Wanted: A Father for her Twins

Rosie had long since tucked Charlie and Lucy into bed and they were now fast asleep. In the last two months, this had become the time of the day she most needed. It was also the time she most dreaded. She needed the breathing space but being alone left her facing the fact she was also lonely. Dreadfully so.

Tonight, though, there was a certain comfort in being lonely. For a start, it made sense of her reaction to Nick today—and the first time she’d met him, too, if she was honest. If she wasn’t so lonely, if her life hadn’t changed so radically overnight with the unexpected deaths of her brother and sister-in-law, she wouldn’t be acting so out of character. She wouldn’t be knocked sideways by a stranger with a kind smile. All right, a killer smile. She’d noticed him, she was no nun, but she wouldn’t normally be rendered speechless or breathless or experiencing any of the symptoms he induced in her. That was obviously due to the demands of her new life. And her grief.

She and the children had encased themselves in a bubble. Insular was the word for it. She saw her parents but they understood the circumstances all too well since they shared the same loss.

Thanks to Nick, she could now say some feeling had returned and it was good. Noticing a very attractive man was a pleasant way of being enticed back into the land of the living but it didn’t mean anything more than that. She was only really noticing him because of her loneliness. It didn’t mean what she was trying to achieve for the twins was under threat.

Her sole focus was to give her niece and nephew a sense of normality, knowing her own needs could wait. She was the adult. Her reaction to Nick had reminded her she was well and truly alive and although her needs might need to wait, they hadn’t been obliterated. She toyed momentarily with the idea of socialising beyond her immediate family so her old self didn’t disappear totally. The thought didn’t appeal, not yet.

And yet the reality was she was sitting on the couch, alone, at eight o’clock at night, empty hours stretching before her. And that reality didn’t appeal either. In her old life she would have been heading out to watch a movie with a girlfriend or more likely to dinner with Philip and his political cronies. Now she was sitting on the couch contemplating making lunches and folding washing. Deciding she was too tired to do any of that, she flicked through the CD collection, looking for a way to break the silence. But the CDs belonged to her brother, David, and his wife, Anna. She didn’t want that reminder tonight.

Most of her possessions were still in Canberra. She’d jumped on a plane when her parents had called her after the accident and had only been back briefly once. She had meant to have her things sent to her but somehow there was always something else needing to be done first. Now was as good a time as any to let her ex know her plans. Apart from a few clothes, the rest of her things were still in the apartment they’d shared.

She picked up her mobile and hit the automatic dial for Philip’s mobile phone.

‘Rosie!’ He knew it was her before she spoke. There was some comfort in knowing he hadn’t deleted her number from his phone memory. Yet. ‘How are you?’

How should she respond? She knew Philip wouldn’t want to hear the truth. She’d spent the past week looking after one sick child while trying to make sure the other got enough attention too and making sure the wheels didn’t fall off their lives completely. She’d learnt long ago that Philip was one of those people for whom ‘How are you?’ was really a rhetorical question. So she gave her standard response.

‘Good. Have you got a minute? I need to sort out getting some of my things sent up.’

‘I’m on my way out, we’ll talk about it on Saturday when I get to Sydney. For the dinner.’ He paused and she could hear in his voice that he was frowning, displeased. ‘With the New Zealand Prime Minister. You did remember?’

‘Yes,’ Rosie fibbed. He’d been right to doubt her, she’d totally forgotten. Her life was very much lived from one day to the next at the moment and Saturday night was still four days away. She wanted to go to a formal political event even less than she wanted to spend every night at home for the next year, but she’d promised. Had she just forgotten or had she just hoped the function would go away if she ignored it?

‘Are you sure—?’

Philip read her intentions before she’d fully realised herself what she’d been about to say. ‘You promised, Rosie, and yes, it is important you’re seen with me.’

Important she was seen with him, not important that she be with him. There was a difference. And it rankled.

‘I’m flying in at six and the car will come straight from the airport to pick you up. Formal dress.’

