Almost Perfect (50 page)

‘PUSH!'

‘I'm trying,' Georgie said tearfully. ‘I'm just so tired.'

‘I know you are, sweetheart,' Liam soothed, stroking her hair away from her forehead. ‘But it's nearly over and then you'll be able to rest.'

She turned on her side, curling up. ‘I don't think I can do this.'

Liam crouched beside the bed, bringing his face level with hers. ‘Yes you can. You're doing great, Georgie.'

He was trying to stay calm for Georgie's sake, but he nearly lost it watching her push and pant and strain for another fifteen minutes. He wanted to call a stop to it, tell them to take the baby out by Caesarean, something, anything, to put an end to what she was going through. She was exhausted. But the staff were acting like it was all very normal. And then out of nowhere Georgie seemed to get a second wind. She focussed, frowning and grunting with intense concentration, and finally the head crowned. Liam could see the head of his baby but he couldn't believe it. And then he saw his face, screwed up and red and angry with the world for evicting him from his nice, safe haven. And then all at once his body slithered out. Everyone started laughing and crying.

‘It's a boy!'

And they laid him across Georgie's stomach, slippery and pink, and Liam looked at her face, at her eyes, and the fear was gone, completely, vanished, and she was laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks, and
she looked up at him, beaming, ‘It's a boy,' she cried, hooking her arm around his neck and bringing his face down to hers and kissing his lips.

‘I love you,' he said.

‘I love you too.'

‘Get Nick,' he heard someone say, ‘he's going to flip.'

And then they were all pouring into the room, and Nick, Nick hugged him. And the little girls, and Jules. All talking at once.

‘He's gorgeous.'

‘I want to see the baby.'

‘A baby boy.'

‘Finally! Another man in the family.'

And Liam drifted back, away from them all, watching the family from the corner of the room. And after a while he stepped out. He walked in a daze down the corridor and through the swing doors. He took his mobile out of his pocket and turned it on, pressing a series of buttons before he held it to his ear.

‘Mum? It's Liam. I . . . we have a son.'

He was quite sure the shriek down the line would have pierced his eardrum if he hadn't moved the phone away in time.

Louise picked up the phone next to the bed.

‘Hello.'

‘Ah, hi, Louise . . .?'

‘Liam! How are you shaping up today?'

‘Oh, I'm fine. How's Georgie?'

‘She's right here, I'll put her on.' Louise handed the phone across.

Georgie took it gingerly, overcome by a rush of mixed feelings. He was wonderful yesterday, she appreciated him being there, but things were said, she remembered, at the height of emotion, and well, she didn't want him to think . . . She needed to stay in control now.

‘Hello?'

‘Hi.'

He sounded as wary as she felt.

‘How are you feeling today?' he asked.

‘Oh, a bit sore, and a bit tired, but I'm on such a high it doesn't really bother me.'

‘That's good, I guess.' He paused. ‘How's the baby?'

‘Astonishingly beautiful.'

‘So I'm remembering right?'

‘Absolutely.' There was a moment's silence. Georgie realised he was probably waiting to be asked. ‘So, are you coming in?'

‘Well, I wanted to, if that's all right?'

‘Of course it is, Liam. He's your son.'

‘Okay, then, I'll see you soon, if that suits you.'

‘I'm not going anywhere.'

Louise took the phone from Georgie and put it back on its cradle. ‘He's coming in?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Well, Uncle Nick,' said Louise, ‘if you can tear yourself away, we should leave them to it.'

Nick had been holding the baby the entire time, once he'd wrested him off Adam, who'd been and gone already earlier this morning. He'd still be here but for Louise reminding him there was no one else to open the shop.

‘You don't have to leave,' Georgie protested. ‘It's not like there's anything special between the two of us.'

Nick was gazing down at his nephew. ‘Oh, I think there's something very special between the two of you,' he suggested.

Georgie frowned.

Louise was watching her. ‘What is it, Georgie? Liam was fantastic yesterday. I have to admit he's certainly shot up in my estimation. Even Zan was impressed, though she tried not to show it. But she referred to him as Liam after he left, not “the dick-head”, did you notice that?'

‘I didn't notice an awful lot on the sidelines yesterday, Louise.'

‘Of course.'

‘I just don't want Liam getting the wrong idea,' Georgie continued. ‘I don't want any of you getting the wrong idea.'

Louise and Nick both looked up at once.

‘He's my baby's father. And I will respect that, but that's all our relationship is going to be about.
Doing the best thing for him.' She looked down at her little son. ‘He's my priority now.'

Louise and Nick had not long gone when Liam appeared in the doorway to Georgie's room.

