Unfinished Business

By Charmain Lines

On a chilly Tuesday evening Nicola’s life changes forever with the arrival on her doorstep of her husband’s daughter and infant grandson. Childless by choice, Nicola is wholly unprepared for the reality of a teenager, let alone one coping
with motherhood. She is equally unprepared for the havoc Isabel and Marcus wreak in her home and her marriage.

Jonathan wants to believe that he has vanquished the ghosts of past mistakes. When his daughter and grandson move in, however, history threatens to overwhelm the future he is building with his new wife.

Instead of being in charge of a life filled with excitement, Isabel finds herself stuck with a baby, living under her father’s roof and working in a dead-end job.

In the weeks leading up to Jonathan and Nicola’s first wedding anniversary, father, daughter and wife test the boundaries of an arrangement forced upon them by blood, love and consequence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charmain Lines
• Release date: May 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301256396

Charmain Lines

I am in my early 40s, and live in Johannesburg, South Africa with my husband. Storytelling is how I make my living - mostly corporate at the moment, but increasingly books that need writing are bringing themselves to my attention.

Book preview

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

By

Charmain Lines

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Charmain Lines on Smashwords

Unfinished Business

Copyright 2013 Charmain Lines

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

*****

For Rob

And with gratitude to Sonja, Lizette, Lize and Claire

*****

"What saves a woman is to take a step. Then another step."

- Antoine De Saint-Exupery –

*****

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

*****

CHAPTER 1

The song was still playing in Nicola’s head when she squeezed the toothpaste onto her toothbrush that evening. And the memory still made her smile. In thoughtful mode Jonathan was irresistable.

It had started over breakfast. Nicola’s spoon – small, with serrated edges – had hovered above the half-eaten grapefruit as she listened to the news bulletin on the radio. More than one-hundred-and-fifty motorists were fined last night at a roadblock on Jan Smuts Avenue in the vicinity of Hyde Park Corner. According to the Johannesburg Metro Police Department spokesperson, at least half did not have the mandatory red triangles in their vehicles.

Nicola cut another fleshy red segment from its membrane. She blinked as a dart of grapefruit juice hit the corner of her eye. The newsreader wrapped up the report and she turned the volume down. I’d better check that my car’s triangle is where I think it is. Can’t imagine how irritated I’d be to pay a fine for something that silly.

Jonathan smiled as he added more milk to the bran flakes in his bowl. Not to worry. I had a look earlier when I went out to fetch the paper. The triangle is strapped to the inside of the boot, exactly where it is supposed to be.

She briefly pressed her hand against his cheek and felt his skin crease under her fingers as he smiled. You are such a knight in shining armour, aren’t you?

Surely my chivalry deserves more than a pat on the cheek. Jonathan pulled her towards him. Nicola slid her arm around his neck and opened her mouth to his kiss.

Mind that your tie doesn’t end up in the milk, Sir Lancelot. The sun caught the ring on his finger as he dabbed at the silken fabric with the napkin. Nine months of marriage and it still pleased her to see the gold band on his hand. He had strong, beautiful hands – one of the first things about him she had noticed and remembered. Her gaze shifted to his face; he was looking at her.

Gotcha, he whispered and grinned, looking even less than his fifty-two years than usual.

The familiar sports jingle sounded softly from the radio. Jonathan flicked his wrist to look at his watch. Damn, I should have been on the road already – have to be in Gold Reef City by eight for that seminar. You are too much of a distraction, Mrs Lindley. Please excuse me? He stood up and finished the soggy cereal on his way to dropping the bowl in the sink.

You want to go to movies tonight? Nicola sipped the last of the grapefruit juice from her spoon, then stood up and started putting away the remnants of their breakfast.

Jonathan shrugged into his jacket. I’d love to but I’m not sure about my day. I’ll call you at lunchtime and we can decide. But now I have to fly. He hugged her to him and with a last kiss he was gone.

Half an hour later Nicola had deposited her laptop and handbag in the boot of her car. The morning was chilly and she rubbed her hands together, considering briefly to go back into the house for a thicker jacket. Deciding against it, she got into the vehicle and turned the key. The radio switched on automatically but it was music, not the voice of the talk show host, which spilled from the speakers. Eric Clapton transported Nicola instantaneously to the tiny restaurant where Jonathan had proposed and where they had danced until the waiters had started stacking chairs on tables.

