How To Save a Marriage in a Million (12 page)

But it had to be done.

It wasn’t fair on Joanna to delay any longer. She’d worked so hard to make a new life, she deserved to be free.

‘Hello, Adam. It’s good to see you again too.’

‘Come through into my office.’

Richard followed the solicitor down a short corridor and into a spacious, tastefully decorated room with a huge window looking out on the Swan River.

Richard sat down on a leather-upholstered club chair while Adam Segal settled behind a highly polished, antique oak desk. He opened his laptop, pressed a few keys and then focused his attention on his client.

‘So what brings you here? What can I do for you?’

Richard realised the best thing to do was get straight to the point.

‘I want to divorce Jo.’

The elevation of the lawyer’s brows was so slight Richard wondered if he’d imagined it, but realised it was part of the man’s job to have the ability to turn body language on and off at will. He wrote something down in a ring-bound file and then looked up with the hint of a sympathetic smile on his face.

‘You know my area of expertise is company law and financial advice, not family law.’

‘Yes. I’m aware of that but I’d prefer if you could handle it.’

He’d known Adam for many years. They’d gone to uni together and Adam had met Joanna socially several times. He knew that shouldn’t make any difference, but it did. It somehow made what he imagined would be a brutally impersonal procedure a little more tolerable.

‘Mmm…’ Adam rubbed his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. ‘I’d be happy to guide you through the process if it’s clear cut. Are there any possible complications? Custody issues? Property issues where there might be some dispute?’

‘No. No children and we sold the house not long after I left for the U.K. Joanna has her own, smaller home now and I agreed that she could do whatever she wanted with the proceeds of the sale of the Barclay Street place.’

The eyebrows definitely went up this time.

‘Generous,’ he said, and wrote some more in his file. ‘As this is obviously all new to you I’ll give you the family court booklet to read and the application papers. When you’ve been through those I’ll see you again and we can complete the
application and organise to serve the notice on your wife. After that it’s relatively simple.’

Adam picked up the phone and pressed one of the buttons.

‘Could you ask Marie if she can get me the divorce application paperwork and then bring it in?’ He looked up apologetically. ‘You understand this isn’t my usual field.’

Richard felt a little guilty but then remembered his friend had never been shy of charging hefty fees.

‘Thanks, Adam, I appreciate it.’

The meeting was effectively wound up when the receptionist, who had taken his details when he’d arrived, came in with a folder. The lawyer handed them over after doing a quick check of the contents.

‘Perhaps you could make an appointment in about a week.’ He hesitated. ‘And I’m so sorry to hear about you and Joanna.’

I’m sorry too
, Richard thought as he stood up and shook his friend’s hand.

‘I’ll make an appointment when I check my schedule for next week.’

* * *

When Richard arrived home, he felt exhausted. He discarded the folder Adam had given him, vowing he would go through it on the weekend and make another appointment after that, without delay. He had the feeling the longer he postponed the process of actually signing the papers that finally struck the death knell for his marriage, the less likely he would go through with it.

But it was what Joanna wanted. She’d made that perfectly clear and he had no valid reason to persuade her to try again…other than that he still loved her. He knew that for certain now. Yes, she’d changed and she’d made a new life for herself but, in a peculiar way, her newfound independence endeared her to him even more. Any doubts he’d had while he’d been overseas had vanished after the first conversation they’d had together. The problem was, he could never tell her because she didn’t need the added complication of dealing with his futile emotions.

The rest of the evening dragged painfully slowly and when he was just about to go to bed his phone rang. He glanced at the small screen on his cell-phone and recognised the number of Lady Lawler.

‘Hello, Richard Howell,’ he said, now fully alert
and wondering why the hospital was contacting him. He wasn’t on call.

‘Hi, Dr Howell. It’s Barbara, charge nurse on Matilda Ward. I hope you don’t mind me ringing.’

‘Of course not. A problem with one of our patients?’

‘Er…’ The nurse hesitated and then cleared her throat. ‘Not exactly. I just wanted to have a quick word with you about Joanna Raven.’