What was the point in refusing? He was right, she had promised, and Rosie didn’t break promises or let people down, even if they were ex-boyfriends. There were lots of things Rosie didn’t do. But one thing she said a lot was, ‘Sure.’ Sure, no problem; sure, it’ll put me out but don’t you worry; sure, sure, sure. She sure was sick of saying ‘sure’.

‘We’ll talk then. Bye.’

Typically, Philip had turned the conversation to his needs. He hadn’t even offered to bring any of her things with him. He could easily have thrown some stuff in a suitcase. Members of Parliament didn’t seem to have the same luggage restrictions as mere mortals. All her evening dresses were in Canberra, he could easily have brought something for her to wear. Rosie debated whether to call him back and then decided it would be easier to buy something new. Easier for her—or easier for him?

He’d do it if she asked directly, she had to give him that, but maybe only because it affected him directly? He wouldn’t want to turn up and have her unable to go for lack of something to wear. But for the same reason he couldn’t be counted on to bring the dress and shoes she actually requested. He’d bring what he deemed suitable. It was unlikely to be the same thing.

She tossed the phone on the couch beside her and closed her eyes. Perhaps if she shut everything out for a few moments she’d find the energy to get up and finish the day’s chores.

Seconds after she’d thrown the phone down it rang, startling her. Philip ringing to see what he could bring? She may as well glance out the window and check if the pigs were flying.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Rosie? It’s Nick Masters.’

A warm glow spread through her, replacing the low feeling she’d been grappling with even before she had called Philip. ‘Nick, hi.’

‘I’ve just checked my operating schedule for the next fortnight. I know it’s late, but I’m only just out of surgery and I got the feeling you’re an information person like me so you’d rather know sooner than later.’

Rosie managed ‘Thanks’ in reply, stunned he could know that about her in such a short space of time. Or at all. Would any of her past boyfriends have had such an insight into her character?

‘I can fit Charlie in on Monday week. I operate at St Catherine’s that day so it’s close for you.’

‘Monday’s good. St Catherine’s good.’ Some proper sentences would also be good, she muttered mentally. Come on, get it together. The guy doesn’t know you’re a house-bound loony, don’t let the secret out now! She kick-started her brain into gear. ‘Great. And you’re right, I do like to get all the facts, then I can deal with it, plan, work out what I’m going to do.’ So far so good. ‘Things are much less stressful when the information is on the table and you’re not left second-guessing. Not that I was scared about you operating…’ She stumbled to an embarrassed silence.

Nick didn’t miss a beat, simply laughing as if she’d been joking. ‘I’m glad to hear it, although most people are terrified, some not so secretly, at the thought of their child having surgery. I’ll get the forms posted to you but he’ll need to be admitted at seven a.m. Can you manage that?’

It would mean juggling Lucy’s schedule but that wasn’t Nick’s problem. ‘Yes, I’ll sort something out.’

‘What about your work, can you take time off?’

‘I’m on a leave of absence from my job to concentrate on the children.’

There was a brief silence at the other end. Had she scared him off with too much information? ‘Maybe once I get Charlie sorted for you, that will help things settle down.’ She got the feeling it wasn’t what he wanted to say, or ask, but that’s all it was. A feeling. And she didn’t know him well enough to ask.

‘I hope so. It might be a start at least.’

‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do,’ he offered.

‘Thanks, Nick, but I doubt you have time to worry about how your patients are going to organise their lives.’ She settled back against the deep cushions of the couch, conscious she was behaving as if she was readying herself for a nice long chat with a good friend.

‘Not usually. But most of my private patients have a partner or, to be honest, a nanny to help pick up the slack, and in the public hospitals there’s Family and Community Services help if necessary. It’s no difficulty to schedule things to suit you, you just need to say.’

‘I appreciate that, but we’ll be fine, this time at least. We’ll see you on the sixteenth, and thank you.’ She hesitated, unused to the feeling of having help offered, of accepting it, then added, ‘If I get stuck and need an appointment changed, I’ll remember your invitation. It’s very kind of you.’

