The Passion Play Page 2

  Luke raised an eyebrow. "Whatever," he said, and the kid grinned and waggled his eyebrows, twenty-two and full of himself.

  But as he went inside it wasn't Carlos he was thinking of. It was her again. Her with that shaken no-good look on her face. He hoped she was okay.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The tears would not come. Her eyes were dry and burning.

  Should she cancel her appointments and go home? To do what? To stare at the wall and not-cry some more?

  Work would be good. A distraction from this pitifully strange emptiness.

  So after twenty minutes sitting in her car in the parking lot of a large park, soothing greenness in front of her and a tissue at the ready, she gave up on grief and drove to her client's house. She was ten minutes early, so she rifled through her briefcase for her client notes and re-read them with careful attention, sinking with gratitude into the clarity and control of her work persona.

  With one minute to spare she exited the car and went to ring the doorbell of the prosperous brownstone. Siobhan Hastings was a very successful saleswoman who had followed her parents' recommendations to start investing early. They had been some of Felicity’s first clients when she began work as a financial analyst, and their relationship was very friendly.

  Felicity liked their daughter too, which was a good reason to dread this appointment, given the advice she must deliver.

  "I'm really sorry. You have to sell. This property investment is your largest financial burden right now. With you off work the mortgage is undermining your resources. Here." Felicity slid a print-out across the table. "These are my projections if you hold onto it. Three more months and you'll be forced to put it on the market, unless you break one of the term deposits or sell out of a fund. Honestly I can't recommend either. They're generating income while this is devouring it."

  "But the market's so low right now. I'll never make back what I paid for it."

  "That's true. You'll be cutting your losses. But better to do it now than later, when the situation is worse. We don't know how long it will sit on the market before you find a buyer. The market may stay the same for years. No one knows. And in the meantime you're paying a mortgage that's too much to afford when you're not working. I assume you haven't changed your mind about that?"

  They both looked to the soft wool blanket spread on the floor, and its cargo of drooling infant, who gummed a whale toy with ferocious determination. Seeing he had their attention, Adam paused to give them a maniacal grin, all scrunched and full of glee. He was dimpled and chubby, his little thighs rounding out his trousers like sausages in their casing.

  "No," said Siobhan softly, and then repeated with certainty, "No. Absolutely not. It won't be too many months before I can work again. It's not for long. Just this year while he's so tiny. I can't bear to have someone else looking after him. Perhaps next year at the outside."

  "If you took on just part time work you could get to the break-even point." Felicity's eyes were still on Adam. She wished she could pick him up and feel the warm, baby-scented give of him. "Your hourly rate is so high it wouldn't take much."

  "It's so hard to leave him."

  Felicity hummed her understanding. "I don't suppose Peter could maybe contribute a little more . . . ?"

  "Don't even ask. He's been a nightmare. It's like trying to get blood out of a stone. He pays only for half of Adam's bills and nothing more."

  "Maybe if he won't contribute money he could at least have Adam for some of the time while you work. He might be willing to do that, and then you know Adam is with someone who loves him."

  "I hate Peter." Siobhan sounded bitter and vaguely incredulous. "I really do. I don't know what I ever saw in him. How can you love someone so much one day, and then a couple of years later he's just completely different? It's not like I was the only one who wanted Adam. We both did.” She shook her head, sighed heavily, but the twist in her face eased as she contemplated Adam. “I'm so glad I have my baby. Even when everything else is terrible, he makes it worthwhile. Look at him. Isn't he gorgeous? I wish I could just have him and have nothing to do with his dad. Sometimes I think it would’ve been better if Peter and I had never been together at all. Just had Adam as an arrangement without the relationship. At least we'd still be civil."

  "There's no way to have a crystal ball about these things. You thought you were doing the right thing at the time." Felicity watched Adam eye a set of colorful connected rings about a foot from where he sat. He leaned towards them.

  "I know. Hindsight is always perfect, isn't it? In an ideal world we'd sign baby contracts and get together to procreate. No muss, no fuss. Relationships are overrated."

  As Adam started to topple Felicity was out of her chair and across the room, not quite fast enough to save him the impact. She lifted him up and crooned, and his whine faded into silence as he discovered her pearl necklace. Instantly it was in his fist, and he tugged.

  "Don't let him!" said Siobhan, standing by her elbow, her hands lifting, but Felicity had already taken his forearm and clenched fingers in her own hand.

  "Don't worry. I have plenty of nephews. I know what it's like." She said it automatically, her conscious mind surrendered to the sensation of holding this small person, her arm cradling him, his milky scent rising from his clothes and silken skin.

  "He's already broken three of my necklaces. I swear, I've given up on jewelry." Siobhan relaxed and stepped back, then returned to the table and her cup of herbal tea, lifted it to take a sip and watched the two of them over the rim of her cup.

  His feet kicked furiously and Felicity absorbed the small impact against her abdomen. His eyes were fixed on her face, very wide and wondering, and his mouth was open as he quested towards his own fist and its treasure. "He's so precious." She whispered it, and now she felt a pressure like a balloon filling inside her chest and suddenly she was blinking back tears. She lowered her head to hide them, kissed that squishy little fist and yearned with all her being.

