And So It Goes

by Raynette Mitchell

Genres: Literary Fiction; Women's Fiction; Secrets Have Consequences

Synopsis

AND SO IT GOES

SECRETS HAVE CONSEQUENCES.....
Karen Romano met and fell in love with John Pascoe when she was eighteen. He was her first love and she thought they would last forever. But like so many first loves, they didn't last forever, and Karen was devastated when it ended.
Martin Cosgrove, a country boy born in far western New South Wales, who moved to the city and became a highly paid executive working for the Australian Government, fell in love with Karen at their first meeting and courted her until she agreed to marry him. He turned out to be a devoted and loving husband. But as Karen discovered, Martin was also an extremely self-centered and often difficult man.
But fortunately— or not —there were other people in Karen's life: Lou, the dear friend; Glenda, the troubled wife; Jeff, Chris, and Paul, the enigmatic ‘extra men in her life'. People drawn together by fate, by friendship, and by the World Wide Web.
How will these disparate characters come together and interact with each other?
In a story of love, friendship, and betrayal, paths will cross, plans will be made; but on a dark and rainy night, fate will intervene – with tragic and devastating consequences which nobody saw coming, but which will ultimately change lives forever.
But is that the end of the story?

Release date: May 31, 2020

Publisher: Mitchell Publishing

Print pages: 202

Reader says this book is...: emotionally riveting (1) entertaining story (1) escapist/easy read (1) modern life (1) plot twists (1) realistic characters (1) sex scenes (1) socially conscious (1) terrific writing (1) thought-provoking (1)

Sample

AND SO IT GOES

 

By Raynette Mitchell

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 1 

 

JOHN

 

In the Spring of 2018, on a still, pale blue day, Karen Cosgrove nestled down in a comfortable leather armchair in the sunroom facing the window that looked out over the garden. The hydrangeas growing along the side fence would be covered in fat bunches of blue mauve flowers in a couple of weeks. They made a spectacular show against the tall white fence when they were in bloom, but right now they were rich with dark green leaves, the bushes tall as a child. They were one of Karen’s favourite flowers and Martin had planted them for her five years ago when they first moved into this house.

 

Martin was playing golf with his usual Saturday group and Karen had the place, and the day, to herself.

 

She and Martin usually sat out in the garden for their morning coffee, but it was Saturday and, because of the noise of neighbours’ lawn mowers and whipper-snippers, it was more pleasant inside: the spacious and well-designed house was beautifully silent when all the doors were closed. The neighbours did their lawns on the weekend but Martin preferred to do theirs on a Thursday so it would be looking its best by Saturday and Karen could enjoy it on what he considered her “day off.”

 

On days like this, she would occasionally sit with her morning cup of coffee between her hands and ruminate on her life, mulling over thoughts and memories, daydreaming, wondering what her life would have been like had she not chosen the path she did, all those years ago. But this morning, she was thinking about the unsettling incident yesterday afternoon that had unleashed a flood of memories. She had pushed them to the back of her mind then—she didn’t want to risk being interrupted or disturbed while wallowing in nostalgia, and she certainly didn’t want Martin asking her what she was thinking about when her mind was a million miles away. She knew she would have the time today to sit and recall her memories in full; for her mind to sink back in time to that glorious summer when she was young, and life held so much promise.

 

She took a sip of the hot, sweet coffee and let her mind return to the incident yesterday.

 

With the supermarket shopping all done and the bags of groceries packed neatly into the trunk of her car, Karen had crossed the road and gone into the newsagent to buy something for Martin. She often picked up a copy of Inside Sport for him when she was downtown, so she knew exactly where they were in the shop. She hurried to the magazine area and in her haste bumped into a man who was reaching for a magazine.

 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Didn’t see you there,” she said, as she reached for the magazine. It was the same one he was reaching for, and they both tried to pick it up.

 

A tiny white flash went off in her brain. In her mind’s eye, she caught a glimpse of something— an image, superimposed over another, darker image. And then it was gone.

 

As fate would have it, it was the last copy. She let go of it, but he gallantly handed it to her.

 

“Your need seems to be greater than mine,” he said, and smiled.

 

The flash exploded in her brain, and in that instant, her world stood still.

 

It was the exact same circumstances as when she first met John, the love of her life, forty years ago.

 

Her heart racing, in a state of confusion, she thanked the man, paid for her purchase, and stumbled out of the shop, her mind a blur of long-suppressed images, of tears and laughter, joy and sadness. She crossed the road and opened the driver’s door, her mind awash with memories of that time and all that followed. The blast of the horn from the car waiting for her parking spot snapped her out of her dreaming and she drove off, making a concerted effort to focus on the traffic. She turned into their driveway and saw Martin’s car parked in the garage. That had put an end to daydreams and memories of a previous time in her life.

 

Until now. Drinking coffee, in a sunny spot, on a Spring morning.

 

Forty years later, she could still recall that rapturous feeling of first love, the boy she met when she was eighteen, that Saturday morning, all those years ago. She and the young man had both reached for the last copy of a magazine in a newsagent, and he had offered it to her and said, “Your need seems to be greater than mine,” and smiled a thousand-watt smile at her. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to say, “No, you take it,” but before she had a chance to speak, he said, “It’s my favourite magazine, but I’d happily let you have it if you'll have a coffee with me to compensate.” He had obviously never been through that awkward stage when girls were terrifying things, mysterious and difficult to talk to. The words rolled off his tongue.

