Almost Perfect (48 page)

‘Are you saying you want me to call you?'

He glanced across at her. ‘Just as a back-up.'

Georgie felt uncomfortable. She had been wondering if this was going to come up.

‘Truth is, Liam, I don't know how I'm going to feel when I'm in labour. I might want everyone I know with me, or I mightn't want anybody, I've never been through it before.'

‘I'm not talking about when you're in labour, Georgie, that's completely up to you, I wouldn't even presume to ask. I just want to make sure you get to the hospital safely. All I'm suggesting is
that you put me on the list so you've got another option.'

‘Liam, you were always on that list.'

When they got to her flat, Liam didn't have to insist on carrying her bag up the stairs, Georgie knew the drill by now. Besides, she appreciated it. She was tired. And when she opened the door, she didn't feel that welcome relief she normally did coming home from a time away. She felt lonely.

Liam walked inside and put her bag down, then picked it up again straight away. ‘I'll put it in your room.'

‘Liam . . .'

But he was already walking into the hall. He reappeared a moment later. ‘So you're all right?' he asked. ‘Is there anything you need?'

She shook her head. ‘Thanks for taking me . . . for everything.'

He hesitated. He was dragging his feet he knew, but he was reluctant to leave. His flat was going to feel very empty tonight, his bed even emptier.

And then Georgie came towards him and kissed him softly on the cheek, and then she hugged him. It was only brief. But it was enough.

Anna stood as she spotted Doug walking down the street towards the cafe. It was her suggestion to meet here, she didn't feel ready to go to the clinic. Though she was going to have to get over that.

‘Anna,' he smiled, grasping both her hands and kissing her on the cheek. ‘Good to see you.'

‘How are you, Doug?' she asked as they sat down.

‘I can't complain.'

‘How's the practice?'

‘Going along fine. Though we miss you.'

Anna was glad to hear that. They spent the next few minutes checking the menu and ordering lunch. Anna was going to ask for a glass of wine, but when Doug declined because he had clients later, she thought it best to follow his lead.

‘So, to what do I owe this pleasure?' he asked after the waitress had left.

‘I just wanted to see you,' Anna insisted. ‘We used to see each other nearly every day. I wanted to catch up.'

He eyed her dubiously. ‘So now the flattery's out of the way . . .'

‘I do want to catch up, Doug, but I'll be honest, I also wanted to talk to you about coming back to work.'

Doug frowned slightly. ‘It wasn't that long ago you told me you wanted the rest of the year off.'

‘Yes, I realise that, but things have changed. I was
avoiding making any decisions at the time, I was even considering not coming back at all.'

‘That's what I suspected.'

‘But I don't know what I was thinking, Doug. I could never quit, seriously. Having had the break and some time to sort things out, I think I can return fresh now and see how I go.'

Anna was not quite sure what to make of Doug's expression. She didn't think he was entirely disposed to her idea. The waitress returned with their drinks and left again. Doug took a sip of his mineral water.

‘Tell me what you've been doing with yourself, Anna,' he said.

She expected this. She expected a kind of quasi supervision session. Doug needed to work out where she was at, if she was capable of analysing and counselling people in crisis. She had first to convince him she had made it through her own.

‘Well, I sold the house and moved into a town-house in Neutral Bay. But you already knew that, of course. And I took your idea to heart, not folk art, but I did join a writing class.'

‘Did you?' He seemed intrigued. ‘What kind of writing class, may I ask?'

‘Oh, you know, the kind people go to when they think they've got the great Australian novel in them.'

‘Is that what you thought?'

‘No,' she scoffed. Don't have him thinking you're delusional. ‘I went for fun.'

‘Why a writing class?'

‘My mother reminded me that I was an avid keeper of journals as a girl. I went back and read
some of them. They certainly gave me an avenue to express myself, even vent emotions I was possibly suppressing at the time.' That sounded insightful but professional.

‘So you thought taking up writing could bring some level of self-awareness?'

Think about it, Anna. Don't sound like a self-help manual.

‘I did it for fun, Doug, first and foremost. But I do think it helped me explore some issues. I wrote a little about what happened between Mac and me, about my desire for a child.'

‘Did you come to any conclusions?'

Conclusions would be too neat. Too half-hour sitcom. Anna joined a writing class, found the answers to life, and lived happily ever after.

‘It gave me a chance to reflect, I suppose, writing it down, reading it over. I think perhaps it gave me some closure.'

She noticed Doug's eyebrow lift, almost imperceptibly. Shit. Was that good or bad? She used to be able to read his body language better than this. The waiter returned, setting their plates down in front of them. Anna really wished she could have ordered a drink.

‘Have you kept it up?' Doug asked.

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘The writing? Are you still taking the class?'

Anna paused, her fork poised above her salad. She had deliberated over what to say about Vincent, if anything, and had decided in the end that a casual relationship would signify she was moving on, opening
herself up to new experiences. Not afraid of intimacy, that kind of thing. She was hoping she could pull it off now.

‘Well, I had to stop the class because, as it turned out,' she paused, fixing a coy smile on her lips, ‘I ended up having a fling with the teacher.'