He said goodbye and she ended the call, wondering what he’d wanted to say or ask when she’d mentioned her work leave. She shrugged, knowing she’d never know and it probably didn’t matter. It was just one more sign of how insular she’d become, that she could sit analysing the things an almost-stranger hadn’t said during a routine phone call.

On another note, a more positive note, the phone call had helped her more than Nick would know. To be asked how she was coping, whether something would suit her, made all the difference. She suspected she wasn’t coping all that well given her growing preoccupation with her nephew’s specialist, a man who’d rung only to schedule surgery. A man unlikely to have any interest in an overwhelmed, grieving aunt. But if she allowed herself to ignore those obvious objections, he’d still managed to make her feel she was cared about. He’d managed to make her feel less alone at precisely the time she’d needed that reassurance, however fleeting it might be.

The contrast between that phone call and the earlier one with Philip was marked. Philip, who should have asked after the children, out of politeness if not out of a sense of concern, hadn’t, yet a virtual stranger had.

Returning to Canberra to live with the children was one of the options she was thinking over. After her phone call with her ex, that option was looking bleaker. What was there for her, for any of them, if her breakup with Philip was going to be permanent?

Or perhaps, she reflected, recalling how her tongue had frozen and her belly had sprung to life at the sight of Nick today, what had there ever been there for her? Even with Philip?

CHAPTER THREE

NICK retied his black bow-tie, struggling to get it sitting properly but unable to give it the concentration it needed. His work schedule and goals were up in lights in his head, distracting him from the immediate task at hand. He had, just yesterday, signed the final partnership papers. He was now a full partner in the medical clinic. He was finally scaling the mountain of goals he’d been working towards. Buying into the practice meant a significant amount of debt but it was debt necessary to building a business, unlike the mound of debt he’d only finally cleared these last months. That had been a noose around his neck, nothing but a dead weight.

Now he’d shrugged it off and had embarked on this new, productive phase of his life. His work was building up, referrals were coming in apace. He felt more confident than he’d felt in years.

He pulled on the ends of his tie one final time, shrugging at his reflection in the mirror. His tie looked like it was supposed to. Close enough, anyway. It was just a tie. He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d long since given up on trying to get it to sit neatly, his cowlick making that impossible. He was only aiming for semi-presentable. Ditto for the bow-tie.

Grabbing his dinner jacket as he headed out the door, he knew he was looking forward to the evening. He’d stopped the downward spiral that had been his life for the past few years. He was a successful medical specialist with a growing practice. Not a man with a failed marriage and a huge, useless debt. His single-minded pursuit of stability was at last paying off.

He slung his jacket in the back of his car and allowed himself a wry grin as he slid behind the wheel of his old Holden wagon, proof positive that he wasn’t completely out of the hole his ex-wife had dug for him. It was a sure-fire bet no one else would be heading for the Opera House tonight in anything as old as this but his finances didn’t stretch to splurging on a new vehicle. This one did the job.

He was used to making do.

Sometimes it seemed that was all he’d done for years.

Make do. Make do while he worked and strove singlemindedly to fulfil the goals he’d been set on since late adolescence. Stability. Security. Respectability.

And, after a string of major setbacks, it was finally all in his sights.

So tonight, to celebrate, he would mingle and dance and enjoy the kudos that came with being a medical specialist, the newest partner in a successful practice.

Rosie opened the door to find Philip himself on the front step, immaculate as always. As usual he looked made for his suit, probably because his suit had been made for him and he wore it as if he deserved it.

He leant forward and Rosie hesitated. Cheek? Lips? Handshake? What was the etiquette the first time you saw your ex after you’d separated? Philip clearly thought lips were in order but she found herself offering her cheek for a kiss. The first time she’d consciously gone against what Philip wanted? Correction. The second. Taking up the guardianship of the twins and leaving Canberra had definitely not been what Philip had wanted.

But was that really because he cared for Rosie enough to spend his life with her? She knew it wasn’t enough for her; if it had been she wouldn’t have called it off because she was moving. For the same reasons, she knew it was the same for him. If he’d cared so much about her, he would’ve tried to make a long-distance relationship work. After all, she was still contemplating a return to Canberra. So she knew his chagrin was more because she had disturbed the convenient, established order of their lives together than because he was heart-broken.