 

Karen paused. “Well, aren’t you the cheeky one!” But she was struck by his self-confidence and charm and so she agreed.

 

In the café next door, he ordered coffee for them.

 

“I’m John Pascoe,” he said, with another one of those gorgeous smiles as he extended his hand to her.

 

“How do you do, John Pascoe. I’m Karen Romano.”

 

They found a table in the corner of the café and began to chat. John asked Karen whether she was studying or if she worked.

 

“Both, actually,” she replied. “I’m working at a law firm in the city and studying to become a paralegal. How about you, John? What do you do?”

 

“What a coincidence. I’m in my third year of law at Sydney Uni. Wow, imagine if we got together, we’d be a force to be reckoned with!” And they both laughed.

 

For the next couple of hours, they sat there talking and laughing, drinking coffee and enjoying each other's company until finally John picked up his car keys.

 

“I really must go. I have to pick my mum up from the station soon. How about we do this again?”

 

Karen had enjoyed the past couple of hours more than she thought she would. This guy was so easy to talk to, and that smile!

 

“That would be lovely, John. How about the same place, same time next week?”

 

How bold!  She couldn’t believe she’d just said that, but John laughed and said: “Great, see you then.”

 

The following Saturday, Karen was looking forward to seeing him again. She hoped he hadn't forgotten. They hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers so there was no way to let the other know if they couldn’t make it. But when she arrived at the café at the arranged time, there he was, sitting at the same table, reading the paper. He looked up and beamed that beautiful smile at her as she walked over to the table and sat down. Her heart gave a little flutter, almost as if it had skipped a beat.

 

Now that she saw him again, he was not quite as she remembered. His hair was blonder than she thought, and he must have had it cut; she was quite sure his hair was longish last week. Although he was not particularly good looking, he had a pleasant, open face and a smile that could light up a room. His self-confidence twinkled in his blue eyes. He was wearing chinos and a polo shirt today, very Ivy League. All in all, John made quite an impression. 

 

“Hello, it’s great to see you again,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.

 

“Hi, you too, John.” She smoothed her skirt as their coffee arrived. He’d ordered before she’d even arrived—such confidence!

 

Once again, they chatted easily and comfortably with each other, and time passed unnoticed. Eventually, they stood up to leave and John asked Karen for her phone number, to which Karen replied: “Only if you reciprocate with yours.”

 

As they were exchanging numbers, he casually said, “Would you like to go out for dinner one night? There's a new place just opened in Surry Hills that sounds good. Do you like Thai?”

 

“I love Thai. And I’d love to go. When did you have in mind?” Karen suddenly felt warm and couldn’t help smiling even though the day was cool and overcast.

 

“How about Friday night? We could celebrate the end of the week!”

 

Friday night’s dinner was the start of many more dinners, and coffees, and lunches, and movies. What started out as a warm friendship developed into deep affection.

 

Karen became infatuated with John as they gradually got to know each other, and she could tell he felt the same. He was so easy to be with—cheeky, charming, respectful. She loved that he remembered birthdays and their anniversary, the way he touched her shoulder whenever he walked behind her chair.

  

Somewhere, sometime during those heady early days, John introduced Karen to sex. She didn’t enjoy it much at first, but John was so patient, so loving that their sex life soon became something she enjoyed almost as much as he did.

 

A few months later, Karen, who lived at home with her mum and dad, asked if she might invite John over for dinner to meet them.

 

“Of course,” replied her mum, Evelyn. “We would love to meet John. Can you find out what he likes and if he’s allergic to anything? It would be terrible to serve up the wrong thing.”

 

Karen smiled inwardly. It would be an important occasion, especially for her mother. They rarely entertained even though her mother loved to cook. She was concerned John might find them a bit prim and proper. Her mother was Australian, her father, although Italian born, was a naturalized Australian and they had been strict with Karen during her upbringing. They were very proud of the young woman she had become.

 

Their house, although neat and tidy, was an “average” post-war brick bungalow in an “average” suburb. Come the big night, the two women went to a lot of trouble to make the table look attractive—the best tablecloth, linen napkins, and the family silver, which were only used on special occasions. The candles Karen had given her mother the previous Christmas were placed in the centre of the table; the glassware sparkled.

 

Shortly before John was due to arrive, Karen suggested she and her mother have a little chat with her dad. Karen adored her father, but he could be quite volatile, a typical Italian male. A few words before the event might stave off any embarrassing moments.

 

“Frank. Frank. Could you just come inside for a minute?” Evelyn called.

 

Frank was busy in the back garden tending his precious grape vines. He’d showered and changed into the clothes Evelyn had laid out for him and was ready for the evening, but he still couldn’t resist wandering around the vines with the pruning shears at the ready. He reluctantly put down the shears and removed his gardening gloves before coming inside to where the two women were sitting. Both looked up and smiled as he sat down.

 

“Now, Frank,” Evelyn began.

 

“Now, Dad,” Karen reiterated.

 

And both women started giggling.

 

“Now, Frank, tonight is important. We’re meeting John for the first time and it would be good if you could be careful about what you say and do. Please don’t start telling rude jokes. And don't talk politics—you know your opinions don’t always match other people’s. The very last thing we need is for you to get on your soap box and start in on the government. And for God’s sake, don’t have so much to drink that you start speaking Italian.” At this point, both women burst out laughing.

 

Karen hugged her father and kissed on him on the cheek. “Can I trust you to be a good boy?” she asked, laughing and frowning at the same time.

