Lola's Secret Page 5

  Even keeping to the speed limit, she managed to arrive into the main street of Clare fifteen minutes early for her appointment. She found a parking space and sat for a moment to collect her thoughts.

  She’d set up today’s meeting a week before. It was with the editor of the Valley Times, the newspaper she’d worked at for more than four years, right up until she’d left for maternity leave eight months previously. Officially, she was supposed to be on leave for another five months. Unofficially, she was beginning to worry for her sanity. Seriously worry.

  She hadn’t talked about it with Daniel yet. When did they get the chance to talk about anything much, apart from the twins? It wasn’t that she regretted having them, not for a second. She didn‘t. They’d talked about starting a family from the earliest days of their marriage, and had been overjoyed when she finally fell pregnant. Her pregnancy hadn’t been easy, bad morning sickness combined with day-long tiredness. But then to learn that she was having twins! It seemed like the most wonderful present anybody could ever get.

  And it was. It was. She loved her babies so much, with a fierceness that surprised her. She’d done everything she could for them. Breastfed even when it seemed so painful and strange. Stayed up all night if she had to. Slept for only an hour here and there for weeks on end. She hadn’t brushed her hair or changed out of pyjamas for the first few months. It had all been worth it, to be with the two of them, to see Daniel with them, to be able to think ‘we’re a family’. It felt magical, amazing, special. Precious.

  She’d also loved being at home initially, being a full-time mother, with no office politics or deadlines, the world simplified to the day-to-day, hour-to-hour practicalities of caring for two small babies that she adored. That euphoria had lasted for the first three months, even if it had taken the occasional buffeting from a kind of exhaustion she’d never thought she’d feel. Until, recently, something had started to change. When she looked at her son and daughter, the overwhelming love was still there, but underneath it was a new, different but equally strong sensation. It felt like claustrophobia. As if the walls were closing in on her. It wasn’t only unsettling. It was becoming frightening.

  Something had changed with Daniel, too. She’d started to feel something other than rushes of love when she looked at him. To feel jealousy instead. But how could that be? She loved her husband, didn’t she? His kindness. His humour. His lanky body, his kind eyes, his dark shaggy hair. How amazed he looked, every time he held his son or daughter. How happy he was.

  That was it. She was jealous of how happy he was. It’s all right for you, she kept hearing a voice say at the back of her mind. It was all right for Daniel. She’d never seen him so content. He loved his new job, as photo editor and production manager on a rural newspaper based in Gawler, less than an hour’s drive from their house. Off he went every morning, transparently happy to have that time in the car on his own, listening to music, or the news, or just silence. Back home, she was buried alive in nappies, in mess, in dirty clothes, dirty dishes, sterilisers, bibs, noise and chaos. She still wasn’t sleeping properly. She was eating badly and too much, putting on weight, not losing it. It’ll get better, won’t it? she kept asking herself. Once the babies were a bit older? Less helpless? Less dependent?

  But what if it didn‘t? What if the older they got, the bigger they got, the hungrier they got, the more of her they needed? What if this was all that her life would ever be from this moment on? What if this was the truth of motherhood, the feeling that she was slowly drowning, slowly losing herself, slowly shedding any independence, leaving her old, free, happy life behind her, tangled on the ground, like a snake and its skin?

  Night after night, it was all she could think about. It was as if she could see her life in split-screen – how it should be and how it was. In the ‘should be’ section was a happy, smiling Bett, loving wife, mother of two adorable babies, content with all the riches in her life, organised, cooking nutritious meals, exercising daily and yes, having regular, terrific sex. In the ‘how it is’ section … she didn’t even have to imagine it. That’s how it was. Chaos, exhaustion and about as much sex as she was having exercise. None.

  A week earlier, a solution had come to her in a middle-of-the-night flash of insight. All she had to do to fix things was return to work part-time. Just for a couple of days a week. One day. A couple of hours a week even. Just enough to get a bit of her old life back, regain some control. She hadn’t discussed it with Daniel yet. But in her daydreams, he’d agreed immediately. He thought it was a wonderful idea. He wished he’d thought of it first. He’d go part-time too, so they could take turns caring for the babies. It was the perfect solution all round, he’d tell her.