‘Hi. Did you have a good trip?’

He nodded. ‘You look nice, you don’t wear much yellow. It suits you.’ He glanced at the dress again, frowning slightly as he took in the drape of the fabric, which left nothing to the imagination. Yet, except for her shoulders and arms, and a rather revealing cleavage, she was fully covered and the dress wasn’t too tight, just sculpted as if made for her. ‘I grabbed it yesterday from the remnants of the end-of-summer sales.’ She resisted tugging at the low neckline. If she was going to wear it, she may as well act comfortable in it. But she hadn’t been joking when she’d said it was from the remnants—it had been the only decent thing left that both fitted her and had been in her price bracket. ‘Why don’t you come in and say hello to the kids and my mum?’

Philip checked his watch. He was looking for an excuse, she knew, and was waiting for her to let him off the hook. Fair enough, she had to admit she normally would have done so, but tonight a small, unfamiliar feeling of defiance was niggling her. She was already doing him a favour by going to the dinner. For once, he could do something for her. He hadn’t even offered to bring any of her things up from Canberra. She laughed at herself for letting that gripe surface again. ‘I need to grab my bag anyway,’ she said as she stepped back and headed down the hall, not particularly caring whether he followed.

It only took minutes to wish he hadn’t. Lucy, Charlie and Rosie’s mum were in the family room, Rosie’s mum and Philip were making stilted conversation and Lucy was being her normal extroverted self, forcing Philip to pay her some awkward attention. As for Charlie, Philip ignored the little boy who had never spoken to him despite having met him a number of times during Rosie and Philip’s trips up to Sydney. Philip, silver-tongued with statesmen, was as tongue-tied and awkward with Charlie as Charlie was mute with most of the world. Until tonight Rosie had excused her partner but that irritated feeling wasn’t abating. Couldn’t a grown man think of something to say to a little boy that only required a shake or nod of the head in response?

After a couple of minutes Rosie had had enough. Picking up her bag and kissing them all goodnight, she took Philip away, ending everyone’s discomfort. It was more confirmation that she’d been right not to move the children to Canberra.

At least, not right away.

Conversation was one-sided on the drive to the Opera House. The glass screen between the chauffeur and their seats was up and in the privacy of the back Philip delivered his thoughts as to who he would introduce her to, who he wanted her to chat to and for how long. Rosie closed her eyes momentarily and Philip laid a hand on her arm, apparently reading her thoughts, saying, ‘I know these things can be tiresome.’ Which Rosie knew he didn’t think at all so he must mean tiresome for her. ‘But you’ve always handled yourself so well.’

‘Philip, I promised you I’d come tonight and I’ll do the right thing, and I’ll do it all with my most charming smile.’ She meant it too, although it would come at some effort. The couch she’d been lamenting four days ago now seemed much the preferable option.

‘Any more thought about moving home?’

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, the children can’t be moved right now.’

Philip sighed, drumming his fingers on his lap. ‘Rosie, you don’t look yourself, you look exhausted. And you must be missing work. Besides, you only took a leave of absence, you’re going to have to decide what to do soon.’

She wanted to argue but she gave it up and slumped a little. He was right. About some things. ‘I agree it’s been hard making the adjustment but that doesn’t mean it’s the wrong thing to do. I’m where I need to be and where I want to be. I miss work, true, but I’ll get back to it in time, just not right now. I also agree I’m tired and if I’m not glowing with happiness, it’s because I’m grieving for my brother and his wife. Those are consequences I have to deal with. It doesn’t translate into me wanting to ditch the children.’

‘You seemed to ditch Canberra easily enough.’ Rosie flinched at the hurt in his voice. He’d done his best not to show she’d hurt him before she’d gone, but she’d known it was his pride behind that because she’d left him feeling rejected.