 

Her father, mock-outraged, made imaginary notes on the palm of his hand, muttering, “Don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t do the other.” He grinned at Karen and continued, “What if you end up marrying this guy? I’ll have to keep that up for the rest of my life!” But he knew this boyfriend was special and promised to be on his best behaviour.  

 

The evening went well. Mrs. Romano was a good cook and Karen’s father was a great raconteur who told entertaining stories, some moving, some hilarious. Karen could tell that John seemed comfortable and relaxed.

 

Until Mr. Romano brought out the homemade Grappa.

 

As is traditionally Italian, Frank Romano had been growing his own grapes and making his own wine ever since he and Evelyn got married and bought their own place. One of the reasons they had decided on this house was because of the large backyard—plenty of room to put down grape vines. He’d been harvesting them every year and had honed his winemaking skills to a high level. Last year’s red had been of particularly fine quality. Even Luigi, who lived two doors up, had been impressed and he was almost impossible to please. But the Grappa was his pride and joy, his bright shining star in a midnight sky of faintly twinkling reds and whites. 

 

John had enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine with dinner and didn’t want any more to drink, but Karen’s father was so proud of his Grappa, how could he refuse? 

 

“This is the best Grappa I’ve ever made. You are going to love it,” Frank said.

 

Oh no, thought Karen, he’s up and running on his favourite subject.

 

“This year, I built a special trellis for the vines. Best thing I ever did,” Frank explained. “The vines love it. This Grappa is the finest and clearest so far.” 

 

He insisted John try a nip and handed him a small crystal glass containing the clear liquid.

 

John drank the nip down in one mouthful.

 

Karen had only ever had one nip of her father’s Grappa and that was enough to know that she would never have another. It was like drinking dynamite. Only worse!

 

Poor John, Karen thought. I know what he’s going through right now: he’s probably thinking he’s going to die, that his heart is going to stop any minute. Probably can’t talk or even see clearly.

 

And now her father was insisting he have another nip because the Grappa got better the more you drank!! 

 

“Dad! No more. Can’t you see his eyes are glazing over? That Grappa is deadly.” 

 

When the time came for John to leave, Karen wouldn’t let him drive home and phoned a taxi. By the time the cab arrived, John was able to stand unassisted and could speak coherently. He thanked Mr. and Mrs. Romano profusely for a wonderful evening. Karen walked out to the taxi with him and helped him into the back seat. As he kissed her goodnight, John whispered in her ear: “I love you, Karen.”

 

Karen’s heart sang, even as she admitted to herself it was probably the Grappa talking.

 

As Karen sat on the sunny side of the train on the way to work the following morning, her lips slowly turned up at the corners; she couldn’t help chuckling as she remembered the events of the previous night. Poor John—she should have warned him. Even so, she couldn’t help grinning every time the image of him, eyes bulging, struggling to breathe, unable to speak after drinking the Grappa down in one mouthful, crossed her mind. 

 

As the train rattled along and she basked in the morning sunlight that eked its way through the grimy train window, she repeated over and over in her head his last words to her as she helped him into the cab. I love you. I love you. I love you. She knew it was because of the Grappa but it made her feel warm and fuzzy to recall the words. I love you. I love you. I love you.

 

Wednesday of the following week they met for a drink after work and John asked Karen if she would like to come to his parents’ house for dinner to meet them. Of course, she would be delighted! John was an only child and she knew he was close to his mum and dad. It would be interesting to watch their interactions. 

 

By Karen’s standards, it was a big deal to meet your boyfriend’s parents and she very much wanted to make a good impression. Mrs. Romano suggested she wear a pair of tailored slacks and a silk blouse with those beautiful velvet flats and the cashmere cardigan she and Karen’s father had given her for her birthday. Although that wasn’t Karen's choice—she would have preferred the new black minidress with shoestring straps and the five-inch high heel sandals she’d bought recently—she realised her mum was in John’s parents’ age group and it would probably be prudent to go with her suggestions.

 

The night arrived, and as Karen waited for John to pick her up in his car, she twirled in front of the hall mirror and was satisfied with how she looked to meet John’s parents. She wore her dark hair loose and her makeup was discreet. The colours of the blouse and slacks went well together, and the dove-grey cardigan complimented her eyes. And she smelled delicious! That quick spray of Arpege perfume on her throat completed just the right image.

 

In the early days of the relationship they talked briefly about where they lived and John had said he lived in a flat downstairs at the back of his parents’ house—he couldn’t afford to move away from home completely while he was still in Uni so it was a compromise until he graduated. Karen was envious. Although she still lived at home with her mum and dad, she wanted to move out and become independent as soon as she could afford it. These things crossed her mind as they turned the corner onto his street.

 

Mmmm, nice area, she thought. I can see the bay from here.

 

She was taken aback when they pulled into the drive of a magnificent white two-story house of grand proportions set among exquisitely manicured gardens and lawns. A sandstone terrace, which ran the full width of the house, softened what could have been a stark, contemporary exterior. The antique lanterns framing the front entrance gave the house a warm and welcoming appeal. 

 

The front door opened as they walked up the steps and Mrs. Pascoe ushered them into an exquisite marble floor foyer, complete with a crystal chandelier that hung from the five-metre-high ceiling. A wide curved staircase with fancy black wrought-iron balustrading disappeared into the floor above. She was taller than Karen had imagined and wore her mid-brown hair in a short, straight bob. Her red-painted nails stood out against the pale skin of her slender long-fingered hands, but her rather formal high-necked dark green frock and matching mid-heeled shoes gave her a slightly schoolmarmish appearance.

 

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Karen. We’ve heard a lot about you. You’ve made quite an impression on John.”

 

As Mr. Pascoe walked up the hall toward them, John said, “And this is my father. Dad, this is Karen.”

 

It was obvious where John got his irresistible smile from when Mr. Pascoe smiled and extended his hand.

 

“Well, hello, Karen,” he said, beaming, as they shook hands. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Please—call us Judy and Ron.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both—Judy and Ron,” Karen said, smiling broadly as she acknowledged each of them.

 

So far, so good, thought Karen. Wow, this is some house!

 

Ron poured drinks for them and chatted amiably as they sat in the sunroom overlooking the bay. The sunset from here was breathtaking. Although they were facing almost east, the red of the fiery setting sun was reflected in the clouds in the eastern sky giving the area an ethereal pink hue.

 

I guess this is a waterfront block. What a lovely back garden, thought Karen, as she sipped her drink and made small talk with Ron and Judy.

 

Ron was about to top up their drinks when John said, with a wink in Karen's direction, “Karen, come downstairs and I'll show you where I live.”

 

And with that he took her hand and led her down a short flight of stairs, which opened out into a large, airy room overlooking the back garden. 

 

Several magnificent oriental rugs were casually scattered about on the warm timber floor. An old and very comfortable-looking tan leather lounge and a slightly younger wing-backed armchair and matching ottoman sat opposite each other, looking as if they had been there for centuries. French doors led out to a long, narrow terrace, which in turn led, a few steps down, onto the lawn. One wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling bookcases, some sections of which featured glass doors to protect what Karen supposed were law books. Against the opposite wall stood a walnut antique leather-topped Queen Anne desk on which sat a green banker's lamp and a scattering of papers and textbooks. A modern ergonomic black leather office chair sat snugly under the desk, which appeared incongruous against the mellow old furniture and oriental rugs. The whole thing reeked of money.

 

“What a beautiful room,” exclaimed Karen. “It must be gorgeous in the mornings.” 

 

“It is a lovely room. Used to be the dead area under the house until Mum had it built in for me before I started at Uni. Sunrise from this room is spectacular. Allow me to show you the bedroom,” he said with another wink, and they giggled as he led the way.

 

The bedroom led off the apartment’s living room. It was another well-proportioned room with French doors leading onto the terrace. The timber floor here was bare except for an animal-skin rug between the bed and the French doors. The large bed stood against the back wall above which hung a majestic map of the world, as wide as the bed. A tallboy and a lowboy, both of blond wood in the Scandinavian style, stood next to each other against another wall, and a menacing and mysterious sound system, something that was beyond Karen's comprehension, was on the opposite wall. Also on that wall hung several beautifully framed paintings of African animals. The bed itself was made of blond wood to match the wardrobes and was dressed like a bed in a five-star hotel—a smooth grey-and-white-striped duvet tucked into a low timber base on steel legs, with large fluffy white pillows up against the timber bedhead. A door led into a tiny all-white bathroom with chrome accessories and navy towels.

 

“What a fabulous setup you’ve got here. It must be very conducive to studying in such lovely surroundings, and so quiet.” 

 

“It is. I go upstairs for my meals or if I want to watch TV. Mum would like me to spend more time with them upstairs, but most nights I’d rather be down here where I can be on my own, play my music, and study. I should finish Uni next year. I’ll be free as a bird then.” A pause, and then: “I guess we’d better go back upstairs and let Dad make us another drink before dinner or they’ll be wondering what we’re up to down here.” 

 

As they walked back upstairs, Karen wondered what he meant by “I’ll be free as a bird,” and “Mum would like me to spend more time with them.” She filed that away in the back of her mind for future reference.

 

Dinner was superb. Judy was a gourmet cook. The Moroccan Chicken was perfect, the piquant North African spices counterbalanced by the cinnamon and dates, served with apricot rice—a meal to remember. The sweets looked wonderful—a crystal bowl of what appeared to be a type of layered trifle. When Karen took her first bite, she was surprised at how the rich citrus flavour combined beautifully with the chocolate curls that decorated the whole thing.

 

“I’ve never tasted this before. It is divine. What is it?” Karen asked, not caring if she appeared ignorant.

 

“It’s called Orange Blossom Delizia,” replied Judy. “Not easy to make but well worth the effort, don’t you think?”  

 

“The entire meal was really beautiful, thank you, Judy.” Karen meant every word.

 

“Do you cook, Karen?”

 

“Not really,” she replied. “I live at home with my mum and dad, so I don’t get much of an opportunity to cook. Not that I want to; I really don’t enjoy it much. I don’t think I'll ever be a good cook.”

 

When they had finished dinner, Ron suggested they proceed to the lounge for coffee. Karen helped Judy clear the table and carry plates and dishes into the kitchen. As she placed some plates on the countertop, Judy glanced sideways at her and said, in a certain tone, not unlike that used by imperious school principals, “You know, if you’ve got any ideas of a future with John, you’d better learn to cook. He’s used to good food.” 

 

The hairs on the back of Karen’s neck stood up.  

 

“That was a lovely night, thank you, John,” Karen said in the car as John drove her home. “Your parents are nice. Your mother is a great cook.” 

 

“They thought you were lovely too.” 

 

Karen smiled to herself and thought, But I’m glad it’s over.

 

                                           ******************************

 

John was good looking, charming, and with wealthy parents, how could she not fall in love with him? He was her first love. She had been out with several guys before but had tired of them quickly whereas John was so interesting, so entertaining, so easy to love.

 

Although he had never actually said “I love you,” aside from that one time when he was drunk on Grappa, Karen was sure he did—his thoughtfulness, his consideration of her feelings, his touch, their lovemaking, his deference to her parents. And she had no doubt in the world that she loved him back.

 

For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be in love. It was a strange feeling, something she hadn't thought much about in the past, but now that it had happened to her, she could barely think of anything else. She felt happier than she had ever felt before.

 

Over a glass of wine at the Wine Bar after work one evening, John placed his hand over Karen’s and looked very hard at her.

 

“I’ve been thinking.”

 

She was immediately all ears. Whenever John said that, it was usually followed by, “Why don't we . . . ?”

 

He was always thinking of interesting things for them to do. Like that time he suggested they go bushwalking in the Blue Mountains and stay overnight at Blackheath. That had been the most fabulous weekend. The weather was perfect—foggy in the morning when they arrived at Katoomba to start their bushwalk, but the fog had cleared by about 11:00 a.m. to reveal a bright, clear, sunny day. They had walked in the bush for hours—it was so invigorating, the scenery spectacular.

 

Late in the day, when they had both agreed they'd done enough walking, they had driven to the most charming little B & B in Blackheath, which had been recommended to John by one of the guys at Uni. That was the first time they had spent the night together and it was like something out of a movie. John had brought some wood inside and started a fire in the enormous stone fireplace. As the fire blazed, they had sat in the old lounge chairs and drank champagne. Eventually, they decided to go to bed before they’d had too much to drink and fell asleep prematurely, but it was so cold in the bedroom John had dragged the double bed mattress off the bed and into the living area, in front of the fire. Karen brought the pillows and duvet and made the mattress look inviting. They had laid in front of the fire and kissed and made love, drank some more champagne, and made love again. Karen thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

 

Recalling the events of that night made her go weak at the knees, but she snapped back to the present to listen to what John was going to say after the “I’ve been thinking.”

 

“I’ve been thinking,” he said again. “We get on so well, we have such a good time when we’re together, why don’t we move in together?”

 

Karen was dumbfounded, momentarily speechless. Moving in together hadn’t occurred to her before this moment. She was elated at the idea, and the fact that John had been thinking about it. She beamed at him.

 

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had, and you’ve had some good ones. Let’s drink to that.” And with that, they ordered a bottle of champagne.

 

Karen's mind was overflowing with images of what it would be like to live in John’s gorgeous apartment at the back of his parents’ house. That beautiful living room and bedroom, both overlooking the lawn down to the water. She pictured the two of them sitting on the jetty on a weekend summer’s morning, drinking coffee, soaking up the sun, reading the morning papers.

 

Hmm, I hope we can do something about adding a little kitchenette to the flat so we can be completely self-contained and not have to eat upstairs all the time.

 

As she sipped her champagne, Karen decided now was as good a time as any to ask.

 

But when she did, John took both of her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “There is absolutely no way we are going to live in my flat, with my mother living above us, trying to control our lives every minute of every day. No way!”

 

Wow, where did that come from? Karen had never known John to be so forceful, so definite about anything before.

 

“We’ll find somewhere, well away from my parents, and yours. I love Mum and Dad, as I'm sure you love your mother and father, but we don’t want to start our lives together living under their influence.” 

 

“Agreed,” said Karen, and clinked her glass with John’s. So, her feelings of apprehension about John’s mother were correct. The hairs on the back of Karen’s neck were never wrong.

 

                                                ***************************

 

Days later when John told his parents that he and Karen were moving in together, his father looked quite pleased, but a strange look had passed across his mother’s face, a look of disdain. She quickly recovered and smiled, saying, almost genuinely, “Oh, that’s lovely, dear. I’ll arrange to have a kitchenette added to your apartment. I’ll talk to Karen about colours and things. Should only take a couple of weeks.” Then, with a slightly sarcastic edge to her voice: “I do hope you can both wait that long.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint, Mum, but we won’t be living downstairs. We’ll find a place of our own, somewhere in the city if possible.”

 

“Oh, but, John, it would be so convenient for you to be here. You love it here; I know you do. Your father and I wouldn’t interfere; you could come and go as you please.”

 

Her voice had taken on a desperate tone. John could mentally feel her grip tightening around him.

 

“No, Mum, I don’t think that would work for us. We’ll start and look for a place in or near the city next weekend.” The steely edge to his voice should have warned her to stop right there. 

 

“But you can’t afford to live elsewhere, not before you graduate and get a job. Surely you’re not proposing to live on Karen’s wages. You’ll end up in a hovel living on baked beans.” Obvious desperation now.

 

This had also crossed John’s mind, but he had a plan. Before another word was uttered, Ron snapped his fingers and, looking directly at Judy, exclaimed with glee, “Just had an idea. Why don’t they move into our apartment in the city? The last tenant moved out three weeks ago when their lease ran out and we haven’t found a replacement yet.” He turned to John and smiled. “I’ll even throw in the first year rent-free. By that time, you’ll have graduated and will have a job. What do you say?”

 

John’s plan had worked. He knew about the tenant moving out of his parents’ apartment in the city and had timed his suggestion to Karen, and this conversation with his mother and father, to achieve just this outcome. Inside, he was elated, but he kept a lid on it until the deal had been done.  

 

A look of annoyance set on Judy’s face; she could see she was losing this argument. A few years ago, she’d gone to all that trouble to have the flat built in downstairs so she could keep her eye on John. After all, he was her baby and she liked to know where he was and what he was doing. Karen was a nice girl but not necessarily the one she would have picked for John and now he was going to set up house with her. But before she could say another word, John hugged his father and laughed.

 

“Dad, you’re a genius! That would be fantastic. Thank you so much for the offer, which we gratefully accept. It’ll take us a couple of weeks to get set up and then we’ll have you and Mum over for dinner to celebrate. I’ll go and ring Karen and tell her the good news.”

 

Judy could sense her control over John and his future slipping away. It was futile to try and argue further. She knew when Ron got an idea into his head there was no stopping him. Deflated and exasperated, she put on a brave face and smiled.

 

“I hope it works out well for the two of you. You know we are always here, John, if you need us,” she said, pointedly omitting Karen from the last sentence. The inference had not escaped John's notice.

 

Excited and elated, John rang Karen to tell her the good news.

 

Karen’s parents weren’t happy about the move when she told them what was happening. They tried to explain to her that John was her first real boyfriend and that she should see a bit more of the world, and other men, before settling into a live-in relationship. Also, they didn't approve of couples living together before marriage. They realised more and more couples were doing it these days, but that didn't make it right. In their day, young people stayed at home until they got married.

 

Although she hated going against her parents’ wishes, Karen was too besotted with the idea of living with John not to do it and they moved in together in the little apartment in the city.

 

                                           ********************************

 

Those first few years were blissful.

 

John graduated and secured a good job in a prestigious law firm. Karen decided paralegal work wasn’t her vocation and secured a job in the office of a large advertising company in the city. She became friends with another girl, Miranda, who started work there the same day she did, and between the two of them, they ran the office and kept all the “creative geniuses” happy. It was a fun place to work although it became frantic and demanding whenever they were trying to win a new client, which, in those days, was often. But when the contracts were signed, the champagne would flow, and it would be celebration drinks in the office until all hours. John understood that this was all part of her job and he, too, would often be late arriving home after long hours reviewing a case that was going to court the following day.

 

Whenever they had time to get lunch outside the office, Karen and Miranda would grab a quick sandwich together in the café next door to the office. The café was not far from the law courts and occasionally John would join them for a coffee if he was in court that day. Sometimes, a friend of Miranda’s, Kay, would join them for lunch. Kay worked at the Tax Office, which was only a short walk to the café. Kay loved to hear what was going on in their office. It always sounded fun and exciting compared to where she worked. The Tax Office seemed very dull indeed when she heard about the things that happened in advertising.

 

Karen was living her dream. She had a great job that she loved, even if it was a bit mad from time to time. She was deeply in love with the man she was living with in a beautiful city apartment. Life was good.

 

It had been a busy weekend—dinner with Judy and Ron on Saturday night followed by lunch with Karen’s mum and dad on the Sunday. Karen had organized it that way so she could get an early night on Sunday in preparation for the breakfast meeting at the office scheduled for 7:30 a.m. Monday morning. She liked to get into the office at least half an hour beforehand to get everything ready and she knew Miranda would be there even earlier. Miranda had a work ethic like no other.

 

As far as friends go, Miranda was one of the best. She was always there when you needed her—like the day Karen organized the surprise birthday party for John in the apartment. Karen thought she could get everything ready in the morning and be in the office by about 1:00 p.m., but things didn’t go according to plan. It took so long to get everything finalized, she never made it into the office. Miranda covered for Karen—to such a degree that nobody else in the office even realised Karen wasn’t at work at all that day.

 

Monday morning at seven-thirty, the meeting was up and running, finished by eleven-thirty. Karen had done the minutes and allocated relevant tasks, tidied up, and was making final checks with Miranda, all done by just after three that afternoon.

 

“I think I might call it quits and take an early mark,” Karen said to Miranda. “How about you?”

 

“No, I took one last week. Don’t want to overdo it. You go. I’ll take care of things here.” Miranda smiled as she blew Karen a kiss and ushered her out the door.

 

Gee, it’s good to get away early occasionally, thought Karen as she walked home in the Spring sunshine. The morning’s shower hadn’t lasted long, and the clouds had cleared away by lunchtime, leaving the roads wet and glassy in the sun.

 

Hmm, pasta for dinner. I might even have time to make something for dessert. John probably won’t be home until about six thirty. Might even pick up a nice bottle of red. She smiled to herself as she entered the bottle shop. 

 

Fifteen minutes later, as she opened the door to their apartment, Karen heard a noise inside.

 

“Is anyone there?” she called apprehensively.

 

“Yes, it’s just me,” John replied. “Please come and sit down, there's something I need to tell you.”

 

Confused and worried thoughts raced through Karen’s mind: What was John doing home at this time in the afternoon? Something bad must have happened. Had something happened to John’s mother or father, or worse still, her mother or father? Had something happened at John’s office? Judging by the look on John’s face, it was bad news.

 

Nonplussed, she saw he was wearing casual clothes.

 

He took the parcel from her, put it on the dining table, and led her to a lounge chair. She was now seriously concerned, and when he pulled one of the dining chairs over and sat down so they were facing each other, she felt panic rising in her chest.

 

“John! What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

 

“Karen, I’m really so sorry to tell you this, and I don’t know any other way but to say it straight out. I’m leaving. I’ve met someone else that I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’m leaving today.”

 

The overwhelming relief she felt when she knew that nothing had happened to her parents only lasted a second before the revelation of what he had just said began to sink in.

 

“What? What did you say?”

 

“I said, I’m leaving. Today. I’ve met someone else. Oh, Karen, I’m so sorry—I know this will hurt you. It’s taken me weeks to get up the courage to tell you. But I have to do this. Since I met this woman, I’ve found out what love really is, what it’s all about. We’ve had some great times together, Karen, but this is different to what I’ve felt for you these past few years. I tried not to get involved but it was no use. I feel differently about her than I’ve ever felt before. I am so sorry.”

 

I can’t believe he met someone else. When did it happen? How did it happen? Why did it happen? How could he do this to me? I don’t believe it! Karen’s mind spun—so many questions. 

 

Stunned disbelief became hurt, hurt became anger; Karen couldn’t fathom what she was hearing. She stared at him, wide-eyed, incredulous.

 

“What are you talking about, John? How can you even think about leaving our life together? We are so happy here.”

 

“Please. Karen. Please try and understand. When it happens, it just happens. I didn’t plan any of this. I, too, thought I was happy; we’ve had some wonderful times together. But when I met this other person, it was like a lightning bolt, love at first sight. She feels the same way. I’m sorry, Karen, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving now. I’ve packed a couple of bags; they’re in the bedroom.” Then, almost as an afterthought as he rose and turned toward the bedroom: “Oh, and Mum and Dad said you could stay in the apartment as long as you need. Don’t feel you have to move straightaway. Take your time to decide what you want to do.” 

 

He thought he had spoken sincerely and gently and that this gesture from his parents would help soften the blow, but Karen ran after him as he picked up a suitcase in each hand and walked to the door.

 

With this last piece of information, her anger had risen to new heights.

 

“What do you mean—your mother and father said! Do you mean to tell me you’ve discussed this with them before you said anything to me!?” She shrieked, grabbing him by the arm.

 

“Now, Karen, there’s no need to be so angry.” John shook her hand off his arm. It hadn’t occurred to him that by bringing his mother and father into this, it would make a bad situation worse. 

 

“They’re doing you a favour. I thought we could be grown up about this. I was hoping we could still be friends. I was hoping you could try and see it from my point of view, but it seems that’s not possible.”

 

She ran behind him as he opened the door, trying to calm down, trying to think what to say next to stop her life from unravelling. 

 

“John. John, we need to talk about this. Please, come back and let’s talk. How did this come about? Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy?”

 

But he walked out and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving the apartment in silence except for Karen’s gasping breath and heaving sobs as the reality of the situation hit her.

 

The crying at last stopped and when she could breathe normally she went to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine, took it the comfy lounge chair near the window, flopped down, and began to think the situation through.

 

On reflection, Karen didn’t know if she was more shocked that John had been seeing another woman, or that he had discussed it with his parents before he told her. How could he do that? Four years on and he was still controlled by his mother. Karen shuddered when she thought of his mother—although she wouldn’t say it out loud, she always thought John’s mother was one to be wary of. Might have dodged a bullet there, Karen. At least this thought made her smile.

 

As she sat and sipped her wine, Karen contemplated what had just happened. She just couldn’t get her head around the fact that this man she had known so intimately, so well, so happily, could have kept it from her, could simply walk away from everything they had together, could have met somebody else.

 

Her confusion and bewilderment turned inward on herself. How could she have not seen this coming? How could she have not suspected anything? How could she have been so wrong about him? What did this say about her judgment? Did she now need to question every other aspect of her life to see where else she could have been wrong? 

 

Recalling every word of the conversation, she was amazed that John had thought he could walk away from their relationship but that they could remain friends. 

 

Now on her second glass of wine, the hurt she felt was such that she never wanted to see or hear from him again, ever.

 

By her fourth glass of wine, Karen thought she might possibly meet another man, someone she could get to know, and trust, over time, but she also knew she would never love another man the way she loved John.

 

Unable to go in to work the next day, barely able to get out of bed, Karen rang Miranda and briefly filled her in on what had happened. Miranda had met John quite a few times and was as shocked as Karen was by his infidelity.

 

“Miranda, I really need to take a couple of days off. I’m no good to anyone at the moment. Please, could you let the boss know without going into too much detail?”

 

“Sure, leave it to me. And I’ll be around to your place after work tonight with a bottle of wine. What you need is a friend and a drink!”

 

True to her word, Miranda arrived at the apartment about five forty-five with a couple of bottles of wine. The two of them talked into the early hours, drank far too much wine, and when Miranda finally left, Karen sank into bed and slept a restless sleep, but sleep nonetheless.

 

In the following few days, Karen began to think more clearly through the haze of pain and subsiding anger. She hadn't heard from John and she certainly wasn’t going to contact him. Eventually, she reached the stage where she realised it was over and she had to get on with the rest of her life.

 

In the clear light of day four, she made a resolution to herself: I will not let this breakup define the rest of my life. She decided she would not let the past four years, and the end of what she thought was a lifelong relationship, turn her into a victim. From now on she would say “Yes” to any invitation, attend any function, dress to turn heads, and get on with life.

 

John hadn’t died!  He had decided he didn’t want her anymore. His loss! 

 

And nearly forty years later, in a sunny spot in her comfortable living room in this beautiful house, Karen could still recall the pain and hurt of that afternoon when her life had changed course.

