A Cat Among the McIvers

By John Heyworth

A pet robot, an ambitious wife and a wild, free-spirited artist—was this too much for Michael McIver to handle? Set in the polarizing web of educational institutions in Australia, Michael worked at a local university as an IT technician where he enjoyed helping his academic colleagues with their computer problems. He aimed to please. And he wanted to please his wife too. That wasn’t easy.

After twelve years of married life in Melbourne, Melissa had persuaded Michael that they should move to Perth, Western Australia to rejuvenate their lives. Michael wanted to be a father. ‘But not yet Michael,’ she told him. Michael accepted this passively; he knew that Melissa McIver was an ambitious educator who dreamt of becoming a principal in her own school. She believed that having children of her own would cramp her style. To please her, Michael took up a hobby instead; robotics. If this was a substitute for fatherhood, then it did keep Michael busy and happy for a time—until Julieta Venturi, a free-spirited artist and academic lecturer disrupted his simple life.

Melissa uncovered a betrayal and Michael was caught between one’s fury and another’s lack of commitment. This is a story of how Melissa’s eventual forgiveness enabled Michael to find true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jun 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781922368874

John Heyworth

John Heyworth is an award-winning author of general fiction. He writes about Australian life and characters in contemporary settings. His book, The Cowrie Shell was awarded GOLD in the Dan Poynter's Global Ebook Awards for Popular Literature Fiction, 2021.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The McIvers Move to Western Australia

Outside the back door, a high-pitched voice pierced the air.

‘Puss!’

After a pause, a deeper, more cajoling voice echoed across the patio. ‘Pu-uss, puss,’ followed by a slightly more impatient ‘Puss!’

Inside the house, Melissa sighed as she let her book drop onto her lap. There had been a time when she found his slightly eccentric ways amusing, endearing even, but now she found them somewhat irritating—

‘Puss!’

—almost to the point of distraction, as she would describe it to her friends. Not that she had many friends here yet. She and Michael had moved from Melbourne in Victoria to Perth in Western Australia, Melissa to take up a new role as deputy principal at a primary school, and Michael to take up a technical support position at a university. Their move was an attempt to revitalise their lives. For some time, they had both felt they had been treading the same old run-of-the-mill routine year after year, and that life was steadily passing them by. Notably, this sentiment was most strongly felt by Melissa. Nevertheless, Michael was more than happy to go along with the new plan to keep the peace, or so he told himself.

Michael let the screen door slam as he entered the house.

‘Cat’s not responding,’ he said half-seriously as he held a limp tabby cat up by the tail.

‘So I gather,’ Melissa said as she picked up her book.

‘Wiring’s no good. Maybe the audio-response latency is out of whack,’ Michael thought aloud while pushing his thick-lensed glasses back into place on his Roman nose, which protruded, beacon-like, from his face.

Melissa flicked to the next page.

‘I think I’ll take it into work to see if anyone there can help,’ Michael said as he walked through the living room.

Melissa didn’t respond, aware of his long, lanky frame moving nearby.

Michael plonked the cat on the floor near the coffee table and, whistling happily, walked down the hall to get his technician’s workbag.

‘I must think of a good name for it,’ Michael called out from the study.

Melissa sighed, brushed back her soft brown hair and wished Michael would disappear somewhere. She attempted to resume her reading, but something seemed to be rustling over near the coffee table. Melissa peered over her book, but everything was still; no sound or movement. Then, she noticed a pair of cat’s eyes peering eerily at her from under the coffee table.