  "You and Dan don't have any kids, do you?"

  "No." She heard the thickness in her voice.

  "You should. You'd be a great mom. Though it's hard to fit it in around work, I know. There's never a good time. If Adam hadn't made up his own mind to come I might have gone on putting it off forever. And now," she gestured at the toy-strewn carpet, the drying rack with its burden of little clothes and the burp cloths draped over the arm of the nearby couch, "sales is like a whole other world. I can't even imagine being in the midst of that. The money's not important. You just have to prioritize, you know?"

  Felicity nodded, her head still down, not ready to trust her voice again.

  "After all, what else is it for? What's the point of saving it up just to be rich someday? I can't replace this, can I?"

  Felicity shook her head.

  "That's what I think, anyway. Though of course it's different strokes for different folks. And I'm sure you've worked really hard to get to where you are today and it seems too hard to give it up or even take a break. It can't have been easy to do what you do. I know I- I hope you won't take this the wrong way – but I wasn't sure I should work with you to start with. I mean, you hardly look like my idea of a finance whiz. Gosh, that sounds awful, but I mean as pretty as you are. I suppose you get that a lot."

  She paused, anxious and expectant, and after a moment Felicity nodded again. Not that many people said it in so many words, but it was true her client list had built slowly and on the basis of solid results, not automatic trust generated by the sight of her.

  "Which is obviously really stupid, because you've been so incredibly helpful and you certainly know exactly what you're talking about. I've learned so much just doing what we have. You make everything clear and you're so helpful-"

  "It's my job."

  "I know. I know. But it's meant a lot to me, to have someone I can trust take care of all this. I wouldn't even have an income right now if it wasn't for you. I couldn't be at home with Adam. I wouldn't even have t
he choice. So thanks. I owe this to you."

  "It was you who earned the money to make the investments."

  "I did. And I'm proud of what I've built. But I wouldn't have known where to start. It's been great, is all. I was telling Tanya so the other day." Tanya was a mutual friend, the wife of an ex-player from Dan’s team. "I didn't know you worked with them too."

  "I've helped a few of the players." She always wanted to sit footballers down and give them a stern talking-to about the shortness of their career, the relative length of their life, and get them into a good investment plan. With a couple of them she had managed it, but most shuffled away uneasily as if from a mother's boring lecture, avoided her with guilty looks, went and wasted it all. But Joe had Tanya to take firm hold of their finances and insist they see a professional to make the most of his seven-figure income. Felicity had been her choice.

  She balanced Adam as he leaned away from her to look at something on the floor that had caught his eye. A moment later he squirmed for release, and she lowered him with more care than necessary, keeping her hands on him for as long as she could justify. He was oblivious, reaching for his new prize, a striped ball. His hand batted it out of reach and she put him down and brought the ball back to him, held it until he had a firm grip. He tried to get a mouthful.

  "Five months old now?" she asked.

  "Almost."

  "Another couple of months and he'll be crawling."

  "I know. I'm not looking forward to it."

  "After that, nothing's safe." She wanted to pick him up again. Instead she stood, refocused on work. "Shall I make the calls for you, get things set up for the sale of the property?"

  "You don't have to do that. I know it's not your job."

  "I can, though. One less thing for you to worry about. I have the contacts and it won't take much time if it's the cost your worried about. In fact I'll do it gratis."

  "You're too kind."

  "This can't be an easy time for you, all things considered. I wish you were free to just focus on loving your little guy."

  Now it was Siobhan's turn to tear up, and Felicity pushed a box of tissues to within her reach. She took one and dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose defiantly. "Sorry. This is stupid. I should be over doing this by now."

  They worked through the details, and Felicity packed her briefcase with a sense that even if she had not brought good news, at least she had eased the making of the decision. Sometimes that was all she could do. She saw herself out, and left Siobhan hovering over little Adam with a dreamy smile on her face, a smile that was more painful to Felicity than anything Dan had said.

  At home she parked her car in her garage as usual, but rather than use the internal door she ducked out through the closing garage door and walked to the place where the spare key was kept, took it out, circled the house to where she had stashed the back door key and got that too, her fingers coming away sticky with sap from the small bush that grew around the hiding place.

  She went inside and called the locksmith. "I want new locks on all the doors," she told him, and organized a time tomorrow that fitted in between a jogging date with a friend, and the first of her client appointments in the afternoon.

  As she put the phone down on the kitchen bench she looked around the elegant, open-plan room. Everything was immaculately tidy, in a restrained palette she had chosen to be restful for a man who worked long hours in a stressful job like Dan's. She wrapped her arms around her own body, denying the ache of them, the lack she still felt, the longing for a little life to hold and care for. The house seemed unnaturally still and silent. Foolishness, when Dan was barely ever home anyway, but now even the potential of his presence was gone.

  She shivered, picked up the phone and made a second call. Her sister-in-law answered with an over-loud "Hello?" and Felicity could hear her nephews shouting in the background.

  "Caroline, can you come over? Something's happened. I could do with some company. Bring the boys. They can play outside."

  "Is it an emergency?"

  "Not physically."

  "I'll be half an hour."

