April Catherine and Paul: Part Six

April Catherine and Paul: Part Five.

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April needed to see Dee but not strictly for work reasons. They were close. Dee was April’s confidant. April withheld from everyone. She protected herself. She feigned disinterest. Often she simply didn’t care enough to show interest at all. With Dee April spilled out the truths. With the other people in her life, her lovers, the looming shadow of Paul, she was recondite.

April decided to surprise Dee in the agency in Paddington, betting on her being there. Dee was chewing on her pen and scanning some paper or other. April bluffed her way past the receptionist.

‘Hello there!’

‘Oh my god. Ha, oh god April What the fuck is this?’ Dee with her voluptuous lips and unnaturally perfect long dark hair.

‘Oh, I needed to get away.’

‘It must have been awful. Has it?’

April shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Can we go out?

‘Of course,’ said Dee. ‘There’s a place downstairs. How are you? Be truthful.’

‘He’s gone. There’s not much I can do.’

‘You shouldn’t be alone,’ Dee said.

‘I’m not,’ April said. ‘Joe came down, and Margaret is always around.’

‘Is she well?’

‘Um … no actually. This foolish man she thought was going to marry her … well he pissed off overseas and tried to set her up with another man at the Villas.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’

‘Dee, a few things have happened,’ April said. ‘They happened after Paul of course.’

‘Go on,’ said Dee looking up from her eggs benedict.

‘I’m having an affair,’ April said.

‘Well … wow. I mean good for you,’ Dee said. ‘Are you happy? Can you be happy so soon?’

‘Yes,’ April sipped on a coffee.

‘Well, who is he?’

‘He’s not a he.’

‘He’s… he’s a she?’ Dee said, sitting upright.

‘Yes. Catherine. Are you shocked?’

‘I am but only because I never thought. You know …’

‘Nor did I,’ April said.

‘April how exquisitely romantic. Tell me about her.’

‘Oh I don’t know. She’s French she’s pretty. She’s staying with me.’

‘Is she young?’ Dee said.

‘Isn’t everybody compared to me?’ April said. ‘Yes, the thing is. The way I met her. Well it wasn’t ideal. She was sleeping with Paul. She was with Paul when his heart gave up.’

Dee’s eyes widened. She had no idea what to say.

‘I know it makes no sense. I know it’s wrong,’ Said April.

‘If you think it’s right April,’

‘It doesn’t stop there.’

Dee said, ‘I’m not sure if I can absorb much more.’

‘Well, Margaret’s ex-husband, Peter.’

‘What about him. You don’t mean?’

‘Yes,’ April said.

‘Holy shitballs’

‘He’s been so nice and caring. He’s a good person,’ April said. ‘He doesn’t know about Catherine. It was just … I don’t love him.’

‘And Catherine doesn’t know about him? You must like him.’

‘I do, yes,’ April frowned.

‘Shit,’ said Dee. ‘Make sure Margaret doesn’t get wind off it.’

‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ April said. ‘I don’t know what I want except to spoil her.’

‘Do you want to stay, with me?’

‘I have a hotel. I’m going to do some shopping tomorrow.’

Dee said, ‘Come and have a look at the stuff piling up on my desk. You should take a few manuscripts, if you’re ready.’

‘Are they any good, do you know?’ Said April.

‘I’ll give you the most promising ones.’

They took the lift back to the agency and Dee chattered away with her own news. April stayed until late. Children held little fascination for April, but Dee told was a natural storyteller and the tales of her two sons were funny and endearing.

*

‘Catherine…Cat?’ April looked in her room and found Catherine in her own bed.

‘Darling Cat I’m back,’

‘Oh! Come and warm me up,’ Catherine said. ‘How was it?’

‘I enjoyed it a lot. I needed a break. But now I’m here.’

*

When April woke up the next morning, she was still tired, and instinctively turned the alarm off on her phone to snooze. Catherine’s own mobile was in the lounge and she awoke with a start.

‘Oh … I’m going to be late,’ Catherine said as she rustled through a drawer getting her things. ‘I was never late before. Sick but not late.’

At the door April said, ‘I’m sorry, it was my fault. Will they be annoyed?’

‘No, you know Tom and David,’ Catherine said. ‘Actually, I think they will be fine.’

‘You haven’t told them where you are?’

‘Oh no,’ Catherine said ‘I can make another excuse.’

‘I’ll cook you a meal,’ April said. ‘You’ll come back won’t you.’

‘I will come back. I see you later,’ said Catherine and trotted out to her car.

April tried on the clothes she had bought in Sydney, and then hid a scarf she had brought for Catherine’s birthday under her bed.

The phone rang. The rarely used landline. It was a man asking for Catherine. April was momentary silent until the man spoke again.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello,’ said April.

‘I was wondering,’ he said. ‘Is Ms Clavand there?

April said, ‘She’s not in at the moment.’

‘But please, this is her address?’

‘It is. Who’s speaking please,’ Catherine said.

‘My name is Claude Deschamps. I am a friend of Ms Clavand’s family and Catherine especially,’ he said. ‘I am touring Tasmania. The mountains you see.’

‘There are a lot of beautiful mountains,’ said Catherine. ‘Do you climb?’

“No I’m not young anymore,’ the man said. ‘I walk. You may know it is Catherine’s birthday on Monday, and I wondered if she would be alone, and if so could I meet up with her?’

