12. Holly, Melbourne

Jack shouting from the other end of the house wakes me with a start. I sit up, glancing at the clock on my bedside table, ready to get up for work. Then I remember I don't have a job and I booked a flight to Berlin last night, leaving tomorrow. The thought fills me with equal measures of excitement and dread. I can't believe I actually had the courage to do it. But I couldn't find the same courage to tell Tom. After he fell asleep, I spooned him and breathed in his freshly washed skin one last time, rehearsing my break-up speech and imagining his response over and over in my mind.

I swing my legs out of bed, waiting a few seconds to see if the nerves in my gut settle. They don't, so I take a deep breath and head to the kitchen to make lunches for Tom and Jack. Just as I'm finishing, Tom appears, clean-shaven and dressed for work. I catch the spice of his cologne. It's nice, and my heart squeezes.

‘Morning,' he says. ‘Ooh, sandwich today. That looks good.'

I place an apple and his sandwich in a lunch bag and push it across the bench towards him. ‘Chicken, avocado and salad on that grain bread you like.'

‘Great, thank you.' He stares at me expectantly, like he deserves a round of applause for showing some appreciation.

‘You're welcome,' I say and flick the switch on the kettle.

He gestures to my laptop on the dining table. ‘Ready for a day of job hunting?'

My cheeks warm and I turn away, grabbing the milk from the fridge and holding the door open a few seconds longer than necessary so the cold air cools my face. ‘Well, I'm still technically employed for another month, so I don't have to start looking today.'

‘True. But it could take a while to find something,' he says.

I roll my eyes at the milk carton.

‘Okay, we're off. Come on, Jack.'

Jack picks up his schoolbag, shoves in his lunchbox and heads for the back door.

‘What do you say?' Tom says to him, resting his hand on Jack's small shoulder.

He gapes up at Tom, his little face scrunched with confusion.

‘What do you say to Holly? You won't see her for two weeks.'

Jack looks at me. ‘Bye.'

I give him one last smile. ‘Bye, Jack. Have a good day at school.'

He slides the glass door across and runs out to the garage.

‘At least he said bye,' Tom says.

‘Yeah.' I walk around the island bench and lift my face to kiss him. He has soft lips and I always liked kissing him. ‘You smell nice.'

He grins. ‘You like this one?'

‘I do.' I swallow and pat his chest. ‘Have a good day at work.' It comes out strained, and for once I'm grateful he's not good at picking up on my emotional cues.

He slips his arms into his coat sleeves. ‘See you tonight.'

My gut twists, and I push him towards the door before I change my mind about leaving. ‘Bye.'

As he reverses down the driveway, I let out a pained groan. ‘Sorry, Tom, but I have to do this.'

Settling at the dining table with my laptop and a mug of coffee, I email a medical certificate citing stress to Sasha and HR and let them know I cleared out my desk on Saturday morning and won't be returning. Then I search accommodation in Berlin, booking a studio flat in Mitte for two weeks. I'll choose the next country when I arrive. With nervous adrenaline coursing through me, I rush into the bedroom to pack, pulling summer clothes from my wardrobe and dumping the contents of my underwear drawer onto the bed, then hit Nat's number for FaceTime.

‘Hey,' she says, her face coming to life on the screen. She's still in her pyjamas, her light brown hair mussed from sleep. Her baby squeals and gives her a huge gummy grin before she scoops porridge into his mouth.

‘Hello, Archie,' I coo.

‘You're calling early for your first Monday off work.'

‘That's because I have something to tell you.' I flip my screen towards my open suitcase. ‘I did it.'

Nat gasps and places the cereal bowl down on the kitchen table. ‘Oh. My. God. You booked a ticket?'

‘Yep. Last night.'

Her eyes bulge. ‘Wow. I didn't realise you'd do that so soon.'

I crawl onto the bed and cross my legs. ‘I didn't either. But last night, I snapped.' I tell her about yesterday: waking up hungover and not being able to get any peace because I was expected to help with Jack and the house was a mess; about Adam encouraging me to go; then cooking dinner with no thanks and Tom hassling me about his work shirt. Voicing it makes me sound irrational, but at the time it's all it took to make me want to leave.

‘So, Tom just got up from the table and walked off?' Nat asks. ‘Didn't do the dishes or anything?'

‘He rinsed his plate and a few other things and stuck them in the dishwasher, but that's what he always does.' I instantly feel bad for dissing him and back-pedal. ‘I shouldn't have let it happen. I haven't raised things with him because of his long workdays, especially the past few months when I've had it so easy at work. I should've told him how I was feeling. He would've helped me.'

Nat scoffs. ‘He has eyes. He can see that you're rushing around doing stuff all the time. Why is it up to you to tell him?' Nat gently pulls the spoon from Archie's mouth and smiles at him as he opens his mouth for the next bite.

‘He doesn't mean it; he just doesn't think sometimes,' I say.

She gives me a look, her mouth a tight line. ‘I hope he hasn't invited himself along on your trip.'

I prop my phone against a couple of pillows and fold T-shirts into my case. ‘Um…'

Nat winces. ‘You haven't told him?'

I mimic her wince. ‘I couldn't do it last night, and you know what would happen if I told him this morning. I'd get Mr Sensible talking me out of it. I have to do this.'

‘I get it, but you might want to tell him before you hop on the plane,' she says gently.

‘I'll tell him when he gets home from work because…' I clear my throat. ‘I'm leaving tomorrow.'

‘Tomorrow!'

I release a short, nervous breath. ‘Yep. I'll stay at Adam's tonight.'

Her eyes well. ‘I didn't expect it to happen so quickly.'

‘Oh, Nat, please don't cry. I didn't either. But what am I staying here for? The longer I stay, the unhappier I'll be.'

She nods and leans across the table for a tissue, Archie gazing at her as she dabs the corner of her eye. ‘You have to go. I'll run you to the airport if Adam or Meg can't do it.'

I shake my head. ‘You don't have to do that.'

‘I do. What time's your flight?'

‘One.'

She smiles through her tears. ‘Okay, brunch at the airport it is, then.' She tickles Archie under the chin, making him gurgle. ‘You want to take Aunty Holly to the airport tomorrow?'

‘Thank you,' I say. ‘I'd better get this packing done. Then I need to visit Mum and do a million other things. I'll call you tonight when I'm at Adam's.' A wave of nausea rolls through me. ‘Ooh.'

‘Are you okay?'

‘The reality of this just hits me every now and then.' I look furtively at the bedroom door, half expecting Tom to walk in any minute. ‘I'm dreading the convo with Tom.'

Concern creases Nat's face. ‘You want me to be there with you?'

I give a grateful smile. ‘I'd love that, but I need to be an adult and do this on my own.'

She holds her hand up in a wave. ‘Good luck.'

I spend another half hour packing and race down to the local cheap shop for storage bags. Once they're filled with my heavy winter clothes and some other belongings, I lug them to the car to drop at Adam's on the way to visit Mum.

Mum's sitting on a bench partly shaded by an elm tree when I arrive. Her eyes are closed, and the sunshine that peeks through the leaves highlights the soft creases in her skin. The temperature is a few degrees above average today, but it's still cold and fresh, and she's dressed warmly in grey woollen pants and the pastel pink jumper I gave her for Mother's Day. She looks so serene that I can't stop myself snapping a photo on my phone.

‘Hi, Mum,' I say, sitting beside her.

Her eyes open slowly, and she stares at me a moment before she breaks into a smile. ‘Hello…' She pats my thigh, mouth open, waiting for her brain to catch up. ‘Erm, hello … Holly. Yes, it's Holly.'

I beam at her. ‘That's right!'

She bumps her shoulder against mine. ‘One of the nurses gave me a tip. She said my daughter's name is just like "hello" and if I can say hello when I see you then I might remember "Holly". I can't promise it will always work.'

‘I'll take it for today.' I slip my arm around her shoulders and show her the image on my phone. ‘I just took a nice photo of you.'

Her eyebrows rise when she sees it. ‘That's what I look like when I'm sleeping, is it?'