  "Thanks."

  When the call was finished she gazed at the appointments book lying on the granite bench top of the kitchen. It was a small leather-bound folder with a ring binder, the tips of color-coded tabs protruding in a coordinated procession around the edges. She placed a hand on it to feel its solidity, this symbol of a life. It was full of meeting and appointments and schedules and 'to do' lists. She had set aside time in it for weekly cleaning and monthly chores, reorganizing the linen cupboard and the kitchen pantry. All her weekly recurring dates with friends and-

  She got a black marker pen, a ruler and a piece of tissue. Taking care to wipe down the edge of the ruler between each stroke, she flicked pages and drew a precise line through the dinner dates, one per fortnight, she had written in for herself and Dan for the next three months. Then she called the restaurant to cancel the standing reservation, glad to leave a message rather than speak to an actual person. Dan liked the place because they fawned all over him, remembered everything he liked and treated him like a star. She thought their fish was always overcooked.

  She could make better at home herself.

  But it wasn't a date night unless you did something special, Dan always said. Special like go to the exact same place for an unsatisfactory dinner every fortnight for five years in a row. Where other regulars would call out to him, tell him how great the team was going and how much they had enjoyed watching the last game. Or where he would spend most of the hour they were there talking on his mobile phone.

  One night he was on the phone from the moment he put on his jacket to leave the house, right through their meal – where he had no need to order because he ate the same thing every time – talking and listening in between bites. She watched him in fascinated incredulity. Would he really say nothing to her the whole evening? Would he not even realize? She paid the bill and drove them both home, where he gave her a brief kiss, patted her shoulder and turned and walked away to his study, still talking.

  Of course she should have stood up for herself. Should have snatched the phone off him and told him where to shove it. Should have made a fuss, made a scene, let him know he had crossed the line. But where was the line, when it moved slowly over a span of years, from romantic enthusiasm through polite consideration and on to disregard?

  If she got angry he would either tell her it was her fault he did these things – her lack of interesting topics of conversation – or blame work. One or the other, occasionally both. She did not like to be angry; never lost control or said something unplanned. She should have. Perhaps she was not made for the cut-and-thrust of a marriage, or romantic relationships of any sort. A woman should know how to defend her boundaries and teach a man how to treat her. She was woefully inadequate at that, or any conflict. A pushover or the next thing to it: a doormat.

  On silent, stocking-clad feet she trailed through the house, one empty room at a time, aimless and drifting. All her foundations were gone. Work had allowed her to ignore the sensation for several hours, but solitude brought it back. What was she if not a dutiful wife, staid and settled?

  There was a knock on the door, and she could hear shrill voices. Caroline and the boys. When she opened the door the kids streaked inside, right through the lounge to the French doors that let out onto the back yard.

  "Hi Auntie Felicity!"

  "Hi!"

  "I've put the balls away in the garage, guys," she called out to them. "Help yourselves."

  "Cool."

  They were gone, voices faded behind the closed door.

  "Sorry about all the yelling," said Caroline.

  Felicity waved a hand in dismissal. "You know I don't mind. Can I get you a coffee? Tea?"

  "Green tea would be great. That one with lemon. So what's this 'not physical' emergency, then?"

  Felicity filled the kettle and set it to boil, then came slowly across the carpet to the livin
g room, her appointment book in one hand. She put it on the side table, and sat on the sofa, her feet tucked up under her. "Dan's leaving me. Actually, he's left. He's already gone."

  "I . . . whoa. What? Where did that come from?"

  "I have no idea."

  "God, I'm so sorry." Caroline's screwed up her bare face in disgust. Her dark curls were winning the battle against the hair tie that tried to tame them and her skin looked a little gray as if she was short on sleep. Still her eyes immediately brightened with anger on Felicity's behalf. "That guy really is an ass. What's he thinking? You're the best thing that's ever happened to him. And he didn't even tell you why?"

  "Yeah, he said . . . oh . . . oh, hang on . . ." Felicity looked at the ceiling and fanned her hand back and forth in front of her chest, feeling that dreadful ache again. "This is going to make me cry. He said he wanted kids and since I couldn't have them he was leaving me."

  "Oh my God! That bastard." Caroline fished around in her purse and found a crumpled but clean tissue.

  Felicity took it and blew her nose. "I can't believe it's just over, so quickly."

  "It's a big deal. I mean, you've been together, what, ten years?"

  "Twelve." The number made her feel sick when she thought about it. Such a chunk of life energy and potential to waste wrapped around a marriage that faded into nothing. She had thought of it as an investment in their partnership. To Dan it was all disposable.

  "What will you do now?"

  "I don't know."

  "Do whatever you want," said Caroline. "Seriously. Anything. Run away from everything. Take off overseas. Blow your savings. Convert to some strange religion, or foreign mysticism."

  "Can you imagine me blowing my savings?"

  "Alright, maybe not that. But definitely do something. Make this a celebration." She nodded in determination. "Whatever you want. Anything you've always wanted and told yourself you couldn't have. You're completely free."

  "You know what I want?" Felicity sat forward suddenly and put her feet flat on the floor, as inspiration clicked into place. "I want to have a baby."