  It wasn’t just Daniel’s reaction she imagined, either. She pictured telling her sister Carrie too.

  ‘It’s fantastic, Carrie,’ she’d say. ‘I’ve got the work–life balance I’ve always really wanted. When I’m with the twins, I’m really with them one hundred per cent, but my time at work gives me the independence and space I need too. It’s the best of both worlds.’ It didn’t seem to matter that Bett didn’t speak in glib soundbites like that in real life. Then she would ask Carrie the big question. ‘And you’re happy being a stay-at-home mum? Great! Good for you! If that fulfils you, that’s great, really. It comes down to personal choice, doesn’t it?’

  There was always a whole range of imaginary reactions from Carrie. The tearful one: ‘I’m so jealous of you, Bett. How have you managed to get everything sorted out so well?’ Angry: ‘Not everyone has a husband as supportive as Daniel, Bett. You don’t have to rub it in.’ In one daydream, Carrie even stormed out, leaving Bett to explain to imaginary onlookers. ‘Sorry, she’s finding motherhood a bit tricky.’

  Bett sighed deeply, hating herself for even thinking this way. When had she turned into this person? This tired, bitter, competitive creature? She’d hoped living close to Carrie again and having children at the same time would bring the two of them together. Instead, it had become a whole new battleground. A point-scoring battleground.

  Why was she surprised? It had always been that way between them – even as children, Carrie had been the confident one, Bett more anxious, Carrie free with her opinions and advice, Bett uncertain. The tensions had built between them over the years, coming to a head seven years before, in a domino fall of events – Bett’s fiancé Matthew falling in love with Carrie at first sight, their engagement breaking up, sparking a feud between the three sisters that had lasted more than three years. Now, it seemed almost silly. She’d been fooling herself that she had ever been in love with Matthew. She knew what she now had with Daniel was the real thing. But at the time, it had seemed like the biggest betrayal in the world, with both her sisters taking sides against her. They hadn’t spoken for three years. Three whole years. If it hadn’t been for Lola forcing them back together, giving the three of them precious time together before Anna fell ill, it could have been much worse …

  But had she and Carrie learned nothing from Anna’s death? Hadn’t they promised in the days, weeks and months afterwards to never let anything come between them again, to cherish each day, to keep reminding themselves how fragile life was, how important family was?

  Those promises had faded into memory. Worst of all, Bett knew in her heart that she was the loser. She was the Bad Mother and Carrie was the Perfect Mother. If only Carrie would ring now and again to say she was at the end of her tether, that her three kids were driving her crazy, that she was tired, that she and Matthew hadn’t talked about anything but bottles and nappies for weeks, let alone kissed, let alone the rest of it. But that wasn’t Carrie’s life. All she ever told Bett was how perfect things were at home.

  Bett and Daniel had started fighting about Carrie lately too. They’d had a row about her as recently as this week. She’d been telling him what Carrie had told her, that she and Matthew had hired someone to do her ‘big wash’ once a week – the sheets, towels and baby clothes. How much time it
saved.

  ‘That’s wonderful for Carrie and Matthew,’ Daniel had said, in the mild tone she should have registered as a warning sign. ‘Perhaps when we have as much money as Carrie and Matthew we can hire a staff of helpers too. I’m working all the hours I can, Bett, but it’s a small paper and unfortunately it just doesn’t pay as much as a state-wide vet business. Perhaps you should have married Matthew after all.’

  She’d been too shocked to answer. In the five years they’d been together, Daniel had never referred to her past history with Matthew. She’d wanted to go to their bedroom and burst into tears, but then Yvette had woken and started crying and Zachary had followed suit. She and Daniel had taken a baby each and the conversation they might have had, the apology she might have made, the make-up sex they might have enjoyed didn’t happen. But the words, the accusations, were still in the house, festering. One more middle-of-the-night worry. Her marriage was in serious trouble.