Now both Doug's eyebrows lifted quite perceptibly. He seemed surprised, but perhaps that was good. Something he hadn't expected of her.

‘Can I be frank?' Anna went on.

‘Of course.'

She took a breath. ‘I think I had almost completely lost any sense of myself as a sexual being. Having a little affair of my own helped me to restore some of that sense. It was very affirming.'

‘I hope you don't mind me asking, but do the words “affair of my own” suggest an element of getting back at Mac?'

‘No, of course not,' Anna denied. ‘Mac didn't even know I was seeing someone.'

‘You kept it from him?'

‘No . . .' She hesitated. ‘The thing is, we haven't spoken in a while. We don't really have a reason to.'

Doug nodded. ‘Has he moved back to Melbourne?'

‘Last I heard he was still here. I expect he'll stay.'

‘Why is that?'

Anna swallowed. She still found it hard to say. ‘He's having a child . . . with the woman . . .' Her voice trailed off.

Doug was watching her. Lunch with an old work
colleague morphing into supervision morphing into counselling. It wasn't meant to go this way.

‘How does that make you feel?'

Resentful. Jealous. Angry. Envious. Bitter.

‘I haven't thought about it that much actually, Doug.'

Wrong answer. She could see it in his eyes.

‘I'd imagine news like that would be very painful to deal with, considering what you've been through.'

‘Oh, don't get me wrong,' she assured him. ‘I did have a hard time of it at first. But then I worked through it. I wrote about it, processed it. And around the same time, Vincent and I started seeing each other.'

‘Has the baby been born yet?'

‘You know, I'm not sure, Doug,' she lied. Anna had lain awake at night thinking about it. She knew it had to be soon. ‘Maybe, I guess it can't be far off.'

Doug nodded, he seemed thoughtful. Why hadn't she just been honest with him? It didn't make her incompetent because she was in pain. In fact she was probably more capable of empathising with clients. She should have taken a completely different tack. She should have been honest. But then she would have had to admit she wanted to come back because she had nothing else.

‘You know, Anna,' Doug said after a while, ‘work can often provide a refuge during times of loss or uncertainty. But we don't have that option, not in our line of work.'

She'd been found out. How could she ever have imagined otherwise?

‘You know how I feel about you, Anna. I have enormous respect for you and your ability, your professionalism.' He paused. ‘And I'm sure you realise we had to put someone on to replace you in a more permanent capacity, when you asked for the rest of the year off?'

‘Of course, Doug.'

‘So, we have to allow her the time and space to establish herself, see if we all suit one another,' he added. ‘If you decide you're still interested, you're welcome to attend client conferences, ease your way back in over time. For now I'd suggest you keep up with the writing. I think it sounds like it might be good for you.'

Doug was palming her off. She didn't blame him. He was only trying to save her embarrassment. But after she left him and went home and opened a bottle of wine, she sat in the cold, sterile little box and wondered about her cold, sterile little life.

Anna stared across at the desk and the funny little cactus vase still in the place she had put it before she'd started spending all her time at Vincent's. She had another glass of wine and resisted the impulse to ring him. Another glass of wine and she could forget about driving over there, she'd be over the limit. Just like the first night they slept together . . . when he wouldn't let her drive . . .

Anna got up and went into the kitchen. She left her glass on the bench as she rifled through the drawers looking for cigarettes. If she found any she knew they were likely to be stale. Vincent disliked
her smoking. He never stopped her, he wouldn't. But he didn't like it, so she didn't smoke at his house. And she didn't miss it.

She couldn't find any cigarettes, so she picked up her glass again and went back out to the living room. She laughed at the idea of calling it a ‘living room'. It was little more than an ‘existing room'. Though for a brief period it had been her writing room . . . She considered the desk again. The funny little cactus vase. Anna drifted over and placed her glass next to it. She stood for a moment longer, before she turned and walked determinedly into her bedroom, knelt down on the floor and reached underneath the bed. She slid out her laptop, zipped up in its case, coated in a thin layer of dust. She stood up and carried it back out to the writing room.

‘What are you still doing here, Kath?' Liam said sternly, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed, affecting a frown.

She looked at him over the top of her glasses. ‘Just finishing up a couple of things–'

‘Everything's under control,' he insisted.

‘Yeah, but there's this batch of files I haven't even had a chance to look at–'

‘I'll see to them.'

‘And you know about the big meeting–'

‘Kath, we've been all over this, and over, and over again. And you should have left by now. You were supposed to go home early.'

‘What, so I could start yelling at Norm sooner when I see everything that still has to be done before we take off on this stupid trip?'

‘You need a holiday, Kath.'

‘Not this kind of holiday,' she groaned. ‘A holiday is supposed to be luxurious king-size beds and views from the balcony and deep spas and bars on the edge of swimming pools and drinks with little umbrellas served by waiters who look like male models,' she sighed longingly.

Liam suppressed a smile, passing her briefcase across the desk.