 

                                              *************************

 

Karen had first met Martin within three weeks of “the breakup” when Miranda’s friend Kay introduced them. Kay and Martin were standing at the traffic lights waiting to cross Macquarie Street on the way back to the Tax Office when Karen literally bumped into them while rummaging around in her purse for a tissue. Damn these windy days; they make my nose run.

 

“Oh, hi Kay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you like that. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

 

“Oh, hello, Karen.” Kay smiled, unperturbed. “We’re just on our way back to work after lunch.” 

 

Kay turned to the man beside her and, putting her hand on Karen’s arm, said: “Oh, Karen, this is Martin Cosgrove. He works at the Tax Office. Martin, this is Karen Romano. Karen works with my friend Miranda. You remember Miranda, my friend who works in advertising—where it’s exciting!”  Kay laughed as she emphasized the word exciting.

 

By the time they had shaken hands and said the polite things people say when they’re introduced, the pedestrian lights had turned green and Kay and Martin waved goodbye to Karen and headed off across the busy road.

 

The following week, after obtaining her phone number from Kay, Martin rang Karen to ask her out for dinner. According to her resolve to “Just Say Yes,” she accepted. It had been four years since she’d been anywhere with a man other than John, and when the evening arrived, she thought to herself: What the hell am I doing, going out with a strange man I know nothing about, that I don’t even know if I like? I must be truly desperate. Or stupid. Or both! 

 

Martin was polite, quite nice looking, and very well dressed. To her surprise, it turned out to be a pleasant evening. Although he didn’t exactly sweep her off her feet, Karen agreed to go out with him again. She had forgotten how nice it was to be asked out, and even nicer to be taken to the types of places Martin suggested.

 

They continued to see each other every so often until gradually dates with Martin became a regular occurrence. Karen and Martin became a couple who were known to be seeing each other exclusively and Karen’s deep-seated hurt and unhappiness following the breakup began to recede. She found she was able to dispel the hurtful memory more easily and more often thanks to Martin’s care and affection.   

 

Karen became quite fond of Martin; however, she was slightly dismayed when she realised he was getting serious about their relationship. He had fallen in love with her. Her mother and father thought he was a lovely man, even though he was quite a few years older than Karen. He seemed very respectful toward her, and after having seen her so unhappy after the breakup with John they were quietly pleased that she had met such a nice guy so soon.

 

Martin became a constant in Karen's life, always there whenever she needed anything, willing to go anywhere, anytime, just to be with her. It concerned her that he seemed to be almost dependent on her for his very happiness but at the same time it secretly flattered her that she had the power to make another person so happy. Martin had never been in a serious relationship before and he was a bit like a rescue puppy who had just found his forever home.

 

He was an independent man whose parents had both died quite a few years ago, but he was close to an older brother who lived interstate. He was a good catch, and even though Karen wasn't in love with him, she became used to Martin being around; plus, there was a certain charm in having an attractive man madly in love with you. What he lacked in passion, he made up for in dependability. 

  

When conversation between the two of them turned to the future, marriage seemed to be the natural progression of things and Karen was delighted with the two-carat diamond ring Martin gave her when they became engaged. Miranda was very happy for Karen, thrilled that she had left behind those feelings of the time she was with John, as were Mr. and Mrs. Romano. The happy couple were showered with gifts and best wishes, and when the time came for Karen to begin wedding arrangements, she became excited by the whole idea of a wedding and a future with Martin.

 

But in her quiet moments, when she was alone with her thoughts, she admitted to herself that she wasn’t in love with Martin. At the same time, she also realised she had been naïve in her relationship with John, and the more she analysed her feelings for John, the more she realsed it had been a rather one-sided relationship. Perhaps the feelings she had for Martin were what real life was all about—solid, dependable friendship.

 

Because of the way she felt about Martin, she was able to see the future more clearly, rather than through rose-tinted glasses. She felt a life married to Martin could be a good life—surely it wasn’t necessary to be in love with someone to make a good life with them. She only had to think about all the arranged marriages in the world today, so many of which lasted for as long as the partners were alive.

 

Maybe love could get in the way, cloud your judgment, allow you to become subservient to the other person occasionally. Karen made up her mind that she was better off being realistic than being “in love.”

 

And now, all these years later, she was not unhappy with her life.

 

Except she occasionally wished there could have been just a bit more excitement here and there along the way. That risky, breathtaking, thrilling excitement some people experience in their lives.

 

She would love to have known that feeling, but in thirty-six years married to Martin, she had never come close.

 

                                                            ******************

 

The sound of the automatic garage door opening snapped Karen out of her reminiscing and quickly brought her mind back to the present day.

 

As she heard Martin slam the car door and enter the house, she jumped out of the comfy armchair and hurried into the kitchen to put the jug on. Martin liked a cup of tea when he came in from golf. She didn’t want another little blow-up like the one last week when he discovered his favourite shirt hadn’t been ironed.

 

It wasn’t that Karen was frightened of Martin’s temper. It was more a matter of keeping the peace. Avoid poking the lion was a line from a book she had read many years ago and repeating that line in her head had staved off many an argument over the years.

 

At various times during their marriage, Martin had told Karen of his childhood in far west New South Wales, so she was well aware of how his upbringing had moulded his character. It had taken her several years to learn how to live with his temperament, his flare-ups, and his self-centredness, which had started virtually with his birth. Once she had ingested his, and his family’s, history, she understood what made Martin Cosgrove the man he was today.