Emergency: A Marriage Worth Keeping

‘Why?’ Isla blinked back at the other woman. ‘What’s that going to solve? I didn’t come here on a whim, Karin.’

‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Karin said sympathetically. ‘But we have gone over a lot of ground today, there’s a lot of information there for you to process. Think about it,’ she said firmly. ‘Think long and hard about it, and while you’re at it try talking to Sav again, tell him how close he is to the marriage ending.’

‘I thought you were a divorce lawyer…’ Isla managed a wobbly smile ‘…not a marriage counsellor.’

‘I’m a great divorce lawyer,’ Karin fixed her with a steely glare. ‘I fight for my clients to the last breath, but at the end of the day, I need them on my side.’ She gave a small shrug. ‘I’m just not quite sure that you’re there yet.’

‘I’m not,’ Isla admitted, raking a hand through her newly cut blonde hair and feeling foolish all of a sudden. ‘I’ve wasted your time—’ Isla started, but Karin waved her apology away.

‘Not at all, Isla. You’re the one paying for my advice, so take it. Go home, think about what I’ve said and try again to talk to Sav. If you still want to go ahead with a divorce, I’ll be here for you and more than ready to roll.’

‘Thank you.’

Karin stood up and shook her client’s hand. ‘But you will listen to what I’ve said and not go and do anything stupid, though?’

‘Like what?’ Isla frowned.

‘Like moving out and starting a job.’ She gave a low laugh. ‘Hair and nails and a figure like that don’t come cheap, Isla.’

Isla shook her head. ‘I do my own nails, Karin, and as for the figure, you’re right—it didn’t come cheap.’ She watched as the solicitor frowned. ‘Losing a child is the highest price anyone can pay.’ Opening the door to the office, she paused a moment. ‘This is my divorce, Karin. I’ll do it my way.’

Her bravado evaporated as soon as Isla stepped into the waiting room. Waiting in line at Reception behind an irate fair-headed gentleman who was insisting that he be seen next, furiously demanding an explanation for a summons he had received that morning, Isla felt as if she were drowning in her own misery, being pulled ever deeper into a circle of hate where she and Sav surely didn’t belong.

One month.

Amazingly it calmed her.

One month to get her life in order, one month to give her marriage yet another shot, one month to come to her decision.

CHAPTER ONE (#u7969a1a8-fb96-50e0-8f17-742f38a13702)

‘WHAT did you do today?’

Cheeks flaming, Isla took another slug of water, every drop sticking in her throat as she attempted to eat the dinner she had hastily prepared for Sav and herself. Late picking the boys up from school, the whole evening had been a downward spiral of chaos, but thankfully Sav had been caught up at work, finally coming home late to a reasonable tidy house and a seemingly normal wife. The twins, delighted after their rare treat of take-away burgers and chips, were supposed to be in bed, but she could hear them bumping around upstairs and for once was grateful for it, grateful that Sav left the table to sort them out and didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.

‘I said they could read for ten more minutes.’ He didn’t come back to the table. Instead, he headed for the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine, pouring her a glass before sitting down.

‘Have one,’ she suggested, but Sav shook his head.

‘The hospital might call.’

‘You’re not on call tonight Sav,’ Isla pointed out, ‘and even if they do, surely you can have one glass with dinner.’

‘So, what did you do today?’ Sav asked again, ignoring what she had just said, and getting back to a subject she’d rather ignore.

‘Not much.’ Isla gave a vague shrug. ‘I had my hair done this morning.’

‘It looks nice,’ Sav responded, barely even looking up, and Isla managed a wry smile at the solicitor’s comments—this morning had been her first trip to the hairdresser’s in over a year, her long dark blonde hair finally meeting scissors for the first time since Casey’s death. The trim she’d intended before she started back to work had inadvertently turned into her own extreme make-over—her hair now hung in a sleek shoulder-length curtain and she’d taken the hairdresser’s advice and had a few foils put in. The hairdresser had raved at the result, and even the mums at the school had jumped up and down as Isla had stood blushing at the scrutiny but quietly pleased. But the one opinion that mattered, the one person she’d been hoping to impress, had scarcely even noticed.

‘What else?’

