The Soulmate, page 20
‘Yes – I’ve checked.’
‘So, you’re worried too, then? You must be if you’ve checked.’
I close my eyes, breathe deeply. ‘I always check. The doctor recommends that someone does.’ I open my eyes. ‘Look. He didn’t do anything. But if we tell the police, they’ll think he had something to do with it. And now that Max –’
‘Wait!’ Kat’s eyes widen. ‘You’ve been in touch with Max Cameron?’
‘Yes.’
‘You need to go to the police, Pip. You need to tell them about Gabe’s connection to Max. If Gabe’s done nothing wrong, he has nothing to hide.’
‘Why is everyone assuming that Gabe is the one with something to hide?’ I explode. ‘Why doesn’t anyone consider that it could be me?’
This stops Kat.
I take a breath. ‘Amanda came here because she found a video – of me and Max.’
Kat’s jaw drops. ‘You mean . . .?’
I nod. ‘It was before we left Melbourne. But Amanda only just found out. That’s why she came here. She jumped because of me, Kat.’
Kat sinks onto the bed.
‘So you can all stop pointing your fingers at Gabe; he didn’t tell the police because he was trying to protect me. I’m the bad guy this time.’
‘But why don’t you just explain that to the police? It’s not as if you pushed her.’
‘Gabe kept it a secret because he didn’t want me to blame myself. But if he goes to the police now and admits he lied about knowing her, and given his history with Max, it would look terrible for him. It’d seem like he was guilty.’
Kat’s forehead creases. ‘He lied to avoid looking guilty?’
‘No. He lied to protect me.’
She stares at me for a long moment. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’
‘Yes it does. He didn’t want me to –’
‘What is it going to take for you to see what is happening here, Pip?’ Kat cries. ‘What is he going to have to do? You’ve supported him through affairs. An illegitimate child. His career disgrace. A mental illness. What next?’ She rakes a hand through her hair. ‘We’re all worried sick about you, Pip. Me, Mei, Mum and Dad. We’ve been worried for years. Why do you think we all moved up here when you did? Why do you think we’re always at your house?’
This stops me. ‘Because . . . we’re a close family.’
‘No. No, Pippa. This isn’t about us being a close family. This is about you. You’ve supported Gabe through a lot. Someone needed to support you.’
It takes me a second to grasp this. But it’s too much, too fast.
‘You said this move would change everything,’ Kat ploughed on. ‘For a while, I thought you might have been right. Now this. At some point, you’re going to have to accept that it isn’t the illness – it’s Gabe. How long are you going to live like this?’
‘He’s my husband,’ I say softly. A pathetic response, I know, but the only one I have.
Kat stands suddenly. ‘Fine. But I can’t support you anymore. Not when you keep acting so damn stupid.’ She opens the bedroom door.
‘What if it was Mei?’ I yell after her. ‘Would you stay with her? Support her?’
Kat pauses in the doorway. Suddenly she doesn’t look angry anymore. She looks tired.
‘I’d want to,’ she says. ‘But she would never let me.’
68
PIPPA
THEN
Max Cameron was waiting for me by the automatic doors in the reception area of the huge skyscraper that housed his media empire, NewZ. It was late, and apart from the security at the front desk the foyer was deserted.
‘Pippa,’ he said, when he’d let me in. ‘It’s good to see you. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.’
He was dressed in a dinner suit, minus the jacket. I felt embarrassed to realise he must have left an event to meet me. I also felt flattered.
‘Thank you for meeting me.’
‘Why don’t you come up to my office and we can make a plan?’ Max said. ‘If Gabe shows up, security will ring me immediately. I also have my personal security detail driving around the neighbourhood, on the lookout. In the meantime, if you’re willing to talk about it, I’d like to understand better what has been going on with him.’
I noticed a slight slur to Max’s voice and wondered if he’d been drinking when I interrupted him tonight. Even so, he was reassuring. He had his personal security looking for Gabe? It made me wonder why I hadn’t called him earlier.
‘You saw Gabe tonight?’ Max asked, as we took the elevator to the thirty-fourth floor.
‘Yes. An hour or so ago. He seemed pretty . . . I don’t know. Drunk? Out of it?’
Max nodded. He didn’t seem surprised.
‘Was he like that at work today?’
The doors slid open and we exited the elevator. ‘I didn’t see him today. But according to reports, yes, he was in a bad way. I have to say, I’m worried about him, Pippa.’
‘He’s been working hard lately,’ I said, my instinct to play down his behaviour so deeply ingrained I couldn’t help it. ‘He might be a bit burned out. Maybe he blew off some steam, had a few drinks.’
Max watched me for a moment. I got the sense that he wasn’t buying my excuse for Gabe’s behaviour. In a way, I was glad.
‘I want to show you something,’ he said, leading me down the hallway. We stopped outside a large boardroom. The wall was glass, and I could see without entering that it had been vandalised. Chairs were strewn around the floor. There was a giant dent in the wall. The pieces of a conference phone were scattered across the large oak table.
It took me a moment to understand why he was showing me.
‘Oh my God,’ I said, as realisation dawned. ‘Gabe did this?’
Max nodded. He didn’t need to say anything else after that. It was true that sometimes a picture was worth a thousand words. I saw the damage to the wall and recalled Gabe’s bloodied hand. My own hand went to my mouth.
Max touched my shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s talk in my office.’
He led me into a huge corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows, polished concrete floors and an enormous L-shaped desk. In ordinary circumstances I would have been impressed, but tonight it barely registered. All I could think about was Gabe. My husband was seriously unwell. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t defend it or make excuses. I couldn’t do anything . . . I didn’t even know where he was.
We sat in armchairs in front of a glass coffee table.
‘Do you think he might have gone out with some colleagues?’ I asked. ‘He often goes out drinking with them when they’re working on a project.’
A strange look crossed Max’s face. ‘Pippa, you do know that Gabe doesn’t work here anymore?’
I stared at him. ‘What do you mean? He was at work today.’
‘Yes, he came in today. But I let him go a couple of weeks ago. When he came in today, he was very upset that he’d been let go and he wanted to speak to me. I wasn’t here unfortunately. As you can see from the state of the boardroom, he wasn’t happy.’
It took me several seconds to understand. ‘You fired him? But . . . why?’
Max chose his words carefully. ‘I’m guessing it won’t be a surprise to you to hear that while Gabe was a valued employee at NewZ, he has also displayed some worrying behaviour.’
I didn’t reply, but the expression on my face must have revealed something, because Max continued.
‘Things came to a head a couple of weeks ago, with the streaming deal. There was a problem with one of the investors, and it was a big problem. I could see Gabe didn’t take it well. I should have followed up with him. I’m so sorry.’
I didn’t respond; I was still reeling with this new information. Gabe had lost his job a couple of weeks ago and never told me?
‘This is a personal question, Pippa,’ Max said gently, ‘but I need to ask: has he ever been violent at home? Has he ever hurt you or your daughters?’
‘No.’ Even the idea of it shocked me. Then I remembered Gabe’s face tonight. So red and angry. ‘But things have definitely escalated lately. Tonight, when he came home . . . he frightened me. It’s the first time I’ve felt like that.’
‘Does he have a diagnosed condition?’
‘ADHD,’ I said. ‘But I – I’m not sure that’s what’s wrong with him.’
‘I have to agree,’ Max said. ‘I’m not a psychiatrist, but what happened today seemed more like a kind of psychosis. Is that possible?’
‘Anything is possible.’ I felt tears on my face and realised I was crying. I stood and walked to the window. This was it, I realised. If Gabe was this far gone, there was no one in the world who could help him.
‘You’ve done an extraordinary job managing this, Pippa,’ Max said, joining me at the window. ‘But this is more than any one person can handle. Gabe needs professional help, possibly as an inpatient. There’s no shame in it. And if insurance doesn’t cover the out-of-pocket costs, I’d be happy to cover them personally.’
It was extraordinarily generous of him. But I found it hard even to think about out-of-pocket costs when I didn’t know where Gabe was. I imagined him wandering around the city. Maybe he’d found a bar to drink in. Maybe he’d found a barmaid? Later, he’d be full of apologies, and I’d be full of doubt. He didn’t mean it! He was ill. Then he’d go to see Dr Ravi, maybe get a new diagnosis, and we’d start all over again.
As all of this settled over me, I let out a sob. Max didn’t really open his arms, but I fell against him and rested my head against his chest. He widened his stance and became a warm, solid wall. I wanted to disappear into it. Bury my head. Make it all go away.
‘What do I do, Max?’ I cried.
He put his arms around me. There was something about it. For so long I’d felt like I was alone, carrying the secret of Gabe’s illness. Suddenly there was someone else, someone who truly seemed to care.
‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. ‘We’ll sort this out, I promise.’
He was so authoritative. I believed it. It made me imagine what it must be like to be married to someone like Max. Someone you could count on. Someone who didn’t create drama but, rather, helped you sort it out. It was intoxicating.
I stepped back and looked at him. It may have been the fact that he was giving me exactly what I’d been craving from Gabe for so long, but it was as if I saw him anew. He even looked a little like Gabe. I’d always thought the line between attraction and desperation was thin. I was desperate for comfort. I yearned for it. It did something to me. I lifted my chin and kissed him.
It came over me then, all at once, like a frenzy. A need. Was this how Gabe felt, I wondered, with the barmaid? I pulled off my T-shirt, my bra. I stepped forward and pressed myself against him. It wasn’t about Max, I knew that, even then. It wasn’t even about me. Like everything else in my life, the entire fucking thing was all about Gabe.
69
PIPPA
NOW
Gabe doesn’t say it aloud, but judging by the next few days, our new plan is to never leave our house. We don’t take the girls to preschool. We don’t go to the park or the beach. We don’t even set foot outside. We start employing rudimentary security measures that we haven’t bothered with in the past, like locking windows and security doors. We even figure out how to use the alarm, which is something that has been on our to-do list since we moved in. We don’t discuss our reasons for any of this, because that would involve Gabe admitting he was worried. Instead, we do it by silent agreement.
For me, it isn’t a huge break from my routine. I work, conduct my Zoom meetings, play with the girls. They cope well to begin with. Once, as I walk past their room, I hear them pretending they are at the beach, and Asha acts as if she has discovered treasure. I wish I could escape to an imaginary world so easily.
Gabe is a different story. Staying indoors has never suited him. He needs to be active, to move his body. He’s trying to hide it, but I can see he’s barely reining himself in.
By the fourth day, even the girls have had enough.
‘I want to go to preschool,’ Asha says.
Gabe and I look at each other. Since my encounter in the car park, it has been quiet. No word from Max. No indication that he plans to go to the police or attempt to retrieve the USB. But, then again, we haven’t been anywhere.
‘How about we play outside in the sandpit for a bit?’ Gabe offers by way of a compromise.
The girls, starved of any such fun for days, accept this and burst outside before he can change his mind, excitedly chatting about the treasure they will discover out there.
For a while, I stand at the window and watch them. The sandpit was built by Gabe and Dad shortly after we moved in; they cleverly designed the wooden cover so that it can be folded in half to become a bench seat. Gabe does this now and sits facing the cliff as the girls get busy with their buckets and spades.
Kat’s words echo in my mind. If Gabe didn’t tell the police, it means he has something to hide. I don’t get it. Why is everyone so quick to blame Gabe? They love Gabe.
At least, I’d thought they did. I remembered Kat saying, Why do you think we all moved up here when you did? Why do you think we’re always at your house? How had I missed that? And if I missed that . . . what else am I missing?
There’s one final thing Kat said that I keep thinking about – perhaps more than anything else. How long are you going to live like this?
It’s the question I most desperately want answered. And I’m starting to realise that the only one who can do that is me.
70
AMANDA
BEFORE
‘Just the two of us, the horizon and all these lovely staff,’ Max said, with a laugh, as he touched his champagne glass to mine.
It was Christmas, and once again we were on a yacht in the Whitsundays. It was idyllic. I’d never seen water so clear or sand so white. And I’d never seen Max so relaxed. For a week, he didn’t so much as check his emails. We snorkelled and swam. I took photographs. We sat on the deck and drank wine. We fished. One night, we rowed to shore in a dinghy and our captain cooked freshly caught tuna on a makeshift barbecue. We ate it on the sand while drinking white wine.
‘Do you ever wish that you had been pregnant that time?’ Max asked out of the blue.
I knew the time he meant. I was surprised to hear that Max remembered it too. Or, if not surprised that he remembered it, I was surprised that he’d thought about it, reflected on it, since.
‘For a while I did,’ I admitted. ‘When I saw a baby, or when my friends’ children were little and they were entirely consumed by them.’
Max was listening to me so intently. There was something pained about his expression, and it hit me suddenly that this was something he’d been carrying all these years. Maybe I’d even seen that pained expression in his eyes on those odd occasions we were in the company of a newborn baby.
I saw the apology he was about to offer, so I made sure I got in first. ‘But now I see what a gift it has been, just the two of us, spending our lives together. And I’m grateful for it. Truly.’
I was. Of course, if we’d had children, I’m sure we wouldn’t have regretted it. We probably would be sitting here surrounded by our family, talking about how empty our lives would have been without them. But we would have been wrong. Our lives were not empty. Even with all that remained unsaid between us, as I sat there with Max, it was hard to imagine any alternative reality in which I would be more content, more fulfilled.
And still the sadness remained on Max’s face. ‘You always asked so little of me, Amanda. I should have given you so much more.’
I smiled. ‘You gave me what I asked, remember? Fidelity. That was the deal.’
Max smiled back. His eyes were both sad and happy.
‘Darling,’ he said, ‘it was such an easy thing to give.’
71
PIPPA
NOW
I stay in my office for over an hour while Gabe is outside with the girls in the sandpit. When I finish my work, the house is quiet. After days of us all being cooped up in the house, it is strange. I close my computer and go to the kitchen, wait for the kettle to boil, make a cup of tea. I’m jiggling the teabag in the water when I hear the toilet flush, then Gabe walks into the living room.
‘Bathroom,’ he says by way of explanation, but I’m already opening the glass doors, scanning the yard for the girls.
The sandpit is empty.
The spike of adrenaline is instant. My face becomes hot. My mouth becomes dry. My vision blurs at the edges.
I look beyond the fence towards the bushes and the moonah trees. Towards The Drop . . .
I see the man first – the giant man from the car park. He’s bent over, talking to my little girls. As he stands upright, my stomach lurches. The size of him next to the tiny girls makes my blood run cold. They’re so close to the cliff edge. He could pick one up in each hand and in a heartbeat they’d be gone.
‘Gabe,’ I say in a strangled voice.
And then I run faster than I ever have in my life.
72
AMANDA
BEFORE
It’s funny how bad things sneak up on you when you least expect it. It’s almost as if the universe wants to maximise the utter shock and despair. For a year, Max and I had been happy. Gabe and Pippa had moved away, and the drama with Arthur Spriggs had settled. Max was still working, but he was winding back – handing over more things to the executives and coming home earlier and earlier. We’d started to talk about retirement.
‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ Max said. ‘It’s time for a life change. I think we should move overseas. Maybe to Europe. We can sell the business and start over.’
‘But how can we sell the business without exposing the investment from A.S. Holdings?’
‘I don’t know yet, but I’m going to set up a meeting with the accountants to see what’s possible.’
