The Mummy Bloggers

by Holly Wainwright

  ‘I hope that’s not your only evidence, Zoe, because even I know about scheduling posts to roll-out whenever.’ Abi took a gulp of the new-batch kombucha. ‘At least, I do now.’

  ‘Look, I know you’ll think this is flimsy but seriously, it’s an instinct I have. And you have it, too. Watching the way she’s carrying on. The way she dealt with all that family shit, so cold. Even I was surprised by that. The Adrian story is the one she wants to tell, but there’s something really dodgy about it. Anyway, I spoke to Cate.’

  ‘Oh, god, I wish I had popcorn,’ Abi said. ‘This is better than a movie.’

  ‘That poor kid. She’s fucking talented, but Elle is treating her like shit, and it’s only a matter of time before she kicks her out. Elle doesn’t like anyone getting too close, and this girl, well, she knows too much.’

  ‘You spoke to her. GO ON.’

  ‘Can I smoke here? The kids are in bed, right?’

  ‘You can smoke outside. In here, and Grace would kill us both.’

  ‘She’s so fierce, Grace, I love her.’

  ‘Me too. GO ON.’

  The two women wrapped rugs from the bed around themselves and headed out to sit on op-shop chairs beside the shed.

  ‘So the only time Cate did leave without Elle was on the first night. Barmaid texted to tell me that Elle had basically dumped her in the pub to hang out with this other girl—the TV researcher. Elle and Bobby had gone off together, so I went and had a couple with Cate and her mate. She had no idea who I was, so I just got chatting to her.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Look, she was cagey. Mostly she wanted to ask me about living in such a “shit hole”—which was, you know, lovely…’

  ‘She didn’t recognise you? You do look like your sister.’

  ‘No, she didn’t. She was a bit pissed, and very nervous about being “in the middle of nowhere”, as she kept saying. I let it be known that I followed Elle online—local girl done good and all that—and how sad I was about Adrian. And after I mentioned it a couple of times, Cate started giggling, saying things like “I suppose so…”’

  ‘Where was the TV woman? Elle’s judgement about leaving Cate with her wasn’t the smartest, was it?’

  ‘In and out of the front, smoking, on her phone. And look, she might have had Elle rattled, but she was just a researcher, there to plot out interview locations and shit. She wasn’t investigating, unfortunately. But Cate, with the giggles, and the eye rolls… It’s just—it’s just not true. Elle has made all this up to win the Blog-ahhs. That’s it.’

  Again, Abi felt the truth of this, but it still shocked her. ‘The thing that’s so wild about that, Zoe, is how Adrian could do it. The boys might be none the wiser, but what he’s putting the girls through… Why would he do that? Why the fuck would he do that?’

  Zoe blew out a big plume of smoke. ‘Same reason. To win the Blog-ahhs. Make money.’

  Abi considered this. She remembered that phone call with Adrian, weeks ago. ‘If that’s it, that’s just fucking amazing.’

  ‘Amazingly fucked.’ Zoe stubbed her cigarette out, waved the smoke away, cautiously palmed the butt. ‘Anyway, I was happy to keep all that in the family until this shit went down with Dad. Now, I think she deserves public humiliation.’

  And the women went back inside the shed to make a plan.

  • • •

  That night, Abi went up to bed to find Grace still awake, pretending to read, worrying.

  ‘What’s up?’ Abi climbed in next to her, snuggled up close.

  ‘You and Zoe and this thing with Elle and Adrian—I know why you’re doing it, but I hate that our lives have been hijacked by this… poison.’

  ‘Grace. We’ve been through this. He’s my daughters’ father. His wife is trying to win the award by living a great big, fat lie. Zoe and I are just trying to set things right.’

  ‘How? How are you going to do that in a way that doesn’t blow our lives sky-high?’ Grace rolled over to face Abi, their faces level.

  ‘I don’t know yet. But we’re going to Melbourne in a couple of days. I have interviews about the awards, and Adrian’s meant to have chemo. Zoe and I will try to get to the bottom of it all.’

  ‘And then what? Will we forget about this award, get on with our lives?’

  ‘God no, Gracey.’ Abi rolled onto her back, exhaling in a frustrated huff. ‘In two weeks, we’re all going to Sydney and we’re going to win the award. It could change our lives.’

  ‘I don’t want our lives to change,’ said Grace. ‘Except back to how they were.’

  ‘Bad luck, beautiful.’ Abi turned to look into Grace’s eyes. ‘That ship has sailed.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  KRISTEN

  Kristen Worther had never seen such bright lights.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to see,’ she said to the young woman who was attaching her microphone in the makeshift studio. ‘Those lights are blinding.’

  ‘You won’t be looking at them,’ the girl said, squeezing her arm. ‘You’ll get used to it.’

  Everyone was being so nice. Why?

  Kristen’s psych, Mel, was getting them both coffee. She had personally advised Kristen not to do this interview about the attack, but professionally it wasn’t her place to step in. She’d come to provide support. ‘It could be dangerous for your recovery,’ she’d said. ‘This kind of confrontation is going to be very triggering for you.’

  ‘But it will be good for my sentencing,’ Kristen had told her. ‘And that’s more important. I need to be out for my kids.’

