice,' he said, pushing the bag down into the safe and closing the door again. ‘But I had hoped to find out something about my father. His name wasn't on the birth certificate because she wasn't exactly certain who he was.'

‘Really?' Georgie exclaimed breathlessly.

‘I got the impression she was a bit of a wild girl back then. Probably the reason she was so awkward about the whole thing.' Adam sat back on his haunches. ‘I don't have any ill feelings towards her.
She did the best thing for me, giving me up. I had a much better life than I would have being brought up by a sixteen-year-old single mother.'

Georgie sat down on a chair, hooking one leg underneath her. ‘But you're still curious about your father?'

He nodded, getting to his feet. ‘It's weird not even knowing his name. But worse than that, there's a guy out there somewhere who has no idea he has a grown son.' Adam folded his arms, leaning back against the desk. ‘And maybe he had a daughter, a few years after me–'

‘Oh no, Adam, you don't think you might accidentally . . .?'

‘I know the chances are pretty remote. But it does cross my mind.'

‘I never thought about anything like that.' Georgie was gobsmacked. ‘It's a minefield, isn't it?'

‘Sure is,' he said. ‘Still want my opinion, my very partial opinion?'

Georgie nodded earnestly.

‘The child is the most important consideration in this whole thing. It's his rights more than anyone's you should be thinking about. He didn't ask to be born, he didn't get to choose his parents or their circumstances. He has a right to two parents. But the world isn't perfect, so at least he has the right to know who both his parents are. And to be honest, bugger the suit, bad luck if this is going to make things difficult for him. He should have thought about that before he, well, you know . . .'

‘He's absolutely right, isn't he?'

Georgie had hopped on a bus to Louise and Nick's as soon as she left work. Adam's revelations had left her flustered and she didn't want to go home alone, where her brain was likely to go into over-drive. They were finishing dinner when she arrived and though they offered her leftovers, Georgie was too preoccupied to think about eating.

‘The baby has to come first,' she went on.

‘I think you'll find that was my position all along,' Louise muttered, wiping down the table.

‘So you knew Adam was adopted?'

‘Of course,' she replied, walking past Georgie into the kitchen.

‘Why didn't you tell me?'

‘I thought you knew. It wasn't a big secret or anything.'