‘Not much.’ Isla blushed. A useless liar at the best of times, she wondered how some people managed to have affairs, managed to spend an afternoon making steamy, breathless love and somehow managing to arrive at the dinner table apparently normal. Her two trips to see Karin Jensen had been fraught with guilt—paying in cash, ringing them up to ensure they’d understood that no correspondence should be sent to the house. Even her parking ticket for the Art Centre in Melbourne had been carefully shredded.

Oh, God!

Another lurch of panic as she remembered her E-Tag, the tiny white box that Melburnians displayed on the dashboards of their cars, the tiny white box that bleeped as you went through the road tolls on the way to the city. If Sav looked at the bill he’d know she’d been there, would…

Taking another slug of wine, she ignored Sav’s slightly questioning glance as he topped up her glass, knowing he was undoubtedly confused. It normally took her the best part of an evening to work her way down a single glass, but here she was two minutes in and practically on her second!

He wouldn’t even look at the E-Tag account when it arrived, Isla consoled herself, and even if he did, as if he’d remember what had happened the previous month, as if he’d demand to know what the hell she’d been doing in the city that day. Sav wasn’t like that.

They trusted each other.

Tears pierced her eyes as she realized the incongruity of her thoughts.

Never in a million years would it enter his head that she’d been to see a solicitor today. That their marriage was nearly at the end of the line.

‘It suits you.’

‘Sorry?’ Blinking back at him, she tried to drag her mind back to the conversation but lost her way.

‘Your hair.’ He gave her a rare smile. ‘You’re upset that I didn’t notice you’d had it cut.’

‘I’m not!’

‘But I did notice,’ he carried on, ignoring her denial. ‘As soon as I came in I thought how nice it looked. I just forgot to say it.’

Which just about summed them up really, Isla thought sadly. ‘I picked up my uniforms from the hospital as well. I called in to see you but you were tied up with a patient. I told them not to disturb you.’

‘It’s been like that all day—all week, actually.’ Looking up, Isla could see the lines of tension grooved around his dark eyes as he spoke. His black hair, which to most people probably looked immaculate, by Sav’s high standards was probably overdue for a trim, and she realized how tired he looked—not the usual, it’s-been-a-long-day tired, but totally, completely exhausted. ‘I’d better get used to it, I guess. I’ve got Heath questioning my every move, taking great pains to point out every T I don’t cross or I that I don’t dot in an attempt to show how much better he’d have been for the consultant’s role, and with Martin not due back for another three weeks it’s going to be hell.’

The problems with Heath had been an ongoing saga since Sav had been made consultant. Sav and Heath had both applied for the consultant’s position eighteen months ago, and both of them had agreed at the time, ‘May the best man win.’ But when the position had gone to Sav, mainly due to the unspoken fact that Heath had been going through a messy divorce and custody issues, Heath had taken it in bad part, taking an almost morbid delight in pointing out how much better a choice he’d have been for the job when Sav had taken a month off after Casey’s death.

‘Hell!’ Sav added just for effect, and Isla knew that little tag had been aimed at her. It wasn’t just Heath that was getting to Sav. Isla had lived with him long enough to read between the lines. Taking a breath, she decided to voice what was clearly on his mind.

‘And me going back to work isn’t exactly going to help matters.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Sav snapped.

‘No, but you thought it,’ Isla retorted, taking an angry sip of her wine. ‘You don’t start till nine, Sav. The boys’ uniforms will be out, I’ll give them their breakfast before I go. All you have to do is drop them off at school—it’s hardly a big deal.’

‘It is a big deal if you’re having a heart attack,’ Sav retorted, his Spanish accent deepening the angrier he got. ‘It’s one hell of a big deal if you’re lying there bleeding to death in Resuscitation and the only consultant covering the department is at home, babysitting his children.’

‘If that happens,’ Isla responded, trying desperately to keep her voice even, ‘then you’ll ring Louise. She’s only around the corner, she’s said that she’ll come straightaway. We’ve already worked this out!’

‘No, you worked it out, Isla. You’re the one who worked this whole harebrained scheme out, you’re the one who decided to make your grand return to nursing the one month in the year when you know Martin Elmes is on holiday.’

‘There was never going to be a good time for you, Sav,’ Isla retorted. ‘The simple fact of the matter is that you don’t want me to go back to work, least of all as a nurse in your department. You have this archaic belief that any wife of yours should be firmly entrenched at home.’