All material on this site, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the author known as Ann Somerville. All art, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the artist known as Kiriko Moth

  Means of support

Copyright © 2008 Ann Somerville

  Chapter 2

Just as I was starting to really enjoy Paul’s company during the day, he went and got a job at Coles. Not full-time of course, and he was around at least two days a week, but with Sarah and Natasha back at Uni and in the social whirl, it felt very quiet some days. Exactly how it had been before he moved in, of course, but it felt somehow emptier. The days when Paul was off and working in the garden, I could relax. It felt like home again. Which was bloody silly of me and something I didn’t dare talk to Cam about because he knew as well as I did that most of my residents were gone in eighteen months. Lisa had been here over two years, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she moved on soon. She and Natasha tended to clash too often. Of course, Natasha and Sarah would probably find a flat together once they graduated and found jobs. That was if they even ended up in Brisbane. Nurses worked all over the state.

And Paul was still hoping to go home. Couldn’t really blame him. Terry and Lucy had taken him to his first gay bar on the weekend after he collected his first pay packet. He hadn’t liked it much at all, and I’d been unimpressed by the state he’d come home in. Paul, I’d already discovered, was the original two-pot screamer, and getting a call from Terry at two in the morning to say Paul was almost unconscious from drink, no taxi would take them and would I please, please come and pick them up, didn’t amuse me in the least.

Paul puked as we hauled him out of the car and I made Terry and Lucy sit with him all night to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit. Not that I got much sleep either, worrying.

Once Paul woke up very sick and sorry for himself, I fed him aspirin, Lucozade and the riot act. I waited until he swallowed two big glasses of Lucozade before I really tore into him, though.

“Okay, this isn’t going to happen again, Paul. If you can’t hold your drink, don’t drink.”

“Didn’t have that much,” he mumbled.

“You had enough to pass out on. Let me just explain to you a few of the things that happen to young men who drink too much around complete strangers. They make a nuisance of themselves and embarrass their friends. They get raped. They get beaten up. They beat other people up and go to prison. They climb into cars and kill other people’s wives and children. And if they keep it up, they end up dying before they’re thirty from liver failure.”

His mouth turned down when I said that, but I kept going. “Now whatever your family did wrong, they did this much right—they didn’t expose you to too much booze before your body could handle it. I'm not going to let you kill yourself while you live here, and I hope to Christ you’ll think twice, three times before you do it when you leave. You’re a wonderful young man with a very special talent. Don’t fuck it up.”

“‘M sorry, Evan. Really sorry.”

I cleared my throat. I’d got a bit carried away. “Just don’t do it again, okay? I haven’t lost a lunatic yet and don’t want to start with you. Now have some more Lucozade and a sleep while I go upstairs and give Terry a telling off for not keeping an eye on you in the first place.”

I ruffled his hair to show there were no hard feelings, but the truth was, seeing his pale, unconscious face as Terry and Lucy had manhandled him into my car, had really rattled me. I was rougher with Terry than maybe was fair and he barked back at me, but Lucy apologised and smoothed things over, while Lisa had rolled her eyes at the whole thing and said if Paul wanted to knock back a beer or two without being an idiot about it, then she could take him to a couple of decent places. The Wickham, she made it clear, was not.

Paul was still nursing a bit of a hangover by Tuesday, which gave me more than enough cause to vent my worry at Cam when he came over. “I'm not his bloody father. I shouldn’t be in the position of lecturing him about alcohol. That’s his real father’s job.”

“His real father chucked it in, Evan. He’s not the first inmate to go on a bender though. You’re worked up more than usual.”

I recognised Cam the Psychologist's expression settling over his friendly bearded features, and I could have resented it, except he was right.

“Yeah. Guess I am. He gets under my skin, and I have no idea why.”

“Been thinking much about Alison and the baby lately?”

I stared at him. Had he suddenly developed telepathy? “How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” he said, smiling kindly. “You probably don’t remember but you were like this when Lisa turned up. Even when Natasha did, only not so much because she doesn’t give out the same helpless vibes. Mate, you’ve got a paternal instinct a mile wide, and Paul’s pushing all your buttons. You’re not his father but you’re in loco parentis.”

“Knew you were a fraud,” I muttered, “spouting Latin at me. I see him as a son?”

“More...you have this great need to give and Paul needs what you offer. The last time you were all psyched up to care for someone helpless, he died on you. Maybe you’re afraid it’ll happen again?”

“I don’t know. Then maybe it’d be better if Paul found somewhere else. He probably wants to after the dressing down I gave him.”

Cam shook his head. “You think anything you said was as bad as anything his dad comes out with on a regular basis? Look, if you can’t deal, then fine. I’ll look for another place for him. But if you ask me, he’s grown a lot in a month. You’ve given him permission to express himself, probably for the first time in his life. Certainly the first time as an adult. I think he’s good for Lisa, and she’s good for him. And I think he’s good for you too. Might hurt a bit for a while but it might help you untangle some of your feelings. Might be worth seeing a counsellor too.”

“I did all that,” I said gruffly. “For two fucking years after the accident. Insurance paid for it and everything.”

“Yeah, I know...look, I'm not trying to give you professional advice here. It’d been unethical for a start. As a friend, I'm just saying, if Paul being here is making you think about stuff and you need help to work it through, it might be better to do that than to kick him out and not deal. I'm only talking about you now. Not about him. “

“We’ll see. I’ll be all right. Do you think he will?”

“Yes, I do, if we can stop him drinking himself to death or anything stupid like that. You did the right thing there and if he talks to me, I’ll reinforce the message. Some kids won’t listen, and lecturing won’t help. But he trusts you and he knows you care. You do all right, Evan.”

“Private or professional opinion?”

He grinned. “Both, of course.”

Cam took a hand in steering Paul towards healthier options like an under-twenties gay social group and he went on a couple of outings and a barbecue which he seemed to enjoy. The GLBT Catholics weren’t much to his liking but he apparently gained a little spiritual comfort from being able to attend Mass again. Lisa introduced him to some quieter bars, and to some of her friends. Paul seemed to prefer the company of women, at least for friendship, and I trusted Lisa to keep him out of trouble. Natasha and Sarah brought some of their fellow students home after lectures and Paul was included, but I had yet to hear of him even having his first gay kiss, let alone anything more. The only thing that made me sure he couldn’t be completely straight was the fact that if he believed he was, he’d be on the first train back to Charleville. I was in no hurry for him to do that. His father worried me, and Paul, however unwillingly, was growing up fast in the city.

A mere month after he started at the supermarket, a labouring position opened up at Lisa’s nursery. Between her recommendation and mine, Paul swung it easily, and now he had the full-time job he wanted, while I got used to a quieter house during the week, and to the uneasy dreams that were becoming too much of a feature of my nights.

But now things had settled down, and we’d got past Easter without any dramas, I felt I could take a long weekend to go up to visit my parents, the first since Christmas. My infrequent visits were nothing to do with how far away they lived, or my business. It came down to one word—terror. I hated driving, and not because of my leg. Not directly anyway. I rarely used my car in the city unless forced to, which was why Cam and I had fallen into the habit of him taking me to do the household grocery shop in his ute. But there just was no quick way to Pomona from Mt Gravatt except by car, and the train journey was a pain, so I tended to keep my visits to a minimum and talked to them over the phone instead.

I wished Cam wasn’t busy almost every weekend with his kids because I’d ask him to come with me. If I’d thought about it, I supposed I could have invited one of the inmates, but I kept that side of my life fairly separate from my family. Not because they’d disapprove, but because my parents were elderly and some of my lunatics behaved rather badly when faced with respectability. Paul wouldn't. Lisa probably wouldn't. Maybe next time.

Once I actually arrived home, it was always good. My parents were the best people I knew, and the most tolerant. Mum had known I liked boys as well as girls almost before I did and unlike Paul’s father, had treated it as something entirely normal. I was a lucky man, for all that had happened to me, and I hoped I never forgot that.

Dad picked me up at the train station. “How’s Mum?” I asked as we drove off toward their place.

“She’s fine. We had some news from Jeannie last night but your mother wanted to tell you in person.”

“Good news? Please, not bad news.”

“Calm down, Evan. Good news.” He glanced at me. “Are you all right? You look worn out.”

“I'm okay. Been a hectic few weeks. Looking forward to a few days away from it all.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I reckon you probably are.”

Mum hugged me as I came through the front door. “Hello, love. You look tired.”

“People keep saying that. So, what’s the big news about Jeannie?”

“Come into the kitchen first. I’ve got your tea ready.”

She’d made a steak and kidney pie, my favourite, and steamed veggies. I always got the impression she thought I didn’t eat well and she was probably right. Being in her warm, chaotic kitchen did me as much good as food though. To me it was like her personality in room form. She’d taken up pottery and painting since she’d retired from lecturing and the house was full of her creations and like her, the inspirations came from all over. Indigenous art, European, South American, some uniquely hers, all colourful and vibrant and welcoming. I’d probably be taking home a jug or a bowl with me. I nearly always did. I like having a bit of their home in mine.

She cooked as well as she painted, as did I. Fortunately, she painted better than I did. I ate a few mouthfuls of the delicious pie because I was ravenous, drank some of Dad’s dark, smooth homebrew, then looked at Mum, watching me from the other side of the table. “Well?”

“Jeannie’s three months’ pregnant and she’s going to marry Stuart in June.”

“June! She’ll be huge! But that’s great. Another grandchild, huh?”

“Yes, number five.”

“Six, Mum. Don’t forget Jonathon.”

She hesitated as if she couldn’t work out what point I was making. “Oh, yes. Of course. Sorry, love.”

She looked so upset I got up and hugged her. “Hey, it’s okay. I'm really pleased for Jeannie. Are you planning to go over?”

“We were thinking about it,” Dad said. “But it’s a lot of money. We don’t know whether to go for the wedding or after the baby’s born.”

“Why not ask her?”

I kept Mum firmly on the topic of the proposed visit to England, and off my stupid foot in mouth incident. Of course they hadn’t forgotten Jonathon. It was just a long time ago now and Kenneth had had two kids himself since then. Jonathon wasn’t around to remind them. No baby photos. No finger paintings, or school portraits. No excited emails detailing every milestone in the young lives. A marker in a cemetery they never visited wasn’t the same.

As we talked about Jeannie’s plans, and debated the best time to go to England, talked about whether I wanted to go—which I did, but would have to see if I could manage it—I found myself wondering if my parents ever did what I did from time to time, imagining Jonathon at different points in his life. When the schools started up this year, and I’d seen the pictures in the paper of the new preschoolers, I realised he’d be starting school now too, if he’d lived. I often wondered what his first words might have been, how I’d have managed the terrible twos, as I watched parents struggling with their own youngsters in the supermarkets. He could have turned out almost any way, I supposed. I’d only just got to know him, accept him as reality and not the slightly scary unknown that Alison’s bump had represented. I was still at the ‘terrified I’d drop him’ stage, and then he died from something so much worse.