She turned up the volume and with her head back and eyes closed, listened to the end of the song. Only when the next song started, did she realise that a CD was playing. Jonathan . . . he must have put it in when he checked her car earlier. She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and typed: "Thank you for my sweet surprise. You HAVE changed my world, and still do, every day."

Now, an out-of-place sound cut through the daydream. Nicola switched off her electric toothbrush and turned to Jonathan. Was that the buzzer? Who could be at the gate this late? Although Parkhurst was one of the safer suburbs in Johannesburg, its residents were every bit as vigilant – some would even say paranoid – as the rest of the city.

Her husband was already pulling the sweater, which had landed in the laundry basket seconds earlier, back over his head. I don’t know. It’s unlikely to be a vagrant. Maybe there’s trouble in the street and it’s the security guys.

Don’t just open the gate! Nicola called after him as he turned the corner from their bedroom door into the passage. The warning was not really necessary; Jonathan was not one for hot-headed acts of heroism.

With the towel in her hand, she followed in Jonathan’s footsteps to the lounge. The room was empty. The intercom handset dangled on its cord, nodding towards the floor as the tension in the coils released and tightened.

Nicola wondered about arming herself. But unlike a Hollywood movie set, their lounge had no heavy candlesticks conveniently close at hand. She gradually registered the goose bumps on her skin – the wide-open front door was letting in the autumn chill.

Jonathan? With her hand on the heavy brass handle, she peered into the walled garden. There was nothing to see, but noise was coming from the garage: doors opening and closing, voices. And a baby crying.

A baby? She knew of only one baby in their circle of family and friends and he had never been to their house.

Nicola! Jonathan stopped calling when he saw her. Oh good, here you are. Please take Marcus and see if you can settle him. I’m just helping Isabel to get the car into the garage. Jonathan deposited the screaming bundle draped in a blanket in Nicola’s arms and rushed past her into the house. Moments later he was back with his car keys in his hand. He nudged Nicola’s shoulder in passing. Come on, sweetheart, get into the house. It’s too cold to be out here with the baby.

Still not understanding what was going on, Nicola shifted the wailing child in her arms and stepped back inside. She closed the front door behind her. Sitting down on a chair in the lounge, she folded back the blanket. Tears and snot streaked Marcus’ face. His body arched with the effort of breathing between the heaving sobs that racked his tiny frame. At nine months old he had even less of a chance than Nicola to make sense of this night.

Shh, shh, there you go. Nicola’s repertoire included neither the words nor the motions to soothe a baby. Her uncertainty probably only added to the infant’s distress. She hoisted him against her shoulder and awkwardly patted his back. It’s OK, you are safe now. Shh, shh, shh . . .

Finally the whispers seemed to reach him and the crying petered out into a forlorn whimper. She felt him relax against her. Pity tugged at her as a last sniffle trembled through the slight figure. Poor little scrap; life is a bully, isn’t it?

Without his crying to distract her, Nicola registered that Marcus was drooling against her neck. Distaste shivered down her spine. She didn’t want to wake him – his even breathing suggested that he had fallen asleep – but the warm, gooey wetness edging towards her chest was beyond endurance. Nicola gingerly moved the arm that was wrapped under Marcus’ bottom. Immediately the little hand resting on her shoulder clenched into a fist around a clump of her hair. His body stiffened in alarm. Shh, shh, relax . . . just relax. Hopefully your mother will be here soon to sort you out.

As if her words had conjured them, the front door opened and she heard voices in the hall. The young woman who entered the lounge ahead of Jonathan was wearing what looked like pyjamas covered by a heavy jacket. The sleeves reached down over her hands, the front almost to her knees. Her hair was a black tangle on her head. The strands that had escaped the elastic band straggled across her face. Her eyes – so like Jonathan’s – were red and puffy. She was holding onto her father’s hand like the girl she almost still was.

Nicola watched as Jonathan guided his daughter into a chair and dropped the bag he had been carrying next to it. He crossed the floor to where she was holding Marcus. Good job, my love. You got him to sleep. His voice was low and soft, yet vibrating with the adrenaline rush of the night. He leaned over his wife, balancing on his hands, one on each of the chair’s armrests. Oupa’s little sweetheart. He whispered the endearment while nuzzling the baby’s silky black curls.

Jonathan pushed himself up and away from the chair and looked at Isabel. Did you bring a bed for Marcus to sleep in? A pram or something?

