Lisa Heidke (27 page)

‘It’s all so beautiful, Dom. I bet you can’t keep up with demand.’

‘Yeah. What I thought would be a quiet venture is turning out to be huge. Word of mouth in a small town is incredible. I started making tables, but now I’m making every piece of household furniture you can imagine - sideboards, TV cabinets, beds.’

‘Where do you find the wood?’

Dom coughs. ‘Timber.’

‘Timber,’ I say, smiling.

‘I search demolition sites, go to country yard sales, travel around Australia attending timber auctions. It’s fascinating -’

‘Because of the history and the mystery?’ Gloria interrupts.

‘Yes, brat girl, exactly. And I make practical, functional pieces that’ll hopefully be around well into next century -’

‘Unless there’s a fire.’

‘Gloria!’ I say.

‘Joking! Geez. I get it. Timber - it’s a living thing, one of a kind, yada, yada.’

* * *

Dom and I don’t get a chance to talk alone. So when we leave, I feel awkward, sad and confused. I’m torn, and hesitate at the car door while the kids pile in.

‘Come on, Mum,’ Bella says. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’

Why is Dom just standing there? Why doesn’t he hug me, say something, anything? But he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask me to stay. He doesn’t cry or throw a tantrum. He just calmly watches while I reluctantly get into the driver’s seat.

‘So, we’ll catch up in another twelve or so years?’ I say feebly and start the engine.

‘Ten’s long enough next time,’ he says and smiles, then pats the bonnet of my car. ‘Hey Luce, if you could take back something you said or did, what would it be?’

I look at him, not quite understanding.

‘You know, our game.’

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ I say unsteadily.

As I drive away, I can feel the tears on my cheeks.

Max is waiting at the house when the kids and I arrive home. This is all I need.

‘Dad, we had the
best
weekend!’ Sam shouts.

‘So good,’ says Bella. ‘There were horses and everything.’

I busy myself unpacking the car while Max talks to the children. But minutes later, he comes looking for me.

‘Unless you let me come home right now, Lucy, I’ll put a stop on all the accounts and you’ll have to sell the house.’

I look at him, completely shocked.

‘I mean it.’

What the hell! I call his bluff.

‘Max, as luck would have it, the reality show is forking out for most of the renovation so you’re off the hook as far as financing it. And when it’s all finished, we can put the place on the market and sell it. It’s just a house. You’ll get half of what it’s worth - I’m not going to claim more than my share.’

‘Hang on, let’s not rush things. There’s no need to sell the house -’

‘I want to.’

It’s true, I realise. While I live here I’ll be forever tied to Max. I know I’ll always be connected to him because of Bella and Sam, but I don’t want a financial connection too.

I don’t want him or his threats hanging over my head.

‘That’s not what I want. I just want you to love me again . . . please, Lucy. Take me back,’ he pleads. ‘I really want to come home. Don’t you love me anymore?’

Just a few weeks ago I would have welcomed him back with all my heart, despite the guilt, the shame, the everything. But it’s too late now. Way too late.

‘You’re the father of my children, which means I’ll always love you in some way, Max. But it’s not enough. So I’m setting you free to live your life with Alana.’

‘That’s not what I want.’

‘Well, live your life with some other teenager then. But not me. I’m sorry, Max, I really am.’

‘After all this time, it’s over, just like that?’ Max snaps his fingers.

‘I wouldn’t have said it’s happened just like that. You made your choice months ago, and now I’m living with it. But, yes, it’s over. End of story.’

‘But where will I live? What will I do?’

As if that’s my problem. I walk away, refusing to be drawn into Max’s circle of guilt. Max is the one who forced this situation, he’s the one who needs to deal with it. Moments later, I hear the door slam. He’s gone. It’s high time I changed the locks on the front door.

I go to bed confused. I’m desperate to see Dom again, but worried that it
is
all too complicated. After all, I do come with a lot of baggage - and two kids.

At least I feel confident about my decision about Max. I’m no longer willing to accept how he’s treated me - first the affair with Poppy; now Alana. The Max part of my life is over. But still I toss and turn in bed all night and think
what if ?

Day 64

T
he phone wakes me at 6.36 am. It’s Mum.

‘Have you got the TV on?’ she asks breathlessly. he ‘I’m not even awake -’

‘Hurry up, hurry up,’ she babbles, then slams the phone down in my ear.

What fresh hell awaits? I drag myself out of bed.

While we were away over the weekend the builders positioned the TV in the new family room - and look at that, I think as I switch it on, it works!

My red leather lounge has also reappeared. Bliss. As well as my favourite coffee table, which is offset beautifully by Dom’s dining table and chairs at the other end of the room. There are even rugs on my beautiful parquetry floor. And primed bi-fold doors opening onto the sandstone terrace. Magic! It’s really coming together. The doors just need a couple of coats of paint . . . There are even knobs - beautiful, mother-of-pearl knobs - on the kitchen cupboards!

I turn the sound up, flip through several channels -
Bob the Builder
;
Greek News
;
Snooker
,
Premier League
- then stop. I can’t quite believe what I am seeing. It’s the footage of me pretending to be David Attenborough. In the background, the house looks a complete wreck.

‘. . . creatures we call television presenters,’ I’m saying as the camera pans to Rock sulking in the backyard. ‘When startled or mocked, they can turn ugly, very ugly.’

I can hardly bear to watch. Though the piece doesn’t come across as mean-spirited, I’m horrified. Rock will be furious with me.

The footage ends and the female presenter laughs. ‘Lucy’s got that right, hasn’t she, Matt?’

‘She sure has. Who knew Lucy Springer was such a natural talent?’

‘Come on,’ says the female presenter. ‘She was very amusing in the broccoli commercial -’

‘True. Viewers will recall Lucy’s husband doing a tell-all interview in a women’s magazine last week. Well, have a look at this.’

I close my eyes and jump up and down on the spot screaming. What are they going to show now? I imagine footage of me and Rock in bed together, or me sneaking around with bottles of Grange, guzzling wine at all hours of the day and night. I’ll be ruined. Forever. I’ll have to leave the country.

Tentatively, I watch as the screen lights up with . . . Max! More correctly, Max going berserk.

The footage starts with him berating me about the renovation. ‘I’m not fond of this dirty grey colour you’ve chosen for the walls’ . . . ‘Where’s the bloody staircase?’ . . . ‘Get rid of these bloody cameras!’ he shouts. ‘I want to see progress reports and the cost projections immediately’ . . . ‘I’m coming home. For the sake of our family I’m giving up my personal freedom and happiness with Alana . . . I’m in charge now.’

The camera pans to me. ‘I’m sorry, Max, you had your chance,’ I say. I look sad, small and tired. But not mad. I come across as completely normal. Even the red poncho looks good on TV.

Max isn’t doing himself any favours on screen. ‘So you’re still angry, is that it? Is it that time of the month? Have you got PMS?’ . . . ‘Is this about the dead people?’ He puffs out his chest. ‘You’ll pay for this, Lucy’, followed by ‘You’re not fit to be a mother’, and finally, ‘You don’t have MY permission to film in MY house’. The footage ends with him driving off erratically down the street.

‘Well, there you have it, folks,’ Matt says cheerily.

‘Not only has this woman had the public humiliation of her husband leaving her for their teenage babysitter,’ his co-presenter adds, ‘she’s also seen first-hand the carnage in Bali and has been living through a renovation.’

I’m still staring blankly at the TV screen when they go to a commercial break . . . and play my broccoli commercial. Can’t move. In shock. Numb. It feels like mere seconds before the morning show’s back on.

‘We’ve been swamped with emails and telephone calls in support of Lucy Springer,’ Matt says. ‘Guys, we hear you, but now we really need to check out what’s happening with the crazy weather up north.’

* * *

After I’ve dropped Bella and Sam at school, I go and look for Patch. I find him, the twins and Joel lurking near the new sandstone paving in the backyard.

‘Hey,’ I say, ‘you wouldn’t happen to know how a certain television station came across footage of me impersonating a well-known naturalist and another piece showing Max in meltdown mode, would you?’

‘No,’ Patch says. ‘Besides, wouldn’t it be illegal to knowingly hand over tapes without seeking the owner’s permission?’

‘I thought as much,’ I say.

‘Stroke of genius, though, whoever did send them in.’ Patch smiles and drains the last of his Coke. ‘We’ll be finished here in a couple of days, I reckon. Sandy wants filming wrapped up tomorrow.’

I’m taken aback. I guess it’s not beyond the realms of possibility - there are painters, an electrician and other assorted tradesmen shuffling about, tapping walls and looking busy. But I have to admit, I’ll miss these guys. As painful as it’s been a lot of the time, they’ve also been good company. Or am I getting sentimental because they’re about to leave?