  Kristen’s kids, Ruby and Tom, were living with her ex, Dalton. She could see with complete clarity now what she couldn’t see on the night she’d followed Leisel home from work: her kids were all that mattered. Showing them that their mum loved them was more important than silencing that roaring anger inside her head.

  Dalton had brought them to see her twice since that night, but he’d had to stay in the room at all times, and so had Mel, and so had the kids’ psych. Until then, Kristen had never realised what a privilege being in a room on your own with your children was. To think she’d spent all that time trying to escape them. Hiding in the bathroom with her phone. Yelling at them to get to their room.

  Never again. When all this was over, she would never leave them alone. If Dalton and the psychs would let her, that was.

  Kristen sat down on the beige sofa, in front of a huge piece of pink paper that hung from the wall. On it was the logo of The Jasmine Foundation—a charity, she’d been told, that helped women who had suffered violence at the hands of another. Kristen was that other, she knew. She was the baddie today.

  Mel brought the coffees over, passed one into Kristen’s shaking hand and sat next to her. ‘I think Leisel’s coming out. Now, are you absolutely certain about this? You do not need to do this—you know that, right?’

  Kristen nodded.

  She had met Leisel yesterday. Well, she’d met her that night, but not really. Not really.

  They had met yesterday, at these offices. Kristen thought they belonged to the video people. The offices were busy, full of young people walking quickly, looking at their phones, earbuds in. Some of them stared at her—they must have been the ones who knew who she was, because otherwise these young people wouldn’t look at her. She wouldn’t be interesting to them.

  Mel had predicted that Kristen would like Leisel when she met her properly. ‘People aren’t who you think they are from the outside,’ she’d told her. ‘People are just like you, mostly. Try to find a way to see that.’

  And she’d been right—Leisel had been nice. It was hard for Kristen to imagine why Leisel would be kind to her, smile at her, shake her hand.

  ‘You have to know,’ Kristen had said to her, ‘I don’t understand who I was six weeks ago. I need you to know, I wasn’t myself. I hadn’t been myself for months. Not since…’

  Not since Tom and Ruby had gone to live with their dad. Not since she’d had t
hat miscarriage, another one. Lost that baby boy who was going to make everything better. The one she was going to raise right.

  At least, that was what she’d thought six weeks ago.

  Leisel had been lovely to her. She’d told her she was ‘working on forgiveness’. And Kristen had said, ‘Me, too.’ Leisel had looked at her a bit strangely then, but Kristen hadn’t meant forgiving Leisel, she’d meant forgiving herself. And Dalton.

  And the universe.

  Now Mel was talking calmly to her. ‘Okay. Remember, you can choose to stop this at any time. You have a signal for Leisel, and if she hears you use it, she will gesture for the cameras to stop. No one will know, there won’t be a fuss. Are you sure you’re ready?’

  ‘Yes. I’m ready.’ As Kristen watched Leisel coming towards her, smiling, holding a cup of tea, she felt the room settle down—people were beginning to leave.

  ‘Hi, Kristen,’ Leisel said. ‘How are you feeling?’

  It was so weird, Kristen thought, how for months she’d looked at Leisel’s face and hated her. In the flesh, Leisel was tall and strong-looking with thick, shiny brown hair. She had wrinkles around her eyes, faded freckles and a huge open grin when she chose to use it.

  More than once, in the Facebook groups of haters that Kristen used to marinate in, she’d typed:

  Old horse face is whingeing again. Doesn’t that ungrateful bitch realise how ugly she is? While we’re at it, she needs to give up on selfies. She’s way too old.

  And in a direct message to Leisel, she’d typed:

  I’m so sick of seeing your old, ugly face. Feeling so sorry for yourself when you have EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. Take your self-pity and smash yourself over the head with it, you ungrateful bitch.

  Now Kristen tried to smile up at Leisel. ‘I’m okay, thank you. I think I’m ready.’

  Mel didn’t move when Leisel sat down, meaning she was balancing awkwardly on the edge of the couch. ‘It’s okay, Mel, you can go,’ Kristen said, ‘I’ll be able to see you.’

  ‘You will. I’ll be right behind the camera,’ said Mel. She turned to Leisel. ‘Remember, please—’

  ‘No specifics, I know,’ Leisel said, arranging herself more comfortably on the lounge now that Mel was standing. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardise Kristen’s rehabilitation, or her chances with her kids.’

  Kristen found herself trying to make a joke. ‘It will be a boring chat then, right!’ She immediately regretted it.

  ‘I’ll explain all that,’ Leisel said to her, smiling. ‘We are here to talk about “trolling”.’ She used finger quotes, little wiggly worms in the air. ‘Why people do it. How they can stop doing it. We won’t talk about the details of the case.’

  The room was emptying. A handful of people took up spots behind the camera: a journalist scribbling notes, Mel and a woman Kristen recognised as Leisel’s psychologist. Bella, from the police liaison office, was there too. A woman operated the camera. A woman wielded the microphones. Some other young woman was looking closely at a phone. So many women, thought Kristen.

