Designer black wool pants and a crisp white shirt are the perfect pairing for Jack’s mother, teamed with summer sandals in a light jade heel, short and to the point. Watching her stride across the grass, I figure she could have carved those heels with her teeth.
‘Sebastian darling,’ Amber calls, opening her arms. ‘It’s Nanna.’
Seb squirms, making me realise how tight I’ve got him pinned. I force myself to relax my stranglehold.
The driver’s side door opens and Jack emerges.
‘There’s Daddy,’ I croak. I try again, standing up, one hand clutching the rail, ‘It’s Nanna Amber, and Daddy.’
Seb doesn’t have far to toddle because Amber is almost halfway across the grass, heels spiking holes with each step. Jack shadows her.
These Bannermans sure got the genes. Mother and son are both beautiful people.
Amber doesn’t like showing her greys, so if anything, her hair is darker than Jack’s. They’ve each got sunglasses shielding their eyes, though now, Amber hikes hers to the top of her head.
‘Da-dada,’ Seb chirps, bypassing Amber to rocket into, then up, in Jack’s arms.
It punches a hole through my chest. Seb’s first word — and it’s not Mum.
I move off the bottom step, setting sandals on the grass.
‘How can he grow so much in a week? He’s so tall, Jennifer,’ Amber says, managing to make Seb’s growth spurt seem like it’s my fault. She looks around for the first time, taking in the beach house, counting each curl of peeling paint.
I’m glad I’ve pulled the weeds.
Telling myself to stay calm for Seb’s sake, I stumble forward and greet her with a kiss. My lips contact her cheek, and her favourite floral perfume hovers close. She pecks the air over my shoulder.
‘This is a surprise,’ I say.
‘Nonsense, Jennifer. Jackson said he told you we were coming.’ Clapping her hands like a performing seal, she puts all her sugar in her smile for Seb, ‘Have you got a hug for Nanna?’
Jack leans toward her and Sebby holds out his hands.
If he calls her Nanna, I’m not feeding him for a week.
Questions leap to my lips, like: how did you find me, what are you doing here, when are you going? But as Jack leans low and I realise he’s about to kiss me hello, I can’t find words. I turn my head as he aims for my lips, and his mouth contacts my ear instead. He smells like new car, all velour and trim.
I thought I’d feel more seeing him again — but there’s nothing. Not even anger. He leaves me cold, and it hits me: I don’t care.
Can Jack see this on my face?
‘I did warn you we were coming,’ he says, almost, but not quite, apologetic.
‘I guess. A confirmation text might have been nice.’
‘Yeah, but then you might have unexpectedly been called away. We would have wasted the trip and put 500 clicks on Mum’s new car.’
He’s standing too close. He hasn’t really moved back from our non-kiss hello. Jack is six foot-four, lean, with a shock wave of brown hair. If I’m really close, and I look for it, there are faint marks in the skin near his mouth, relics of problem acne as a teen.
By any count he’s a good-looking guy. I’ve never had to think twice about why I let him pick me up the afternoon we met, even if I have questioned my sanity since.
I retreat a half step, and his eyes narrow. ‘Looks like you’re expecting someone, sitting out in the sun like that.’
‘Emmy and Brayden are coming.’
His mouth twists. ‘Joy.’
‘Darling,’ Amber interjects, bouncing Seb in her arms. ‘No arguing please. We just got here.’
I check my watch. ‘I’d offer you tea or coffee — ’
‘That would be lovely,’ Amber gushes as only she can. ‘Tea for me please. No sugar. White.’
Great. ‘Coffee, Jack? White and one?’
He nods. ‘Thanks.’
‘Take a seat,’ I start up the stairs and they follow. ‘They should be clean. Or near enough. But you might want to check, some are a bit dusty.’
Suddenly, the Culhane’s porch is overflowing. To think I wanted company.
I escape inside. Well, it feels like escape. No one pursues me, although Seb’s cry follows me as the screen door shuts. Amber soothes him, then I hear Jack’s deeper rumble, switched to pacify mode.
I fill the kettle, light the gas.
A cup clangs as I bring it to the counter a little too hard, spoon in coffee and sugar.
Emmy sent me a text when she and Brayden left Perth, but they might have stopped for lunch or supplies. It’s after five o’clock now so they can’t be far away. Hopefully I can get rid of Amber and Jack without too much drama.
Sebby’s cries grow, and now I’m torn. There’s a nasty part of me that’s glad he’s crying — let Daddy and Nanna sort it out — but even as I’m thinking that, the mother in me aches.
One more serious scream is all it takes. I run to the porch. Sebby’s face lights up when he sees me. It’s me he reaches for, my arms he wants.
