The restaurant at the Eagle Street Pier was overflowing with businessmen enjoying extended lunches beside the Brisbane River.
‘I’m joining Matthew Oakley,’ Liz told the waiter who greeted her at the door.
‘Right. This way, please.’
Her stomach was hollow with tension as she was shepherded past crowded tables. She could barely remember what Matthew Oakley had looked like thirty years ago and she certainly had no idea what to expect now.
When she’d telephoned, Matthew had sounded surprised and reserved, which was totally understandable. They hadn’t seen each other since their student days and Liz had half-expected that he’d completely forgotten who she was, or at the very least that he’d say he was too busy to meet her.
But Matthew had remembered her and he’d agreed to lunch at short notice, and here she was, scant hours before her flight to London, finally facing up to her past.
It had been an impulsive decision and now she was paying the price – freaking out, as Bella would say.
What if he thinks I’m completely crazy?
Liz realised that the waiter had stopped and a man at a table set for two by a window was rising from his seat. The man was balding and he wore smart, silver-rimmed glasses. His skin was fair as if he spent a lot of time indoors, but his hazel eyes were familiar and they shone with unmistakable intelligence.
‘Liz,’ he said, smiling as he held out his hand. ‘Good to see you.’
‘Thank you, Matthew. And it’s good to see you after all this time.’
He waited politely while she was seated and the waiter went through his ritual with Liz’s napkin and the menus.
‘How long has it been?’ Matthew asked when they were alone. ‘It must be about thirty years.’
‘That’s right. Amazing, isn’t it?’
‘And you look just the same. How do you do it?’
Liz laughed. ‘Now that’s a secret I share only with my hairdresser.’
Matthew laughed too. ‘You’re a celebrity, of course, so it’s no surprise.’
‘Good grief, hardly a celebrity. What about you, Matthew? I know you’re a doctor.’
The waiter came back with a jug of water and to ask what they’d like to drink. Matthew said he was working and would prefer mineral water and Liz happily agreed, although she was nervous enough to quaff wine in large quantities. They chose their food, too, and Liz selected barramundi while Matthew chose a lamb-cutlet roast.
When the waiter had gone again, Liz said, ‘You were going to tell me all about yourself.’
‘Not a lot to tell, really. Unlike you, I’ve stayed in Brisbane. I’m an obstetrician and married with three sons.’
‘Three?’ Liz responded, just a little breathlessly. ‘All boys? How – how lovely.’
Matthew shrugged. ‘My wife was desperate for a daughter, but she was prepared to call it quits after three.’
‘Wise woman.’
On the surface Liz was quite relaxed. This was all very safe and enjoyable, dining in a good restaurant with an old and thoroughly respectable friend.
Looking very much the doctor, Matthew clasped his hands in front of him, his expression serious but sincere. ‘So, how can I help you, Liz? Are you trying to track down some of the old gang?’
It was so tempting to go along with this, to keep the conversation light and pleasant, to leave Matthew in peace with his happy family without stirring up the past. But Liz knew she’d never forgive herself if she chickened out of this chance.
‘You’re the only person I wanted to see, Matt. There’s something I need to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago.’
Wariness crept into his face, but he didn’t ask questions. He waited.
Liz took a sip of mineral water to wet her suddenly parched throat. ‘It’s actually ironic that you’re an obstetrician because I wanted to tell you about a miscarriage.’
He was frowning now. ‘Your miscarriage?’
‘Yes.’ Liz’s heart began to race.
His frown deepened. ‘I assume you don’t want medical advice?’
‘No, no, this happened years and years ago.’
‘Liz, this isn’t ––?’
She could see his thoughts whirring, piecing together their past and this one small piece of information.
He lifted his hands in a gesture of appeal. ‘You’re not telling me this has something to do with us?’
Liz nodded. ‘I found out I was pregnant after our––’ She was about to say fling, but quickly stopped herself. ‘After we went out those few times.’
He stared at her for long, silent seconds.
‘I’m sorry, Matthew. I know you don’t want to hear this now, after all this time. It’s just that I haven’t dealt with it very well and––’
‘God, Liz.’ Reaching across the table he covered her hand with his. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You’re sorry? I’m the one who wants to apologise.’
Matthew was shaking his head. ‘What for? A mutual mistake? I’m sorry it happened. And I’m certainly sorry you couldn’t tell me at the time.’
‘You were getting ready for your final exams. I had my sights set on London. It was the worst possible timing.’
‘We could have worked something out.’
The emotion in his eyes was unexpected.
They stared at each other across the table and Liz knew Matthew was thinking, as she was, of all the possibilities and choices and outcomes that might have connected them.
‘I was being selfish,’ Liz said softly. ‘I was only thinking of my career.’
‘Does this mean that you blame yourself?’
She nodded, grateful that he understood.
‘I’m sorry you’ve suffered, Liz. ’
Liz looked towards the doorway that led to the restaurant’s kitchen, making sure that the waiter wasn’t heading their way with their meals. She had to get his over quickly, so she told Matthew the worst part of her story, the wild horse ride and its tragic aftermath.
He asked when exactly in the pregnancy this had happened and she told him, but by this point her eyes were blurred with tears. When she blinked hard, she saw that Matthew was teary too. He tried to smile, then took a long swig from his glass.
‘You poor man,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to ruin your day.’
He said somewhat shakily, ‘You’ve never forgiven yourself.’
‘How could I?’ Liz dabbed discreetly at her eyes with a corner of her napkin.
‘But it almost certainly wasn’t your fault. Honestly, something like twenty per cent of pregnancies end in miscarriage. And some women can ride horses without losing their babies while others can wrap themselves in cottonwool and still lose them.’
Liz knew this, but it was reassuring to have it confirmed by Matthew.
‘I felt so bad because I’d actually been hoping––’
Matthew shook his head sadly. ‘All this time?’ he said and he looked terribly upset. ‘Liz, please, stop feeling bad about this right now. I hate to think you’ve been carrying this burden for thirty years, while I got off scot-free.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘And stop bloody apologising,’ he said with an awkward smile. ‘Bugger it, I think I need wine.’ His smile couldn’t quite hold its shape. ‘What about you?’
‘Yes, please.’ Then she remembered. ‘But don’t you have to get back to work?’
‘No. This is actually my afternoon off, but I wasn’t going to admit that till I knew why you wanted to see me.’
They both laughed a little at this and then Matthew beckoned to the waiter and ordered a South Australian white and they drank the whole bottle with their meal, while they talked about their careers and about people they’d both known thirty years ago.
For a while they talked philosophically, too, about life choices and timing, and synchronicity.
‘I’ve been to one of your concerts, you know?’ Matthew said suddenly.
‘Really?’ Liz stared at him, somewhat stunned.
‘You were amazing.’
‘Why didn’t you come to say hello afterwards?’
He shrugged and his smile was shy, almost boyish, but he didn’t give her an answer.
When their meal came to an end, Matthew insisted on driving her to the hotel where she’d left her luggage, then he took her to the airport.
‘It’s been so good to see you,’ she said as they stood on the footpath outside the international terminal. ‘I feel much better already.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it. And I’m really glad you rang, Liz.’
‘So I haven’t ruined your day?’
‘It’s been sobering,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s been wonderful to see you again.’
They hugged and Matthew held her tight. ‘Be happy, Liz. For God’s sake, be happy.’
‘I will be,’ she said, knowing it was true, or at least it would have been true if she hadn’t just so summarily dismissed Jack Roper from her life.