‘Joanna?’ His heart rate quickened and he swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Why on earth would she want to talk to him about Jo? At ten-thirty at night. Had something happened to her?

‘Yes. I may be concerned unnecessarily but she spent over an hour this evening talking to Danny Sims’s mother on the phone. When she finally finished, Jo seemed close to tears and without any explanation she took off for about fifteen minutes. She’s never done anything like that before and if I stuck strictly to staff protocols I should report the incident to the director of nursing.’

‘That seems harsh.’

‘I know, and when she came back she was fine, perfectly composed. I just thought you should
know and maybe have a word with her, if you have a moment. You’ve spent a lot of time with the Sims family and know them better than anyone. You and Jo seem to get on really well together as well. I know she holds you in high regard. She refused to admit anything was wrong to me. Said she just needed to go to the toilet in a hurry, but I’ve known her long enough to suspect there’s more to it than that. In fact, she’s been a bit edgy all week.’

‘Okay, I’ll speak to her tomorrow. Her shift finishes at seven?’

‘That’s right.’

‘So she’ll probably want to get some sleep during the day.’ Much as he would have liked to jump in his car and drive to the hospital straight away, he realised he was overreacting. He’d try and call her some time during the following afternoon. ‘I’ll certainly have a quiet word with her tomorrow, if I can.’

‘Thanks Dr Howell. I wasn’t sure what else to do.’

‘You did the right thing to ring me.’

Richard spent a restless night, drifting in and out of sleep in between thinking of Joanna and
speculating about what it was concerning the Sims family that had upset her. If it was because Danny had the same tumour that had taken the life of their son he definitely needed to discuss the problem with her on a professional as well as a personal level.

The last time he looked at his bedside clock it was 5:00 a.m. and, after what only seemed like a few moments, the buzz of his alarm jolted him out of his slumbers.

The beginning of another day.

* * *

Despite the fact Joanna was so tired she could hardly put one foot in front of the other, she couldn’t get to sleep. First, it was an uncomfortably humid day and a lukewarm shower did little to either cool her down or refresh her. Second, she seemed hyper-alert to every sound in her usually quiet neighbourhood that morning. First it was the garbage truck, then a mob of raucous laughing kookaburras and she finally gave up when the noise of chainsaws pruning street trees started at about eight-thirty. And, of course, this was all superimposed on the underlying unsettled feeling she’d had since Jenny Sims had phoned and asked
her if she could explain some of the things she and her husband didn’t understand about Danny’s illness, including his prognosis.

Of course her answer had been that they should discuss any queries they had with the doctor, but then Jenny, with Pete in the background, had launched into a heart-wrenching account of how they blamed themselves for their son’s illness. They should have known something was wrong when Danny had developed back pain after the school athletics carnival; they’d ignored the fact that he’d complained of tiredness, thinking it was purely due to a growth spurt and starting at a new school; when he’d seemed to lose his usually voracious appetite they’d assumed he was pigging out on junk food after school. Jenny also felt guilty about commencing full-time work at the beginning of the year when Danny had started high school, and they both believed their GP had waited too long before ordering X-rays.

Joanna had listened with the kind of understanding that came from having been in that same dark whirlpool of guilt, regret and blame. She knew the agony of going over and over in her mind what she hadn’t done and not knowing whether it
would have made any difference. She’d suffered the despair of a depression she couldn’t shake when she’d realised Sam wouldn’t survive. And she’d rejected her husband when he had tried so desperately to help her and had probably needed her more than she’d needed him.

Of course, she hadn’t voiced any of her thoughts to the Simses but hoped just letting them express their concerns and pointing out they didn’t have to shoulder the burden alone would help. They’d thanked her and seemed calmer when she’d hung up but it had taken its toll on her own peace of mind. She’d managed to hold herself together until she finally excused herself and finished the call.

