Three Hours Late

Nicole Trope

• Publisher: Allen & Unwin
• Year: 2017
• eBook ISBN: 9781925576078
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Literature General
• Index: Literature

Once, so very long ago, she had watched him like this when he came to pick her up from a date. Her stomach fluttered and burned with infatuation and desire. She would watch him walk up the path and think, 'This must be love.' But that was so very long ago. Now Liz is wary and afraid. She has made a terrible mistake and it cannot be undone. Alex believes that today will be the day she comes back to him. Today will be the day his wife and young son finally come home. Today they will be a family again. But Liz knows that some things can never be mended. Some marriages are too broken. Some people are too damaged. Now the most important thing in her life is her son, Luke, and she will do anything in her power to protect him. So when Alex is a few minutes late bringing Luke back Liz begins to worry and when he is an hour late her concern grows and when he is later still she can feel her whole life changing because: what if Alex is not just late?

1

Liz watched Alex make his way up the front path.

His progress was visible from the living room window with only a slight twitch of the curtains.

Alex stood deliberately on every crack he saw, sometimes moving to the other side of the path to make sure he didn’t miss one.

His hair was slicked down with water and even from her position at the window she could see he was freshly shaved.

Once, so very long ago, she had watched him like this when he came to pick her up for a date.

Then she had watched him with the delicious anticipation of the night ahead. She would stand at the window with her heart hammering and her cheeks burning, just waiting for him to ring the bell. Her hair would be perfectly curled and styled and her toes would already be pinched by her too-high heels. Her body would react to his presence even before she looked into his eyes. Her stomach fluttered and burned with infatuation and desire. She would watch him walk up the front path and think, ‘This must be love.’

It had been love.

Once it had been love.

Now she watched him to gauge his mood, to figure out what her best opening line would be. Now her stomach burned with dread.

This morning she was wearing an old maternity tracksuit and her hair was pulled back with odd-coloured clips. Her breath still smelled of her breakfast coffee.

She hoped he would not want to look at her. She hoped he would simply take his son and leave. Today, she needed him to see only that she was unkempt and ugly. ‘Don’t look at me!’ she wanted to yell.

Logically she knew that she could have been dressed in a garbage bag and there would still be no way he would just leave without forcing her to make herself understood again. No way would he just take Luke and go. Logically she knew that, but she also knew that when it came to Alex, the rules of the universe only applied sometimes. So this morning she had nursed her cup of coffee and prayed, because you never know your luck.

But now that she had seen him she knew he would want to stay. The dark green shirt he was wearing still held traces of crisp fold lines from when he had bought it. Liz had never seen it before. He would want to talk. He would not let her off lightly. Not after last night.

Shit—last night.

Liz didn’t want to think about last night. She wasn’t ready to deal with her mistake but Alex would not be dismissed. She could see from the way he walked and the way he dressed that he believed something had changed last night.

In the morning light that was always so cruel she would have to make the facts clear again. She would have to tell him yet again that their marriage was finished.

She watched as he smoothed his hair down and then, just before he lifted his hand to ring the bell, she stepped forward to open the door.

He smiled when he saw her.

She looked down at her cold bare feet. Her nail polish was mostly chipped away.

It was a charming smile. It included his eyes and encouraged a return gesture.

Liz looked up but stared past him.

‘Hi,’ she said.

He nodded in reply.

Liz angled her body away from him and called, ‘Luke, Daddy’s here. Come on—get your backpack.’

‘Daddy, Daddy, yay, yay!’ Luke yelled from the other room.

Liz knew that Luke would leave the television on and dart into the living room and it was possible that in the chaos of his excited greeting Alex would forget about Liz and just leave with his son.

‘That’s right, Daddy’s here. Come on, don’t keep him waiting. You and Daddy are going to have so much fun.’

‘Yeah, me and Dad are gonna have fun! Hey, Dad, what did you bring me?’

Liz rubbed her hands through her son’s fine blond hair, smoothing it back off his face. His eyes were lit up with the joy of seeing his father, his arms already outstretched in anticipation of a hug.

‘Ah, it’s in the car, little man, but can you give me a minute? I just need to talk to Mum about something.’

It was possible he would just leave, but it was not probable.

‘Do we have to do this now, Alex?’ She said. She made sure her voice was light and high. She made sure to keep out any note of impatience. It was his choice to make after all. It was always his choice. But which choice would he make? Who was Alex today? Which Alex was standing in front of her in his crisp new shirt? Liz rubbed at her bunched neck muscles.