  It was another reason to get out of the house and go back to work. Wouldn’t that give her something more to talk to Daniel about? Turn her, even in a small way, back into the Bett he’d fallen in love with and married? Because she knew she wasn’t that person any more. She’d completely understand if he did want to leave her. She hated herself at the moment too.

  Another piece of helpful advice from Carrie flashed into her mind. ‘Make sure to have some you-time with Daniel, won’t you?’ she’d said. She’d given Bett a head-to-toe look. ‘Even if you just change into something nice before he comes home each night, it’ll give you a lift too. I know it sounds all 1950s and Stepford Wives-ish,’ she’d given that trilling laugh that set Bett’s teeth on edge, ‘but really, it works. If you pretend you’re happy and in control, sometimes it will really feel as though you are.’

  If I pretend I’m driving an axe into your head, will it feel as if I really am? Bett had thought.

  Stop it! she told herself now. Forget Carrie. Forget Daniel, even. The twins are safe with Jane. You’ve got the afternoon to yourself. Use it. Live in the moment, or whatever that saying was. Easier said than done. She took three deep breaths and told herself exactly where she was. In her car, in the main street of Clare, on a stinking hot day, wearing entirely the wrong clothes but at least they were clean, just ten minutes away from the meeting with her editor. Step One of her Save My Life plan.

  It was far too hot and she was far too edgy to sit quietly in the car and compose herself, though she knew that was exactly what she should do. What she really needed was a dose of her grandmother. A good, soul-clearing, stress-relieving rant to Lola about Carrie in the first instance, and possibly even about Daniel too, if there was time. Starting the car again, she drove fifty metres down the street, easily finding a parking spot. She just hoped today was one of Lola’s days in the charity shop.

  It was. Through the front window she could see the tall, erect figure of her white-haired grandmother standing behind the counter arranging a tray of jewellery. Thank God. Bett walked inside to the cool relief of the airconditioning and started talking even before the door shut behind her. ‘Carrie’s at it again, Lola. I swear, if she gives me one more bit of advice, I’ll —’

  ‘Do what, darling?’ Lola said with a welcoming smile. ‘And please speak clearly. I’d like my customers to hear too.’

  Bett looked around. There were two people browsing in the corner of the shop, both now obviously listening. Bett blushed and came up to the counter, mouthing a ‘Sorry’ before leaning across and kissing her grandmother’s powdery cheek. ‘Hello, Lola,’ she said, more quietly. ‘Sorry again, Lola.’

  ‘Hello, Bett. Forgiven, Bett,’ Lola whispered back. ‘But what will you do to Carrie? I’m dying to hear now.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, whispering too. ‘Stuff Zachary and Yvette’s nappies down her —’ She stopped there. ‘Except she’d take the opportunity to tell me that her talented trio were out of nappies in record time.’ Bett sighed deeply, pushing her fingers through her curls. ‘How does Carrie do it, Lola? How does she manage to infuriate me so easily? Sometimes she doesn’t even have to speak, just a look does it.’

  ‘Years of practice? Bett, if you and Carrie weren’t fighting about child-rearing, you’d be fighting about something else. You’ve been like that all your lives. Why you thought both of you having children would bring you closer together, I don’t know. Face facts, darling. She’s going to keep giving you advice you don’t want to hear, and you’re probably driving her crazy as well. That’s just the way it will always be. You need to get over it.’

  Bett blinked. ‘Get over it?’

  ‘That’s right. Offer it up. Stop complaining. And more importantly, stop annoying me in the middle of my working day.’

  Bett started to smile. ‘It’s that consoling nature of yours that I love so much.’

  Lola winked. ‘And it’s everything about you that I love so much. Except when you start having middle-of-the-day pity parties like today. What have you really got to be unhappy about? Hasn’t the worst thing happened to us already? Didn’t we all promise after Anna died to be happy and grateful for everything we had? Or did I dream that?’