‘Aaarghh!’ she screamed inwardly.

~~~~

Michael’s new job was at La Una University. Michael was one of two technical support staff in the school of education. As he gathered his things, he reflected on his old position in Melbourne. It had been a demanding job in a place where many of the academics were less than technically savvy. He smiled as he recalled the satisfaction he felt in making things work again.

‘No problem at all, happy to have been of some assistance,’ he had said on many an occasion, usually with a studious look on his face while inwardly beaming with pride.

As he packed his workbag, his shoulders slumped a little as he remembered another time when he couldn’t fix a problem so easily. An angry voice reverberated in his head.

‘Why can’t I log into the portal?’ the academic had said. ‘I need to complete my report and send it to the dean. Right now! Today!’

‘Yes. Sorry. Doing my best.’

‘It’s not good enough. The IT system here is as useless as tits on a bull!’

Michael shook himself out of this negative train of thought. Come on Michael, he told himself. You’re okay. Wasn’t your fault.

He picked up his bag and walked back to the living room to collect his cat. He was going to try to make it work properly—a task he hadn’t yet accomplished. The cat’s responses were either erratic or non-existent.

Michael liked to tinker with robotics. Although he called this a hobby, he secretly desired to become famous for inventing the perfect, life-like robotic pet; a pet that looked, felt, smelled and acted like the real thing. In some of his daydreaming moments he imagined parents, children and people at large applauding him and wanting to know him or seek out an autograph or two—and he would be more than happy to oblige. However, his main mission was to please Melissa. Melissa was allergic to cats and a robotic cat seemed like an excellent solution. He smiled at her as he walked back into the room.

‘It’s perfect,’ he reminded Melissa as he picked up his robot. ‘We will have a beautiful pet cat that won’t make you sneeze. It won’t need feeding, to go to the toilet or even hunt the birds. It will be environ­mentally friendly.’

Melissa nodded dutifully—she was not so keen on the idea, except for the fact that it might keep Michael out of her hair for a little while. But this was one of those dreaded days when Michael was around the house, test-driving the bloody thing and driving her past the point of no return.

~~~~

Michael and Melissa’s move to Perth had started promisingly enough when they had both instantly fallen with love with a weatherboard house they had found—a house very similar to the one they had left in Melbourne.

They had stood outside the home near the low white-picket fence while they waited for the estate agent to arrive. It was a sunny, warm Perth morning that seemed to radiate around the creamy walls of the house, its gleaming silver tin roof and the clean white awnings, all of which contrasted beautifully with the cool greenness of the small manicured lawn at the front. The house was flanked by a carport with a driveway that was long enough to hold two small cars.

When the agent arrived, they walked along a small brick pathway up the middle of the lawn before climbing the short steps to the verandah and along to the front door. Once inside, the pale blue-grey walls and cool air had an immediate calming effect on them. A welcoming smell of freshly baked bread had been cleverly devised to help create a homely ambience to the place. The agent stood by while they examined the front bedroom.

‘Just big enough to swing a cat,’ Michael quipped, miming the action.

‘Yes, Michael. Easily,’ Melissa replied, rolling her eyes.

The agent followed them as they wandered through to the back of the house.

‘Look at this kitchen,’ Melissa said. ‘It’s big, like an old country-style kitchen.’

‘Very nice,’ Michael replied, admiring the jarrah floorboards that ran through the house to the back sitting room. ‘It’s surprising how roomy the whole place feels for a small house. How many bedrooms?’

‘Two good-sized bedrooms and a small study that could, at a pinch, double as a third,’ the agent said.

‘Perfect. And look out here,’ Michael said as he peered through the back window. He turned to Melissa, brushing some strands of his thinning brown hair away from his face. ‘It’s an outdoor shed; just what I wanted.’

‘How nice, Michael,’ Melissa said, putting her arm around him as they wandered outside. They were almost like two young lovers who had just found their perfect love nest, despite having been together for over twelve years.

Michael ducked his head slightly and adjusted his glasses as he re-entered the house through the screen door. ‘And you said this locality is called Shenton Park, is that correct?’

‘Yes, and a very much sought-after suburb here in Perth. It won’t be on the market long.’ The agent was sensing a quick sale. ‘It’s in walking distance to the train station and to some quaint boutique shops with a nice little coffee shop nearby.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ Melissa said, joining them inside.

‘There’s also a well-stocked shopping centre further up, and just before Kings Park there is a hospital with a medical centre. And, of course, there’s also a nice little park just around the corner. Everything you could possibly need just at your fingertips—even a good school within walking distance. Any children?’

‘No,’ Michael replied flatly.

Melissa glanced at Michael briefly. She knew he wanted children, but motherhood was not a role she wanted to play at this time. Melissa had a career in educational leadership ahead of her, and dealing with children all day was quite enough thank you, let alone having to come home to her own brood. Besides, she did not see herself as being a boring suburban housewife and she was certainly not going to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, not for anyone—least of all Michael. At least, not yet.