And then I found myself thinking that I probably would never have another son. The thought hit me so hard that I stood almost before I’d make a decision to. I needed to be alone for a bit. “Uh, excuse me, Mum, could you? Just...uh...need a drink.”

She frowned. “Of course, love. Are you all right?”

I nodded and escaped. I poured a glass of water and took it out to the screened verandah, staring out into the night. They had acreage, so they had a lot more privacy than I did at home—not that I envied that, particularly. But the stillness of the cool earth-scented night air gave me nothing to react against. I was alone with my sad thoughts, with only the occasional deep, quiet tone of the wind chimes as a backdrop.

The screen door creaked a few minutes later. “Are you all right, son?”

“Yeah, Dad. Just...got a bit ahead of myself.”

He stepped out onto the verandah and pulled up one of the chairs. “Your mother wondered how you’d react to Jeannie’s news. I told her that you were fine about Kenneth’s children.”

“I was. I am. I just...miss them. Her. Jonathon. And I realised that I won’t be a father again. I wanted to be. Always wanted to be. You’re such a great dad, and I wanted to be just like you.”

“Oh, Evan....”

And now I’d upset my father. Bloody brilliant. “I'm sorry. Like I said, been a hectic few weeks. Lots of dramas with my youngsters.”

“Sounds like fatherhood found you again, just in a different way.”

I laughed. “Cam said that. Said I was in loco parentis. Most of the time I'm just loco.”

“You’re not, Evan. I don’t know that your mother and I ever told you how much we admire how you pulled yourself together after the accident. It gave us a lot of comfort.”

I turned to him. “Couldn’t have done it without you two.”

“You did it yourself. Maybe you’re right that you won’t have another biological child. You’re only forty, so anything could happen in the future. Your life’s not a waste, though.”

“I just....I just still remember holding him in the hospital. Being so scared, so amazed. So full of love and hope. He died while I hadn’t really got over the sheer bloody miracle of his existence. Alison went through all the hassle of being pregnant, giving birth, and she never had a chance to enjoy the easy bits, the fun. I suppose I’ve been thinking all these years that maybe one day...I’d have another chance. Now I'm forty and single and I live in a madhouse, and...it’s slipping away.”

“Welcome to middle age, son. All I can tell you is that this feeling passes.”

“Maybe if you have three living kids and a handful of grandchildren, it does.”

He didn’t reply. I’d probably hurt his feelings. I sipped some water and wished I’d waited to come up until I felt less depressed about things.

His chair creaked as he leaned forward, clasping his hands. “I can’t make this better for you, Evan, and believe me, it hurts for a father to admit that. Maybe you’re right about not having a child again. But you still have a lot to live for, and a lot of people who draw strength from you, learn from you. This family would be much poorer without you, and without having known Alison and Jonathon too.”

“Right at this moment, Dad, living for other people’s happiness has a bit of a hollow ring to it. I'm being a self-pitying dickhead. Just ignore me.”

He winced a little, probably at the crudeness. “I’d rather try and help.”

“I don’t think you can. We should go in. Mum’ll worry. I think I just need a good bracing cup of tea and a good night’s sleep.”

“We can give you that much, I hope. And more, if we can.”

I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder. “You do. I'm lucky. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you just how lucky I am compared to some. Thanks, Dad.”

Mum didn’t mention Jeannie or the baby or the wedding again that weekend. I felt bad that I’d dampened their happiness over their only daughter’s big news, but in a week or so I’d have recovered my enthusiasm, and would have decided if I would be flying over with them, whenever that was.

Instead, Dad and I talked politics, and engaged in our favourite pastime of Howard bashing and Rudd mocking, speculating if this time Labor had the faintest chance of breaking the Coalition stranglehold and if it would mean anything should it do so. I talked to Mum about my lunatics, especially Paul, and how Cam and I were slowly trying to organise some kind of reconciliation with the help of his mother and brother. The problem my parents and I had in talking about it was in even imagining doing that to one of our own children. All the sensible, reasonable plans and suggestions we could come up with, disappeared into dust as soon as they were exposed to the irrational logic of homophobia.

Still, just talking about it, and to them, and being in the company of people who loved me, did me good, and when Mum, dropping me off in Cooroy, kissed my cheek and told me not to leave it so long next time, I agreed easily. The trip was a pain but it was worth it. Maybe one day I could even face driving up here again.

My hard-won serenity didn’t last long. I made the mistake of checking my voicemail on the train, and there was a message from Cam that I had to reply to.

“Evan, glad I caught you before you got back. I wanted to warn you—we had a bit of trouble with Tasha last night. Didn’t want to call your parents since there wasn’t much you could do.”

“What happened? Is she hurt? Cam, come on, tell me.”

“Calm down. She’s a bit beaten up—she and Sarah were walking back from the bus stop last night after being in town and a group of youths started slagging Tasha off for being a Goth. One of them tried to grab Sarah, Tasha went for him and his mates piled in. Sarah scared them off by using her rape alarm and holding up her camera phone but Tasha still got bashed. Lisa ran them up to hospital—she’s just bruised and grazed but she’s bloody upset. Thought I better tell you so you knew what you were walking into.”

“Bloody hell. She didn’t go into Uni today? Is anyone with her?”

“Lucy this morning, Sarah this afternoon.”

I stared at the countryside rushing past and wondered how I could not have sensed something so awful had happened to my kids. “Cam, you should have called me, honest.”

“Thought about it, mate, but you’ve been looking so frayed lately, and there was nothing you could do that we didn’t. I went over as soon as I got back from my parents, helped Sarah deal with the police report and all that.”

“Did they get the little bastards?”

“Not yet. They’ve taken Sarah’s phone to get the pictures off it, but I don’t know how much use it’ll be. How long until you’re back?”

“Another hour and a half. I’ll call and see how things are. Thanks for handling it.”

“No worries. Just ironic that I see so many kids bashed for being gay and Tasha gets it because she loves wacky face paint.”

“It’s just another phobia,” I said bleakly. “Any other dramas?”

“Not that I know of. Sorry about this.”

I told him it wasn’t his fault and hung up, before calling the house. I got Sarah who said Natasha was asleep and pretty groggy. Sarah sounded upset and wanted me to hurry up and come back. I said I’d be as quick as I could. Bloody hell.

I jumped a taxi at Central and arrived back at the house by four thirty. Lisa and Paul were home—they were subdued and upset too. Sarah was in Natasha’s room, and as soon as I appeared, she flung herself at me and hugged me.

“Evan, they could have killed her!”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You did all right, sweetheart. Let me see how she is.”

Sarah sniffled and let me go so I could have a look at Natasha. The damage looked bad but they hadn’t broken her nose or cheek, or blackened her eyes too badly. The injuries would probably heal without a trace, but the damage to her confidence would take longer.

Natasha stirred and saw me. “Evan...you weren’t here.”

“I know. I'm sorry, honey.” I stroked her cheek. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit reheated.” Her words were blurred because of her damaged lips. “We were just walking home. We didn’t even speak to them.”

“I know. Good thing Sarah’s quick thinking. Cam told me—smart move with the phone.” She managed a small smile. “I should have been here. I'm sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

Natasha began to cry quietly which set Sarah off, so I had two sobbing women to deal with and hug. The reality was, I couldn’t have stopped this happening, but I could have been here to help them through. How could I contemplate going to England for a month or more if this could happen in three days? These were my kids. I couldn’t leave them on their own.

I asked Paul to sit with Natasha while Lisa took Sarah off to feed and comfort her. Sarah would have to go to the police station the following day. At least I could do that for her. Someone would have to speak to Natasha’s tutors too. I couldn’t see her being back at Uni for the rest of the week.

I suggested an early night for everyone, and told Sarah to go to sleep in her own room. Lisa said she’d listen out for Natasha, but our girl was firmly asleep under the influence of a fresh dose of painkillers. She could call me on her mobile if she couldn’t rouse anyone in the night, but I thought she’d probably sleep through.

Paul followed me downstairs, his expression worried. “How are you doing?” I asked him as I slung my backpack into the flat. “Want a cup of tea before you go to bed?”

“Yeah. I'm okay. Actually....”

I paused as I filled the kettle. “I'm getting a bad feeling about whatever it is you’re about to say. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I mean, it’s good news, I think. I realised I'm not gay.”

I sighed and switched the kettle on. “Right. So when do you want the lift down to Roma Street or haven’t you bought your train ticket yet? When did you have this epiphany?”

His mouth set unhappily. “This isn’t a joke, Evan. Look, if you don’t want to talk, I can—”

Though I was tired and stressed and not really in the mood for this conversation, none of that was Paul’s fault and he trusted me to talk to him sensibly about something so important to him. So I put Natasha’s situation to the back of my mind and dragged up the chair marked ‘Paul’ to sit on. “Sorry, that was rude of me. My brain’s still caught up with this thing with Tasha.”

“I know. God, she was such a mess. Lisa and me, we took them up to hospital. They weren’t even doing anything.”

“She looks different. That’s more than enough for some morons. Tell me why you think you’re straight, Paul.”

He clenched his hands in front of him. I wondered if this was how he looked in the confessional. “Um, well, I...uh...had sex. With a girl. And I liked it a lot. So that makes me straight, right?”

Okay, this was unexpected. Very unexpected. “You tell me. Do you feel straight? The idea of kissing a boy make you squirm? No interest in looking at nudie pictures of blokes?”

He bit his lip. “I dunno.”

“So what happens when your dad asks you the same question he asked at Christmas? Can you answer it definitely now in the way he wants and not be a liar?”

“I think so.”

I rubbed my forehead. Paul was the most confusing kid I’d ever had to stay here. “And you think he’ll believe you? You think he’ll let you do your art like before? You think he won’t be watching you for signs of gayness? You think you won’t be under pressure to bring home a girlfriend, to act like a man’s man, to hide your feelings? And do you think you want to live like that?”

He stared at the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Then you better be sure before you book that train ticket, hadn’t you. Tell me about this girl. How did you meet her and how come you had sex with her?”

“Um, it was at a party and we were a bit drunk. Only a little,” he added defensively. “We crashed in one of the bedrooms, and we started kissing, which I really liked, and then...it just....”

“Please tell me one of you thought about contraception.”

“We took precautions.”

“No condoms?” He shook his head. “Bloody Catholics. So they go on the shopping list too. Safe sex isn’t just about not knocking your partner up, whatever you were taught at school. Are you going to see her again?”

He jumped. “Uh...probably not. Not for that, anyway. It was just a party.”

I made the tea and gave him his mug. “You realise that this doesn’t mean you’re not gay, not in itself. Lots of gay men have had sex with women. Lots of people are bisexual too. I’d be pretty surprised if you turned out to be a Kinsey zero or six.”

“A what?”

I explained about the Kinsey scale. “Basically people’s orientations can change over their lifetime, and plenty of gay people previously identify as heterosexual without necessarily deluding themselves. Some gay people discover their bisexuality quite late on. Don’t buy into your dad’s bullshit, Paul. If you’re gay, it’s not a bad thing. It’s not a bad thing if you’re straight either. It’s just...a fact. You might have to adjust your expectations about marriage and kids and so on, but lying to yourself won’t make the fact go away.”