  ‘You didn’t dream it.’ Bett was shocked to feel a sudden welling of tears. It only ever took a mention of her sister to feel the rush of grief again. ‘Anna wouldn’t have been like Carrie, would she, Lola? Wouldn’t have rung me up to tell me how much better a mother she was than I’ll ever manage to be?’

  ‘Yes, probably. Or she’d have said you’re making too much of a fuss, you’ve had twins not sextuplets. And you’d complain to me about her as well. You know I’m right, so take that outraged expression off your face. What are you doing in town anyway? Have you left the twins at home alone? That’s it. I’m having you arrested for abandonment.’ Lola frowned. ‘You haven’t, Bett, have you? Or left them in the car? It’s forty degrees out there.’

  ‘Of course not. They’re home, safe, with my neighbour. I’ve got an appointment.’ Bett wasn’t ready to confide all in Lola either yet. ‘A doctor’s thing, I mean. A check-up thing.’

  ‘At what time?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘In which case you’d better go or you’ll be late. As I will be if you don’t get out of my sight. You’re not the only one with an appointment today.’ Lola checked her watch. ‘Starting in five minutes, in fact. And I’m not completely prepared so I need you to leave so I can have a moment to collect myself.’

  ‘You’re eighty-four years old. Who could you have an appointment with?’

  Lola raised a well-defined eyebrow. ‘My undertaker? Don’t look so shocked. I know that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a charity shop committee meeting, as it happens.’

  ‘I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t. Believe me. It’s vicious.’ She touched her granddaughter on the cheek. ‘Go, darling. And please, cheer up. Be grateful for what you have. And try not to hate your sister too much. Use your energy for something more fun.’

  Outside in the heat again, Bett felt so much better she decided to walk to her meeting. Lola was right. She had been having a pity party. And she’d been overreacting about Carrie too. She was just a bit tired. A lot tired. All right, completely tired. Perhaps the real problem was she just wasn’t seeing enough of the outside world. Look how much even a brief conversation with Lola had cheered her up. She was being unfair to Daniel too, going behind his back and making meetings about possible part-time work. It wasn’t what they’d decided as a couple, as parents. Of course she couldn’t expect him to go part-time and share the childcare. And they certainly couldn’t afford a crèche or a nanny. And that wasn’t what they wanted, either. No, she had to live with things as they were. It wasn’t fair to ring Jane up at the last minute either, when she was busy with her own daughter. She’d cancel the meeting, and go right home now. Back to her babies. The babies she loved. And to the washing. And the ironing. And the cooking. And the cleaning …

  She s
tarted to feel the tight sensation in her chest again.

  No, she was right to be having this meeting. She had to change something before she went mad. Before one day the worst thing happened, that she got so overwhelmed she made a serious mistake with her babies, had an accident with them, hurt them in some way. Or she started crying and couldn’t stop. Or she —

  Her mobile phone rang, breaking into her thoughts. How long had she been standing here? Had she been talking to herself, in public, on the main street? Had it come to that?

  ‘Earth calling Quinlan?’ It was her editor Rebecca on the phone. Bett looked across the road. Rebecca was standing in front of the Valley Times office, smoking a cigarette and waving across. ‘Are you going to stand there all day or come and see me? Time’s money and I’m short of both.’

  Even the sound of her familiar voice, her familiar joking made Bett feel good. This she could handle – the banter, the teasing. She knew how to be a journalist, too. She knew how to interview people, write stories, meet deadlines. It was being a mother, even an incompetent mother, that was so difficult.

  She practically ran across the road to her friend.

  Chapter Five

  Back in the shop, Lola wished she had been joking to Bett. But it was vicious in the charity shop committee meetings these days. In years gone by, they had been fun. Lately, it was as if there had been a hostile takeover. These things came in cycles, she knew that, people moving into town, getting involved in sudden rushes of community enthusiasm, ruffling feathers and upsetting everyone before moving on to greener charitable pastures. She’d seen people come and go on the committee, some helping, some hindering, and had mostly let it wash around her. Lately, though, her patience had been growing thin. Thinner by the day.