Tears filled Isabel’s eyes as she looked up to her father. I didn’t think about that, Daddy. All I wanted to do was get away from him. I was scared he would hurt Marcus . . . A sob bubbled through her lips and she flopped forward, her head dropping to her knees.

Jonathan sat down on the armrest next to her and pulled her towards him. Nicola noticed the contrast between the gentle touch on his daughter’s head and the set of his jaw. Don’t you worry about a thing, my sweetie. We’ll sort this mess out.

He looked up at Nicola. Can you possibly find a spot for him, Nics? And make a bed for Isabel? I don’t think I should leave her on her own at the moment.

Sure. Nicola shuffled to the edge of the chair and pushed herself up with one hand while balancing Marcus against her shoulder. What did Isabel mean, she was worried about Marcus getting hurt? Curiosity gnawed at Nicola, but she appreciated that now was not the right time to be asking questions.

*****

Nicola paused in the guestroom’s doorway. She allowed herself a moment of pride at what she had accomplished. The bedside lamp’s soft glow extended a cosy welcome. Marcus was sound asleep on the floor in the nest she had fashioned for him using an eiderdown, pillows and blankets. The bedding on the double bed was folded back, the flannel sheets promising a snug embrace. Fresh towels were draped across the back of the rocking chair. Even her mother would have approved.

Nicola wondered again about the circumstances that had brought Isabel halfway across town tonight. She lived with Marcus’ father in Kempton Park, the older part where the street lights were often on the blink and people supplemented their income by renting out parts of their rambling 1950s homes. From what Jonathan had told her, Nicola knew theirs was a garden cottage in the backyard of Marcus’ paternal grandparents. It was at least a thirty-kilometre drive – not safe for a young woman and a small child so late at night.

Nicola found Jonathan and Isabel sitting at the kitchen table. They each had a half-empty mug of coffee in front of them. Jonathan’s hand rested on Isabel’s arm; she was dabbing at the tears running down her cheeks with a sodden piece of kitchen towel.

Marcus is asleep and your bed is waiting for you, Isabel. There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom vanity if you need one, and soap and shampoo in the shower. Nicola considered a drink for herself, but caffeine this late would not be a good idea.

Thank you, my darling. Jonathan’s voice was appreciative, his smile warm. He pulled out the chair next to him, inviting her to sit down.

So . . . can I ask what happened tonight? Nicola leaned into Jonathan’s arm, speaking tentatively.

He hit me, that’s what happened! Isabel whipped her hair over her shoulder and glowered at Nicola. And he said that he didn’t want us there any longer. I had nowhere else to go, so I thought you and Daddy . . . Tears caught up with her again and she ripped a fresh sheet from the roll of paper towel next to her.

Good heavens! Chris hit you? Nicola would have expected many things from Marcus’ father, but not violence. Granted, she had only met him once or twice, but her overriding impression was one of even-temperedness, even timidity. Passionate gestures, violent or otherwise, had not seemed to be within his reach. They had been living together since shortly after Isabel had announced that she was pregnant, and Nicola couldn’t recall any previous indication of trouble in paradise. Why would he do that?

Don’t you believe me? Isabel’s eyes – stormy blue rimmed with long, thick lashes – flashed at Nicola. A lone tear slid down her cheek. She wiped at her nose impatiently.

That’s not what Nicola meant, sweetheart. Jonathan reached for his daughter’s arm again and stroked it to ease her agitation. We are just really shocked. Why don’t you finish your coffee and I’ll show you to your room. It’s been a hectic night and you need to get to bed.

Isabel glared at Nicola for a moment longer, then nodded and lifted her mug to her lips. She put it down almost immediately, pushing her chair back. I’ve had enough, thanks. I’m tired.

Nicola and Jonathan stood up with her. Just let your dad know if you need anything else, Isabel. Sleep tight. Nicola wondered whether hugging Jonathan’s daughter would be appropriate but Isabel took the decision out of her hands when, with a curt nod, she turned around and stomped off.

Jonathan squeezed her shoulder – I’ll be back in a minute, darling – and was gone too.

The clock against the wall ticked inexorably towards morning.

*****

Jonathan’s feet were blocks of ice when he finally collapsed into bed. Nicola allowed him to tuck them between her calves to warm up. As he slid his arm around her shoulders the fluorescent hands on his watch caught her eye: the new day had arrived many minutes ago.