‘Stop looking at me like that, a girl can dream, can't she?' She stood up, taking the bag from him. ‘In real life I'm going to be stuck with Norm in a caravan for three weeks out the back of nowhere, when we can barely tolerate each other in a house with eight rooms and doors we can close between us.'

While she rattled on, Liam had come around behind her and lifted her jacket from the back of her chair, placing it around her shoulders.

‘You just want to take over my office,' she muttered suspiciously while he gently but firmly proceeded to expel her from the room.

‘I know, it's pretty tempting. What with that view of the back lane, and the ritzy decor.'

They stopped in the doorway and surveyed the shabby, overcrowded office, its mustard walls, sagging
venetian blinds, the shelves straining under the weight of bureaucracy.

‘I promise it'll all be here when you get back.'

‘And that's supposed to make me feel better?' She raised an eyebrow as she turned away and started along the corridor. Liam followed her.

‘So, when's that baby of yours due?' she asked over her shoulder.

‘Couple of weeks.'

‘Then it's any day now?'

‘Well, no, it's still two weeks away.'

‘Which is any day now,' she repeated.

‘What do you mean?' said Liam, startled.

‘Bye Kath! Have a great holiday!' Tim/Tom/James called from the photocopier.

‘Yeah, right.'

‘Kath, what do you mean it's any day now?' Liam persisted.

‘Only five percent of babies are born on the due date, Liam,' she explained. ‘The rest are spread pretty even, two weeks either way.'

‘But the baby would be premature if it was born now, wouldn't it?'

Kath shook her head. ‘No, it might be a little undercooked, but your baby could arrive tomorrow or in a month and it'd be on time either way.'

Liam checked his watch after he'd seen Kath out the door. The shop would be shut by now, not that Georgie stayed till closing these days anyway. Back at his desk he phoned her flat, but it rang out. He tried her mobile next, but the voicemail picked it up straight away, which meant she'd
probably turned it off. As you would if you were in a hospital.

‘Georgie, it's Liam. Just calling to . . .' Check up on you? She wouldn't like that. ‘ . . . to see how you're going. Could you give me a call when you get this message?'

He tried the shop but as he suspected, only the machine came on. He rang her flat again but there was still no answer. He wasn't sure what to do. He needed to hear her voice, make sure she was all right, let her know about this ‘due date' fiasco if she didn't know already. Why wasn't this common knowledge? Of course he realised babies didn't always come right on schedule, but he thought it was closer than two weeks either way. It all seemed pretty bloody inexact. How the hell was he supposed to stop worrying from here on in? He'd had himself all sorted to get through the next two weeks. With Kath away, work would be flat out, it would give him something to focus on. So much for that idea.

He was still ringing every half-hour after he got home. By eight-thirty he couldn't stand it any more. He was thinking of driving to Georgie's place, but he didn't want to get too dramatic. Nick and Louise were his only other hope. Louise was always polite to him when he called the shop, even pleasant. They'd understand why he was phoning them, surely?

He tried Georgie's number one more time, and then he looked up in his book and dialled Nick and Louise's.

‘Hello.'

It was a male voice, which meant it could only be Nick.

‘Ah, hi, Nick? It's Liam MacMullen here.'

‘Gidday, Liam, how are you going?'

At least he sounded friendly.

‘I'm fine, I'm a bit worried about Georgie though.'

‘Well–'

‘I've been ringing her place all evening but there's no answer.'

‘That's because–'

‘You know I don't like to bother her, or truth is, she doesn't like me bothering her, I guess she told you that.'

‘No, she–'

‘But I was talking to my boss this afternoon and she pointed out that the baby could come any time now and I got worried–'

‘Liam–'

‘She's there in the flat on her own.'

‘No, she's–'

‘And I've already told her I don't think that's a good idea, she should be staying with you guys or–'

‘Liam! She is!'

‘What?'

‘She's staying here, okay?'

‘Oh, why didn't you say?'

‘I've been trying to for the last five minutes,' he insisted. ‘Getting yourself a little worked up there, mate.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Don't apologise, I know how you feel. That's
why I made her come and stay with us. And she didn't put up a fight, so I think she may have been a little anxious as well.'

‘Is she all right?'

‘She's fine. Perfect. Right on schedule.'

‘Yeah, well according to my boss, “right on schedule” could be any time from now.'

‘That's true, but she's more likely to go late with the first. Louise was ten days over with Molly. The longest ten days of my life,' he said ruefully. ‘Anyway, I'd put her on, Liam, but she's in bed.'

‘This early?'

‘Yeah, she's not doing much else besides sleeping at the moment.'

‘Is there something wrong?'

‘No, it's normal. Louise slept all the time at the end, with both the girls. I think they get a bit tired carrying all that weight around.'

‘Fair enough,' Liam mused.

‘But look, I'll tell her you called, and I'll get her to give you a ring tomorrow.'

‘I don't want to put her out.'

‘Don't worry about that. She should be able to manage it between naps.'

‘Thanks.'

‘And don't hesitate to call any time, Liam.'

‘I don't think she'd like that.'

‘What she doesn't know . . .' said Nick. ‘If you're worried, just give me a call.'

Liam smiled. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it.'