Tiddas (22 page)

‘Say something,' she said, because she knew if he didn't she'd start raving again. She started up again anyway. ‘You don't want the baby, do you? I knew you wouldn't. I don't blame you . . .'

‘Stop it, Izzy, please,' Asher said with a touch of force. ‘Stop it. You need to give a man a minute to think, okay? I'm not as quick as you are.'

Izzy felt chastised, silly, embarrassed. Tears filled her eyes.

‘I honestly don't know what you must think of me, obviously not very much if you think that I would let you do this alone.' He took a breath. ‘That I wouldn't be excited about my own child.' Asher waved an approaching waitress away and moved the salt and pepper shakers from the middle of the table so he could take both Izzy's hands in his.

‘I'm a bit shocked because, well, you know, we're always careful, but it doesn't mean I'm not happy.'

‘Really?' Izzy was in shock too.

‘Of course. I care about you. I care about us. You're the woman in my life, Izzy, the only woman. This actually makes sense. We're both just too busy worrying about our careers
to see that this is how normal people live their lives – with kids as well.'

He looked deep into Izzy's eyes, which were now full of tears. She had never cried in front of him before. She'd never had reason to; theirs was a calm, safe space always. He had never looked at her so intensely before either. Izzy was crying and rummaging for a tissue in her bag. Asher handed her a serviette.

‘We can do this together, this is
our
baby. It will be beautiful and clever like you, and calm and funny like me,' he joked.

Izzy had never noticed before that Asher was, in fact, quite funny. Sitting opposite her was a man who she had been intimate with but never really close to.

Asher got up and walked around the table. He leant down and kissed Izzy on the mouth. She was in shock, not expecting such a loving reaction. He sat back down and pushed his chair in. ‘You are a very clever woman. We are clever. We made a Murri baby.'

‘Koori baby,' she said.

‘Go the Maroons,' Asher joked.

‘Go the Blues.'

‘Don't be giving our kid an identity crisis before it's even born,' he added.

‘I'm going to get fat,' Izzy said. ‘I already am,' she patted her belly.

‘I didn't want to say anything because I think you're the sexiest I've ever seen you, but I did notice your breasts were huge last night.' Asher cupped his hands like a typical bloke
on the grope. He was calm and considerate, but he was also human.

A photo of a white station wagon appeared on the screen of Izzy's phone. It was the third that morning, and only twenty-four hours since she had told Asher she was pregnant. The pic made her smile and shake her head simultaneously. Asher was behaving completely the opposite to what she had expected. His enthusiasm helped her feel even more sure about managing the baby when it came and she momentarily wondered how she could ever have thought about terminating. Nothing in her life had felt as positive as it did that morning.

Izzy felt compelled to call Xanthe who, as it turned out, was doing training at the new ABC headquarters at South Bank, a much sexier building than the old Toowong site. Izzy had thought to ask Xanthe to be Godmother, but realised it was probably too early, and would more than likely look like an attempted consolation prize. Her friend was still desperate to get pregnant. They agreed to meet for coffee at the café below the studios facing the river.

‘Hello lovely,' Izzy greeted Xanthe with a new spring in her step.

‘You look fabulous,' Xanthe said, admiring her tidda.

They sat at a table at the back as producers and broadcasters cluttered the front tables planning their future
programs. Izzy smiled a hello to a well-known broadcaster from the
Speaking Out
program, known around the traps for her brightly coloured, but forever-changing fringe. This week it was fuchsia and it was as bright as Izzy felt.

Izzy took a deep breath. ‘I've told Asher about the baby.'

‘That's good, he needed to know,' Xanthe said, always having been conscious of the moral need to do so. ‘And?'

‘He's happy, he's enthusiastic. He's out looking at station wagons.' She showed Xanthe the pics on her phone. ‘He's also a little crazy,' Izzy laughed, feeling like an infatuated schoolgirl.

‘I'm glad it's working out.'

Xanthe was genuinely happy for Izzy, but she still felt jealous; it should've been her. Her red blood was running green with envy and she hated herself for feeling that way. Xanthe covered what she felt and thought well, though; there was no way she was going to allow her own inability to have children ruin Izzy's moment.

‘Xanthe,' Izzy said softly. ‘I know this isn't easy for you. But I am so glad you are doing this with me. I need you; I need you more than anything to be there for me. You are going to be a great mother when it happens, I know that. But until then, can you help me be one, because I haven't got a fucking clue what I'm supposed to do.'

By the time Izzy finished they were both crying. Xanthe's envy had dissipated and she was grateful to be part of Izzy's new journey.

Izzy's phone beeped. She assumed it was going to be Asher with another car picture and she reached for her phone excitedly, but it was from Ellen.

Vee's birthday is coming up, what are we doing? X

Izzy texted back:

Just having coffee with Xanthe, we'll think of some ideas and email later. XX

The two women spent the next few minutes throwing around venues for Veronica's birthday. They decided on a Sunday lunch at Sake and said goodbye with a hug that was longer than usual. A bond that had almost broken months before had been strengthened. Izzy walked back to work with a newfound lightness in her heart. The mother-to-be made her way straight to the human resources section to tell them she was pregnant.

Everything felt right. It was time to call Tracey.