‘You look beautiful.'

‘Mmm. If you say so.'

I slip my phone into the pocket of my jeans. ‘How are you?'

‘I'm enjoying this sunshine and those birds,' she says, pointing to a shrub a few metres away. ‘They have a lovely sound. I recognise them but can't think what they're called.'

‘I think they're a type of honeyeater.'

She nods. ‘Honeyeater. Yes, that's it.'

‘Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?'

She shakes her head and points to a mug on her left. ‘I just had one.'

I'm stalling telling her my news, but the emotion associated with leaving her is building in my throat and it's hard to get the words out. I take a deep breath. ‘I've got something to tell you.'

She twists to face me. ‘You're having a baby?'

‘What?' I laugh, and it's exactly what I needed to loosen me up. ‘No.'

She chuckles.

‘I booked a flight overseas.'

Her brow crinkles. ‘Overseas?'

I nod. ‘Uh-huh. We spoke about it yesterday – when we were at Adam's for lunch.'

She frowns as she thinks. ‘No, I don't recall that conversation. I do remember we were all there though, and we played cards, so that's something, isn't it?'

‘It is.'

She links her arm in mine. ‘A holiday will be lovely. Where are you going?'

I'm about to say it might be longer than a holiday, but then decide against it. She probably won't remember, and maybe it's better this way. ‘To Berlin first.'

‘Berlin. You've been there before. When you were at university.'

‘That's right,' I say, but don't let on that we talked about this last week. ‘I'll go to London too and visit Aunty Carol.'

Her pale eyes spark with recognition at the mention of her younger sister. ‘Oh, lovely. She'll be so happy to see you.'

‘And I'm going to make good use of this.' I reach into my bag and pull out my new camera.

‘Ooh, that's a beauty.' She takes it from me, inspecting it closely. ‘You were always so good at photography, just like your dad. He gave you your first camera, you know. I can't think when exactly, but you were young.'

‘It was my tenth birthday,' I say. ‘It was a little digital one.' It was the most extravagant present I'd ever received – more than Mum and Dad could afford. ‘You and Dad took us to the botanic gardens that day. We had a picnic, and you named all the birds and trees, and Dad taught me how to use the camera. It was the best birthday I ever had.'

She smiles wistfully. ‘You kids were everything to your father.'

‘You were everything to him, too.'

She stares into the garden, a faraway look on her face. ‘Yes. I miss him terribly.'

I rest my head on her shoulder. ‘I miss him too, Mum, and I'm going to miss you.'

‘Tom, I love you, but…' I pace the kitchen, wringing my hands. ‘Tom, I've been unhappy…'

Through the kitchen window, the glow of headlights appears in the driveway, and I press my hand against my stomach like it will somehow quash the rising nausea. The engine cuts and I hear the beep of Tom's car key fob. My heart rate quickens. The side gate clicks and the security light flicks on. I sit at the dining table as Tom slides open the back door, his face brightening when he sees me.

‘Hello. Waiting for me?' His gaze drifts to my suitcase and his smile falters.

‘Something like that,' I say softly.

His Adam's apple bobs. ‘What's going on? Everything okay with your mum?'

‘Oh. Yes. Mum's fine.' I gesture to the chair beside me. ‘Sit down, Tom.'

He places his keys on the bench and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of a chair, and tentatively sits.

I grab his hand in both of mine. His skin is cold and I instinctively rub it to warm it up. ‘Listen. I need to go away for a while.'

His brows knit. ‘Go away? With friends? Girls' trip?' He looks at my case again and barks a quick, nervous laugh. ‘That's a big case for a few days away.' He shakes his head. ‘Women. Always have to take so much stuff. I bet Nat's case is just as big. That's funny, Marc didn't mention anything about Nat going?—'

‘Tom. Please listen to me.'

He stares at me, his eyes wide with worry and uncertainty.

‘It's not a trip with Nat. I'm going overseas.'

The crease in his brow deepens. ‘Overseas? Where?'

‘I'm going to start in Germany and take it from there.'

He rips his hand away. ‘Start in Germany … start? I don't understand.'