After his greeting smile his face had set to neutral, hiding his mood. Her stomach churned and she recognised a feeling she had put aside in the last few months, except when she was talking to him. It came rushing back now, closing in on her.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, we do need to do it now. Go and find Nana, Luke. Mum and I need to talk.’

Luke heard the catch in his father’s voice but he was only three. He hadn’t yet learned when to keep quiet.

‘But, Dad . . .’

Liz jumped in quickly when she saw Alex’s eyes flash. He had never hurt Luke, never even laid a hand on him, but she could foresee a time when the boy would be a continual challenge to his father, and then who knew what would happen?

Alex didn’t like to be challenged.

‘It’s okay, Luke. Do what Dad says. Go and find Nana. And your blankie, Luke—don’t forget your blankie.’

‘Why does he need to drag that thing around, Liz? He’s three years old already. Isn’t it time he gave it up?’

‘I think he’s been through a lot, Alex. His blanket is his security.’

‘He wouldn’t need it anymore if his whole life hadn’t been thrown into chaos.’

And behind those words were so many years of blame that Liz didn’t even need to acknowledge them. Instead she dipped her head a little and weaselled her way out of the confrontation.

‘Just give him a few more months and we’ll sort it out, Alex. He’s only a little boy.’ She was aware that her voice had taken on a pleading whine. She hated the way she sounded.

Alex shook his head at her and stood up straighter, nearly reaching her height. He could always tell when he had the upper hand.

‘So what did you want to discuss?’ she said, buying time to allow herself a moment to try and find the right words to appease him. She needed words that would keep him calm and words that would help her maintain her distance. Her head filled up with white noise. There were no right words.

‘You know what I want to discuss, babe. I want to talk about last night.’

Now his voice had an edge of sexual fire. The tone crept inside her, warming her whole body.

Her cheeks flushed. She was mortified by last night. If only because of the way her body responded. If only because of the way her body responded right now, clinging to the memory. It was treason.

She sighed, wondering if it would be better just to say that last night had made everything all right and they were going to be one big happy family again. She knew she could pacify him now and then get her father to come over and explain the facts again when Luke was due to be dropped home. Alex understood her father’s size and the possibility of him using his fists. Liz had thought about calling in her father more than once, more than ten times, but she never had.

Jack Searle towered above Alex and Liz could see Alex diminished every time they were in the same room. But Jack didn’t like to use his fists; he sank into silence instead. He simply left the wife he couldn’t deal with. He just left and though Liz felt, even now, that she would never recover from being discarded like that along with her mother, she knew there were worse things you could do than just leave.

She thought hard about what she could say to Alex now but her mind was stubbonly blank. She had to be conciliatory but firm at the same time. She needed to keep him happy but make herself clear. Talking to Alex was exhausting.

Liz realised she should just have left it to her mother to hand Luke over to Alex. She should have stayed in bed until she had figured out what to say to him. She had been doing that for months already—being somewhere else when he came to pick up Luke—so why had she opened the door for him today?

She tried to find some placating words, but the small part of her that was recovering from being married to him took over her mouth and she said, ‘Oh, Alex, last night was a mistake. It was nothing. I’m sorry I let it go so far, but you have to know that there’s really nothing to discuss.’

‘I don’t know that, Liz. It was not nothing. I’m not nothing.’ Alex bit down on his lip. He knew her mother was in the house. Then he rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘We were so good together,’ he said, bringing out his smile again. ‘Surely you can see that. We were always so good together.’

She shook her head and looked at her feet again. The nail polish had been a bright blue. It was called Caribbean Dream.

Alex changed tack. ‘Come on, babe, give it another go. I can have you and Luke back home and unpacked in an hour. It will be so good for him to have us together again.’

His voice was wa...

Table of contents

• COVER PAGE
• TITLE PAGE
• COPYRIGHT PAGE
• DEDICATION
• CONTENTS
• THREE HOURS LATE
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• TWENTY MINUTES LATE
• 5
• 6
• ONE HOUR LATE
• 7
• 8
• 9
• ONE HOUR AND TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATE
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• TWO HOURS LATE
• 14
• 15
• THREE HOURS AND TEN MINUTES LATE
• 16
• 17
• THREE HOURS AND FORTY MINUTES LATE
• 18
• EPILOGUE
• OTHER BOOKS BY NICOLE TROPE
• ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS