Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (book club reads TXT) 📗

me but I think I heard Max’s voice. I have to go.’

I click the phone off and unlock the door. It is Max. Allowing for the fact that I am in shock:

a) because he’s in Australia, and

b) because he’s standing in front of me in my half-finished house.

My mind goes blank for several moments before I collect myself and say, ‘Max, what the hell are you doing here?’

‘What? No “Welcome home, Max, it’s great to see you”?’

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I repeat.

‘I’m back,’ he says casually, puffing out his chest like he owns the place - which, theoretically, he does. Well, half of it.

‘I’m not blind. I can see that. Why are you here?’

‘Because I have responsibilities, a family that needs me.’

‘But you told me in Bali that it was over between us and you were moving on with your life - with Alana.’

‘Lucy,’ he says calmly, motioning to the camera that’s appeared in the hallway, ‘let’s just say I’ve changed my mind. I’m home to stay. How are the kids? Missing me?’

‘Of course they’re missing you, but that’s not the point. Our marriage is over. You said as much yourself.’

He glares at me and then at the red rabbit-fur poncho I’m wearing. He twitches. I can tell he’s dying to make a comment about it. He hates it. I knew he would. The thing is, while I did buy the poncho out of spite, it’s actually starting to grow on me. I quite like it despite the fact that, generally speaking, ponchos only look good on girls younger than six years of age.

He loses the glare and smiles at me. ‘Come on, honey. I’m sorry, really. I don’t know what I was thinking. Alana’s so young. You’re the mother of my children. There’s no comparison. I don’t want Bella and Sam to grow up without me. I’m sure you don’t want that either. That’s why I’ve come home.’ He touches my arm. ‘And, of course, I love you.’

I pull away. ‘Enough, Max.’

‘I know I’ve been a lousy husband these past few weeks -’

‘What? You haven’t been here. You’ve been away - fucking the babysitter.’

‘Come on, I’m trying. Let’s start again. A brand-new life. We deserve a second chance.’

‘I gave you a second chance years ago. Clearly, it was a mistake.’

‘Lucy, it’s time we stopped playing games. I’m moving back in. This is my house.’

‘No, Max, you’re not.’ I stand my ground. The camera lights continue to shine.

‘What’s with the cameras?’ he asks, trying to change the subject.

Stay calm, I think. Let’s not have a scene in front of filming cameras.

‘Gloria’s got this insane idea to feature the house on a new renovation show.’

He peers into the new bathroom with its rolled marble tiles. ‘I wouldn’t have done it that way,’ he says. Before I can respond, he walks over to the ladder. ‘Where’s the bloody staircase? And what’s happening with the kitchen? This isn’t what we agreed on.’

Although the kitchen’s a mess, it’s taking shape. The floor’s been laid, the cupboards have been built - minus the knobs - and are ready to be installed. The replacement oven has arrived. The fridge has been delivered. They’re both sitting in the middle of the room waiting to be moved into position. The benchtops, splashback and kickboards are still to turn up, but all in all it’s really starting to come together. I’d be very excited if Max wasn’t here.

‘Why did you choose the Ilve oven over the Titan I wanted?’ he says. ‘We had a deal.’

Out of the corner of my eye I see Digger filming, capturing every word we utter.

‘Max, this isn’t your house anymore. It hasn’t been yours since you took your surfboard and walked out weeks ago.’

He’s checking out the rest of the renovation, not listening to me. Two painters working overtime have completed the undercoat of the entire extension. The rooms look huge and bright. It’s getting very close to completion.

‘I’m not fond of this dirty grey colour you’ve chosen for the walls.’

‘You weren’t here to make the decisions, Max. I like the colour.’

‘A bit insipid - needs spicing up, don’t you think?’

‘I think you should go now,’ I tell him.

‘What? I’m not going anywhere. For God’s sake, Lucy, get rid of these bloody cameras.’ He shoos Digger away.

‘If this is another one of your attempts to cash in on your celebrity, I’m not having it. Not in my house in front of my kids.’

Patch comes in and Max marches straight over to him.

The camera follows him. I withdraw into a nearby ‘dirty grey’ wall.

‘It’s not good enough,’ Max tells Patch, with the authority of someone who owns the house and is in control. Patch looks bemused. Better book that ticket to the moon, I feel like telling him. Except I don’t want Max back either.

‘I want to see progress reports and cost projections immediately,’ Max goes on. ‘And hey!’ He points to Digger. ‘Turn that camera off or I’ll turn it off for you. Why is it that television stations persist in putting C-grade celebrities on TV shows? It doesn’t make them any more interesting to viewers.’

Digger turns off his camera and walks away, presumably to find Sandy and complain about the madman in the house who’s disrupting filming.

‘Well?’ Max turns his glare back to Patch.

To his credit and my relief, Patch doesn’t treat Max any differently from the way he used to treat me. He nods and says, ‘I’ll see what I can find out,’ before starting a discussion with Joel about sandstone paving.

‘Max, what are you doing?’ I murmur.

‘Taking control of this blasted renovation because it’s clear you haven’t.’

‘But you gave up that right when you walked out.’

‘I don’t want to talk about that. It’s over now. I’m back.’

I notice a different cameraman has arrived, and he’s turning his lens in our direction.

‘Lucy, don’t you hear what I’m saying? I’m coming home. For the sake of our family, I’m giving up my personal freedom and happiness for you and the