The Mummy Bloggers

by Holly Wainwright

  Date Night. Always so fun.

  The words she’d thrown at Mark had left bruises, she could tell. Since Date Night, they’d been tiptoeing around each other. He had made some noises about taking on more carpentry work. She’d said there was no need. She hadn’t mentioned the interview again, but she was making plans, whether he liked it or not.

  He made one last attempt before they stopped discussing it. ‘Leisel, I know you feel like you’re over this, but sitting down with the woman who attacked you could be very triggering for you. I’m not worried about her mental health—I’m worried about your mental health.’

  Sometimes, having a husband who had done so much therapy was infuriating.

  • • •

  Leisel didn’t take up Claire’s offer. She was putting together a production team of her own: a video crew that she’d worked with at the magazines, a writer from Woman’s Daily who would do a print follow-up, two psychologists and a police liaison officer.

  But she still hadn’t met Kristen Worther. Leisel had word through her social worker that the woman was happy to do the interview, but that was all she knew.

  Two days before the agreed date, Leisel wrote a post:

  On Thursday, on The Working Mum, something extraordinary is going to happen.

  It’s a very important day for me.

  I am going to sit down with the woman who attacked me in my home. I am going to talk to her about how anyone could get to such a dark place. About what drives anyone to hate someone they have never even met.

  How we can all use social media for good is an important discussion to be having in 2017. But beyond that, I want us to think about how it feels to forgive.

  This woman—and she is not alone—trolled me for months before she stepped over the line that separates the digital and physical worlds and invaded the only space in the world where we all expect to feel safe, our own homes.

  But demonising the woman who was hurting enough to take such drastic action is not the answer.

  After learning about the woman who attacked me, I have decided that I will not aggressively pursue charges against her. I have decided that we will all be best served by helping this woman, and other people like her, rather than trying to lock her up.

  This decision has not been an easy one. There are people very close to me who think it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had. To them, I respectfully say, this is my decision to make.

  During the interview on Thursday, I’m going to ask you to do a few things: Donate to the anti-violence, anti-bullying women’s charity The Jasmine Foundation. Like and Share and tell your friends that the event is happening.

  And bring an open mind.

  With love—Leisel.

  The response was instantaneous.

  What an idiot. You are not a judge, you don’t get to decide who’s safe to be on the streets and who’s not. #dangerousbitch

  I am in awe of your spirit. I’ll be watching #sobrave

  God complex. Fucking mummy bloggers #ugh

  What an important conversation to start. So proud of you. #sobrave

  The Blog-ahh people called her: ‘This ties in so well with our anti-bullying platform. We couldn’t be more excited!’

  Grace called her: ‘I don’t know what’s happening but it seems like all of my people are going crazy at the same time. Are you absolutely sure about this?’

  Her mother called her: ‘Darling, Emily from the club tells me her daughter saw on the internet that you are going to drop the charges against that woman who stabbed you. Surely that’s not right?’

  Zac, meanwhile, was furious: ‘Why would you do that on your own, rather than on one of our channels? I’m seriously beginning to doubt your loyalty to this company!’

  And Mark—Mark called her, too. She missed his call, but he left a voicemail.

  ‘Hey, Lee, it’s me. I’m struggling a bit with all this. I’ll go to Dan’s for a few nights, clear my head, do some Meetings. I’ll take Harri. Wendy is picking up Rich and Mags today. I’ll call you soon.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ELLE

  Elle had never been so happy to see her Thermomix, her KitchenAid and her Vitamix.

  It was nice to see the boys, too, of course, but when she walked back into her oasis of a kitchen after three nights in Thalwyn, Elle could have kissed the French doors of her giant fridge.

  ‘Seriously, Adrian. I used to live there and I don’t know how anyone does.’

  ‘Or why anyone does,’ Cate added, heading upstairs with her bag.

  ‘Some people like peace and quiet,’ Adrian offered, as he peeled a weeping Freddie off Elle’s leg.

  ‘Well, they won’t get it there,’ said Elle. ‘The sound of an Australian small town is a revving engine and a pub band who still think it’s 1990.’

  ‘Harsh, Elle.’ He hugged her. ‘How the hell did you manage?’

  ‘You have no idea.’

  Adrian really didn’t have any idea. She hadn’t told him everything that had happened at Pam’s house. She hadn’t told him about Dad. She hadn’t told him about the rogue researcher.

  Teddy and Freddie were standing in front of Elle, eerily quiet. They were waiting for presents, she realised. Of course, whenever Adrian went away for work, he brought them something back.

  ‘Oh, darlings, there really wasn’t anything I could bring back for you…’ Maybe a souvenir tea towel or an STI from the pub toilet seat, she thought.

  Freddie started to cry.

  ‘Oh, baby.’ Elle picked him up, gave him a squeeze. ‘Caaate!’ she called through the house. ‘Can you come and take Freddie, please? I’m sure he’s missed you. Maybe you could take them both to the playground.’ She ushered the boys out of the kitchen and turned to Adrian. ‘You look well. Tell me you weren’t eating healthily while I was gone.’ Elle had seen sick up-close now. It had shifted her perspective.

  ‘I promise. I survived on a cheeseburger and three cans of V a day, as prescribed.’ Adrian smiled—he seemed happy to see her.

  ‘While I was gone, I had some good ideas about what else we can do to keep things real.’ Elle put her arms around Adrian’s neck and kissed his sunken cheek. ‘There was a bit of inspiration in Thalwyn, as it turns out.’

  ‘How so?’

  Her father’s face popped into her head, and she flicked it away. ‘I have a lot to tell you,’ she said. ‘No more Abi attacks that I can see, at least.’

  ‘She seems to have calmed down, thank god.’

  ‘She’s just a sore loser, babe. And she knows she’s going to lose.’

  Adrian said nothing.

  Cate appeared in the hallway with coats for the boys. ‘I’m taking them to the playground, guys. I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.’

  Cate’s new habit of making Elle’s instructions sound like her own ideas was beginning to grate. ‘I think you’ll find I asked you to do that, Cate. When you get back, we’ve got a lot of outfit planning to do.’

  ‘That girl might need some time off,’ Adrian said as Cate and the boys left the house. ‘I’m sure Thalwyn was no picnic, and it’s been kind of 24-7, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, don’t feel too sorry for her. She spent most of the time sitting in her motel room watching Austar.’

  ‘Well, then I definitely feel sorry for her.’ Adrian’s attempt at a joke fell flat with Elle, preoccupied as she was with restoring order to her fridge. ‘Look, I’ve got to get back to work, Elle. What do you have to tell me?’

  • • •

  Three days ago, on that patchy front lawn, it had taken Elle a few moments to be able to say anything to Pam.

  She heard a lazy winter fly buzzing near her ear. She looked at the older woman’s face, creased with genuine concern. She flashed to her latest #cancerwife post—Keeping the house full of fresh flowers does wonders for Adrian’s spirits. And mine!! #peonies @alphaflorist—and she felt a gentle thud in her stomach.

  ‘How do you know?’ she asked Pam.

&
nbsp; ‘What… what do you mean?’

  ‘How do you know about the months or weeks?’

  Pam looked back at the house. ‘He’ll want to talk to you about it himself, love.’

  ‘Just let me… give me a minute.’

  ‘The hospital says. It took him a long time to get around to going with his cough, and he’d been losing weight and… Well, it was pretty far along.’

  Elle glanced at the utes in the front yard. ‘Are my brothers here?’

  Pam nodded. ‘They’ve been around a lot lately.’ She pushed her tissue back into her pocket. ‘Understandable.’

  Elle knew that as soon as she walked into the house, she would lose all of her power. In that living room—which she could picture perfectly, down to the faded wallpaper and the giant television—she would be twelve years old again. Five minutes in there, and she’d probably be fetching the boys a beer from the fridge and emptying the ashtrays.

  ‘Pam. I can’t come in.’

  ‘But, love, your dad’s so looking forward to seeing you.’ Pam held Elle’s arm. ‘Really, it’s not my place, but you need to see him. It’ll be good for everyone.’

  ‘I know.’ She did know. ‘But this whole thing has… shocked me. I need to go away and think about it. I’ll be back in the morning, I promise. Can you tell Dad that? And also, I know that this sounds bad, Pam, but I would really like to see him on my own. Not with Kai and Bobby around. You know, the first time.’

  God knows what she thinks of me, Elle thought as she walked back to her car.

  She surprised herself for considering this—the thought must have been prompted by the utterly confused expression on Pam’s face as Elle walked away.

  ‘I shouldn’t have told you, love, should I?’ Pam called after her, following a few steps behind. ‘Was a bit much, wasn’t it?’

  ‘No, I’m glad you did.’ Then Elle remembered something. ‘If anyone else comes here to see Dad, keep them away from him until I’ve been back, hey?’

  Pam looked worried. ‘Like who else?’

  ‘Oh, I’m just talking about the TV people. We need to work out how to play this before we talk to them.’ Elle got into the car.

  ‘Play this?’ Pam asked, as Elle shut the Toyota’s door and started the engine.

  Then, as she started to drive away, she saw Kai come out the front door, shouting over to Pam, pointing at Elle’s car. He looked big, heavy, older. She put her foot down.

  Back at the motel, Elle felt more rattled than she could remember ever being. Her father had called her mobile. Mrs Gleason wanted to chat. Elle went straight to her room, lay down on the seashell bed cover and put her hands over her face.

  My mum, she thought. I’m going to be an orphan. This is it.

  Elle had some well-tried tactics for gathering her armour. Positive self-talk was one. Wardrobe was another. But perhaps the best defence of all was scrolling through her Instagram feed.

  She reached for her giant bejewelled phone and looked at the most recent post. It was of Elle with Teddy—she wore a white crop-top and leggings, while Teddy was in a navy jersey ‘Daddy’s Secret Weapon’ T-shirt that a Melbourne designer, Ingrid K, had made specially and sent over. Elle was holding Teddy’s waist and smiling at him, but keeping him just far enough away to display her body. Her tan, her abs. Teeth and hair. In the corner of the frame was a glimpse of the white-washed wooden back deck and aqua pool.

  This little guy can put a smile on my face on the toughest of days. #teddy #cancerwife #mumlife #ingridk

  Perfection.

  It had 25,000 Likes. Elle flicked through some comments:

  When I have kids I need them to be exactly this cute. #mumgoals

  I know your husband will be just fine with such a gorgeous support crew #loveandlight

  Who does your hair? #todiefor

  Abs for days #killme #goddess

  ‘Come on, Elle,’ she said aloud, throwing her phone back on the bed. ‘You can deal with this. You can deal with anything. Just another bump in the road. You’re made of stronger stuff. Self-pity is for losers.’

  And she got up and went into the bathroom to have a shower and put herself back together.

  • • •

  ‘You are joking?’ Adrian asked.

  Elle wasn’t sure she’d ever seen someone’s jaw actually drop before, but his just had.

  ‘No, not joking.’

  ‘What are you even doing here, Elle? Shouldn’t you be there? What did you tell the Sunday Evening crew? What the fuck?’ Adrian picked up his jaw and paced the kitchen.

  At the double sink, Elle was rearranging the organic dish soap and handwash, making the labels face the right way. ‘I’ll get to all that, babe.’ She wiped down the spray mixer tap, putting it back in its holder. ‘But seriously, calm down. You have never even met my father and you’ve known me for five years. Wouldn’t it be a bit hypocritical of me to be wailing by his bedside? I’ll leave that to Zoe.’

  ‘Far out, Elle.’

  She didn’t turn around, but she was pretty sure he was staring at her.

  Her brother Bobby had stared at her when he’d found her and Cate having dinner in the pub that first night in Thalwyn. Tall, wide, paunchy, with cropped hair, a broken nose and tattoos that snaked from the neck of his Bonds T-shirt, Bobby was clearly not the kind of man that Cate was comfortable around—she recoiled as he approached their table.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he asked Elle, standing a foot away from where she and Cate were heroically avoiding carbs with their schnitzel and salad.

  ‘Hi, Bobby.’ Elle’s armour was in back in place, but she was aware that the TV researcher could walk into the pub at any moment, and she didn’t want to be in a screaming match with her hooligan brother if that happened. Still, she had known there was a good chance one of her brothers would turn up here tonight—actually, it was part of the plan she had hatched on the seashell bedspread. She just had to keep things civil.

  ‘Don’t give me that shit.’ Bobby squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, but Elle saw his eyes slide to the neon-lit bar.

  ‘Sit down, have a drink with us. We’re just having dinner. This is my friend, Cate.’

  ‘I said, what the fuck are you doing here? You need to be over at Dad’s.’

  Elle reached for her purse. ‘Cate, can you go and get Bobby a drink? This is my little brother, by the way. I think he’ll have a VB—right, Bobby?’

  ‘Bundy.’

  Of course, thought Elle, someone else is paying. Some things really don’t change.

  ‘Just ask the barman for a Bundy and cola,’ she told a terrified-looking Cate, who hopped down from her stool and took Elle’s purse in the direction of the bar.

  ‘Sit down, Bobby, please.’ Elle knew her brother was taking in what she was wearing, her hair, her tan, her boobs—to him, she surely looked like one of those girls in the magazines. He seemed confused.

  He sat at the table. ‘I’m going to ask you again,’ he said, closer to her face. ‘Why are you here, having a fucken schnitty with your girlfriend, when your dad’s wondering why the hell you didn’t even come in to see if he’s okay?’

  ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘No, he’s fucken not okay, Ellen. And you know that, Pam told me.’

  ‘I’m going to see him in the morning, Bobby. Seriously, I am. I was really freaked out today. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘You’re fucken telling me.’

  ‘And I knew you and Kai were in there, and I couldn’t face you all at once.’ Elle looked down at her soda water, cast her eyes low. ‘I know I’ve got a lot of talking to do.’

  Cate came back with Bobby’s drink, and slid up onto her stool. Still looking terrified, she said nothing.

  ‘We know you’re only here about the TV thing, Ellen,’ Bobby said, then sculled half of his rum. ‘I know you think we’re stupid, but we’re not, you know. You just want to use Dad. We know that. Just look at ya.’

  Cate’s alarm h
ad risen to vibration level—it was hard for Elle not to start shaking just sitting next to her.

  ‘The TV “thing” is only one reason I’m here,’ Elle said as calmly as she could manage. ‘I wanted to see Dad.’

  ‘You never have before.’ The Bundy was gone. Elle was torn between wanting Cate out of the way at the bar and not wanting her brother to get fighting drunk. Or more fighting drunk than he already was.

  ‘Bobby, I don’t really want to talk about this now, but I’m happy to sort you and Kai out for any inconvenience this is causing you. Why don’t we discuss it tomorrow, in town?’

  ‘Sort what out?’

  ‘Well, if you and Kai need to go away for a couple of days, you’re going to need some cash to do it, right?’

  ‘Where are we going? And why the fuck would we be going now, when Dad needs us?’

  ‘Just for forty-eight hours, Bobby. I’d love to catch up with you and Kai properly, of course, but with everything that’s going on, I think it would be better for us to do it after the TV interview, right?’

  Bobby was looking right at Elle. His hulking presence dominated the table, next to the two tiny women. ‘So you’re rich now, are ya?’

  ‘We do okay, my husband and I,’ she said. ‘Well enough to be able to help family out when we need to.’

  Cate’s eyes were huge in her head. She was clutching her purse in her lap, as if the scary man might run off with it.

  Something seemed to click for Bobby, and he relaxed. ‘Alright then.’ His shoulders dropped, and he slumped a little in his seat. He smiled. He’d always had a lovely smile, Elle thought. Sometimes she saw it on Freddie. ‘Wanna have another drink with me?’

  ‘Cate’s got to go back up to the motel—haven’t you, Cate? But I’ll stay for one.’ Elle looked at her assistant, who couldn’t get off her seat fast enough.

  ‘Yes, of course, I do, and lovely to meet you, Bobby. Elle, I’ll, um, see you later…’

  As the young woman hurried out the door, Bobby stared after her. ‘Who the fuck is that? And what’s up her arse?’

  ‘She works for me,’ said Elle, reaching into her wallet for some notes, and passing them to her brother.