‘He doesn’t like it when he can’t see Mum,’ Amber says, not unkindly.
‘It’s been just us two here all week. He’s had so much change to take in. That’s all it is, I think.’
‘Well he’s happier now you’re here, that’s for sure,’ she says.
Jack leans back in the chair I think of as Brayden’s. I have to admit, he looks good in it.
Inside, the kettle whistles.
For a second, all three of us stare at each other, then Amber rises, saying, ‘You stay here, I’ll get it.’
‘Jack’s is the coffee. You and I have tea. The one with sugar is mine, leave the teabag in,’ I call after her.
Sitting, I turn Seb in my lap so he faces Jack, and I hug him close. It keeps my hands occupied, and I’m glad. I won’t chew my fingernails or do anything else that makes me look as uncomfortable as I feel.
‘It’s good to see him,’ Jack says. ‘It’s good to see you, too. You look great.’
Talk about too little, too late. ‘Why are you here, Jack?’
‘I told you. I miss you both like you wouldn’t believe, and Mum wanted to come. You know what she’s like. She thinks you should come home. I do too.’ Listening to Jack speak is like listening to a river of melted chocolate curl into a honeycomb lake.
It’s taken me a long time to learn that his sublime voice is not enough.
Amber pushes the screen door open with her hip and sets three cups on the table, sliding the coffee across to Jack.
Thick gold chain circles her neck and her wrist below a watch almost too dainty for the chunky gold links. The jewellery was an anniversary present from her husband — Amber’s first husband, not Jack’s father. Husband 1 had the money. He owned a chain of caryards in the city, five or six of them. Holden dealerships, I think. His estate went to Amber when he died.
I’ve never met Mr Bannerman, Jack’s father. Amber says he ran off with the nanny when Jack was small. I don’t know if that’s true.
‘So, Jennifer,’ she begins, wrapping manicured hands around a Fremantle Dockers mug. The purple of her fingernails is a perfect match for the cup. ‘You’re looking very settled.’
She says it like I pitched my tent in the worst part of the holiday park when I could have gone for the cliff with the ocean view.
‘Seb loves it. It’s kind of how a beach shack should be, don’t you think?’ I indicate the neighbour’s two-storey glass palace. ‘We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves in something like that.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. A little luxury on holiday is always nice, I think.’ Amber glances sideways at Jack and I don’t miss the emphasis on holiday. ‘Darling, would you get my handbag from the car? I was so excited to see Sebastian I forgot it, and there’s something in there I need.’
When Jack is gone, Amber’s eyes collide with mine. She looks so much like Jack it’s scary, because it also means she looks so much like the boy on my lap.
‘You’ve had your week’s little sabbatical, Jennifer. When are you coming home?’
Straight to the point.
‘I’m doing some writing down here. Real estate jobs for the same firm I worked for in Perth. I’m thinking about whether I can make a business out of it. I might stay for a while. Test the waters.’
Amber trills a light laugh. ‘It’s lovely to holiday in the country, but you don’t want to raise Sebastian here.’ She shudders delicately.
‘It’s Busselton, Amber, not the Bronx. And I’m talking about work, not a holiday.’
She puts her mug on the table. ‘Think of all the opportunities Seb will have in the city: schools and careers.’
Squeezing Seb a little tighter, I say, ‘It’s a long time before we need to worry much about that.’
Amber leans forward. ‘You can never start them young enough. The good schools have long waiting lists you know. I wish I’d got Jackson to understand how important school was. He was more interested in socialising than science. Always girls first — ’ She breaks off, because Jack is back, spilling his mother’s handbag on the table.
Amber reaches for it.
Seb squirms. He’s had enough cuddle time, he’s ready to move.
‘You should take him to the beach, Jackson. Let Jennifer and I talk.’ She taps her fingers on the mug.
Jack looks at me. ‘Do you think he’ll come with me?’
I check my watch as tactfully as I can. ‘Well — ’
‘Jackson hasn’t seen Sebastian all week, Jennifer. Surely you don’t mind him taking his son to the beach?’
I give up. Amber is an inexorable force.
‘The pram is inside the laundry, just around the door to the left. It’s not like you’re far away if he cries, just come back.’
Jack drains his coffee in three quick gulps, then goes to get the pram. While he straps Seb in, I get the orange bulldozer from where it’s buried in a rock pile near the front steps and hand it to Jack. ‘This one’s his favourite. There’s a track that goes to the beach fifty metres up the street. You can’t get the whole way pushing the pram, but it’s not far to walk.’
‘I saw it on the way in. We won’t be long,’ Jack says. He’s trying to push the pram, but he hasn’t taken the brakes off, and it stutters and jumps.
‘What the f — ’ he substitutes, ‘flipping heck is wrong with this thing.’
‘Brakes, Jack,’ I offer.
He disengages the brakes and the pram rolls smoothly across the lawn.
Amber glares at me. I don’t know what her problem is and right now I don’t care. I take my tea-bag out of the cup while I’m up, squeeze it with my fingers, and throw the bag into the weeds. Then, I call after Jack, ‘Don’t let him in the water. You might get that eczema meltdown I told you about.’
‘Okay,’ he says, and he’s gone.
‘Eczema meltdown?’ Amber queries, as I sit.
‘He gets it on his legs — it’s not bad — but the salt water stung it this week. He was in tears at the beach.’
‘You like it when Jack fails as a father, don’t you.’ It’s not a question.
‘What? No. Of course not. Why would you say that?’
‘You like that he doesn’t know about brakes on the pram…that he defers to you. It’s the only superiority a woman has in a relationship — the expertise when it comes to handling children.’ She sees me about to protest and cuts me off.
‘I’ve been there too, Jennifer. I remember what it was like. Men are expert at everything, except babies. Once Sebastian is older, his father will be just as capable as you at knowing what Sebastian wants and needs. He won’t defer to you over Sebastian’s care anymore. So make the most of it now, because it won’t last.’
Should I be outraged, or stunned? I can’t decide. Worse, there’s this sneaky alarm bell clanging in my head that tells me Amber has a point.
Even in the middle of the never-ending night feeds, when I’d be settling Seb — cursing Jack who I could hear snoring in our big queen bed — I loved that Seb wanted me. He didn’t want Jack. That’s the smug part of me that smirked when Jack tried to push the locked-up pram.
Amber regards me with a small, sad smile.
‘A child needs both parents equally, Jennifer,’ she says. ‘I want you to give my son another chance.’
Finally, I find my voice. ‘We fight all the time…’
‘That’s normal with the stress of a new baby. Everyone goes through it.’
I shake my head. ‘We haven’t been good for ages.’
The breeze ruffles the sprayed tips of Amber’s hair. Even now, almost half past five, the wind holds no relief — it’s the warmest day of summer so far.
‘Is there someone else?’ Amber asks, more gently than I would have thought her capable.
‘Is that what Jack said?’
‘He told me he asked you for another chance, but you won’t discuss it.’
‘There’s not much to discuss, quite frankly.’ Not after what he did.
Amber sighs, and her face, which has been as open as I’ve ever known it, closes. ‘You won’t get half his house. So don’t try.’
It makes my mind reel in confusion. ‘Amber, I don’t want half his house.’
She chuckles, a strangled-cat sound. ‘What do you want then?’
‘I want what’s best for Seb.’
Digging into her handbag, she says, ‘I really didn’t want to do this, but you don’t leave me a choice.’
Amber pulls out a crisp white envelope, unsealed, and lets a stack of glossy photographs unravel toward me. I flinch from them, like she’s unleashed a snake on the table.
The picture on top is of me at the beach house, my elbows over the railing, Sebby sitting on the lawn playing with the black plastic pot.
I reach for the pile, flick through it.
Brayden hugging me on the steps.
Seb and I at the beach the day he had the eczema attack. The camera has captured him mid-scream, hurting, eyes terrified, mouth wide. And me, kneeling in the water, my arms tight on him.
On the jetty: Brayden and I catching squid.
Each photograph I turn spreads more poison.
A red-brick toilet block, Seb parked in his pram outside, alone.
‘You’ve been spying on me?’
Carefully, patiently, Amber recrosses her legs, flicks the crease out of her pants. ‘When Jackson told me you’d taken Sebastian away, I had a surveillance team find you. It wasn’t hard.’
‘Does Jack know about these?’ I flick the photos. ‘Has he seen them? And why would you do this? Why on earth?’
She answers my questions in order. ‘Yes, he knows. He hasn’t seen any of the ones with the Culhane man — I didn’t want to hurt him like that. He’s seen the others. I did it for insurance.’
‘Insurance?’
‘If a judge sees these, particularly this one,’ she taps the photo of Seb on his own outside the toilet block, ‘and this,’ a tap on the one of Seb crying at the beach, ‘What do you think he’d say?’
My index finger stabs the first picture. ‘I left him alone for two minutes, Amber. No longer than that. And this one, this is that eczema meltdown I mentioned.’ I stab the second.
‘So who would we tell the judge this is then?’ Her fingernail clicks the photo where Brayden hugs me on the porch. ‘Someone you picked up off the street?’
‘I don’t pick men up off the street.’
‘You met my son in a pub. That’s almost the same thing.’
Every tiny hair on my body is standing on end.
‘Perception is reality, Jennifer. I’m just letting you know, if you’re thinking of taking Jack for half his house, if you’re thinking of taking Sebastian away. I’ll fight for him.’ Amber leans forward, elbows tucked hard into her sides, and she points at me. ‘You’re the one who left. You’re the one who walked away. It counts in a court of law, mark my words.’
‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you that he’s the one who cheated?’ The words erupt from the lava pit of emotion churning in my gut.
Amber’s eyes widen. ‘What?’
‘I said, doesn’t it count that Jack cheated?’ Each syllable comes out on a shallow breath. ‘He screwed Marnie James at Sea Breeze Golf Club last Thursday.’
‘That’s impossible — ’ her skin flushes red, then white.
Jack hasn’t told her. ‘I saw them, Amber.’
She slumps into her deckchair and her hands snake to the chair arms for support. The gold links on her wrists glint, and her breathing is so fast I can see the chain rise and fall at her throat.
Suddenly, I pity Amber her jewels. They’re all she’s got. That’s why she’s fighting so hard to keep Seb in her life.
It’s this sudden understanding that makes me lean forward and reach for her hand.
Her skin is surprisingly cool under mine. The tendons of her wrist flinch. She’s clutching the chair like it’s her anchor to earth.
‘I want Seb to grow up with you and Jack in his life.’ I say it like I’m making a promise to a dying woman. ‘I don’t want to end up in court. The last thing I want is to put Sebby through that.’
‘I didn’t know he cheated on you. I had no idea.’ Her eyes meet mine, bright with emotions she’s trying hard to hold. ‘I know how that feels.’
There’s a scrunch of tyres on gravel and I swivel my head toward the road. Brayden’s car noses into the driveway.
At the same time, Jack reappears. He’s walking fast, toes almost stubbing the pram wheels with each step. Speed makes Seb’s blonde curls stand straight.
‘Can we continue this conversation, Amber?’ I ask. ‘Another time, please.’
She nods. Her gaze isn’t exactly warm, but at least it’s less icy.
Taking three steps in one, I’m off the steps and on the grass. Emmy’s face cranes from the passenger seat as Brayden drives past the house to park behind the shack.
Jack is breathing harder than I would have thought the walk warranted, and Seb is all big eyes and smiles.
‘We’ve run from the beach path. He loved it,’ Jack grins.
I can’t quite match that grin, but I do manage a smile.
Amber says to Jack, ‘Darling, we’d better get going. Jenn has guests, and I’m sure she’s got things to do.’
I can’t remember a time Amber has ever called me Jenn. Judging by the look on Jack’s face, he can’t either.
‘When are you heading back to the city? Are you around tomorrow?’ I ask Jack, but it’s Amber who responds.
‘We’ll be here.’
‘Maybe if you come after lunch, you could take Sebby out somewhere. Like for icecream, or to a playground or something. He’d love that.’ If Amber is willing to call a truce, I’ll meet her halfway.
Jack’s gaze flicks over my shoulder and he frowns.
Brayden and Emmy are coming toward us, walking around the side of the beach house.
Sebby sees them too, bangs his fist at the bar on the pram, and I unbuckle him while I perform introductions for Amber.
Even Brayden and Jack shake hands — if that brutal clenching of palms classifies as a handshake.
‘We were just leaving,’ Amber says to Emmy.
‘That’s convenient,’ Jack mutters.
I tense, but I don’t think anyone else hears because Emmy’s asking Amber where they’re staying and the wind blows Jack’s words away.
Sebby arches his back, squirms in my grip like a slippery eel. We’re too close to the road here for me to risk putting him on the ground. There are too many Friday night travellers zeroing in on the caravan park.
He slips again and this time the others notice. Brayden and Jack step toward me, each ready to take Seb from my arms. Both of them hesitate, and there’s an infinitesimal moment in which Brayden stays frozen, and Jack comes on.
‘Come on, buddy. You’re too heavy for Mum.’ Jack puts his hands under Seb’s armpits.
Seb wiggles harder, twisting away from his father, bunting his head at my chest.
‘He’s tired,’ I apologise to Jack as I adjust Seb’s weight. ‘It’s been a big day.’
Jack, face reddening, tries to pry Seb from me. ‘Come on, mate.’
‘It’s okay, Jack. Leave him,’ I say.
Again Amber implores, ‘Come on Jackson, it’s late, he’s tired. Let’s go.’
Jack’s arms drop to his sides.
I feel for him.
I feel worse two seconds later when Seb leans out from me — like Jack isn’t even there — and opens his arms for Brayden.