‘Oh my God,' Georgie exclaimed. ‘Could you get a bigger bunch of flowers? It's like a shrub,' she laughed.

He smiled sheepishly. ‘Sorry.'

‘Don't apologise! They're gorgeous. And what have you got there, is that a teddy bear?'

Now he looked embarrassed. ‘I know he's probably too young. I just wanted to get him something.'

‘No, it's sweet,' she cooed. ‘Go put it in his crib.'

Liam laid the flowers down and walked around Georgie's bed to the clear plastic hospital crib where his son lay sleeping. His son. He still couldn't get used to it. He'd hardly slept last night thinking about him, thinking about Georgie. She was amazing yesterday, he couldn't believe how brave she was. He was so proud of her. He bent over the crib, gazing down at this tiny little person who was part of him, and part of her. And his heart felt like it might burst.

‘You can pick him up if you want,' said Georgie.

‘Oh, no, he's sleeping.'

‘He doesn't really know the difference yet. You won't wake him.'

‘Maybe in a little while,' he murmured, watching him, fascinated. He reached his hand in and touched his cheek with the back of his fingers. Liam had never felt anything so soft in all his life.

‘Everyone's saying he looks like you,' said Georgie.

Liam glanced at her. ‘Yeah? I can't see it. But he looks . . . I don't know, familiar? Does that sound stupid?'

‘Not at all,' Georgie smiled. ‘I felt as though I recognised him as soon as I saw him.'

The picture of the son he was supposed to have. And here he was, like he was always meant to be.

Liam straightened, turning his attention to Georgie. ‘So, how are you, Mum?' he said tenderly, coming over to the bed.

Georgie saw the look in his eyes. She was going to have to say something sooner than later. This was so hard. He squeezed her hand as he bent down towards her. Georgie offered her cheek and he kissed it. ‘Take a seat, Liam.'

He sat down in a chair between the crib and the bed, watching her intently. Georgie could tell he suspected something was coming.

She cleared her throat. ‘I think it's best to establish some ground rules from the beginning, don't you? Start as we mean to go on.'

He was frowning slightly now as he nodded, waiting for her to continue.

‘Yesterday . . .' she hesitated, wanting to say it right, ‘well, yesterday you were wonderful, Liam. I really appreciated your support and I'm so glad you were there. But . . . it was a very emotional day, don't you think?'

Liam nodded vaguely. ‘It was.'

‘And we all got pretty carried away. Things
were said . . . and well, I don't want you to get the wrong idea.' She didn't know how he was taking this, because she couldn't look at him. She focussed on the flowers instead. ‘I have a hard time ahead of me and I need to get settled with a new baby, all on my own, and um, I just don't want you to have expectations . . .'

She looked across at him then and saw his expression had hardened.

‘Are you going to let me see him?' he said grimly.

‘Of course I'm going to let you see him,' she insisted. ‘And by the way, his name's Nicholas.'

‘Oh . . .' He seemed a little surprised.

Georgie was watching him. ‘Is that okay, do you like it?'

‘I do,' he said quietly. ‘It's a good name.'

‘Nicholas William Reading.'

‘Pardon?'

‘That's his full name.'

‘You're giving him William as a second name?'

‘You said it was a tradition. I wanted him to be a part of that,' she explained. ‘And I thought your mum would like it . . .'

Liam was staring at her, stunned.

‘Look, if you have a problem with it, because of your dad–'

‘No, of course not,' he assured her, rousing. ‘I . . . I don't know what to say. Thank you.'

‘You don't have to thank me,' said Georgie. ‘So, anyway, like I was saying, I'm going to need some time to settle into a routine with Nicholas. We'll
have to come to an arrangement for you to see him. I definitely want you to be part of his life, a very important part of his life.'

But not of mine. Liam could hear her loud and clear. But that was all right, he had been patient this far.

Anna was pacing back and forth across the living room carpet. She had arrived yesterday, to her parents' surprise and delight. She had done nothing but write for the past month or two; she wasn't sure how long it had been, she'd lost track. Lost track of any semblance of a normal routine. She ate in the middle of the night and slept in the middle of the day. She'd leave the townhouse only when she ran out of milk or tea or her other staples. She ate tuna out of the tin, and fruit and crackers and chocolate. Whatever was easy, whatever she could eat at her desk so she could keep writing.

And then suddenly, without warning, without seeing it coming at all, she had hit a brick wall. She couldn't write any more. She ranged restlessly around the townhouse, took walks on the beach, drove past Vincent's house a couple of times but didn't stop, phoned Mac and hung up again before it started to ring.

Gradually, a plan crystallised. She knew what she had to do. And she knew it was the right thing because she felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation. For the first time in a long time Anna had a feeling of hope again. But there were a couple of things she had to take care of first, so she printed out her pages and hopped on a plane to Melbourne.