‘What a kind thought,’ April said. ‘But I happen to know she’s having a little celebration here that night.’ April had no intention of inviting this Mr Deschamps.

‘That’s fine,’ the man said. You are the lady of the house?’

‘I suppose I am,’ said April. ‘Catherine spoke about you I think.’

‘She is well I hope.’

‘She’s fine, Would you like her mobile number?’

‘Thank you you’re very kind,’ Said Deschamps

‘Not at all.’

*

April cooked a duck with olives and a chocolate pudding.

‘My god it’s a feast!’ Catherine gushed.

‘I owed you something after this morning.’

‘You never owe me.’

‘What do you think of the bread?’ April said. ‘There is a wonderful bakery in Beaconsfield. we can pretend we’re in a wonderful place in Provence with a sullen chef.’

‘I think I may change.’

‘Please put on the summer dress,’ April said. ‘The one with all the flowers.

‘You are an amazing cook.’

‘I want to talk to you,’ April said.

‘Oh have I done something?’

‘No Cat,’ April said. ‘I don’t want to stay in this house. I want to sell it and leave. I want to travel We can go together. First let’s go to Melbourne and forget about everything.’

‘I don’t know,’ Catherine said. ‘My father is ill.’

‘When did you hear about this?’

‘I phone,’ said Catherine. ‘I phone every week.’

‘One day, we could go all over the world,’ said April with blithe indifference. ‘You’re really quite a conventional girl aren’t you?’

‘To telephone my mother and father?’ Catherine shook her head. ‘And I will have to take time off work.’

‘We have no-one to please but ourselves,’ April said. ‘You’re the only person who really matters to me.

‘I think you are being too … um spontaneity,’ Catherine said. ‘You will have no house to come back to. It would be a mistake. Are you trying to get me drunk?’

‘I’m seducing you. I’ve run out of duties you see. I can even read manuscripts and email them. There’s nothing to stop us,’ said April.

‘My father is ill. Perhaps you don’t listen,’ said Catherine. ‘You sit there and I clean up.’

‘You’ve worked all day.’

‘Pish, it’s easy.’

*

‘How did you ever know it was my birthday?’ Said Catherine running her fingers along the length of the scarf.

‘You told me, and if you hadn’t I would have wanted you to,‘ said April.

Catherine said, ‘I’m going out tonight.’

‘You’re going out?’ April froze. ‘You never said.’

‘No I’m going out.’

‘Well, well when was this arranged?’ said April. ‘Aren’t you sly.’

‘I do have friends.’

‘So all this was arranged in advance I take it,’ April said. You’re not going to do anything as crude I hope. As paying me out for giving you a horrible day.’

‘April it wasn’t horrible,’ Catherine sighed. ‘Of Course it wasn’t.’

‘Some friends or a friend?’ April said. ‘Is it the same man. The one who phoned?’

‘That’s my business isn’t it?’ Catherine said. ‘Anyway, no.’

‘Well that’s a sacrifice I’m used to having to make. Whenever Paul told me he had business I never questioned it. It’s a principle of mine to never be jealous when business is involved.’

Catherine was growing weary. ‘I never wanted to hurt you, I thought I could avoid it. I was wrong.’

‘I appreciate how honest you’re being letting me into your business secrets. Such lack of shame. Who is he? A man, or is it a boy. That waiter when we had lunch last week.’

Catherine said, ‘I don’t even know who you mean.’

April poured herself a wine. ‘You teased him, you flirted with him. Perhaps he’s married too. Don’t worry it’s another one to flash your famous smile at. Another one to make a fool of yourself over. Another one to panic about and leave. Am I right?

‘Right about what?’ Catherine said.

‘Is it something more serious than I could ever understand?’

‘What did you say her name was,’ said Catherine biting back. ‘Erica?’

*

‘I won’t let you go.’

‘April I’m going.’

‘You can do anything you like.’

‘Believe me,’ Catherine said.

‘No you said you hated me,’ April said. ‘All right I deserve it. At least I know what you’re doing.’

‘I never said I hated you. I’m leaving this house. My father is ill. Please let me go.’

‘Not tonight I took so much trouble over today. I know you didn’t enjoy it,’ April said. ‘Please come back tonight. Bring him back if you must. You can have the big bed.’

Catherine said, ‘Don’t be absurd. Tonight is nothing. My father is ill. I have to go back to France.’

‘I’ll be the housekeeper I’ll do anything. Please stay,’ April said.

‘Why do you always humiliate yourself? There is nothing I can say without you begging and begging. You’re like a schoolgirl.’

‘It amuses you this sort of thing.’ April began to weep in heaving sobs.

‘Of course it doesn’t.’

‘Never imagine that I blame you,’ said April. ‘I hate you but I don’t blame you.’

‘Call your son,’ said Catherine. ‘The young understand. I’m going.’

‘You made love in the car too didn’t you, Paul and you.’

‘Once or twice,’ said Catherine. ‘Find love April. I hope you do.’

Catherine walked briskly to her car and didn’t look back.

April moved from room to room opening the windows and doors. She lay on her bed, naked. The evening breeze, warm and salty off the river, wafted through the curtains and flooded the house, mingling with her tears.

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Michael Witheford is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in The Age, Sydney Morning Herald, Launceston Examiner, and various periodicals. He is the author of the novel Buzzed (Penguin) and non-fiction book The Very Worst Of The Beatles (Vivid). In a former life he played in The Fish John West Reject and other bands.