Then she’d had to escape. It had only taken five therapeutic minutes in the nurses’ locker room for the tears to wash away at least some of the anguish of her memories. They’d been so vivid. She’d thought time had done its healing work but she’d been wrong. Thankfully she’d had the distraction of work to get her through the long night and she’d managed to fob off Barbara’s concerned enquiries about her wellbeing.

She was glad she had the weekend off—her next shift was Monday night—so if she didn’t get any
sleep that day she could always catch up on her days off.

After a light breakfast, a banana smoothie, and a tidy up of her house she finally drifted off to sleep at about lunchtime. She’d turned her phone off and hung the ‘Quiet, Shift Worker Sleeping’ sign on her front door and woke six hours later feeling refreshed…and restless. Usually she was quite content with her own company and had got used to living alone, but tonight she felt she needed people around her.

She looked at her watch and it was just after six. She had plenty of time to have a shower, a bite to eat and make it to choir practice with time to spare.

* * *

Richard called Joanna’s number several times that afternoon but had been diverted to her message bank each time. He’d left several messages for her to contact him but, at five-thirty in the afternoon, she still hadn’t got back to him.

He refused to imagine the worst. She was probably just sleeping. Although it had been a long time in the past, he still recalled how exhausting working nights could be. He made up his mind to
call around to see her the following day if she still wasn’t answering her phone and decided not to resist James Francis’s pleas to make up the numbers at band practice that evening. It would take his mind off Joanna. Or that was the plan.

He drove the short distance to his house, microwaved a plate of yesterday’s leftover ravioli and sat in his living room, eating his meal while watching the evening news. When he finished, leaving half the soggy remains of the pasta, he showered and changed into casual clothes, gathered his saxophone case and walked back to the hospital.

When he arrived he was greeted by the dozen or so members of the band as if he was a celebrity and he not only enjoyed playing in the band, but the time passed quickly.

‘See you next week,’ was the farewell comment from James.

‘Yes, I’ll try and make it,’ he said, being careful not to commit himself. Unexpected demands often came up that he couldn’t avoid and he had a clinical heads of department meeting the following Friday afternoon that he’d been told might continue into the early evening.

He strode out of the lecture theatre and set off along the walkway with a much lighter heart than when he’d arrived. Deep in thought in an endeavour to plan the best use of his time off on the weekend, he rounded a corner and nearly collided with…

‘Joanna? Is that you?’

The question was redundant. He could easily tell who it was. She was wearing snug-fitting white cropped pants that accentuated the golden colour of her calves, topped by a sleeveless T-shirt with a scoop neck that revealed a glimpse of gorgeous cleavage. A white-peaked, Oliver Twist style cap shaded her eyes from the glow of the lamps that illuminated the path and made it impossible to assess her mood from the expression on her face.

She hesitated as if in some kind of dilemma about how to answer him.

‘Are you all right?’ he added as she lifted her head. Her eyes connected with his and now he could see she was annoyed.

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ Her tone wasn’t exactly hostile but she obviously wasn’t pleased to see him.

‘Er…’ How could he tactfully broach the fact
that Barbara had been worried about her and asked him if he would follow up her concerns? Maybe the best tactic would be the truth. He’d never been good at hedging around issues. ‘I wanted to talk to you, and planned to call around and see you tomorrow.’

Her eyes narrowed.

‘About the divorce?’

In all honesty he’d managed to put all thoughts of the divorce to the back of his mind and hadn’t yet made a follow-up appointment to see his lawyer friend.

‘No, something else.’ The static weight of his saxophone case was beginning to make his arm ache so he placed it on the paving between his feet. The diversion also served the purpose of giving him another couple of moments to decide what he was going to say. A young couple with a small child in tow walked past and looked at them curiously. It wasn’t the best place for a gently probing conversation about issues that were close to both their hearts.

‘It’s a delicate matter,’ he continued. ‘And maybe we could go somewhere more private.’

Her brow furrowed in a frown.

‘Where?’

‘Are you walking?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I walk with you? My place is in the same direction and maybe—’

‘Okay. I’d rather we go back to
my
place, have a cuppa, if it’s so important—this delicate matter.’