‘We’ll take it!’ Melissa exclaimed. And that was that.

~~~~

Michael and Melissa had settled relatively well into their new life and new jobs. They liked their little weatherboard home and their move interstate had proved new and exciting, although they probably weren’t aware that they were already settling into some old habits.

‘I’m going to the gym now,’ Melissa announced. She was dressed for the gym in her Lulu-lemon gear. Melissa dressed well, taking full advantage of her straight, athletic body. She would change for work at the gym—her Saba designer pantsuit already packed neatly away in her gym bag.

Michael groaned and rolled over in bed. It was 5.30 am. Melissa looked at herself in the mirror. She liked being a brunette, she thought as she brushed her hair aside. She was especially proud of her trim figure; her posture was taught and upright, giving her a more dominant presence than Michael whenever they were together, even though she was a little shorter than he was. She started to tie back her hair. She looked over at Michael lying in bed.

‘Come on, Michael,’ she said. ‘Rise and shine. Time to get moving.’

Michael rolled over in bed and pulled a pillow over his eyes.

Shaking her head, Melissa turned back to the mirror to apply some lip balm and moisturiser. As she did so, she was suddenly unnerved by the reflection of two little green eyes staring at her. She turned around to see the cat sitting on the bed.

What on earth? I didn’t see that a moment ago. ‘Michael!’ she called out.

‘What?’ Michael sat bolt upright in bed. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘You cannot bring that thing in here!’

‘What thing?’

‘The cat. I don’t want it in here. Not now and not ever again.’

‘Oops. I didn’t know … how on earth? … Sorry,’ Michael replied and then added, ‘I thought you liked our cat.’

‘Your cat, not mine,’ Melissa said as she finished putting on her lip balm, before picking up her gym bag, grabbing her handbag from the chair and walking out of the bedroom.

She banged the front door shut as she stepped outside and breathed in deeply to take in the warm summer air before getting into her little red Toyota Corolla and driving off, with steely intent, to her early morning workout.

Chapter 2

Riversea Primary School

Melissa worked at Riversea Primary School as a deputy principal. She also shared a Year Five class with Mandy Clarkson, a semi-retired teacher who relieved Melissa from classroom duties for two days of the week.

It was a particularly warm late-summer morning when Melissa arrived at 7.45 am after the long drive from her local gym to her new school. She had showered at the gym, changed into her mushroom-coloured pantsuit and added some matt lipstick to her lips and some brown eyeshadow to match her hazel eyes. The school was in Welshpool, a south-eastern suburb of Perth. Its washroom had poor shower facilities for the staff and was mostly used as a storeroom.

Riversea was a rather unusual name for the school considering it was lacking proximity to the very features for which Perth is famous: the Swan River and the Indian Ocean. The school was next to a highway and not too far away from the freeway. Melissa tried to give the location a positive spin after the first few days she had been at the school.

‘With a little imagination, one could think the roar of the freeway is a little like the sound of surf at the beach,’ she had announced in the staffroom.

‘More like a tsunami of trucks,’ one of her colleagues retorted quietly.

Melissa had been selected to be in charge of discipline at the school, a position she relished.

‘With my track record in difficult schools, I have a lot to offer these children in learning how to behave and become socially responsible citizens,’ she had told the recruitment panel. Melissa had put in a strong performance in her interview. The panel were particularly impressed when Melissa had said, ‘My previous schools have improved their rankings markedly on the National School Scanner website registry and this school will be no exception.’ She was assertive without being overly forceful, a trait she had learned as a child. Being the youngest of five daughters in a working-class family from the Melbourne suburb of Broadmeadows, she had had to learn (and at a young age) some essential survival skills: be assertive to be noticed, and be strong-willed to thrive.

She had finished school a determined and ambitious young lady. Her family couldn’t afford to pay for her higher education, so she worked her way through university as a waitress or a barista at various clubs and venues. In her early years of teaching she completed a master’s degree in education leadership at Deakin University. She had won her new position at Riversea easily.

Melissa’s appearance at this school was having an immediate impact. Her position also required her to teach a Year Five class three days of the week and the children soon learned that Ms McIver meant business and was not someone to mess with.

‘What’s your new teacher like?’ one parent had asked.

‘Mean,’ their child replied.

‘Why is that?’

‘She gives us lots of homework.’

Good for her, the parent had thought. ‘Never mind, you’ll be learning lots of new things. Won’t that be exciting?’

‘Nope,’ the child replied simply.

It was clear that Ms McIver was going to keep a very tight rein on things and some of the younger children were wary of her. But despite her stern, somewhat-serious demeanour, underneath it all Melissa believed she was being kind and just doing her very best for her students. Whether she was mistaken in her beliefs might have been of conjecture to some, but she certainly got results.