‘Hey,' she said with a feigned sense of confidence when the phone answered. ‘How are you?' She had virtually avoided any serious or lengthy conversations with her agent for nearly three months, preferring to answer any calls with brief text messages.

‘I'm good,' Tracey laughed, knowing exactly what was going on. They may have had a contract binding them legally, but having worked together for so long meant there was no getting away with changes in tone and general behaviour. Tracey had known that Izzy would have the baby and had been planning the next move for her client and friend for months. ‘And how are you?'

‘Well, I'm going to be a mum.' Izzy felt happy when she said it, although still a little fearful of Tracey's wrath. ‘So we need to talk, I guess, about what the next step is.' She had her eyes shut, waiting for the sound of disappointment. ‘I can't sign that other contract now,' Izzy said, feeling confident in herself for the first time since she'd mentioned the pregnancy to Tracey.

Tracey laughed down the line. ‘Yes love, I knew that all along. I've dealt with it.'

‘Thank you! You are the deadliest agent in the country.'

‘Yes I am,' Tracey said, and continued in her professional tone. ‘I've repackaged our pitch, and am planning on getting a new sizzle piece together with you in full pregnant bloom. I think we should go for a mainstream, early hours working mothers' show. Strategies for making your family first priority while living your own career dream.'

‘I love it,' Izzy said, ‘and I love you.'

The women chatted about the plans for the next few months, but Tracey also wanted all the goss on Asher and the new car.

‘I expect the ins and outs of everything,' she said.

Back at home in Paddington, Xanthe could still feel something in the pit of her stomach that couldn't be considered joy. The emptiness of being without a child still haunted her, as did Spencer's continued insistence that he didn't want to try
IVF. ‘We do it naturally or not at all,' he said. And in his stubbornness, refused to say any more. Every time she thought of his absolute ‘no' she felt devastated all over again. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the pregnancy test kit she'd been carrying round for days. She walked into the bathroom and prepared herself for another disappointment.

E
ven though for the bulk of her life Veronica had been a selfless mother and wife, she enjoyed playing chauffeur, doing tuckshop, overseeing teenage sleepovers and being one of the lesser ‘yummy mummy' soccer mums. Decisions about the children and anything to do with the home she had mostly made alone; she selected the gardener, the plants, the pool cleaner, the carpet, the schools, the tutors and the holiday destinations. She had always thought it was because Alex had trusted her judgement. In reality, it was because he never really cared about what happened at home, as long as it happened without fuss. Only now was she realising that her ex was a self-absorbed narcissist.

Veronica had always been the emotional rock for her three sons. By the time their father left they were young men,
which was a blessing to Veronica who was on the verge of a breakdown and had to consciously pull herself out of bed every day. She focused all her strength on calming their anger while trying to pick up the remnants of her own heart. The boys hated their father for deserting their mother for another, much younger woman.

The bond between mothers and their sons was a mystery to many and Veronica's relationship with hers was no different; her boys were loyally protective of the woman who had always been and
would
always be there for them. They didn't talk to ‘the prick' (their new title for Alex) for months, and only at their mother's insistence did they refrain from bad-mouthing his new partner. Even in her darkest moments, Veronica remained dignified, discouraging her sons' ill feeling towards the man who had given them life, who had once loved her, and whom she thought she still loved. Although her tiddas believed she was completely justified in doing so, Veronica
never
commented on the woman who ripped their family apart. In her head, the best she could do was imagine slapping her across the face; just once, but very, very hard.

Although living essentially alone now, Veronica had always loved her life in The Gap. It had been her home away from Mudgee in the decades since she and Alex moved to Brisbane. Marcus was already two years old back then. They set up home in Nina Street and stayed put. The suburb had grown and thrived around her, and even though it was now the second biggest after Mount Gravatt, it was still small enough to feel like a community. With its mix of young families, single parents and retirees, it was her home. And aside from the
occasional bogan burn-outs that frightened her, the place she raised her family was still quiet and peaceful. She felt safe and happily cocooned among the double-brick 1970s houses, and the new estates springing up nearby.

Her two-storey, architecturally designed house was nestled in a peaceful, leafy cul-de-sac close to the local shopping village and public transport, although she mostly drove the gold Lexus her ex left in the garage and which she'd claim in the divorce settlement. With her fondness for the best of both worlds, Veronica loved being close to the city while still being able to live in a semi-bush setting. The scrub turkeys that roamed the streets never bothered her like they bothered Alex, or Izzy. The screaming galahs and cockatoos made her smile, but drove Alex insane. The crows perched along the wires and rooflines entertained her, but Alex wanted to bait them. When she realised he was so annoyed all the time because he didn't actually want to be there at all, she started to purposely feed the birds that would flock to their house. That was the nastiest premeditated thing Veronica ever did in her entire life.

Of all the tiddas, Veronica appreciated wildlife the most. She would often take herself to the walking tracks of D'Aguilar National Park. And while all the locals and her neighbours were afraid of the ghost gums come storm time, she wasn't. Veronica always had faith that if the big wind blew it would blow away from her house. She had an afternoon tradition of sitting outside reading by her pool, admiring her roses in winter, the jacarandas in springtime and the palm trees all year round. She would even sit there when it rained, and
because The Gap was storm city – it was often sunny everywhere else but raining at her place – she saw a lot of water fall and nourish the landscaped gardens around her.