Other People’s Diaries (30 page)

She took Bianca's hand in both of hers.

‘Bianca. I love you so much. You were my whole life for so long. Sam and Jeremy are part of that life now too, but that hasn't changed how I feel about you one little bit.'

The silence descended again. Then Bianca spoke tentatively. ‘A couple of months ago I found an old diary you had written in when I was small.'

Rebecca hadn't thought of the book for years. Even then, it had been an ancient notebook covered in paisley silk. She'd wanted to remember some of the small pleasures of Bianca's early years with messages like,
Spent the morning playing Poohsticks at the creek. You are convinced that if you run across the bridge fastest, your stick will win. We need to do a bit of work on your physics skills I think
. Or
Terrible night – again – surely it wouldn't kill you to sleep more than four hours in a row!

They'd been messages across time to a grown-up Bianca.

Bianca continued, ‘The entries just stopped. In the same year you met Jeremy – I checked. What happened? Suddenly I didn't rate any more? You had better things to do?'

Bianca's voice was raw.

‘No!' Rebecca almost yelled. ‘God no! It was just that you were growing up and I started to realise how little I had to offer you. When you were younger I was all-powerful. I could solve all your problems. But then you got older and suddenly I couldn't fix things for you.' She struggled to explain. ‘I got scared,' she finished weakly.

She looked at Bianca again. ‘When I first saw that you'd cut yourself, all I wanted was to hold on to you and to never let you go. To make everything better for you. I'm so sorry I put it on that damn website. Jeremy and I were so worried, we'd been to see a counsellor who told us to try to pull you back to us and to give you a little time. You have no idea how hard it was to let you out of my sight, wondering if you might be feeling so bad that you'd cut yourself again.

‘We're going to fix this, I promise. We can find you someone you can talk to if that's what you want. But we'll do whatever it takes – together. Okay?'

Bianca pulled her hand free. ‘I'm tired. I just want to go to sleep.'

She lay down on the bed, her back to Rebecca and her legs curled up against her chest. Slowly Rebecca pulled a sheet up over her, then sat down in the chair beside the bed to watch her daughter sleep.

T
he rage that welled up inside Claire was unbearable and she felt like she was going to shatter.

‘Go! Just go!' she screamed at Peter, unable to control herself.

She wasn't angry at Peter. Even amongst her pain she knew he'd done nothing wrong. It was anger at the bitter trick the universe had played on her. But she couldn't bear to look at Peter, knowing that he had the one thing she wanted more than anything else.

Peter turned on his heel and walked out.

Claire sank onto the couch, arms wrapped around her chest and tears running down her face.

She needed to tell someone. To have someone understand how unfair this was. After all these years praying for a child – to discover this. But the only friend she had in Brisbane was Rebecca. For a moment she pictured Rebecca, sitting on a chair in the hospital watching over her daughter. Their daughter – Rebecca and Peter's daughter.

Desperate for something to dim the pain, Claire walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine. She poured a huge glass full and downed it, wondering what she had done to deserve this.

Just when she and Peter had been trying to find a way back
together, they'd been hit with the newspaper article and now this. It was as though someone was trying to tell her something.

At least Claire's lack of friends in Brisbane had lessened the embarrassment of having her life spread out in the Sunday papers. Peter hadn't quite seen it so calmly, his delight at the Demons' victory earlier that day swamped by his anger and confusion at the way their life was revealed in the article.

Claire poured another glass of wine, then put it down untouched, willing herself to stop crying.

She tried to see past the ache in her chest and think rationally. Was it possible that having Bianca around sometimes might heal the wounds that years of infertility had caused in her marriage to Peter? Claire truly didn't think so. Bianca was definitely not the type of girl who would welcome another woman in her life – she was trying everything to push Rebecca away as it was. Even if Bianca and Peter could establish some kind of relationship, Claire would only ever be an outsider.

Claire thought of Rebecca again. Of the secret she had carried all these years. Where had she found the strength? What would the truth have done to her and Peter all those years ago? Broken them up for sure.

Claire knew Peter thought Rebecca had betrayed him by keeping it a secret. Claire thought it was the opposite. It had been an act of kindness, at least initially. The secret had taken on its own life, though, and it was inevitable that it end in pain and hurt. It was easy to say, as Peter had, that Rebecca should have told the truth, but when? There were always going to be people devastated by this revelation.

Claire walked out onto the deck. She leaned on the railing and looked out into the dark.

Her last sobs stopped and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Things had been different with Peter in the last few days. They didn't know where they were going, but it felt as though he was thinking about her for the first time in a long time. It was as if her business had made him look at her differently, like a real person. That thought had thrilled her initially. But if she was
honest with herself, it also filled her with unease. It was as if Peter needed to admire what Claire was doing in order to be interested in her. What would happen if this business wasn't successful, or if his enthusiasm for what she was doing ran out?

Claire wondered how Jeremy had reacted to the news about Bianca. If he'd been half as angry as Peter, Rebecca must be feeling awful. Claire pushed off from the railing and looked down at herself. Her yoga pants were a washed-out grey, stretched in all the wrong places and covered in little balls of fluff. She would never normally dream of setting foot outside the house in them.

Sod it, she thought as she walked back inside the house and picked up her handbag. She was sure the hospital staff had seen worse outfits than this one.

