The Younger Wife(7)

‘I can see that.’

‘The thoughts.’ Tully’s eyes were closed tight and she was pressing her fingers to her temples as if she had a terrible migraine. ‘They’re in my head. I can’t get them out.’

This wasn’t good. ‘Thoughts?’ Rachel said. ‘You mean like when you were a kid?’

‘No! Thoughts about Dad and Heather . . . you know . . . doing it.’

‘Oh! Right.’

‘It’s horrific. Sex is weird enough without imagining your Dad doing it, right?’

Rachel was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Tully jumped in.

‘Oh. Well, take my word for it.’

‘Anyway,’ Rachel said, ‘just take a deep breath and banish those thoughts from your head. I’ll . . . do the same.’

‘Okay,’ Tully said, inhaling slowly. She looked relaxed for a quarter of a second before her expression became intense again. ‘So what do you think of her? Tell me everything, every single thought in your head.’

‘Well –’

‘I just can’t believe she’s so young!’ Tully cried. ‘I mean, we knew she was young. But I must have been in denial. I mean . . . why would he go for someone so young? She’s not even very pretty. There’s no way she’s into Dad for the right reasons. She must want money or status or something. But even that I don’t get. She’s pretty enough. Why not find a rich young doctor?’

‘Hang on, is she pretty or not?’

Tully started pacing. ‘Look, I get it – who doesn’t want money? Her parents are dead, and presumably they left her with nothing. And life is hard on the breadline; believe me, I know.’

Tully didn’t know. She lived in one of the nicest neighbourhoods of Melbourne in a mansion with a library and a cinema room. Sonny was a criminal barrister and Tully hadn’t worked a day since Locky was born, if you didn’t count charity dinners (and Rachel didn’t). Rachel didn’t begrudge her any of it, until she started talking about her deep understanding of the breadline.

‘But setting your sights on an old man isn’t right,’ Tully finished. ‘It’s immoral!’

Rachel waited a full five seconds before attempting to respond. Still, the moment she opened her mouth, Tully started talking again. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. I miss Mum.’

‘Me too.’

Tully sighed sadly. ‘It’s just . . . the moments of lucidity are so rare these days . . . and so short. And I feel like we’re betraying her by having lunch with Heather. What would she think if she knew we were sitting here, breaking bread with her replacement?’

‘Heather isn’t Mum’s –’

‘– replacement, I know.’ Tully ripped a useless square of toilet paper from the dispenser and attempted to wipe her face. ‘She’s not Mum’s replacement – for us. But she is for Dad. I guess I’m just . . . angry on Mum’s behalf.’

Tully made a reasonable point. Tully often did.

‘I get it,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s totally weird seeing Dad with Heather.’

Tully grabbed Rachel’s hand. ‘It is weird, isn’t it?’

‘Of course it is. She’s younger than us!’

Tully smiled, as if Rachel’s recognition of this was a delightful surprise. ‘She is younger than us!’

‘It’s true there’s a lot of stuff to digest, Tul, but I’m trying not to worry about it. It’s not like they’re getting married or anything. He’s still married to Mum, for God’s sake! We’re having lunch, that’s it. Let’s keep things in perspective.’

Tully nodded, grabbing another square of toilet paper to blow her nose. ‘You’re right. It’s just lunch.’

Rachel walked over to Tully’s bag. ‘So, how about you reapply your lippy and we’ll head back out there.’ Rachel unzipped her bag and rummaged around for the lipstick. ‘Why do you have two wallets in here? And . . . is this a salt shaker?’

‘Doesn’t everyone have two wallets?’ Tully said, taking the bag from Rachel. ‘I don’t need lipstick. Let’s just go.’

Tully led the way through the busy restaurant. As her father came into view, Rachel gave him the thumbs-up and he nodded in response, visibly relieved.

‘All good?’ he asked Tully, who smiled and nodded too many times. ‘Good. In that case, I think it’s time to order champagne.’

Rachel knew then, what was about to happen. She got these feelings from time to time – premonitions of a sort. She had one the day Mum lost her keys for the third time in a week, even after Dad laughed it off as a normal sign of ageing. She had one on that family skiing holiday when she begged Tully to go for hot chocolate instead of skiing another run (Tully refused and broke her leg on the next slope). And she had one when she was sixteen, a split second before that man jumped out of the bushes. The worst part was that now, just like then, there was nothing she could do.

Her father cleared his throat. ‘Heather and I have an announcement to make . . .’





3


HEATHER


Stephen was standing in his driveway in sweatpants and a T-shirt the first time Heather laid eyes on him. It was a Saturday morning. He had a newspaper tucked under his arm and he was chatting to his neighbour over the fence. Heather had just pulled up in front of his house, ready for their first appointment, and when she got out of her car Stephen waved as if she were an old friend.