“But I like women. Having sex with them.”

“You liked having sex with one woman. Your first sexual encounter. Before you race off and marry some poor sheila to satisfy your father’s dynastic ambitions, ask yourself if you want to end up like Cam in ten years’ time—with an ex-wife who hates his guts for lying to her about his sexuality, and two kids he can only see on the weekends if he’s lucky. You ask him if he would’ve done it this way, knowing what he knows now, and I think you’ll find he wouldn’t. He was desperate to be straight too, because he fell in love with Greta—but it wasn’t enough.”

He nodded, looking miserable.

“You had your hopes up, didn’t you?” I said. “Thought this was the answer to your prayers.”

“Yeah, a bit. Sorry. And sorry to bring it up when you just got back and everything.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s all part of running the asylum. Now I want you to do two things for me—read up about safe sex and condoms, and keep doing what you did tonight for Natasha. She’s going to need all of us for a while. That’s what we’re for.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Evan.”

“No worries. Now, take your tea and hit the sack. Talk to you when you get home tomorrow. It’s Bewdy Day, don’t forget.”

That raised a smile. “Natasha will be happy about that.”

“Yeah. We might even have to break the no dogs upstairs rule, just the once. Off you go.”

“‘Night, Evan.”

All my poor crazy, mixed-up kids. I loved them all but they were going to drive me to drink one of these days.

Bewdy’s arrival was the only bright spot in an otherwise frustrating day. I spoke to Natasha and Sarah’s tutors and explained the situation—they each sounded sympathetic but explained that this week was rather important for the course. They’d do what they could but it would mean a lot of catching up. Sarah’s visit to the police station left her shaking and the cops couldn’t offer much hope that they’d catch the mongrels who’d done it, or if they did, that the bastards would be convicted or put away. Rather unhelpfully they suggested that Sarah and Natasha should avoid going out on their own, or avoid drinking so they could use Sarah’s car. I’d liked to have known if they’d have said the same thing to two blokes who’d been beaten up.

Natasha insisted on coming downstairs to keep Bewdy company while Cam and I did the weekly shopping, but she was still sore and fragile and prone to bursting into tears without any obvious cause. I didn’t like to leave her with just Sarah for company because the two of them were a mess.

Cam took the decision for me. “Mate, I can handle the shopping. Maybe Sarah could come with me for a change.”

“What do you think?” I asked her. “Get out for an hour or so?”

“Go on,” Natasha said as Sarah seemed about to refuse. “Evan, I don’t need—”

“I do,” I said firmly. I gave Cam the cash and the shopping list, with an extra fifty. “Thanks, Cam. Go on, Sarah. Splash out on something nice for tea for everyone. My shout.”

Cam managed to persuade her, to Natasha’s relief, I thought. Those two could be a bit too hermetic for their own good.

I settled on the bench next to her and chucked Bewdy’s ball for her. Natasha raised a brief small smile at the sight of Bewdy’s tiny legs powering away along the grass, but then resumed her sad stare into the distance, her arm across her painfully bruised stomach. Without her makeup and jewellery, she looked ill, and though no one would ever accuse her of looking frail, there was a brittleness to her which was quite unlike the Natasha we knew and loved.

“Want anything? Tea? A beer?” I asked.

“No. Unless there’s some better painkillers on offer.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. You know we could bring the little tyke upstairs if you’d be more comfortable.”

“No. I don’t want people putting themselves out for me. Evan, you need to make Sarah go back to classes.”

“I don’t think it’s just over you, Tasha. She’s more than upset enough on her own account.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have....”

“What? Been tall and beautiful and unusual?”

She glared. “Obvious. I never got beaten up at school, even if the other kids thought I was a poof.”

“You know this town is full of ignorant bastards. They could have just as easily picked on Sarah for her red hair. It’s not you.”

“I feel like it is,” she said, tears falling again. I put my arm around her and hugged her. It would take a while for this to go away and all we could do was love her and support her. But if I met any of those kids they’d find out how hard a one-legged man could kick arse when motivated.

By the time Cam returned an hour and a half later, Paul and Lisa were back from work and Natasha had cheered up with all the attention and affection. Paul was very good with her, I thought, his innocence and innate lack of aggression the perfect antidote to the thuggery Natasha and Sarah had endured. I wished there were more men like Cam and him around.

Cam and Sarah unloaded all the groceries upstairs and I was all ready to go into my flat to have a beer with him, but he stopped me. “Ah, Evan, I wondered if tonight we could have dinner with the youngsters?”

“But—”

“Just tonight, mate. I think it’s a good time to be family.”

I could have kissed him just for the look on Natasha’s face then. “You’re right. I hope you don’t mind the racket though.”

Bewdy was collected and allowed to stay on the deck under Paul’s close control. Lisa helped Natasha up the stairs and I followed Cam. “You sure about this, mate?” I asked quietly as the other two got ahead of us.

“Yeah. They’re my kids too. We can chat later, after we eat.”

I wouldn’t have suggested it myself but Cam was exactly right. This was a time for us to all be together, as much as we could anyway. Natasha relaxed because she felt safe and loved, and Sarah was less stressed because there were more of us to take the strain. She even said she’d try to go to lectures tomorrow, and Natasha could spend the day in my office where she could listen to her music, read her lecture notes off the web, or surf the net and be waited on hand and foot. Lisa offered to take a day off but I thought she didn’t need to.

“We’ll keep you in reserve,” I told her privately as we cleaned up in the kitchen. “How are you? You’re looking a bit stressed.”

“I don’t know why. I mean, men beating up women isn’t going to affect me at all, is it?” She slammed a cupboard door shut a little harder than she needed to. “If Natasha’s not safe, none of us are.”

“No one’s really safe. I feel damn vulnerable at times when there’s groups of youths around and I know there’s no way I could outrun them or outfight them. It’s a dangerous world.”

“More dangerous for women.” She folded her arms and glared at me. “No one’s going to knock you down to rape you.”

“No. But they might to rob me, or to just prove how macho they are, or because they’re out of their tiny brains on ice or speed. Darling, do you want to stay home tomorrow? Just to have the day off? Don’t let me stop you if you do.”

“No. I mean...maybe, but I better not.”

I touched her shoulder and she threw herself at me, wanting a hug. My tough little Lisa. Tough as marshmallow, really.

I packed everyone off to bed early again but the mood felt lighter, less tense. I thanked Cam for the suggestion once we went downstairs and I put the kettle on for a last cup of tea. “Not a problem, Evan. I wish I could do more, but I'm working the rest of the week.”

“I’ve got it covered. I'm sorry you had to give up your night off, though.”

“Mate, this isn’t work, this is friends.”

“Still, it’s appreciated. I haven’t had a chance to tell my news. My sister’s pregnant and getting married.”

“Straight up? That’s great. Over there or here?”

“There. I was thinking of going but...I can’t leave this lot for a month. I thought I’d send Jeannie the fare as a wedding present and she and Stuart can use it to fly over after the baby’s born.”

I handed Cam his tea, and he took it, looking thoughtful. “What?” I asked.

“Are you sure, mate? Not to go to your sister’s wedding for them—that’s a big sacrifice.”

“Not really. I mean, yeah, I’d love to be there, but...I’d worry the whole time and if something happened to any of them while I was away, I’d never forgive myself.”

He sat down at the table. “Can’t protect them all the time, Evan. I can’t even do that with my own kids.”

There was something atypically bitter about the way he said that. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah. Kinda. Leigh-anne let slip that Mummy’s been talking about them all moving to Melbourne. Of course, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Oh shit.” I pulled up a chair. “I'm sorry. Have you asked Greta about it?”

“Don’t really know how to without dropping Leigh-anne in it. I guess she’ll tell me soon enough.”

“Will you fight it? You could go for custody?”

“Even if I thought there was a hope in hell of the courts giving custody to a gay man over the mother, I wouldn’t do it to her or the girls. Greta’s got a right to get on with her life. She’s been reasonable about access right from the start. We’ll just have to work something out.”

“Yeah, but Melbourne.... You could move down there, I suppose.” Though I hope like hell you don’t.

“Would defeat the purpose of her trying to get away from me, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but your kids....”

“Price of dishonesty, Evan.”

I wished it was acceptable in our macho culture for a mate to give another mate a hug outside a football field but all I could do was watch his miserable expression and wish society was different. Or that his wife hadn’t been so freaked out by homosexuality. Or bisexuality, to be accurate. “I thought she said if she’d known, she’d never have married you. So no daughters.”

“You mean, I’d have only wrecked one person’s life instead of four.”

“I don’t think the girls would say you wrecked their life. And Greta let it wreck things.”

“Yeah, but you have to admit it was a hell of a shock to find out I’d been screwing a hot little Frenchman while I was overseas.”

Said Frenchman, unaware of Cam’s new relationship, had sent a rather explicit message to Cam’s private email address, saying he was visiting Australia and would like to meet up...and more. Unfortunately, Greta had seen it while using Cam’s computer and the shit had hit the fan, and nothing Cam could say could soften her stance or stop her leaving. “Before you were married. I'm sorry, mate, but I think she could have done better.”

“Maybe. She’s been decent about the girls and that’s all I could ask for. Miss her though. Six years on and I still miss her.”

“Know the feeling. Oh, and I haven’t told you about the other drama. Guess who’s suddenly straight, he thinks. Maybe.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Not bloody Paul.” I nodded and he shook his head in disbelief. “What the buggery?”

I told him about Paul’s stroll on the het side, and Cam tsked. “That kid is either the straightest queer or the queerest straight I’ve ever met.”

“Do you think he could actually be straight? Should I encourage him to go home?”

“No and no. Mate, if he really wanted to go home, he’d have gone. He knows in his heart that his dad will smash him to bits. Did he say who the girl was?”

“Just someone he ended up snogging at a party. I gave him the lecture about condoms but I think you need to reinforce that. I swear he was a breech birth—he’s done everything arsebackwards. Getting thrown out of home for being gay before he knows if he is, having sex with a girl before he’s even had a girlfriend. He even wanted to get absolution before he’d lost his virginity.”

“Jesus, all we need now is for him to throw himself into a nice torrid relationship like Sharon and Lisa had and we could sell the movie rights.”

“That’s my retirement plan, didn’t you know? ‘True tales from a lunatic asylum’.”

“Damn, you pinched my idea. Any chance of another cuppa?”

“Something stronger? I’ve got some scotch around here somewhere....”

He held his hands up in refusal. “No way. If I start down that route the way I am now, I’ll drink the whole bottle. You’re in no hurry to go to bed, are you?”

“Nope.” If he wanted, I’d sit here all night and let him talk. Losing your kids hurt no matter what, whether it was because of a drunk driver or an angry ex. I hoped Greta wasn’t actually planning a move. It sounded all too plausible. The fact it would rip Cam in half probably didn’t bother her at all. How could love curdle to hate so fast and over something they should have been able to talk through?