Is she OK? Nicola threaded her fingers through his and snuggled into his arms.

I don’t know. It’s been a hell of a thing for her and she’s really rattled. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. The little son of a bitch must hope I don’t run into him in a dark alley.

Do you know what actually happened? I didn’t see any injuries? Nicola phrased her questions carefully, not wanting to repeat the earlier misunderstanding.

I couldn’t get much detail out of her and I didn’t want to push too hard given how upset she was, but it sounded like they had an argument and he slapped her. Where and how many times I don’t know. Jonathan brushed away a strand of her hair that was tickling his face and left his hand resting on her head.

Will she go back?

Absolutely not! Even if she wants to I won’t allow her. She cannot stay with a man who would even contemplate lifting his hand against her – I don’t care what the circumstances were.

Where will she go then?

There was a pause before he answered. I thought they could stay here. The words hovered over them, fragile and hopeful.

What about her mother? Nicola was lying very still. Her body felt unbearably heavy.

You know she’s not an option, Nics. The woman can barely take care of herself at the moment. The next rehab stint can’t be too far off. The familiar mix of anger and contempt stained his voice.

We don’t have space for another family in this house, Jon. The two of them can’t live in the guestroom for any length of time. Nicola hoped logic would do the trick.

It’ll be fine for a few days, just until I have the flat fixed up. I can’t chuck my daughter and grandson out on the street. He changed position, shifting away slightly from Nicola.

Of course you can’t. I know that. But I don’t see how this is going to work . . . Nicola turned on her side, watching her husband’s profile against the lighter background of the curtains.

Jonathan sighed. I think it will be fine. He turned his head towards her. But we are not going to find the answers tonight, sweetheart. I suggest we catch the sleep we still can and talk about all this in the morning. He leaned over and kissed her. Thank you for everything – you are a real trooper.

He gathered Nicola in his arms and with his head buried in her neck his breathing deepened almost immediately.

CHAPTER 2

Ouch! Nicola sat down on the chair in the flat to rub her foot. Her thick sock had offered no protection against the plastic telephone’s handset.

Nicola’s hand stilled as she noticed the date on the display of the digital clock perched on the side table next to her. July already . . . How quickly two months had passed. Apparently time flew even when you were not having fun. She still remembered waking up that Tuesday morning, eight weeks ago, with such a sense of wellbeing. In contrast to the crisp autumn air their bed had been a cocoon and she had burrowed deeper into Jonathan’s arms for a last cuddle before getting up. The day had unfolded like countless Tuesdays before; in hindsight memorable exactly because it was so unremarkable. Memorable because it was to be her last ordinary twelve hours.

Days that marked the end of a chapter should really arrive bearing a sign, she thought. There should be something about them that alerted you to savour the joys of predictability. Such days should be hugged and held; she, neglectfully, had merely kissed that Tuesday’s cheek in passing.

That evening, Isabel and Marcus had tumbled into their home and their lives, turning both upside-down.

At least Jonathan had finally completed the flat. It was heavenly to have the bricks and mortar part of her house back, if nothing else. As she looked around her, she appreciated again the great job Jonathan had done in turning the old storage rooms into a self-contained little home. It was attached to the main house, but they had all agreed the connecting door would be closed – not locked, but at least not ajar.

Jonathan had been adamant: What kind of message would it send to lock the door? I want her to feel welcome, part of us. She’s just a kid who’s been through a lot and needs a break.

She’s also a young woman and a new mother who needs her privacy. Let’s lock the door and use each other’s front doors for visits. That will tell her that we respect her as an adult and that she is responsible for her own household.

Come on, Nics, I don’t want to talk about this again. Besides, it’s almost winter and it will be better for everybody not to have to run halfway around the house in the cold.

His hug had signaled the end of the discussion; it had followed several others they’d had in recent times down the same dead-end street.

There were so many conversations these days she couldn’t have with her husband – You can’t keep on giving her money . . . I think she neglects her baby . . . Please don’t let her take our stuff – so many topics that ripped through their relationship.

The sharing of resources grated Nicola. Isabel had a job and received an allowance from Jonathan. She was supposed to manage her own household. Yet every now and again sugar, loo paper, and even tinned food would disappear from the main house’s cupboards. Why buy when you can borrow, right?

