How to be perfect, p.14
How to Be Perfect, page 14
River shrugged. Arden too.
‘One shit-fight at a time,’ Adrian muttered, and went to fix the boys their breakfast.
The very idea of tomorrow was making him shaky. Maybe he and Elle should have met separately first, as Grace had suggested. But truly, the only reason to breathe the same air as that woman was for their boys.
He might wake up missing her, but the way he felt about Elle wasn’t complicated. He hated her for what he’d become when he was with her. She had made him feel all-powerful, but it was a huge, ugly lie. When he thought back now to those years with Elle in that shiny cube—the middle-aged banker and his young, beautiful wife, he could laugh. Their children all over Instagram, the cars and the clothes and the live-in help. Who was that guy?
And the Adrian before that? The upstanding middle-class Balwyn husband of his uni-girlfriend, two pigtailed girls in private school, dinner parties every weekend, squash on Saturdays, and summers at the family beach house. Who was that guy?
And now, in the kitchen of his gay ex-wife’s farmhouse, a homeless, barefoot single dad with a daughter naked on the internet and a divorce settlement looming … Was this him? Closer, at least?
Grace came into the kitchen carrying books, Otto at her side. ‘Oh, are you two going to fight again?’ the nine-year-old asked loudly, eyeing off Adrian and River.
River looked up, surprised.
‘No!’ Adrian said sharply, but quickly tried to follow it with a smile. He started putting breakfast bowls out for the boys.
Today, after breakfast, he was going to take them to a Steiner education playgroup in town. Then he might see if Alex wanted to come with them to look for yabbies in the creek. One of the blessings of The Crash, without a shadow of a doubt, was that he now knew his boys. He wasn’t a perfect parent—he was frequently overwhelmed with the slog involved in getting them through every day—but he knew them. They were, despite everything, excellent little kids.
Their mother had left them, and they were okay.
In the first few weeks after Elle had vanished, the boys looked for her. They asked, of course, but mostly they looked. At every footfall, every doorhandle turn, they would look up expectedly, and then their faces would fall. The piercing pain of that time would stay with Adrian always, in memories of his two tiny boys learning to put on brave faces, learning not to look heartbroken every time reality reasserted itself: their mother was gone.
If anything was to be gained from tomorrow, it was strengthening that. He needed to let Elle see that the boys were fine without her. That it was time to make it official that they belonged with him.
And also, he wanted the answer to one big question. He was consumed by shame about what they had done, but she was not; she had barely broken stride. How?
Grace knew what today was. What tomorrow was. She came up beside Adrian and gave him a hug. ‘It’s all going to be fine, you know,’ she said. ‘I can feel it.’
CHAPTER 19
ELLE
‘So, I won.’
Elle was talking to Ben Bont and looking at Lake Daylesford through the picture window of one of the town’s fancier hotels.
‘Adrian agreed to the divorce going through?’
‘Well, no. But the boys will be visiting us really soon. Isn’t that the win?’
Ben went quiet. ‘I knew I should have come with you.’
Elle lay back on the cushion-piled bed, one leg in the air. She was admiring the shoes she’d bought at Melbourne airport: sky-high, cream, calfskin. The very opposite of Byron Bay shoes.
‘Ben, this was about my boys, wasn’t it? About me seeing them, about them coming to Gurva, about them meeting their sister—’
‘Elle, we’ve talked about this. That shouldn’t even be a matter for discussion, it should be a given.’ She could hear the sound of Sydney traffic—he was driving, agitated. ‘We’re getting married on New Year’s Eve, so the most urgent thing is to get Adrian to agree to not contesting the divorce. We can then push it through in time.’
‘I know, Ben, I know.’ Elle lowered her leg. Turned her head to look at the view. ‘But that part was harder than I expected. I think Adrian is still—’
‘You’re fucking kidding me,’ Ben cut in. ‘Are you going to tell me that after all this time, no contact, running off with your kids, and ALMA, for fuck’s sake, he thinks he still has a chance?’
Elle rarely heard Ben Bont rattled. Firm, yes. Angry, yes. Controlling, certainly. But knocked off kilter like this? No. Useful to know.
‘I know, Ben, it’s ridiculous and I told him that.’
‘Just go home, I’ll see you there on Friday. Meanwhile I’ll do what we should have done in the first place and just get Bron and the legal team onto Adrian. He’ll have to get over himself. Where are you?’
‘I’m at the hotel. It’s nice,’ she rolled onto her stomach. ‘I wish you were here.’
He audibly exhaled. ‘And Alma?’
‘Next door with Ocean.’
‘And what was it like out there?’
Elle slipped off her new shoes, then looked at the mud-covered Hunter gumboots she’d kicked off at door. ‘It was … satisfying.’
• • •
Abi’s farm was pretty, Elle would give her that, but compared to manicured, tropical Gurva, it was a dump, the country equivalent of the house on any suburban Australian street that has the beaten-up sofa on the porch and a car with its hood up in the driveway.
Elle had arrived in the Porsche SUV that Ben had arranged to collect her at the airport. It came with a driver, and Elle came with Nanny Ocean and Baby Alma. She’d told Ocean—a sunny, slightly clueless local girl who was proving very manageable—to stay in the car, that she would call her if needed. But, of course, feral Abi Black was the first person to come barrelling out of the house, half-running down the driveway.
‘Elle!’ For one awful, confusing moment, Elle thought Abi might hug her. But no, she padded, moccasin-footed, at pace before stopping an arm’s length away and putting her hands on her hips. ‘I’d say it’s a pleasure, but we both know that’s bullshit.’
Elle almost smiled. There wasn’t much to like about Adrian’s ex-wife, but their shared enthusiasm for confrontation was to be grudgingly admired.
‘Abi,’ Elle nodded, ‘I appreciate your honesty, as ever.’
It had been more than eighteen months since that night when Abi, along with Elle’s treacherous little sister Zoe, had conspired to publicly humiliate Elle at the Blog-ahhs. One of her enduring memories of the night was standing on that stage as her reality tilted and everything swam around her, and Abi’s face, beaming, from the table where her father and brother also sat.
The image came back to Elle now, threatening to toss her off course. But she had chosen to come alone into this enemy territory for a reason, and she mustn’t lose sight of it.
‘Where are my boys?’ she asked.
‘We need to talk a bit before that reunion happens, Elle,’ Abi said. Then she caught sight of the car at the top of the driveway. ‘Oh, you have people with you! Who are they? Do they want to come in?’ And she walked straight past Elle and down towards the car, waving at them. ‘Nice car,’ she said, over her shoulder. ‘Who’s paying for that, then?’
Elle, reluctantly, followed her. ‘Abi. Don’t take it upon yourself to worry about my … staff. I was just going to come and say hello before getting the baby—’
‘Oh!’ Abi had reached the Porsche, seen the baby capsule in the back. ‘Your baby! A little girl, right? Can I cuddle?’
Elle found herself almost throwing her body between Abi and the car door, as Ocean stood back, looking alarmed. ‘NO! You can’t cuddle.’ Elle started to unclip sleeping Alma from the car seat, struggled with the clasp and motioned for Ocean to step in.
Infuriatingly, Abi stood back observing that little exchange with a smug look. ‘Tricky things, car seats, when you’re not used to them.’
‘It’s a HIRE CAR, Abi,’ said Elle, as Ocean easily unbuckled Alma, gently lifted her out of the seat and handed her to Elle. ‘This is Ocean, she’s our nanny. She came to help me with Alma while we all talk,’ Elle said, nodding towards the young woman, cradling her baby under her chin. ‘I thought my boys might like to meet their sister.’
‘Hi, Ocean. Come on in, and bring …’ Abi spoke loudly and nodded towards the driver, who was still in his seat, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
‘Bertram,’ he said quietly.
‘Bring Bertram,’ said Abi. ‘You guys can sit in the garden and have a cuppa while we all get reacquainted.’
As the awkward quintet walked down the driveway to the farmhouse and its open kitchen door, Elle hissed, ‘I didn’t come all this godforsaken way to see you, Abi. I don’t even know why you’re here.’