She told her parents last night over dinner.

‘But I don't understand. Why do you have to go away, dear?' Caroline asked.

‘I need some perspective, Mum, and I don't think I can get it here.'

‘Do you mean here in Melbourne or up in Sydney?'

‘I don't think I can get it either place,' Anna explained. ‘It's too comfortable for me here. It would be far too easy for me to hide away and avoid doing what I have to do. And up in Sydney, well, it's less comfortable for me there, but there're still a couple of places I could hide out.'

Bernard was listening intently. ‘What is it that you have to do, Anna?'

She took a deep breath. ‘I have to finish my story.'

They looked at her blankly.

‘Just a minute.' Anna jumped from the table and went to her bag. Zipping it open, she drew out a hefty bundle of pages, tied together with a length of green ribbon. She walked back over and dumped it on the table between them.

‘Maybe this will explain a few things.'

She hadn't expected them to start reading it there and then. But they did, at least until they were overcome with questions a few pages in. When had she started writing? Why? What was she intending to do, become a writer? Anna couldn't answer them, she didn't know what she was going to do either. Eventually she pleaded tiredness and took herself off to bed. When she woke in the morning, the apartment was quiet. Her father was always up early, so she thought perhaps he'd gone off to golf. She got up and made herself a cup of tea and sat staring out at the view across the city.

Finally her mother appeared, coming out of the hall from their bedroom.

‘Oh, you're awake,' said Anna. ‘I've been wondering when you were going to get up. Has Dad gone to golf?'

‘No dear, he's still in bed.'

‘Is he all right?'

‘He's perfectly all right. Why do you ask?'

‘Well, you two don't usually sleep in.'

‘We're not sleeping, dear, we're reading your book.'

Anna was stunned. ‘It's not actually a book–'

‘Well whatever you want to call it, we're reading it.'

‘I didn't expect you to read it this weekend. I was going to leave it with you.'

‘Well, neither of us can put it down,' she said matter-of-factly. ‘We read last night until we couldn't stay awake any longer, and your father picked it up again as soon as he woke this morning. He's ahead of
me now. I was just going to make us a cup of tea. I hope you can amuse yourself for a few hours?'

Anna blinked. ‘Oh, sure . . . um, do you want me to make the tea?'

‘All right then,' said Caroline.

‘Some toast as well?'

‘That would be lovely, dear,' she said as she turned back up the hall.

Anna called out as she got to the bedroom. ‘Mum?'

‘Yes, Anna?'

‘Well, um, well, what do you think of it, so far?'

Caroline looked at her squarely. ‘Why, it's quite extraordinary, darling.'

Anna duly served them tea and toast and came back later to take the tray away. They barely acknowledged her either time. Restless, she went for a walk along the Yarra. She was gone for over an hour, but still her parents had not come out of their room when she returned. She filled in some more time, having a shower and unpacking. And now she was reduced to pacing the floor.

‘Anna.'

She turned around and her father was walking across the room towards her, a look of bewildered pride on his face. He held his arms out to her.

‘I didn't know, I never knew you had this in you,' he said, hugging her soundly.

Anna felt like a little girl. She'd done something to make her father proud.

‘It's extraordinary,' he said, looking down at her.

‘That's what Mum said.' And what Vincent had said.

‘Come and sit with me,' said Bernard, leading her across to the sofa. ‘When did you realise you could write like this, Anna?'

She shrugged. ‘I'm only just realising.'

He shook his head in awe. ‘And is it all true?'

‘A lot of it is. I mean obviously the details about IVF, the marriage breakdown, but it's still a work of fiction.'

‘What about the parents? Were you that angry with us?'

‘You know, Dad, I don't think I ever was,' said Anna. ‘But things come out when I'm writing . . . things I didn't know about myself. I think for so long I've been trying to be what I believed other people wanted me to be, without even knowing if that's what they wanted at all. I think the anger was probably at myself more than anyone.'

Her father took her hand in his. ‘All we've ever wanted is for you to be happy, Anna,' he said.

‘I know that,' she smiled. ‘So you really did like it?'

‘Oh, darling, I'm in awe–'

‘Dad!' she chided.

‘No, really, I am. I kept thinking as I was reading, my daughter wrote this. I could hardly believe it.' He patted her hand.

‘Then I can't count on your opinion because it's clearly biased.'

‘All right, if you want to hear an objective criticism, I'm not sure about the ending, it seems a bit abrupt.'

‘No, Dad, it doesn't have an ending yet. That's why I have to go away.'

‘You need to go away to write the ending? You can't write it here?'

‘No, I need to go away so that I have an ending to write.'