If someone had asked Rachel that morning about her life, she would have said that it was full and satisfying. She looked after Jacob on Mondays and Fridays, and the rest of the time he was in day care while Lauren sat at her desk in the city, managing her projects. When Jacob was at day care, Rachel worked at St. Angela’s as the school secretary. She had her work, her gardening, her friend Marla, her stack of library books and two whole precious days a week with her grandson. Jacob often stayed overnight with her on the weekend too, so that Rob and Lauren could go out. They liked going out, those two, to their fancy restaurants, the theater and the opera, do you mind. Ed would have guffawed over that. Is my son a nancy boy or what?
If someone had asked, “Are you happy?” she would have said, “I’m as happy as I can be.”
She had no idea that her life was so flimsily constructed, like a house of cards, and that Rob and Lauren could march in here on a Monday night and cheerfully help themselves to the one card that mattered. Remove the Jacob card and her life collapsed, floated softly to the ground.
Rachel pressed her lips to Jacob’s head and tears filled her eyes.
Not fair. Not fair. Not fair.
“Two years will go so quickly,” said Lauren, her eyes on Rachel.
“Like this!” Rob clicked his fingers.
For you, thought Rachel.
“Or we might not even stay the full two years,” said Lauren.
“Then again, you might end up staying for good!” said Rachel, with a big bright smile to show that she was a woman of the world and she knew how these things worked.
She thought of the Russell twins, Lucy and Mary, and how both their daughters had gone to live in Melbourne. “They’ll end up staying there,” Lucy had said sadly to Rachel one Sunday after church. It was years and years ago, but it had stuck in Rachel’s head, because she was right. The last Rachel heard, the cousins—Lucy’s shy little girl and Mary’s plump daughter with the beautiful eyes—were still in Melbourne and were there for good.
But Melbourne was a hop, skip and a jump away. You could fly to Melbourne for the day if you wanted. Lucy and Mary did it all the time. You couldn’t fly to New York for the day.
And then there were people like Virginia Fitzpatrick, who job-shared (in a manner of speaking) the school secretary’s position with Rachel. Virginia had six sons and fourteen grandchildren, and most of them lived within a twenty-minute radius on Sydney’s North Shore. If one of Virginia’s children decided to go to New York, she probably wouldn’t even notice; she had so many grandchildren to spare.
Rachel should have had more children. She should have been a good Catholic wife and mother and had at least six, but no, she didn’t, because of her vanity, because she secretly thought she was special; different from all those other women. God knows exactly how she thought she was special. It wasn’t like she had any specific aspirations of career, or travel, or whatever, not like girls did these days.
“When do you leave?” Rachel said to Lauren and Rob, as Jacob slid from her lap unexpectedly and bolted into the living room on one of his urgent missions. A moment later she heard the sound of the television start up. The clever little thing had worked out how to use the remote control.
“Not till the new year,” said Lauren. “We’ve got lots to sort out. Visas and so on. We’ll have to find an apartment, a nanny for Jacob.”
A nanny for Jacob.
“Job for me.” Rob sounded a little nervous.
“Oh, yes, darling,” said Rachel. She did try to take her son seriously. She really did. “A job for you. In real estate, do you think?”