R
ebecca turned off the engine, but didn't move to open the door. A band of cloud along the horizon shimmered pink, the morning sky a ridiculously vivid shade of blue.

During the long night in the hospital, Rebecca had realised that things were suddenly very different. For the first time in seventeen years she had no secrets. Not from Bianca, Claire or Peter. Or from Jeremy.

Every now and then Rebecca felt for the guilt, like a familiar sore tooth. Amazingly though, the feeling that had followed her since the day she'd first lied about Bianca's father was gone.

There was a whole new set of problems to face now. But for a moment last night, she and Bianca had been closer than they had been in a long time. A surge of optimism swept over Rebecca. She would make it up to Jeremy. She'd find a solution to Bianca's unhappiness and everything would be okay again.

Rebecca leapt up the few steps in front of the door and let herself into the house quietly.

She smiled to herself. No doubt, Sam had slept with Jeremy last night. Jeremy loved having Sam in bed with him – would have let him every night if Rebecca hadn't put her foot down. She didn't even need to go upstairs to know how it would look. Sam would be spread diagonally across the bed, quite possibly
upside down. Jeremy would be curled around him in whatever space was available.

Making as little noise as possible, Rebecca eased her keys onto a table by the door.

Deep in thought about a long hot shower, she was startled by a soft voice behind her.

‘How is she?'

Jeremy was wearing the same clothes as the day before and looked as though he hadn't been to bed. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair rumpled.

Rebecca smiled at him, a wave of love curling inside her. ‘You look terrible.'

Jeremy's quick laugh was harsh. ‘You don't look so great yourself.'

Rebecca glanced down. She was still wearing the old shirt and trousers a nurse had found for her after Rebecca had arrived at the hospital still in her nightgown. Her shoes were a pair of heavy lace-up nursing shoes.

‘I guess not.'

In a moment Rebecca's euphoria vanished and she was exhausted. All she wanted was to be held safe in Jeremy's arms. Something made her hesitate, though. She crossed her arms across her chest.

‘No more news really,' she said, answering his question. ‘Bianca woke a couple of times, but the nurses gave her more painkillers and she went back to sleep pretty quickly.

‘She'd just woken when I left. She didn't want to talk to me but the doctors say she'll be okay to come home after their rounds. I thought I'd have a shower and then head back in. How's Sam?'

Jeremy ignored the question. ‘Rebecca, we need to talk.'

Rebecca felt her stomach tighten. ‘You know what they say,' she said lightly, trying to make a joke. ‘Nothing good ever comes after those words.'

Jeremy didn't smile.

‘I'm leaving,' he said.

‘No!' Rebecca couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. ‘Not
now. You can't go now.' Not when I can finally make everything right, she thought to herself.

‘You have too many secrets, Rebecca.'

Jeremy's face was so hard, Rebecca thought her heart might break. She thought she'd cried all her tears last night but more welled up behind her eyes.

Jeremy kept talking. ‘From when I first met you, you always kept part of yourself locked away. I thought if I let you do it at your own pace, you'd let me in. Share yourself with me. But you never have. It's not just about Peter – or the group diary thing. It's that you've never trusted me enough to let me in. No more, Rebecca, I'm done.'

‘But … where will you go?' Rebecca's words sounded ridiculously clichéd even to her. What the hell did it matter where he was planning on staying? But it was all she could manage.

‘I've booked into a hotel in town for a few nights. After that … I'm not sure. Rent a house I guess.' He paused. ‘I'm not disappearing, I'll be here for Sam – and Bianca if she still needs me. I just can't be here with you any more.'

‘No. You can't do this, Jeremy. I love you, I am so sorry I didn't tell you about Bianca's father, but I couldn't. This shouldn't change anything between us. We're still the same.'

She paused.

‘I need you, Jeremy,' she said urgently.

‘See, that's not true,' Jeremy replied. ‘You don't need anyone. You control your personal life like you do your work. It's all done according to your rules and your timetables.'

He picked up a suit carrier and sports bag from behind the sofa, pulling his keys out of his pocket. ‘I'll give you a call tomorrow and figure out the best way to manage things with Sam.'

Rebecca watched as he walked out the door and toward his car. This pain was different from what she'd felt when Bianca was hurt, she evaluated clinically. With Bianca she'd been terrified, but kept together by the desperate hope that she would be all right. This pain, though, was flat and raw – an ache that she didn't think would ever go away.

Jeremy had been the love she'd never expected. Years of
fending for herself and Bianca had made her believe they were the team, that male company was a transitory pleasure, no more. Jeremy had changed that. He had loved Bianca and Rebecca together and then Sam had arrived.

Was Jeremy right? Had she always left him on the outside?

It was only as Jeremy reversed out of the driveway and onto the street that Rebecca moved.

Slowly she looked around the room on which they had spent a fortune. A black porcelain sculpture sat in the corner of the room. ‘Gloriously sleek lines' was how the interior designer had described the piece. Rebecca had never liked it.

Deliberately she walked over to it and kicked it. Its middle section resisted the first kick from her shoe, but not the second. The noise was shocking in the still of the early morning, but Rebecca didn't flinch. She stood watching as the sculpture caved into itself and collapsed, the fall breaking the remaining pieces into shards on the polished cement floor. Only then did she turn around and walk upstairs.