We talked until one in the morning, mostly about Greta, some about Jeannie and her wedding. Some about the choices we made as bisexuals, and how being honest could cost as much as dishonesty. Alison had been bisexual too, though in reality most of her experiences had been with men, as had mine, though not through conscious choice. Young Paul would have a much easier time of it, have all the rewards a heteronormative society bestowed on the straight, enjoy a trouble-free path to kids and marriage, if he denied his still unexpressed gay side. If he wanted a happy, ‘normal’ life, a good friend might be tempted to tell him to go down that path. Maybe I was a bad friend then, because I wouldn’t. The important thing was the right person, not what dangly bits they had.

Finally Cam, who’d been yawning for a good hour but who’d refused to give in, stood and took our mugs through to the kitchen. “Time to knock off. Thanks for letting me bend your ear, Evan.”

“Christ, Cam, how much time had you spent listening to me bellyaching?”

He smiled. “Not half as much as you think. I appreciate it though.”

“That’s what friends are for. If you break into that nauseating song, I'm sending you home.”

“I won’t,” he said, grinning. “It’ll all work out. Usually does.”

“Hope so. ‘Night.”

“Catch you in the morning.”

Cam’s news made my decision about not travelling to England final. Even if the lunatics could cope, if Cam was right about Greta’s plans, then he’d need as much support as I could give him. Jeannie would manage without my presence. I had a house full of kids and one very good mate who wouldn’t.

Natasha stayed home all that week, and seemed better for it. Sarah managed to go to classes, but the first couple of days were rough. I made sure to eat with the lunatics every evening that week, which I think helped. Lisa didn’t go out at all, which meant extra support, but I wasn’t sure if part of the reason was her own fear of being attacked. Since Paul tended to go with her when she did go out these days, I doubted that was the cause. I’d talk to her if she continued to be reclusive.

Cam got the confirmation from Greta he hadn’t wanted, that she really was planning to move to Melbourne. A meeting on the weekend between them on neutral territory and with his dad and her friend present, was moderately civil, but they would still have to formalise the access arrangements with lawyers. It looked like Cam would see the girls for most of the school holidays and some long weekends, and that was it. But Greta said he could keep Bewdy. A dog didn’t factor into her plans.

I couldn’t do much for any of them except be there to listen, and I did a lot of that over the next few weeks. Paul, to my relief, seemed to be the only one not giving me cause for concern. He talked to Cam about sexuality and had the safe-sex speech, and then he didn’t mention either going home or being secretly straight again. Maybe he confided in Lisa, but the two of them weren’t talking to me about it.

Mum and Dad accepted my decision not to go to Jeannie’s wedding calmly because they’d come to much the same conclusion—they’d send her the money for the fares for her and Stuart and the baby to come out when she was ready. Kenneth was planning to fly over from Washington so at least someone would be there to represent the family. There was some talk of Jeannie and Stuart coming back permanently and I hoped she would. I missed her and my parents weren’t getting any younger. Neither, I had to admit every day as I saw my hairline slowly retreating, and my paunch slowly spreading, was I.

A month after the attack on Natasha, Paul knocked on my door at seven o’clock in the morning—fortunately, I was already awake, but not enough to manage the prosthesis in a hurry. His eyes went wide as he saw me using the crutches, my stump on full view. “Um...sorry to disturb you, Evan, but Lisa’s sick and throwing up. She says she’ll be okay if she doesn’t go into work....”

“But you need a lift. Okay, give me ten minutes. Are you sure she’s okay?”

“She says it’s just a stomach bug. Sarah and Natasha are looking after her.”

Then she’d be all right until I got back from the nursery. Driving through rush hour traffic was my idea of hell and my hands were shaking by the time I got home. Paul needed to buy a car at some point. There was no public transport connection from here to the nursery, unfortunately.

Lisa was out of bed, looking pale and tired but far from death when I went upstairs. Sarah and Natasha had gone to Uni, and Lucy and Terry were still in bed.

She was nursing a cup of tea. “Sorry about getting Paul to wake you.”

“Never mind about that. You should go back to bed, and drink lots of fluids.”

She gave me a wan smile. “Tasha gave me the lecture. I’ll call you if I need...urgh”

She covered her mouth and bolted for the bathroom. I hoped this bug wasn’t going to hit the entire house as the flu had memorably done a couple of years before. That had been an experience I was in no hurry to repeat.

She was still sick the next day, and Tasha insisted she needed to see a doctor if it went on for a third day. Which it did, so I dropped her at the clinic after I took Paul to work, and waited for her.

She emerged half an hour later, stalking across the car park with a face like thunder.

“What did they say?” I asked after she got into the car and slammed the door. “Is it a bug?”

“I'm pregnant.”

I’d never experienced being at a total loss for words before but all I could do when she dropped that little bomb was open and close my mouth like a goldfish.

“I don’t want any lectures either. I just got that from that bitch in there.”

I closed my mouth. “No lectures, darling. What do you want to do? Go back to the house now?”

“God, Terry and Lucy’ll be there...can we just, like, go somewhere? I need a fag and some time to get my head around it.”

“Uh...do you think the cigarettes...?”

She gritted her teeth at me. “Oh don’t be stupid, Evan! I'm not keeping it! And I need some Lucozade or something or I'm going to puke again.”

I went to the bakery in the shopping centre and returned with two bottles of the stuff. She accepted them with a sullen expression. “Sorry.”

“Lisa, you’ve had a hell of a shock. I understand. Let’s go to a park and talk.”

I drove her up to Mt Gravatt Park. She bolted from the car as soon as I stopped it, then bent over but managed not to throw up. She sipped the Lucozade and then reached into her pocket for her cigarettes. I carefully didn’t say anything or indicate my feelings by my expression, but she shoved the packet back with a snarl, before stomping over to a picnic table under a gum tree to sit down.

I got out of the car and wandered over, trying to look as non-judgemental as possible.

“It was just some guy at a party,” she said without me asking. “Just a casual screw. He pulled out so I, uh.... And I'm not on the pill, and I don’t carry condoms for obvious reasons.”

I wondered if I should start giving new inmates the talk about the facts of life right at the start in future. “Did the doctor talk to you about options?”

“She wouldn't sign off on an abortion. She said there were clinics I could go to. She couldn't get me out of there fast enough once I said I didn’t want to keep it. Said to come back if I changed my mind. Not a fucking chance.”

“How long...I mean, it’s too late for the morning after pill, but I suppose you’ve got a month or so to make your mind up?”

“Mate, it’s made up. I don’t want a fucking kid. Not now.” The hand holding the bottle began to shake and she set the drink down before she covered her face. “I can’t handle this.”

I pulled her into a hug and let her cry. I wasn’t sure I could handle this either.

She pushed me away after a couple of minutes so she could blow her nose and drink more Lucozade.

“Lisa, I'm going to say this very carefully and I want you not to be angry at me, okay?” She gave me a suspicious look. “First of all, I am one hundred percent pro-choice. Whatever decision you make, I’ll support you all the way. Don’t be in any doubt about that. But you do have a choice. If you want to keep the baby, you’ll have a home with me for as long as you want it. I swear that.”

Her chin trembled. “I don’t—”

“Not right now, I know. And probably never. I'm just saying it out loud so you know. I’ll support you. Babysitting, financially, whatever I can do. If you want the baby, then I want it too. If you want to adopt it out, then I’ll support you in that. If you want an abortion, I’ll help. But just take a couple of days to think. You’ve got the time to do that.”

“I haven’t! The damn thing’s making me too sick to work!”

“Which is a fair point but there might be things you can do to help with that. Just to give you time to make a decision that’s right for you.”

“I’d be a shitty mother, Evan. And it’d have my father’s genes.”

I stroked her fringe off her face. “So do you and you’re pretty amazing.” She snorted. “The doctor didn’t give you any information about clinics?”

“No. Bigoted cow.”

“Fortunately we have the internet to make up the gap. But first of all, we need to find out what we can do for morning sickness so you can go back to work on Monday, and then find a good family planning clinic who can give you all the options.”

She rubbed her nose. “You want me to keep it, don’t you. Because you lost your baby.”

I smiled painfully. “Your body, your choice. It’s nothing to do with me.”

“But you do, right?”

“Not fair, Lisa. I meant what I said. Don’t make me keep saying it. Your baby isn’t a replacement for my son. No one could be.”

I couldn’t help it—my eyes were going all wet and I really didn’t want to cry in front of her. “Excuse me....”

“Evan....”

“Just...give me a minute, Lisa.”

I walked off, wiping my eyes and furiously blowing my nose. Not fair of her. Not fair at all.

“Evan?”

She startled me, and I almost fell, twisting too quickly. She caught me by the arm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to...I know you’ll support me.”

“I will. I really will. But I firmly believe every child should be wanted. Forcing you to bear a baby out of some idiotic morality is a sickening idea. You make the decision, and we abide by it. End of story.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. “Why couldn’t you have been my dad?”

I put my arm around her and hugged her. “Well, apart from anything else, at twenty I was in the middle of this passionate affair with a law lecturer at Uni and I was getting too much cock to pay any attention to vaginas.” She laughed. “I wish I was your father, darling, because if you were my daughter, I’d be the proudest man on Earth.”

“I’d be proud too. God I feel like crap.”

“Let’s go back to the house. You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want. You can hide downstairs with me until Terry and Lucy go to work.”

“I’ll have to tell Tasha and Sarah, I guess,” she said mournfully.

“And Paul.”

She jumped a little. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Want me to do that?”

“Um. Maybe. Let me think about it. He’s Catholic, so he might be funny about it all.”

Damn, I’d forgotten. “Nothing to do with him or his beliefs. What about Cam?”

She nodded. “You can tell him. Only...maybe he’ll be upset because of the thing with his wife?”

“I suspect he can separate the two issues and you know he’ll back you whatever you decide.”

I drove her home and settled her on the couch in my office. A quick search on the internet suggested crackers and ginger ale for morning sickness, so I left her looking up family planning information while I did a run to the local shops.

“I’ve got six more weeks to make up my mind,” she said when I returned bearing my purchases. “I’ll go bloody mad if I have to put up with this for another month and a half.”

“No one says you have to.” I dumped everything in the kitchen and returned with a glass of ginger ale and a plate of crackers. “That should help.”

I took the laptop from her while she ate and looked at the information on the Children by Choice website. It seemed thorough and fair, but Lisa had been looking at the abortion pages. She was dead right about one thing. I didn’t want her to abort the baby, but what I wanted was of no importance here. She had to live with the decision, and the baby. But I still desperately wanted her not to do it.

She felt better in an hour or so, and wandered out into the backyard for some privacy. I tried not to get my hopes up about the fact she still hadn’t lit a cigarette. She didn’t smoke many anyway, so maybe she just felt too nauseated. I wanted to be fair and supportive and non-judgemental and I was determined to stick to my word, but part of me could so easily see her as a mother, and as a lesbian, she’d have far fewer opportunities to have a child. On the other hand, I had so little experience of parenting, and I knew it was a very hard row to hoe even for a couple. Even with my help, Lisa would have to do it tough.

Over lunch she told Terry and Lucy, who were surprised but took the view it was her business. Terry’s only comment to me was that of all the lesbians he knew, he’d have picked Lisa as the least likely to get pregnant by accident, but I didn’t have time for a longer discussion about it because he and Lucy were going out before they started work.

Lisa was asleep by the time I needed to go fetch Paul and I realised I hadn’t cleared up if she wanted me to tell him. But as she’d told Terry and Lucy, I felt she didn’t want to keep it quiet and I could handle any Catholic morality explosions better than she could. Still, I waited until we were back at the house before I took him into my flat and sat him down. He’d already asked me how Lisa was, so he was busting a gut to know what was wrong.

“She’s pregnant,” I said, “and to warn you now, she’s seriously thinking of an abortion. I know that’s against—”

His amazing eyes widened in surprise. “Pregnant? How long?”

I frowned in confusion. “Uh, four weeks or so. Why—”

“Evan, that’s my baby. She’s the girl I slept with.”

“Wait...Lisa? Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t she?”

He chewed his lip nervously. “Um, well, we talked about it and she said she didn’t want to tell you because you probably be mad at her.”

“I’d be mad? I’d never....” I shook my head at yet another little shock delivered by my lunatics. “All right. Maybe you’re the father and maybe you’re not, but the fact remains, she doesn’t want to keep it.”

“She can’t. I mean...it’s mine. Ours.”

“No, Paul, it’s—”

But before I could stop him, he jumped up and tore out of the flat. By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, I could hear him and Lisa yelling at each other. By the time I got to the top of the stairs, she was screaming with anger and he was warding off her fists.

“Hey!” I bellowed. “Knock it off now! Lisa, stop it!” Paul finally had enough sense to back away over by the couch and she didn’t chase him.

“Evan, he’s trying to stop me having the abortion!”

“Lisa, it’s my kid! You can’t just...it’s a sin!”

Oh shit. “Okay, enough,” I said as firmly as I could. “Paul, sit down. Lisa, darling, don’t.”

“He’s trying to stop me.”

“He’s got no legal right to do that and you know it.”

“It’s wrong! And I’d marry you, Lisa, if that’s what you—” Paul had to dodge as she threw a coffee mug at him. It smashed on the wooden floor.

She picked up another cup but I got in between the two of them. “Lisa, stop it!”

“What the fucking hell is going on?”

Natasha stood at the top of the stairs, Sarah behind her. “Lisa’s pregnant and she wants to get rid of it,” Paul said. “It’s my kid!”

“Shit.” Sarah disappeared back down the stairs.

Natasha however, walked into the room, her expression furious.

“You’ve knocked her up and now you’re pulling this macho bullshit on her? You bastard!”

I held my hands up. “Tasha, Paul! Christ, will you all calm the hell down?”

“It’s not fair,” Paul said, getting to his feet but keeping a wary eye on Lisa, as I was. “I'm the father. I should have some rights.”

“Should have thought about that before you stuck your penis where it wasn’t welcome, you little creep. Lisa, did he rape you?”

“Oh fucking hell! I'm getting out of here.” Lisa grabbed her bag and flew down the stairs before anyone could stop her. I heard her Honda roaring into life and she revved up as she tore out of the driveway.

“Well done,” I said to Natasha. She pursed her lips at me in anger. “Paul didn’t rape anyone.”

“He’s still trying to pull this patriarchal crap on her.”

“I'm not! Why am I the bad guy?” Paul asked. I had to wonder that myself.

“You’re not,” I said, waving him to stay back, “but you need a few lessons in tact and diplomacy, not to mention a woman’s right to choose. Please, Paul...go downstairs. Natasha, I know you’re worried about Lisa but that really wasn’t helpful.”

“Trust you to take his side. We all know he’s your little pet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I play favourites all the bloody time. Paul, shoo, will you?”

He scuttled warily past Natasha and pelted down the stairs. Natasha continued to look at me as if I was dog poo, which wasn’t very gracious of her.

“He found out all of five minutes ago, Tasha. Cut the kid some slack. He and Lisa are friends—how does it help if they can’t sort this out between them?”

She folded her arms and pursed her painted lips. “Friends don’t make other friends pregnant.”

“They do if they’re both drunk and start cuddling. You’re taking this rather personally, aren’t you?”

She looked away. “Lisa’s my friend.”

“So’s Paul, or he was. How could you think he would rape her? Honey, he’s not like those guys who attacked you. You know he’s not.”

She walked over to the armchair, saw the broken mug and pulled a face. She fetched the dustpan and brush and knelt down to start cleaning it up. “She’s going to abort it?”

“I think so. I’ve made it plain whatever she chooses, I'll support her to the hilt. As I expect everyone, including Paul, to do.”

“I’d keep it. If it was mine. Of course, that’s not an option for me, is it? Paul makes babies, Lisa makes babies, I can’t. Not once I have the op.”

“Oh, honey.”

She stopped cleaning, her black hair hanging over her face. “This is going to break the house up, isn’t it? I was just starting to feel safe again, and now this.”

“Over my dead body, it’ll break up. A lot will depend on you, Tasha. Lisa needs this place, and so does Paul. You can make this into the argument which tears it apart or you can help keep it together. But you need to think about your feelings towards both of them before you get involved again. That was a pretty shitty thing to say to Paul—and it didn’t say much for your opinion of Lisa either.”

“I know,” she muttered. “Do you think she should terminate?”

“It’s not my decision. Or yours, or Paul’s. I want you to promise me you won’t put any pressure on her one way or the other.”

“I won’t, I promise.” She looked up at me. “I’d adopt it though. Seriously.”

“And you’d make a wonderful mother. It’s still not your decision.”

She picked up the shattered pottery in the dustpan and carried over to the bin, then used the broom to carefully collect any of the tiny, dangerous shards that might imbed themselves in bare feet. I wish she’d taken the same care before flinging those accusations at Paul. I wondered if I could mend this mess, and if the three friends would ever be reconciled.

I left Natasha then, begging her to please, please, go easy on Paul and Lisa when she saw them again. I thought she was sufficiently ashamed of herself to do that, but a lot depended on how Lisa reacted when she came home.

And now for offender number two. Paul was in his room and I asked him to come out to the backyard, though the sun was setting and the air had a distinct chill. I just found it easier to think outside.

As he walked outside, Paul wore a mulish expression, so I guessed I was on his shit list too. I didn’t know what was paramount in his thoughts—his rights as a father or his beliefs as a Catholic.

“Okay, that didn’t go very well, did it?”

“Why is everyone so angry with me?”

He really didn’t know, but then thinking things through didn’t seem to be Paul’s strong suit. “Well, Lisa’s angry because you went barrelling up there making demands when she’s already upset and worried, and Natasha’s angry for the same reason.”

“I just wanted to do the right thing. She doesn’t have to get rid of the baby. I’ll look after it. I'm not walking away.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Paul, that you want to face up to your responsibilities is admirable, and I mean that. But right now, your wishes don’t count. Lisa’s not a brood mare, no matter what your church teaches. Pregnancy’s hard and potentially dangerous, and whatever you say now, she can’t count on you being around for the next eighteen years. Offering to marry a lesbian for the sake of the baby isn’t the most sensible thing you’ve ever done.”

“Maybe she’s not completely lesbian,” he mumbled.

“Maybe she isn’t, but you’re not in love with her or her with you. That’s really not an option.”

“I thought you’d want her to keep it.”

“My opinion isn’t relevant either. Look—if Lisa, for her own reasons, decides to keep the baby, or she allows you to, then I will support you both to the absolute limit of my ability. But if I think you’ve pressurised her into making that decision, I’ll kick you out to protect her, do you understand?” He stared at me in horror. “That’s not a threat I’d ever make lightly, because I love both of you. But Lisa, right now, is the more vulnerable of the two of you. And this, by the way, is why they call people who use coitus interruptus ‘parents’. Use a condom next time, and don’t have sex with drunk people, ever.”

“I know. Cam told me off.”

I rubbed his shoulder. He was so miserable and eighteen was a horrible age to be facing this. “So this is how it’ll go, Paul. When Lisa comes home, you apologise, and you make it clear her decision is her decision. If and when she wants to talk to you about possibly keeping the baby, you can do that, and not before. I’ll let her know that you’ve offered to look after it—but if you’re serious about that, you better make sure you know exactly what’s involved, what benefits you can receive and have some kind of plan for actually doing it. If you plan to support her, then you better be prepared to do that for the next twenty years. I'm not saying it can’t work, but I can definitely see why this is a bad time for her to have a baby, and for you.”

“I want kids, Evan. I always did. That’s why I don’t want to be gay.”

“Oh, mate....”

He rubbed his eyes. “Should I call her mobile?”

“No. She might be driving and she’s sure to still be angry. You need to calm down too. Natasha’s worried about this tearing the house apart. I can’t let that happen.”

“I didn’t want her to get pregnant. It was just...we got carried away.”

“It’s happens,” I said with a sigh. “Hell of a wakeup call though. Why don’t you go get cleaned up and you can make tea for everyone. I want you to make an effort not to row with Natasha.”

“She yelled at me.”

“Yeah. And you won’t be yelling back. Go on. Take your time.”

I found Sarah in my office, hiding on my couch. “Are they done?” she asked, her knees under her chin.

“For now. Sorry, sweetheart. Natasha might like to talk to you, I think.”

“I’ll wait until she comes looking. I hate screaming and carrying on.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s been a bit of a crappy day.”

“I don’t know why she slept with him. She’s always saying how much she hates men.”

“I guess Paul doesn’t threaten her.”

She nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do if I was Lisa. Never thought about it. I suppose I’d like kids, but not now. I just want it all to be like it was before. No yelling. I'm happy here, Evan. We’re all happy.”

“I know. Listen, Natasha could really use your company now. This is the time where we all have to help each other. And don’t take it out on Paul either. He’s trying to sort things out in his head.”

“I don’t blame him, but he better not get heavy with her.”

“Paul? Wouldn’t know how.”

She grinned a little. “True. Okay.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. You can always hide down here if you need it.”

“Ta.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. God I was tired. Where the hell had Lisa gone to? She had a number of friends. I hoped she was safe. I also hoped she’d come back tonight and not do anything stupid.

I thought about calling Cam but decided my own feelings about all this were too confused and I wouldn’t be able to talk about it calmly. Instead, I checked my emails, discovered a minor crisis which needed a quick fix and gave me a useful distraction, tidied up a few things for the weekend and thought I could call it a day.

My mobile went. “Evan, it’s Cam. Look, I’ve got Lisa here in a state but I'm just about to go up to my parents. I can’t skip this weekend, not with Greta moving soon.”

“No, you can’t.” He sounded stressed, and I wished Lisa had picked someone else to land on. “Can she stay in your flat tonight? There’s no reason she can’t come back but she might not want to.”

“Don’t mind leaving her with a key, but I do mind leaving her alone.”

“I’ll come over. You take off. Sorry you got caught up in it.”

“These things happen. I'm sorry to pike out on you.”

“You haven’t. Try and have a good weekend.”

“Give it my best. See you.”

Bloody hell. It was already dark, and the Friday night before a long weekend. Still, I couldn't leave Lisa on her own. I found Paul and told him where I was going, and warned him to be on his best behaviour if I managed to persuade Lisa to come home with me. I hoped I wouldn’t walk back into World War Three when I came back. Days like this, I wished that I wasn’t the only person over the age of twenty-five living in the house.

Cam lived in a two bedroom apartment in Graceville, in an older brick block. He’d said he now regretted not having bought a house in the same area before prices went crazy, but at least he wasn’t paying rent. The traffic was horrendous and I was pulled over for random breath-testing—thankfully I hadn’t offered to have a beer with Paul—but finally I got to Cam’s place, and pulled into the car park. Unfortunately he was on the second floor. My short leg complained by the time I got to the top.

I knocked. “Lisa, it’s only me.”

She opened the door and walked off into the apartment before I got inside. “No lectures, Evan.”

“Not from me, darling.” I switched on a table lamp since she’d been sitting in almost complete darkness. She’d been crying again, and looked sick and weary and thoroughly pissed off with life. “You’re having a hell of a day, aren’t you.”

“Why won’t people let me make up my own mind? Bloody Paul! And Natasha, Christ on a crutch! Does she think I’d been giving Paul lifts to work after he raped me? Is she insane?”

I sat down on the couch. My leg just wouldn’t take any more of this today. “Everyone’s worked up.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. My family’s under threat. People I love are unhappy and upset. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She walked back out of the shadows and sat on the armchair. I couldn't help but be struck by how much less ‘homey’ Cam’s place felt than my own. Maybe that was another reason he loved spending time with us. It was just a collection of furniture hastily assembled in the wake of his divorce and despite having the girls to stay from time to time, nothing much had changed from the first time I’d come over here.

“I won’t have Paul telling me what to do or demanding I keep the baby.”

“No, and I’ve told him if he keeps that up, he’s gone.”

“You can’t kick him out!”

I smiled ruefully at her sudden change of attitude. “I don’t want to, but I don’t want you being stressed either. Lisa, he said he’d take the baby if you want to have it. I believe he’s serious. I don’t know how practical it is, but you can toss it onto the heap of options.”

“He can’t look after a kid. He’s only a kid himself,” she said with all the scorn of a not-quite-twenty-one-year-old.

“This is true, but he’s far from being an idiot. I'm not saying it’s the best idea. But he means it, and I’d support him, same as I’d support you. It’s your choice, and I’ll make him respect that, whatever I have to do.”

“God, why was I so stupid!” She smeared her nose with the back of her hand. I looked around and saw a box of tissues. I grabbed it and handed it to her. She took one and blew her nose. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to come home? I’ve spoken to everyone, and I believe they’ll leave you alone. If you want, you can stay in my flat. I’ll boot Paul upstairs.”

“I can handle Paul. I just....” She wiped her eyes with the tissue. “I feel like crap and everyone is yelling and telling me to decide and I can’t bloody decide. I might want to have kids later, but not now.”

“Which is your choice to make. Basically this was an accident. Even if Paul used a condom, it could have broken. Contraception fails. You don’t have to have a baby because of that.”

“Exactly!” She glared at me. “And I'm not a Catholic!”

“No. Though I think maybe Paul was reacting without thinking on that. You need to realise this is a big thing for him too and he’s not mature enough to deal with it properly. Not without help. He wants to be responsible. He doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch. He just doesn’t know how to do that.”

She gave me a half-smile. “He’s a good kid. But he’s too young to be a dad.”

“Probably. Darling, will you come home? You don’t want to sit here on your own, do you?”

“Can...can I just have an hour or so? Will you stay?”

“Long as you like.”

She reached over for my hand and I squeezed her fingers. “So sorry, Evan.”

“We’ll get you through this, Lisa, I swear.”

We managed to get through the weekend without any more dramas though the tension was thick enough to cut at times. Paul hid in his room most of it. Lisa was still struggling with the morning sickness and determined to manage it before she went back to work because she didn’t want to tell her employer she was pregnant. Not yet, at least. Natasha spent a lot of time on the deck or in the garden. Only Terry and Lucy left the house. It was like the rest of them were scared to leave, in case it all blew up in their faces. I knew how they felt.

Lisa felt she could manage work if she kept Lucozade and some crackers on hand—she said she could make the excuse of still not being entirely over the ‘bug’, and she and Paul left as usual, though I had a feeling the conversation in the car would be strained. The two of them had to sort it out somehow if they were to continue to work and live together. I didn’t expect it to be easy.

Cam turned out to be the biggest worry. When he turned up, he looked like shit, but wouldn’t talk about it, insisting he wanted to know about Lisa’s situation. It was only after I’d plied him with beer and fed him supermarket lasagne that he opened up a little. “Girls want me to move south,” he said, taking a long sip of wine. “I can’t. I love them to bits but.... Makes me a shitty father, doesn’t it.”

“You said yourself, Greta’s trying to get away from you. Move down there and she might take them somewhere else. You’d have wrecked your life for nothing.”

“Yeah. That’s what I keep telling myself.” He topped up his glass. He was knocking it back and I wondered if I should be worried. On the other hand, he wasn’t driving and there was only the one bottle. Poor sod needed it more than I did. “I'm trying to be an adult about this...but Christ it hurts, mate.” He covered his eyes. “Shit. Sorry. Just give me—”

“Fuck it, Cam, you’ve seen me break down.” Macho culture be buggered. I got up and went to his side, put my hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

“I just...I'm going to miss them. I miss them now. They’ll become distant, I’ll be unimportant to them. Seen it happen. They’re my little girls, Evan.”

He put his head down on his folded arms and sobbed. I rubbed his shoulders and despaired quietly along with him. He didn’t deserve this. I couldn’t even mouth platitudes about it all being all right because he knew and I knew it wouldn’t be. It would take a mountain of goodwill on his ex’s part to keep him an active part of his children’s life and there was no goodwill there at all. He’d try, I knew that too. The effort might just break his heart.

I took my hands off him when he finally sat up and wiped his eyes.. “Uh, sorry. I shouldn’t....”

“Some bloody psychologist you are.” I patted his shoulder, then squeezed it. “It sucks. You don’t need to pretend, not with me.”

He gave me a watery smile. “No. That’s the best thing about you. But you’ve got your own hassles.”

“Not mine. I'm just the ringmaster in the world’s most dysfunctional circus. Cam...you can stay here as long as you like, you know. Whenever, for any reason. Don’t go through this on your own. You don’t have to.”

He managed another pained grin but tears hovered again. I pushed the wine glass over at him. “Drink that and then you can tell me if you feel like music or moronic movies.”

“I think I’d just like to talk and have an early night. I didn’t sleep much over the weekend.”

“Maybe you need some time off.”

“I'm going to need all my leave to fly down to Melbourne.”

“What can I do, Cam? I want to help.”

He shook his head and picked up his glass. “Just be you, Evan. You keep me sane. Don’t change a thing.”

I could have said the same about him but things were getting dangerously close to mush and being Australian men, that couldn’t be allowed. So I fed him wine and told him about the latest idiocy of my pain in the arse (but unfortunately well-paying) clients and tried to distract him from his misery. It wasn’t enough, but it was all I could do. Cam’s resilience would have to make up the gap.

He seemed a little better when he left on Wednesday morning. We’d be in contact as we always were but I’d be happier if his schedule allowed me to catch up with him in person more than once a week. Of course, when Greta and the kids moved south, he’d have the weekends, but that was a hell of a way to free up time. I kept thinking of that lonely flat of his and wondering how I could make things better for him.

My lunatics continued to be tense and uncommunicative until the next weekend. Paul avoided me, which didn’t surprise me. Natasha and Sarah were busy with Uni, Terry and Lucy with work. At our weekly meal everyone carefully kept off all subjects even vaguely associated with Lisa’s situation, which made for a rather artificial atmosphere that we all fled as soon as we could.

Then I had two long conversations, one after the other. One with Paul, going over in detail just how he could support a child on his own. And then with Lisa, talking about adoption and the practicalities of raising a child as a single mother. I dared to get my hopes up that this meant she really might have the child after all, and Cam and I discussed it at length—what it would mean for the household, for me, for them—when I saw him the following Tuesday. He felt it would be hard, but not impossible. He, like me, had seen more unpromising beginnings turn out okay, and vice versa.

On Wednesday, we had our next house meal, again on the deck because the weather was still warm enough for it. As the dessert dishes were cleared away, Lisa stood up.

“Everyone, I’ve got an announcement to make.” I smiled to myself, hoping I knew what was coming. “I’ve booked the termination on the Friday before the long weekend in June. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

She sat down. Paul’s mouth dropped open and my heart fell to the floor. Oh Lisa. She looked at me, eyes brimming, and I knew then she’d done it this way so there could be no turning back. Two weeks and then it would be over.

Paul stood. “Excuse me,” he mumbled without looking at any of us, and then he went back inside. I heard him walking down the stairs.

Natasha turned to me, her mouth turned down unhappily, clearly expecting me to sort the mess out. But I couldn’t.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound adult and calm. “Lisa, you have my full support. I’ll take you there, unless you’d prefer someone else, and make sure you’re looked after. Everyone, you know how hard this has been. Please don’t make it any worse for her or Paul.”

Lisa got up and walked out without a word or even looking at me. I felt numb. I so wanted this not to be.

“I’d have looked after it,” Natasha whispered. “I really would.” Sarah leaned against her. I wanted to cry. I wasn’t the only one.

“Evan...Paul,” Terry reminded me.

“I don’t know what to say to him. This is going to break his heart.”

Terry grimaced. “Looks like it’s breaking yours too.”

“It’s uh...nothing to do...excuse me, guys. I...should go downstairs.”

I went inside the house and found Lisa standing in the lounge room, waiting for me. “I tried, Evan,” she said through clenched teeth. “I tried and tried, because Paul wanted it and you wanted it and I wanted it for the both of you. But I couldn’t. I just couldn't. I'm really sorry.”

“I know you tried and I'm sorry too. Let’s just get past this and you can move on.”

“I don’t know how to be a mother. I couldn't.”

I went to her and drew her into a hug. She held herself tense and trembling against me, resisting my attempt to soothe her. “It’s over, Lisa. Decision made.” And we’d all have to live with it.

Paul wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn't even open the door to me. Finally I gave up and Skyped Cam to let him know the bad news. He admitted Lisa had called him on her lunch break to tell him what she’d decided, and that he’d got the impression she’d been hoping he could come up with something, anything, which would make a difference. But he couldn’t give her any more than I had and it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t ready for motherhood and that was that.

I heard her leave in the morning and I got up, fully expecting to find Paul had taken a sickie. But he was gone too, and I had to assume it was to work. How he and Lisa were going to manage, I had no idea.

