‘No,’ she said. ‘Well, then I guess it must be true. But for now I think it would be good for you to stay with me. And maybe it would be good for me too.’
‘How would it be good for you?’ I asked, dragged out of my problems despite myself.
‘Life is more complex and multi-layered than you think, Julia,’ said my mother, who never philosophises.
‘Everything happens for a reason?’ I hazarded.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said my mother, and even though she sounded really angry, I felt comforted. That was more like it. ‘Anyway, Daniel will come crawling back, and you will sort things out.’
I sighed. ‘He’s gone back to Claire, Mum. Why would he want me when he can have her?’
‘I’d choose you any day,’ said my mother with a smile. And then she repeated it, like she was saying it to herself – ‘I’d choose you any day’ – and her eyes sort of turned inwards and I thought that maybe the shock of saying something so parental had made her feel peculiar, so I quickly started asking about the practicalities of me staying.
So that is what I’ve done. Almost despite myself, as the last four months have played out, I’ve gone back to my girlhood room – which my mother insists on calling the spare room – and I’ve stayed with my mummy.
Claire
The alarm goes off when I am so deep in a dream that I react like someone has shot me. I sit straight up in the bed and yell, ‘What!’
Mackenzie is curled up next to me, as usual. ‘You need to stop doing this, Mummy,’ she says without opening her eyes. ‘You can’t get a fright about waking up every day. Waking up just happens and happens and happens.’
I don’t know what it is. I never used to sleep so deeply. And I certainly never used to greet each day with a shout of surprise – so predictable now that it bores my seven-year-old daughter.
I try to claim back the parent role.
‘Up we get, Kenz. New week. Got to get you to school early for the special concert rehearsal.’
‘I know,’ says Mackenzie, her eyes still shut, her body unmoving.
‘Plus, it’s ballet after school.’
‘It is,’ she agrees.
‘And then a playdate with Lulu.’
‘Lulu’s so boring,’ says a still-sleepy Mackenzie, who spent most of last week begging me to invite Lulu to play.
‘And after that Daddy’s taking you out for supper,’ I add.
Mackenzie opens her eyes and sits up. ‘But I am not going to sleep at him,’ she tells me.
‘That’s right,’ I agree. ‘Because—’
‘Because,’ she interrupts, ‘Julia could have that baby AT ANY MINUTE. And Daddy must be able to drive to her AS FAST AS HE CAN. And he can’t leave me alone. And I can’t go with him, because the baby being born will be GROSS.’
I laugh. ‘That’s exactly how it is. You’ve got it.’
‘And none of us know when that damn baby is going to come,’ she adds.
‘Don’t say “damn”, Mackenzie.’
‘That’s what Daddy calls it. He says “that damn baby” every time.’
I try not to laugh. ‘Listen, Kenz, just don’t. That damn baby is going to be your brother, whatever we all think of that. And that’s pretty exciting, so let’s not say “damn”.’
‘Can I take it for show-and-tell when it’s born?’
‘Let’s call it “he”. And you’ll have to ask Julia about show-and-tell.’
‘Can I phone her now?’
I look at my watch. ‘Too early, baby,’ I say. ‘It’s her last day of work before her having-a-baby holiday. Let’s rather phone later.’
‘Okay,’ says Mackenzie, and without me having to say anything more, she gets up and goes to her room to get dressed.
I get out of bed, and pull my diary towards me from where I left it on my bedside table last night. The day is jam-packed. The week is jam-packed. I smile – this is the way I like it. And this is the way it’s been since Laurel and I started our business last month. It’s not like my work has changed that much. But before I was just a person called Claire who did PR. Now I’m one half of CL Events. And I have a business partner. It was Laurel’s idea when she broke it off with Sandy.
‘My problem is that I’m bored,’ Laurel said. ‘I have an MBA from a top university, and instead of working a high-powered job, the main challenge of my day is figuring out what to make for supper. No wonder I’m having a sordid affair with the netball coach.’
‘I’m not convinced,’ I said. ‘Maybe if Sandy was a man. This thing with Sandy seems bigger than boredom.’
‘But that’s just it,’ says Laurel. ‘A man would have been boring. I’ve done men. I needed a new challenge. I should have started doing macramé. Instead I started doing Sandy.’
When we’d both finished cackling, Laurel looked serious. ‘I want to show you something.’ She took out her laptop. ‘Look at this.’
‘This’ was a business plan with graphs and predictions and financials of how my business could grow.
‘Basically,’ said Laurel, ‘with your skills and connections, you could start an empire.’
‘An empire sounds a bit tiring,’ I said.
‘That’s why we’ll do it together,’ said Laurel.
And after a bit of thinking and talking to other people, that’s exactly what we did. The only person who doesn’t think it’s a great idea is Sandy, who’s been thoroughly dumped. She phones Laurel all the time, and sends her flowers. Between the flowers I get from Daniel and the flowers Laurel gets from Sandy, our small offices in Parkhurst always look fabulous. We’re not sure what we’ll do when they both give up, as is inevitable. Laurel says I’ll have to get a new boyfriend to fill the gap. She doesn’t know what she’ll do.
‘Can’t Max fill the gap?’ I ask. ‘He is your husband, after all. He should be glad to have you back.’
‘Max never even knew I was missing,’ said Laurel a bit sadly. ‘I’m not entirely