‘I didn’t end things with you easily. Honestly, it makes me sad, but now I’ve had time apart to think, I’m pretty sure we’d run our course. I said it was better to call it off because I didn’t want to be making promises I couldn’t keep. And I think I was right.’ She was distracted for a moment as she saw they’d arrived at the Opera House and had pulled into the queue of chauffeur-driven cars which, one by one, were depositing their passengers at the foot of the red-carpeted stairs up to the white-sailed building. ‘And you were also clear you couldn’t move with me. So there was no other reasonable alternative.’

He didn’t answer her, just gave a sharp nod of the head. It was her turn to lay a hand on his arm, stroking the expensive fabric of his suit jacket lightly. ‘I know you’re hurt that I left, but in the interests of us salvaging our friendship, can you accept this is what I had to do?’

‘I’m no good with children.’ Was he explaining why he hadn’t been able to consider moving with her? Or attempting a long-distance relationship? It sounded like an explanation. Perhaps it was?

‘I’m not asking you to be.’ Not strictly true, she’d deliberately tested him tonight when she’d invited him in and he’d struggled. ‘But that’s what my life is now. Quite frankly, I don’t know what shape things are going to take, but the children will be a central part no matter what.’

The car was pulling up in front of the steps, the door was opened for them and Philip emerged first, waiting to help Rosie out of the car. He might be cross with her, because she’d let him down and hurt him, but with Philip that would be no reason not to keep up appearances. How had he explained her absence so far from any number of functions in Canberra? After being an established couple over the last couple of years, did anyone even know they were separated?

Rosie allowed him to escort her into the function room. Philip kept her close and Rosie knew why. He liked to make an entrance and they made a striking couple: she was five foot ten in bare feet and Philip was several inches taller, so their height alone made people notice them. In politics, being noticed was part of the game if you wanted to climb to the top.

Rosie knew she was an asset in this regard. She’d never minded, it was the way the world worked, but now she questioned that assumption—had she just begun thinking like that because she’d been so fully immersed in that world? Maybe the rest of the world didn’t function so superficially?

She scanned the already crowded room and realised it wasn’t fair, not entirely. There were plenty of familiar faces and among them were some people she’d always enjoyed seeing, it wasn’t all rubbing shoulders for the sake of it. Tonight, though, pleasant people or not, it wasn’t where she wanted to be. She’d promised Philip she’d mingle cheerfully, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine having anything of interest to contribute. When had she last managed to read the weekend papers when the news wasn’t already three days old?

For now, though, she waited dutifully next to Philip in the line to meet the Australian Prime Minister and his New Zealand counterpart. Rosie towered over the Australian PM but, then, so did most people. He remembered meeting her before, a fact which clearly pleased Philip. Maybe this would give her some bonus points and allow her to sneak off from her ‘official’ duties a bit earlier.

Philip introduced her to the minister for education and his wife before excusing himself. The minister was a rather dull man, his wife even more so, and she knew she’d been delivered to them to pay Philip’s dues without him having to endure them. After a few minutes she made her own excuses and made her way to the minister for health, collecting a glass of white wine along the way. The health minister was also someone Philip wanted her to talk to but at least he was interesting. He’d been a doctor in his pre-government life so they’d be able to find some common ground.

She was here.

Nick had noticed her the moment she’d entered the room. In a room filled wall to wall with ageing men in black suits and women wearing predominantly safe little black dresses, Rosie shone like a star in her canary-yellow dress.

Her shoulder-length sandy-blonde hair had been pinned back from her face and with her summer tan she looked beautiful, but he was sure he could still see the traces of shadows around her eyes, the faint tinge of tiredness he’d seen at the beach and his office. Even so, and even competing with the stunning backdrop of the lights of Sydney Harbour, she had no trouble capturing his attention.

He mingled, all the time aware of where she was. She’d made an entrance on the arm of a similarly noticeable man—taller, younger and better-looking than many of the other men in the room. The guy didn’t fit the picture he realised he’d built up around Rosie, of a young woman on her own, managing a difficult set of circumstances. Had he got her wrong?

Right now Rosie was talking to the minister for health. Nick couldn’t see the guy who had accompanied Rosie into the function but he didn’t waste time trying to find him either. One man’s loss. Was what? His ticket to making this evening the celebration he’d been planning?