‘Lucy, it’s all good,’ Sandy bellows as she comes toward me. ‘Your reputation is saved. Though I’d watch out for Rock if I were you - he’s not too pleased. But whoop-de-do! We have a show to put together and it’s going to be H-U-G-E. Huge!’

She strides off without waiting for me to reply, presumably to harass Patch and his men.

* * *

Throughout the day the phone rings off the hook.

‘It’ll take weeks to sort through all the offers. You’re set, Luce. Didn’t I tell you reality TV was the way to go?’ Gloria squeals excitedly.

Unfortunately, Max also calls. ‘I’ve spoken to my lawyers - I have a team of them, you know. They’re working round the clock on this one. My reputation is shot; clients have been ringing all morning. Why are you trying to destroy me, Lucy?’

By the time the kids get home from school, I’m exhausted.

‘Mum, the house looks great,’ Bella says.

‘See, I told you it’d come together,’ I say, following her around as she inspects everything.

‘Look,’ says Sam, opening the fridge door, ‘the fridge is finally full of food.’ He stares inside for a moment before retrieving a mandarin.

‘We’re having a roast for dinner, just like I promised we would.’

‘And chocolate cake?’

‘And chocolate cake.’

‘Never a dull moment with you, is there?’ Dom says when I answer the telephone.

‘Doesn’t seem to be,’ I start, but the words catch in my throat.

‘Lucy, I thought you’d be happy?’

‘I am. It’s just that . . . I’m . . . It’s been a big few days.’

‘Mammoth.’

‘And now I’m thinking I’m never going to see you again, and I feel like I did when you left all those years ago.’

‘Come on, you’ve got a lot going on in your life right now -’

‘I would have gone to the airport to say goodbye.’

‘Pardon?’

‘The answer to your question. Rather than take back something I said, I’m taking back something I didn’t say.

Anyway, it’s the biggest regret of my life.’

‘Bigger than marrying your cheating, skirt-chasing husband or bedding Rock the boy wonder?’

‘If I had to choose . . .’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘It’s you. It’s not going after you. I was scared.’

‘And now?’

‘I’m still scared but I’m willing to take more chances.’

‘Good answer. You win the game.’

After I hang up, I think about the last sixty-four days - they’ve been hell, touched with moments of divine pleasure . . . well, only days sixty-two and sixty-three have been truly sublime. And I can see now that Max and I have outgrown each other. Perhaps he was just keeping company with me until my true soul mate came back into my life and I was forced to confront my past.

Who knows what Max will do now? Whether he’ll go back to Alana or find someone else to take her place? Either way, I’m confident he won’t be alone long. That isn’t how he operates. Still, I don’t regret the years spent with him. After all, where would I be without Bella and Sam?

Speaking of Bella and Sam, I’m under no illusions that the road ahead will be easy. I know it won’t be. But whatever happens with them (barring teenage pregnancy, Bella; and a career as an assassin, Sam) I know I can handle it, or at least give it a damn good shot. I won’t always be a perfect mother; then again, I’ve never claimed to be.

‘Can we have a puppy?’ Sam asks as the three of us and Gloria sit at our new dining table, eating roast lamb and baked vegetables cooked by all of us in our new kitchen.

‘Um, let’s think about it,’ I say as I picture my beautiful renovation scratched to pieces by a marauding dog. ‘How about a goldfish?’

‘We want a puppy, we want a puppy,’ Sam and Bella chant.

‘We want a -’ starts Gloria.

I quieten her with a quick jab to the ribs with my fork.

Despite the cries for a puppy, I can’t help but think I’m one of the luckiest women in the world. I have all the love I could ever wish for and it’s been right here with me all the time.

‘As God is my witness, I will never be part of a home renovation again,’ I happily declare.

‘Of course you will,’ Gloria says, rubbing her side. ‘Didn’t I tell you? I just got word that the network has commissioned twelve new episodes of
Celebrity Renovation Rescue
and they want you to host. Rock’s taking a break from television. I told them you’d be delighted.’

Acknowledgements

Thanks to all at Allen & Unwin, especially Louise Thurtell and Alex Nahlous. Thanks to the fantastic staff and friends I’ve met at Varuna over the years, in particular, creative director, Peter Bishop. To Nicola O’Shea, thanks for your invaluable insight and patience, especially with the first draft. To the gorgeous women in my online and face-to-face writers’ groups - a huge thumbs-up for nagging me to ‘get on with it’. And finally, to my fabulous family and friends, thank you for your constant support, love and many great anecdotes, which I have, of course, stolen and used as my own!