‘Well,’ Abi said, mock brightly, ‘let’s see. This is my house. And Adrian and your sons do live here with us. And, as I’m sure you can imagine, over the past eighteen months Grace and I have become pretty invested in Ted and Fred’s wellbeing, since we, you know, are raising them for you.’
As they walked, Elle carrying Alma, Ocean carrying the giant nappy bag, Bertram carrying a packet of cigarettes, Elle’s eyes were scanning the garden, the house’s windows, the barn coming up on her left.
Where were they? Where would they come from? Where would she see them first?
Despite herself, despite the promises she’d run through her head over and over on the flight here—Don’t cry, don’t be emotional, don’t be weak, this was your choice, stand in your choice—Elle’s stomach was rolling. She felt her heart banging into her ribcage. She knew that as she spoke her voice would tremble, showing her anxiety and excitement and fear. ‘Abi. I just want to see them.’
Elle could have sworn she saw Abi pause for a split second when she heard that, duck her head just a touch.
‘I’m their mother,’ Elle added.
‘Wait here, one second,’ Abi said. She took Bertram the driver—who must have been wondering what the hell was going on with this bullshit soap-opera he’d wandered into—by the arm, nodded for Ocean to follow, and led them around the side of the house, presumably to settle them somewhere with homemade matcha tea. It gave Elle a moment alone near the open farmhouse door, and she took a big step closer to it, trying to peer in.
If I live to be a hundred, Elle thought later, I will never forget that sight, that minute.
Freddie and Teddy were sitting at a hefty wooden kitchen table; Adrian was between them. They were engrossed in a card game—it looked like Snap—and their heads were lowered.
Everything rushed at Elle at once:
Their height—even sitting, she could tell how tall her boys had grown.
Their clothes—they looked like someone had dressed them to look ‘smart’, in short-sleeved collared shirts you’d never wear for playing around a farm, their hair combed as flat as you could manage with their wild black curls.
Their faces—Freddie had looked up and was laughing, his tiny hand over the little pile of cards on the table, his mouth wide open.
Elle lost her balance, just for a moment, and knocked the doorframe ever so slightly. Alma let out a soft cry, and the three heads at the kitchen table lifted and stared right at Elle and her baby, all at the same time.
For a moment, no one said anything. Adrian, Elle thought, looked good. He was tanned like a man who spent a lot of time outdoors; his hair was greyer, but also a little softer, curlier on top. He looked older, with more lines around his eyes, leaner through the shoulders, but he looked good.
‘Hello,’ Elle said from the doorway, because someone had to break this strange silence.
The boys kept staring at her.
Then Freddie turned his head to Adrian and asked, ‘Is that Mummy?’
And Adrian nodded and ruffled Freddie’s hair. ‘Yes.’
And Freddie looked up at her again and said, ‘Hi, Mummy. Who’s the baby?’
And then Teddy burst into tears: big, heaving sobs straight away, as if from nowhere, and he turned his body into Adrian and wrapped his tiny arms around his daddy’s waist, burying his face in his shirt.
And then a hand was on Elle’s shoulder, and Abi Black was saying, ‘I told you to wait outside. We needed to get them ready for this.’
And Adrian had his arms around both the boys and was muttering into Teddy’s hair, and then he looked at Freddie. Smiling, Adrian turned to Elle and said, ‘Hi, Elle.’
• • •
The best part of the entire day had come an hour after that, when Adrian had let the boys show her around Abi’s grubby little property.
‘That’s where the pig lived, Mummy, but he died.’
‘I think someone ate him.’
‘This is our vegetable garden—we get to grow whatever we want there.’
‘I grow mud.’
‘This is where Sol and Otto let us tie them up when we capture them.’
‘This is where Arden and River film us dancing like monsters.’
And so on. Elle wasn’t interested in their stories, particularly—little boys twittering on about nonsense—but she enjoyed the feel of their hands in hers as they pulled her between veggie beds and climbing trees.
It was obvious, of course, that the boys were being allowed to run completely wild under Adrian’s care, which was information worth filing away, but also that they seemed happy enough in an ignorance-is-bliss way.