I hang my head. None of this is coming out right. ‘I'm leaving, Tom. I'm unhappy and I need to do something for myself.'

‘But that's just because of the redundancy. You're not feeling like yourself. You'll get a new job and?—'

‘I don't want a new job,' I say. ‘This isn't about losing my job. This is about me not being happy and needing to do more with my life.'

‘But we're happy.' He reaches for my hand. ‘We have a good life.'

‘No, Tom. You're happy. I'm not.'

He shakes his head. ‘You've never told me that.'

That's a fair point. I hadn't talked to him because I didn't understand it myself, not really, not until now. But like so many relationships, the truth often remains hidden until something forces it out. ‘You're right. I didn't, but I should have.'

‘Well, yeah.'

‘I'm sorry,' I say in a small voice. Empty words that only serve to help me feel better and him feel worse.

‘But overseas? That's a bit drastic, isn't it? I mean, it will cost so much, and you don't have a job, and?—'

‘That's why now is the perfect time, while I have some money and don't have to worry about working for a while.'

‘You could easily get a job at another uni. Seventeen per cent superannuation, Holly. No one else pays that, and if you got a job now, you could use that money for something important. Put it towards your retirement or the mortgage.'

I gaze at him unblinking and feel vindicated for not telling him sooner. ‘I'm thirty-one, Tom. I don't want to think about retirement. It's different for you, you're in your forties and work in finance – you constantly think about it. And this is your house, in your name. You never put me on the mortgage.'

‘That's only because you moved in not that long ago. We haven't got round to it. Besides, that's just official stuff. You've contributed financially. Of course it's your home, too.' He places his hands on my knees, eyes pleading. ‘It's our home.'

I shake my head. ‘No. It's not. And I moved in a year ago.'

He sits back and runs a hand through his hair. ‘What about Jack? He's just started staying here. He's had a lot of upheaval.'

‘I can't be responsible for Jack. He hates me, and I don't have the energy or the inclination to make him like me.'

A flash of anger crosses his face. ‘That's a bit harsh; he's eight.'

‘I hate doing this to you, Tom,' I say, bringing the conversation back to us. ‘But if I stay, I'll end up resenting you, and I don't want that.'

‘But right now? Can't we talk about this? If you need space, then stay at Adam's or Nat's for a while. Please.'

My resolve starts to crumble but I force myself to stay firm. ‘I leave tomorrow. I'm staying at Adam's tonight. The stuff I can't take is packed in the spare room and Adam will collect it on the weekend. Nat's going to use my car for now.'

His mouth drops open. ‘Tomorrow? You've been planning this and you didn't tell me? Way to make me feel like a complete idiot, Holly.'

I breathe through the guilt and try to ignore the prickle behind my eyes. ‘I haven't been planning it. I booked a flight last night and organised everything today.'

He removes his glasses and presses his thumb and fingertip to the inner corners of his eyes. ‘Then why didn't you tell me last night? Three years. I thought we'd go longer than that, a lot longer.'

I brush a tear from my cheek. ‘I didn't know how to tell you, and I didn't want you to change my mind.'

‘But … I love you.'

I stand because if I stay a minute longer, I might not leave. ‘I love you too, but not like I should.' I kiss his soft lips one last time, grab my case and head for the front door.

He hurries after me. ‘Holly, please.'

‘Sorry, Tom,' I say, my voice breaking as I rush along the hallway. The wheels of my suitcase rattle over the floorboards, and all I can think about is how that sound will haunt him.

‘Please,' he repeats as I rush through the gate and heave my case into the boot of my car. He swiftly moves to the driver's door and puts his hand on it.

‘Let me get in the car, Tom.'

‘Can't we talk more?'

‘Please let me in the car.'

He hesitates but drops his hand and steps away.

I climb in and start the engine. Tom walks back to the footpath, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched. He hasn't put his glasses back on and it makes him look so vulnerable that I choke out a sob. My vision blurs as we stare at each other through the windscreen. His face is pleading, but I take a deep breath, mouth ‘sorry' and drive off.