~~~~

Today Melissa was going to address the assembly regarding the amount of rubbish being left around the school during and after play and at lunch breaks.

Pierre Lamond, her male counterpart, was the deputy in charge of timetables, health and physical education. He was also responsible for helping to arrange support for children with special needs. Pierre stood next to Melissa while the children were being led by their teachers into the assembly area.

Pierre tilted his head up to meet Melissa’s eye. ‘How are you today?’

‘Hot,’ Melissa replied, keeping her hazel eyes focused on the assembly area.

‘I like the heat,’ he said, but received no reply.

Pierre looked away and watched the younger children as they brought in scraps of carpet to sit on. They were followed by the older children, who carried in their classroom chairs to put on the concrete floor.

Pierre was an athletic-looking man who dressed casually but kept himself mostly clean-shaven. Occasionally he would try to grow a beard, which was always patchy, leading him to shave it off again after a week or two. Despite his name, Lamond, he was a second-generation Australian, but there was the possibility of a mixture of French and Irish blood in his ancestry. Pierre didn’t believe one should generalise about one’s parents, but he did note that his father had a strong liking for red wine while his mother didn’t mind a drop of Irish Whiskey in her coffee, indulgences Pierre was more than happy to inherit and enjoy. He briefly glanced across at Melissa with some curiosity and also mild suspicion.

Here we go again, he thought. Another ladder-climbing know-all trying to tell us how to reinvent the wheel.

The P.A. system was being inexpertly adjusted by the student councillors resulting in a few piercing squeals and squeaks that echoed beneath the tin roof. The sound was carried across the grounds by a gentle breeze that thankfully kept the assembly area relatively cool. Two senior upper-primary students from Pierre’s class entered the arena a little late and hastily raised a flag on the flagpole situated behind the parents standing at the back of the assembly area.

This tardiness was ignored by Pierre but duly noted by the stern eyes of Melissa. ‘This is a bit haphazard,’ she whispered to him. ‘These students had been given far too much liberty.’

Pierre looked steadily ahead as the assembly stood up to sing Advance Australia Fair.

‘Half these children don’t even know the words,’ Melissa muttered.

Pierre responded with a soft grunt, hoping she wasn’t going to make an issue of this later. After the anthem, the preschool children were patiently arranged in front of the assembly to perform their rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

Markus, who was a large boy for his age, was placed in the centre of the line, and the children either side of him were arranged in descending order of height, effectively creating a well-organised and well-planned stage presence.

‘Standing beautifully,’ Miss Amy Jones told her excited youngsters. ‘Are we ready? One, two, three …’

The young teacher rather clumsily played a few chords on her ukulele and the children managed to start the song quite nicely at first. Shortly into the song, Markus suddenly and quite unexpectedly held up his fist with his middle finger pointing upwards.

Amy paled. What on earth was he doing?

She watched in horror as Markus rhythmically used his middle finger to emphasise the words in the line ‘Up above the world so high’.

Amy was in shock but continued playing on bravely, despite hearing some laughter in the audience. And then, smiling angelically, Markus transformed his fingers into a beautiful diamond shape for ‘Like a diamond in the sky’.

Amy Jones and the children finished the song with reasonable dignity before receiving a resounding applause, especially from the older children in the audience, who thought the performance was hilarious.

Melissa’s eyes were blazing. When it was her turn to address the assembly, she was well and truly primed for the task.

‘Who can tell me what this is?’ she asked,