Her decision threw a pall over the house. Natasha walked around like a ghost, when she was home at all—she and Sarah were gone most of the following weekend. Terry and Lucy made themselves scarce, and Paul stayed in his room, emerging only to go to work, eat or to mow the lawn. Lisa hid too. I didn’t know what to do, except be there and make it clear I’d talk to any of them if they wanted. They didn’t.

“Nothing more you can do,” Cam said bluntly when I asked him for advice. “Even if you were their parent, you couldn’t do more. All you can do is get through it.”

Ten more days. I was torn between wanting it to go as fast as possible so we could put it behind us, and wanting it to go as slow as a year, to give Lisa time to change her mind, however unlikely that was.

The only good news was that Cam had broken down and told Greta about his fears about losing touch with their daughters. To his surprise, she was quite firm about the fact she didn’t want that to happen. She came from a broken home and didn’t want the girls to grow up without a father. The move wasn’t about getting away from him but to take up a career opportunity she was unlikely to get if she stayed in Brisbane.

He’d had quite a long conversation with her, he said, and a few things were resolved that had been festering for years. At least he felt reassured that he wouldn’t lose everything when she and the girls moved away. It still wasn’t ideal, but it was a lot better than he hoped it would be. To me it sounded like the move might allow Greta to let go of her anger, and maybe she and Cam would become friends again. Or maybe not. There was a lot of pain on both sides still to work through.

Wednesday was normally house meal night but Terry and Lucy were booked to work for a big function at their restaurant, so we shifted it to Thursday. Paul was still obeying the letter if not the spirit of my request for him not to eat in his room, so he cooked himself a meal before eating it at lightning pace and bolting into his room. I’d come up to keep people company, but it seemed my presence wasn’t wanted so I came downstairs and decided to pull out my guitar. Nothing else was giving me any consolation and it had been so long since I played the calluses on my fingers had fallen off.

I was picking my painful way through an easy bit of Bach when there was a knock on my door. I found Natasha wide-eyed and worried. “Lisa just collapsed. She’s got a lot of pain on one side. I think it might be her appendix.”

“Call triple oh. I’ll send Paul out to wait for the ambulance.”

She nodded and raced off. I pulled on a jumper, grabbed Lisa’s power of attorney form, then banged on Paul’s door. “Paul! Need you, now!”

Startled he emerged and I told him to get fully dressed, take a torch from the laundry, and wait out the front. “Is she going to be okay?” he asked as he struggled into his shoes.

“If I have any say in it. Hurry.”

I found Natasha and Sarah tending to Lisa, lying covered with a blanket with her knees raised on a cushion, conscious but very much in pain on the floor of the lounge room. I couldn’t kneel easily so I sat on the end of the couch, looked down on her and smiled reassuringly. “You’re a worry, darling, you really are.”

“Evan...God, it hurts.”

“I'm sure. Lie still. Natasha, is there anything we can do?”

Natasha wasn’t able to raise any kind of smile as she answered grimly, “Hope the ambulance gets here fast.” Whatever she suspected was serious but I kept smiling for Lisa’s sake.

The ambulance arrived in fifteen minutes. It felt like an hour. By then, Lisa was clenching her fists in pain, sweating and had lost all the colour in her face, and Natasha and Sarah were giving each other worried looks.

The paramedics wasted no time. After they took vital details, including the fact she was pregnant, Lisa was loaded swiftly onto a gurney and taken down the stairs, Sarah walking behind them.

“I want to go to the hospital,” Paul said. “Please, Evan.”

“Okay. Natasha? Will you stay here? I’ll call you if I think she needs you.”

“So long as you call me and tell me what’s going on.”

“Ring Cam, would you? Paul, we better go. Tasha, I should take Lisa’s handbag.”

Paul didn’t say anything as I drove to the hospital, and I was too busy concentrating to look at him. No point in asking him what he was thinking. I knew what he was thinking.

I showed the receptionist the power of attorney, but was told to wait as Lisa was being seen. Paul paced but I sat down, clutching Lisa’s handbag. This could take hours.

But it wasn’t more than half an hour before a young doctor came out. “Evan Sutherland?”

Paul jumped. I walked over with him, and we were taken through the doors behind reception.

“You have Lisa Scott’s power of attorney?” the doctor asked.

“Yes. Do I need to use it?”

“She was conscious and consented to surgery, but I need to inform you she’s suffering from an ectopic pregnancy. One of her Fallopian tubes has burst and she’s bleeding heavily internally. It’s a serious condition. You should inform her next of kin.”

“Is she...she’s likely to die?”

“It’s a serious condition,” she repeated. “The surgery will take some time and she’ll be in overnight, if not longer.”

“We’ll wait.”

There was another waiting room for friends and relatives which meant we didn’t have to go back to Reception, but I did anyway, since I needed to call Natasha, and then Cam, who would have the information about Lisa’s family if it came to that and who held joint power of attorney for Lisa. Natasha told me she’d suspected an ectopic pregnancy but hoped she was wrong. I thanked her and Sarah for undoubtedly saving Lisa’s life. If this had happened when everyone had been asleep...well, I didn’t want to think about that.

Cam was coming to the end of his counselling shift and offered to drive to the hospital as well. I didn’t think it was necessary. “You call me the minute you know how she is,” he said. “Even if it’s three in the morning.”

“Okay. What about the family?”

“She’d want her mother to know if there’s any risk she won’t make it but no way would she want her father to find out where she is. I think we hold off for now.”

“Agreed. With any luck, she’ll be awake in the morning to tell us what she wants.”

“She’s a worry.”

“Already told her that. Thanks, Cam. I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

We were the only people in the waiting room apart from an elderly man and what was probably his daughter, talking in Greek quietly on the other side of the room. Paul jumped a little as I came in. The kid was wound up tight. “She could die?” he asked quietly as I sat down. “Because of what I did?”

“She’s not going to die.”

“The doctor said—”

I turned to him and fixed him with a glare. “She is not going to die.” He bit his lip. “Sorry. It doesn’t help to harp on, that’s all.”

“No. Sorry.”

I patted his arm, and watched the second hand on the wall clock sweep around. Come on, darling.

Paul was silent for a good half hour, absorbed in his own thoughts, but then he turned to me. “Uh, Evan, if...when she comes through, do you think she’ll change her mind about the termination?”

I frowned. “Paul...the pregnancy’s over. That’s what’s happened. It was never going to go through. Don’t you know what an ectopic pregnancy is?”

“Not really.”

Christ almighty. “It means the embryo was developing in one of her Fallopian tubes, not in the uterus. That’s why the tube burst. The baby’s gone. It could never have come to term, even if Lisa had done nothing.”

“You mean...God killed it?”

“Nature killed it. Or God, if you insist. If you’re going to collapse on me, mate, I'm putting you in a taxi back to the house.” He’d gone white, his hands clenched into painful little fists on his thighs. “Paul. Knock it off. Be strong or go home. I'm serious. Do you want me to call Cam?”

He stared for a moment or two and I was about to take matters into my own hands, when he shook his head. “N-no. I want to wait. I didn’t know, that’s all.”

“The pregnancy’s not an issue any more. Lisa is. Concentrate on her.”

It was nearly nine when we were told Lisa needed surgery. It was close to midnight before another doctor came through and told us that Lisa had been successfully operated on and was now in the recovery room. “You can call in the morning to see how she is,” she told us. “She’ll sleep through the night and won’t want visitors before noon, which is when our visiting hours start.”

“She’ll be okay?” Paul asked.

“She’ll be fine. Sore but fine. Having lost the baby, she’ll need lots of love and support but physically, she should recover well. She’ll be in here for a couple of days but it will be four to six weeks before she’s healed. No stairs or driving for two weeks, no heavy lifting for at least four after that.”

“She has a manual job,” I said.

The doctor shrugged. “Then she’ll need to be on sick leave. There won’t be a problem writing a certificate. Do you have any other questions?”

I let her leave. “We should go,” I told Paul. “The others will be waiting and I need to call Cam.”

He nodded, but the doctor’s information had delivered a fresh knock to his senses. Our lad was having to grow up in a hell of a hurry.

Cam’s reaction was succinct. “Bugger.”

“She’s alive, that’s the main thing.”

“Yeah, but off work for nearly two months.”

“She’s a qualified nursery person. They won’t sack her if they don’t have to.”

“We’ll just have to face that bridge if and when we come to it. You okay, Evan?”

“Tired but relieved.”

“And Paul?”

“Right next to me.”

“Ah. Okay, then we can talk about it later. Thanks for ringing. And tell missy when you see her that I'm glad she’s not dead.”

I grinned. “Right. ‘Night.”

The girls were still awake and anxious, but greeted the news with relief. If Natasha had any feelings about the end of Lisa’s pregnancy, she wasn’t letting on. I just wanted to go to bed and leave any heavy discussions until I’d had a chance to see Lisa myself.

They went to bed and I followed Paul downstairs. By the way he lingered, and his sad expression, I realised he couldn't face being alone right now, so, suppressing a sigh, I invited him in for a cup of tea.

He stared forlornly at the table while I boiled the water. “What’s bothering you most?” I asked.

“Everything. So many things, I feel like my head’s about to explode.”

I made a decision and turned the kettle off. “I think this needs something stronger.”

I found the bottle of scotch Dad gave me two Christmases ago, and poured a measure each for us. “Medicinal,” I said as Paul stared dubiously at the golden liquid. “It’ll help you sleep.”

He winced as he drank it, so at least I didn’t have to worry about him becoming an alkie because of my giving it to him. I sipped mine. I wasn’t much of a drinker myself. I didn’t like losing control of myself, at least not through drugs.

“This is my fault.”

“No, Paul—”

“Evan, let me say it, will you?”

“Okay.”

He bit his lip and pushed the glass around and around. “I really wanted the baby. You know that. I understood that it was her choice, and I read up about the pregnancy side of it, but I really...hoped she’d let me look after it. I would have, you know that.”

He looked up with tears in his blue eyes, and I patted his arm. “I really do. If I thought you were messing around, I wouldn’t have talked to you about it. It wasn’t wrong to want it. I had some hopes too.”

“Yeah. I know. We could have done it. So...when Lisa said...you know...I prayed so hard. Prayed for something to change her mind, prayed that the abortion wouldn't go ahead. Then God gave me what I asked for, but he killed the baby and nearly killed her. Like he was saying, don’t ask for too much. Or something. It doesn’t make sense. Why would he kill our baby?”

I didn’t think saying ‘God doesn’t exist’ would really help. “About a quarter of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, Paul. My wife had two before she had Jonathon.”

“God killed your baby too. I don’t understand why he’d do that.”

I took a deep breath. This was all way too close to the knuckle for me. “I don’t know that he did. Most Christians don’t believe God works like that. I can’t believe anyone but a crazy person would say your prayers put Lisa in hospital.”

“None of it makes sense. If I’d lied to Dad, none of this would have happened.”

