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