They were still beautiful, her boys, she thought, looking at them as they kept trying to yank open a heavy gate to the field where ‘Gracey’ kept two Wookiees, which Elle could clearly see were alpacas. But they were not as they were when Elle was Instagramming them daily in their achingly hip little outfits: they were bigger, much scruffier, even with today’s obvious grooming, and she couldn’t imagine getting them to stand still again.
Adrian stood back near the door, mug in hand, watching them. Ocean had taken Alma off for a sleep—‘I’ll hold her,’ Abi had offered, grinning; ‘Not on your life,’ Elle had answered—and Elle stepped gingerly through the mud, steeling herself for the conversation that had to come next.
‘Boys! Come back, hey, it’s time for Mummy and me to talk.’ Adrian had obviously decided it couldn’t wait anymore. ‘Go and look at Mummy’s fancy car,’ he said to them, shooing them away. ‘See if you can make it go.’ Then he gestured for Elle to follow him, ‘Abi has an eye on them,’ and they went over to the converted barn a little way from the house.
Once they were inside, Elle could immediately tell this was where Adrian slept. How pathetic. How could he have ended up here? Elle was almost literally biting her tongue, knowing she needed Adrian’s cooperation for the next part of her plan, but her disgust at how easily he had folded without her was hard to contain.
‘So,’ she said, looking up the wooden ladder where she saw the edge of a bed on a high platform, ‘this whole living situation is … interesting.’
‘It’s temporary,’ Adrian replied, gesturing for her to sit at the table. ‘Good for the boys to have family around at the moment.’
‘Hm.’
Who’s going to break the skin of this tension first? Elle wondered.
There were a million fights to be had here, so much poison to pour out once the veneer of politeness was pierced. He was furious with her, she knew, from the emails and texts he had sent in the early months of their separation. Furious that she’d publicly blamed him for their lie. Furious that she’d abandoned him so easily. Furious about the boys. Furious that she’d vanished and left him with so much mess to clean up. She could see all that—but really, just like those bawling, emotional messages, his fury was impotent. Because, she knew, he would never stoop to what he considered to be her level.
‘So, where to start?’ Adrian was going to go first. ‘I see you have quite the new life. New business. New … partner.’
‘New baby,’ she added.
‘New ring.’ He nodded at her blue rock.
She touched it, twisting it inwards. ‘And you?’ she asked.
‘I have a new business sprouting. It’s taken me a while to work out where I want to go next, it’s true, but the road has been built …’
‘And a partner?’
Adrian laughed a little. ‘No. Not interested. Been there, done that.’
‘I doubt you’re going to be a monk,’ Elle said. ‘Not your style.’
‘Let’s not go there, Elle.’ He was steeling himself against her, she could tell. ‘Let me know what you want to do about the boys.’
Elle breathed in, looked down at the table and then up at Adrian directly. ‘You can keep them.’
Adrian seemed genuinely surprised. ‘What?’
‘They’re obviously happy with you. I’m not an idiot, I know I walked away. That would go in your favour if we took it to court. Mind you,’ she looked around pointedly, ‘I think your living situation would go in mine.’
‘So?’ Shock had transitioned to suspicion. ‘You’re just going to … let it all go?’
‘I want access,’ Elle said. ‘I want the boys to come visit me. I want the first time to be soon, and I want you to sign a clearance for them to appear on television with me, and in a magazine shoot.’
Adrian was shaking his head.
‘Your name won’t be mentioned in any of that,’ she said. ‘I want to be able to tell them we share custody, but in reality,’ she twisted her ring again, ‘I’ll sign whatever your lawyer draws up so that you have full, uncontested custody, and I have visitation.’
‘What else, Elle? It seems unlikely to me that you came here just to tell me that, knowing you as I do.’ He was struggling to stay calm, Elle could tell, although her offer had definitely thrown him off balance.
‘I want the house,’ she said. ‘That’s it, financially. Just the Brighton house.’
Her tone told him she hadn’t finished, and he knew it.
‘And?’
‘I want you to refuse to give me a divorce.’
Silence. Then, ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Between us, I want you to stall.’ She gazed down at her ring. ‘Not forever, but I need you to say you’re going to contest it, say you’re going to keep it tied up. Another six months, at least.’