“I'm glad you didn’t. I'm glad you got out of that situation.”

He closed his eyes and tears seeped out from under the lids. His mouth shook with the effort trying not to cry, at least out loud. I scooted my chair closer and put my arm around him and he buried his face on my shoulder. I stroked his hair and felt like crying myself. My poor, wounded kids. My family was so fucked up, and I didn’t know how to make it better for them.

Paul quietened down, but I was in no hurry to let him go. It felt good to offer some comfort, to be in contact with another human, however damaged or sad. My need for physical affection was fed only in snatches, and tonight, I really just needed a hug. I couldn’t ever admit that to anyone though. I was the strong one, the one the kids looked to for answers and support.

“‘M sorry,” Paul murmured, face still buried in my shoulder. “You put up with so much from me, Evan. Why?”

“Because I love you and all my crazy kids. You’re a good person, Paul. Really likeable. You don’t have an ounce of sense in your head but that’ll come.”

He gave a kind of choked laugh. “It’s all confusing.”

“Yeah, and it’s been a rough year for you. I suppose you’re not going to work tomorrow.” It was already one in the morning. “I can call in for both of you.”

“Thanks.” He lifted his head and stared at me with those wide, long-lashed eyes. “Evan, I love you too.”

“Thank you.”

He kept staring, and I couldn't help thinking how extraordinarily beautiful he was for a man. Not just handsome, but classically lovely. No wonder his father had been suspicious of such a creature growing up in his household. “We should—”

He leaned forward and kissed me. I froze, utterly shocked, as his lips covered mine, not hesitantly or clumsily, but with gentleness and...passion. Tenderness.

I felt need rising in me, and I couldn’t let that happen, so I pushed him back. “Paul, please.”

“Evan, I want to be with you tonight.”

“Yes, I know. But I can’t for all kinds of reasons.”

“You’re angry?”

“God no. But I can’t anyway.” I patted his arm, keeping it avuncular. “But I think you kiss too well to be straight,” I added with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

It went down like a lead balloon. “You think this is funny.”

“No, I don’t. Look, you’re a fantastically attractive young man, and I'm no monk. If I met you in a club or anywhere else, and you made this offer, I’d...well, I’d think I was dreaming, but I’d be right with you. But you’re in my care, in my house. It’s just ethically wrong. And I'm far too old for you. Old, crippled, and you can do better than me for your first male lover.”

He moved his chair away and stood. “Now you think I'm an idiot.”

“I really don’t. I think you want someone to hold you, someone who cares about you, someone who can help you through this. I care about you, and I’ll help you, but I can’t...not the rest of it. It’s wrong, Paul. Like a teacher screwing a student.”

“I'm an adult.” His expression was set and angry.

“Yes. But the answer’s still no. Please don’t hate me.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped as he seemed to be fighting back his response. “I better go to bed. I’ll call work. You don't need to.”

“Good night then. We can talk tomorrow.”

He shook his head and walked out. I put my head in my hands. Bugger it. If it wasn’t so late, I’d call Cam, but I already knew he’d tell me I’d done the right thing. Why did it feel so wrong?

Without Lisa’s car to wake me, and being exhausted, I slept all the way through to nearly nine. I started to get up to make the call to Lisa’s work, but then remembered Paul said he’d deal with that. If I called anyway, he’d think I thought he was a twit and I’d already insulted him badly enough.

I lay staring at the ceiling. I should call the hospital. And Cam. I should see about whether Lisa would need to be shifted downstairs. I should go talk to Paul.

I couldn’t make myself move. I felt like I had after I’d come out of hospital, with a stump, no wife, no baby, and unable to face going back to the office job. I wanted to run away and leave it all behind, but this time, there were people depending on me. A lot of very vulnerable people who needed and trusted me, and who were just a bit too wrapped up in their own problems to care if I crumbled under the weight of it all.

I showered and washed the stump. Staring at it, my decision not to take Paul up on his feckless offer made even more sense. I was well past my prime, and beaten up. Paul could do so much better.

I knocked on his door. No answer. When more banging produced nothing, I realised the kid had gone out. Great. Sarah’s car was still there so I went upstairs. She and Natasha were still eating breakfast. What day was it? Thursday—they had late lectures.

“Have you called the hospital yet?” Natasha asked as I poured myself some tea.

“No. Could you do that for me? And did you see Paul? He’s gone.”

“No,” Sarah said. “Did he go to work?”

He might have done. The kid was screwed up enough to try. “Dunno. I was thinking we should swap Lisa and Paul around. She can’t manage stairs for a bit and I don’t want her to feel trapped.”

They agreed it was a good idea and since Terry would be home early, we could do it this evening. If Paul hadn’t disappeared, we could have started sooner, but I didn’t know when he’d be back. I tried his mobile phone but it was switched off.

Sarah put together a bag of necessities for Lisa, though she most likely wouldn’t need that much. Natasha made the call and was told Lisa was sleeping. “Visiting hours start at twelve,” she told me. “You’re going up?”

“Of course.”

“Evan, are you all right?” Sarah asked. “You look really down.”

“I am a bit. Just worried about our girl, and tired.”

“All that fretting about having a termination and then her body decides to make the decision itself,” Natasha said. “Pity it didn’t resolve sooner. We could have done without all the drama.”

“Yeah. By the way, Paul’s fairly broken up about the whole thing. Be nice to him, will you?”

“If he’s nice to Lisa. He’s been a bit of a bitch lately.”

“He’s had a lot to work through. He cares a lot for Lisa, and she cares about him. Don’t hurt them, honey.”

Natasha’s mouth was tight as she answered. “They’re already hurt, Evan. Sarah, babe, we should go. We’ll be back before four.”

“See you then. Have a good day,” I said, and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

She gave me a startled look, but I didn’t explain that I was grateful for her being strong and alive and calm. I hugged Sarah and then let them go. It would be a while yet before we settled down to normal again.

I still had work to do for the business, but my concentration was shot to buggery. Half a dozen times I nearly dialled Cam’s number before telling myself he didn’t need my middle-aged angst on top of his very real problems, not to mention whatever was going on at work. I needed to talk to Paul, and Paul needed to accept that I wasn’t rejecting him, just the sex. Figured. The first offer in five years, at a time when I might be remotely tempted, and it was the one offer I absolutely could never accept.

Somehow I managed to keep myself occupied until nearly noon, then I changed into respectable clothes, and drove to the hospital. Paul still hadn’t reappeared. If he’d run away, I’d murder him. That was the last thing any of us needed to deal with right now.

Last night I’d been too worried about Lisa and determined to keep a hold on Paul to really think about it, but coming back today reminded me just how much I loathed hospitals. I’d not had anything to do with them until Alison and I started trying for a baby, but the negative associations had all been after the accident. The very smell of them turned my stomach, especially on the surgical wards.

But my bad mood evaporated into shock as I saw who was sitting at Lisa’s bedside, dressed in his Sunday best. “Paul, I didn’t know you were....”

His expression was carefully neutral as he got to his feet. “Yeah. I’ll leave you two to talk for a bit. I’ll be outside.” He walked out before I could even thank him.

Lisa, on a drip, looked pale and tired, but much better than the last time I’d seen her. I kissed her cheek and sat in the chair Paul had vacated. “How are you, darling?”

“I ache all over.”

“Paul wasn’t upsetting you, was he?”

“No.” She frowned. “He was lovely. See the flowers?” On the little side table sat a small but exquisite bunch of pink-edged yellow roses just coming out of bud. “He told work I’d be off for a while. Six to eight weeks, the doctor said.” She pulled a face. “I can’t even drive for two.”

“Don’t worry about that. I want to move you into Paul’s room, do a swap. Is that okay?”

She struggled to sit up a little but had to admit defeat. “I guess so. I can’t really think that clearly. I just want to go back to sleep. They said I could come out on Saturday. Normally it would be tomorrow but they want to keep an eye on me one more day. I don’t care.”

Not much like her, but I supposed she was too sore and tired. “I think Natasha and Sarah might visit this evening, or Terry and Lucy. I’ve brought a bag. Do you need anything?”

“A book?”

I checked inside the little overnight bag. “There’s something bright and sparkly in there which might be a book.”

“Snob.”

I grinned. “How do you feel otherwise? About the pregnancy and all that?”

“Just...numb. Relieved. Sad.” Her mouth turned down. “But it wasn’t going to happen, was it? Whatever I did. They had to remove an ovary too. So that cuts down my chances right away.”

“But not to nothing.”

“Dunno. Can’t really deal with all that now, Evan.”

I squeezed her fingers. “No. I'm just glad you’re all right. You had me worried sick.”

“I had me worried. I thought I was dying!”

She nearly had done, but I’d never tell her. “No such luck, kiddo. You’re stuck with the lunatics. Did Paul say what your boss said?”

“Yeah. He said I wasn’t to worry, to call him when I was ready and my job would be there when I came back. Which is something. I'm going to go insane if I can’t work for two months.”

“We’ll find something to amuse you. You could do a lot of cooking.” I grinned when she responded by sticking her tongue out. “That’s my girl.”

We talked a little longer but she really was tired, and seeing she was drifting off, I told her I’d see her tomorrow. She nodded and closed her eyes. I thought she was asleep by the time I’d washed my hands and left the ward.

Paul was hanging around outside. “She needs her rest.” I told him. “You could come back tonight or tomorrow.”

He answered without looking at me. “Okay.”

“Do you want to come back to the house? We need to swap you and Lisa around since she can’t do the stairs.”

“Uh. Okay. I was going to look for a car, since...you know.”

“I don’t mind giving you lifts, Paul.”

“I bet.”

Give me strength. “We should talk, don’t you think?”

“I need a car.”

“Not right this minute you don’t. Have you eaten?” I’d skipped lunch and breakfast had only been two cups of tea. I was hungry. He shrugged. “Then how about we drive down to Cleveland, pick up some fish and chips and sit on the bay?”

“Don’t you have stuff to do? Important stuff?”

“You’re important stuff, Paul. Please.”

He screwed up his face but nodded. I did have stuff to do at home, mostly to do with moving the rooms around, but it could wait.

We picked up the food at a tiny little fish and chip shop in Cleveland and drove to Wellington Point. There were a couple of people exercising dogs but otherwise we had the place to ourselves. The wind was brisk, whipping up the bay into relentless small waves, but though it was just days to the start of winter, the sun was hot and the shade of a tree welcome.

Paul’s sulks weren’t equal to a teenager’s appetite and he ate three quarters of the chips without any difficulty. I picked at the fish, thinking it was years since I’d been down here and done this. I loved getting down by the water. Why didn’t I do it more often? No one to do it with, that was the real reason.

“I wish you’d told me you were going to see Lisa.”

He stared out over the bay, eyes hooded against the glare. “I didn’t know. I went out...I went to the church, but that didn’t help. I caught the bus into town and wandered around, had a look at the car ads in the papers, and then I thought I needed to see her. Make sure she was okay. I didn’t upset her,” he added, glancing at me with a defensive expression.

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