She’s still learning to manage her money. And a tin of tuna is hardly going to ruin us. Jonathan defended and explained, but refused to understand why his wife got so upset. She’s my daughter; why can’t she come into our house when she needs something? Really, Nics, I’ve never known you to be petty. I’ll talk to her, but you also need to relax.

Getting up from her seat to continue the search for a measuring jug that had vanished from her kitchen, Nicola noticed the embroidered cushion covers. She had bought them in Spain on her first overseas holiday. They had been enlisted to furnish the flat along with the two-seater couch that used be in their bedroom. What years in her house couldn’t do, mere weeks in the flat did: the covers were in tatters. How did Isabel do that?

She guessed she shouldn’t have been surprised. She should have expected it and kept the cushions safe in the linen cupboard. The general sense of disorder, neglect and lack of care that permeated Isabel’s life was hardly a secret. The odd thing was that she did not destroy wilfully; Nicola couldn’t help thinking that Isabel’s was a life of unthinking indifference and carelessness.

Are you looking for something? Isabel sounded both surprised and mildly annoyed at finding Nicola in the middle of her living area.

Oh! Hi, Isabel. Nicola’s hand flew to her neck. Sorry to intrude. I was looking for my measuring jug. Is it here by any chance? Why do I feel like an intruder in my own house?

Isabel jiggled the baby on her hip. Her figure-hugging jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt showed off a body left unmarred by pregnancy and childbirth. The elasticity of youth, Nicola thought.

I don’t think so . . . No, wait, I remember. I needed milk the other morning and my dad brought it in some jug-thing. That’s probably what you’re after. She plonked Marcus down on the couch and with a flick of her head tossed the pitch-black hair over her shoulder. Let me check. She disappeared behind the kitchen counter to the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing.

Nicola looked down and caught Marcus’ eye. He was regarding her with all the solemnity of his eleven months. His face was possibly last wiped after breakfast, and he had not yet grown into the tracksuit pants and jersey he was wearing. As always, Marcus looked like an afterthought.

He was a cute little guy, but Nicola felt strangely immune to his charms. The fact that he seldom smiled or engaged with anyone added to the distance between them. It was like watching him from behind a sheet of glass – and being watched in return. They kept a close eye on one another, she and Marcus.

Oh, cool, here it is. With a triumphant flourish Isabel waved the measuring jug above her head and slid it across the counter towards Nicola. Sorry, I just forgot to bring it back.

Thanks. Nicola tapped the thick glass against her palm, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. OK, well, I imagine you have things to do, so let me leave you to it.

Nicola pulled the door closed and turned around – into Jonathan’s arms.

And what have we here? crooned her husband. His hands ran down her body and pulled her tight into his embrace. In many ways they were still on honeymoon. The actual holiday ended eleven months ago – cut short by Marcus’ birth – but the sense of it still lingered. Coming home to find the other person there remained a thrill to both of them. Nicola closed her eyes and relaxed into him, savouring his familiar smell and feel.

After what felt like only a second or two, he stepped away and reached for the door behind her. I’m just going to say hello, sweetheart. See you now. In front of her eyes the infatuated husband morphed into the doting grandfather, eager to hold the little boy in the other room.

Nicola swallowed at the resentment bubbling in her throat. This Jekyll-Hyde transformation was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with. When Isabel and Marcus moved in, Nicola was unexpectedly confronted with an unfamiliar side of Jonathan. Her friend and lover was also a father and a grandfather and she did not quite know how to deal with that.

His children, Isabel and her half-brother Oliver, were almost grown up by the time Nicola and Jonathan had started dating. She hardly ever saw him with his children and was quite happy with the arrangement. That all changed when Chris lost his temper that fateful Tuesday night. Now Jonathan left Nicola to fend for herself while he slayed his daughter’s dragons and coaxed smiles from his grandson.

She preferred not to be present. A cold shower had nothing on hearing your husband making baby talk in that ridiculous tone of voice.

*****

An hour later Nicola and Jonathan had finished their supper. The kitchen was not her favourite place, but now that it was back to cooking for only the two of them, it felt less like the Gulag again. She was grateful that Jonathan was not a fussy eater – discerning, yes, but not finicky. He seemed to enjoy the symbolic value of her cooking for him more than the actual culinary merit of her creations.

Like most evenings, they settled down in the study after the meal, each with a last glass of wine. On the odd occasion when there was something worthwhile on television they chose the lounge, but this room was their favourite. In summer they opened the sliding doors into the garden;