  ‘That’s it, closed set!’ shouted the woman who had two camera stands going: one for her giant phone, one for a real camera. A door closed loudly, as if to illustrate the point. It got very quiet.

  ‘Remember, Kristen, it’s just you and me,’ Leisel said. ‘In this conversation, it’s just you and me. Remember what to say if you want this thing to stop?’

  Kristen nodded. ‘I’m saying that I want a drink of water.’

  ‘We’d better have a drink of water, then.’ Leisel motioned at the bottle by Kristen’s chair. ‘So we can get it out of shot.’

  Kristen took a drink, but her mouth still felt dry. The kids, she told herself. Just think of the kids.

  ‘Okay, let’s go.’

  To Kristen, Leisel looked less relaxed than she had yesterday, when Kristen had been surprised by how comfortable she seemed around her. Much edgier today.

  Kristen couldn’t help but look at Leisel’s arm for signs of the wound that she’d inflicted. Leisel was wearing long sleeves, and she didn’t seem to be wincing. It must be healing, thought Kristen.

  The camerawoman pushed some buttons and mouthed ‘Yes’.

  Leisel started talking. Kristen couldn’t focus on all of it, but Leisel was explaining who they both were. She was explaining why they were doing this: ‘We want to make a statement about online bullying and harassment. We want to understand why people lose themselves online the way they do. And we want to move on with our lives…’

  She sounds so polished, Kristen thought as she watched Leisel.

  Mel had helped Kristen get dressed that day—as in, picking out her clothes: things weren’t so bad that she needed help getting dressed. ‘Calming colours,’ Mel had said. ‘This rose dress is perfect.’ It was her ‘good’ dress. A birthday present from Dalton, when things were good. He always had such great taste. The dress went with her hair, brought out the red under the brown.

  Leisel turned to her. It felt sudden, but perhaps she’d just zoned out a little.

  ‘Hello, Kristen,’ Leisel said. ‘Thank you so much for coming here today and agreeing to do this. It can’t be easy.’

  ‘N-no…’ Kristen stuttered. ‘It’s not easy.’

  ‘I’m going to ask you some questions,’ Leisel continued. ‘And we might have some from the people watching us on Facebook, too.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Leisel had told Kristen what her first question would be. ‘Do you spend a lot of time online, Kristen?’

  ‘I did, Leisel.’ My kids, she thought. My kids. ‘I used to spend a lot of time on social media. I’m trying to give it up. For obvious reasons.’

  ‘And do you remember, when you started using it, did it make you feel good or bad?’

  ‘At first, I loved it. I was one of those mums who put up lots of pictures of my children, all the silly little things they did. I loved it when I was happy. And then, a lot of things started to go wrong for me. My marriage broke down. I had to find a second job. I developed some… personal issues. In the space of a year, a lot changed.’

  ‘And how did you cope?’

  ‘I don’t think I did cope, Leisel. That’s part of what’s brought me here. I think for some people, when things get bad and they sort of spiral, then there’s some stuff on the internet that fuels that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I can’t talk much about my kids in this interview, but when they were around and I was busy, it wasn’t too bad. When they went to their dad’s, though, and I had time… I was lonely and I was miserable and I would sit on Facebook for hours and hours, looking at everyone else’s lives. They all seemed so great, so shiny. And mine, well, mine felt hopeless.’

  ‘But you are aware of the fact that people only put their “highlights reel” on Facebook, yes? You know that everyone else’s life isn’t really perfect, don’t you?’

  ‘I do. I do now.’ Kristen swallowed. Looked up at Mel, who nodded at her. ‘And there was probably a bit of me that did then, too. But it’s hard to tell yourself that when you just feel like you are the only one who doesn’t have highlights to share. Like, I know there are shitty bits to everyone’s life—but at the time, I used to think, What would I put up here? That bit where I got abused at work by a drunk? The bit where my kids’ beds are empty? I became obsessive, and I got some kind of pleasure, some kind of… charge, out of following certain people whose lives seemed so perfect, and just… hating them. It sounds crazy.’ Kristen gazed down at her hands. ‘It was crazy.’

  While she spoke, Kristen had mainly been looking away from Leisel, but every time she glanced back, Leisel was staring right into her eyes. It was unnerving.

  ‘When did you start commenting?’

  Kristen sighed. ‘As I say, there was nothing very good going on in my life. For lots of reasons, I found that I… had time on my hands. And so I created a profile for the person that I kind of wanted to be, I suppose. I called it T
he Contented Mum, because it was almost the opposite of what was happening in my life, but it was everything that I wanted to be happening, if that makes sense—’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘And I was obsessed with my children, and what sort of mother I was or I wasn’t. Was I really the worst mother in the world? One who had deserved to lose my kids? That kind of thing. I would come home from work and look for, on purpose, these mummy blogs—like yours. And I would read and read, and drink sometimes. And get angrier and angrier.’

  Leisel blushed when she asked the next question. ‘What was it about “mummy blogs” that made you so angry? About my blog?’

  ‘For me, what was hard at the time was the complaining. And I realise—I know, because I’ve been a normal mum, I was one for years—that of course you do a lot of complaining. It’s hard raising kids. But for me, then, I would have given anything to be a normal mum again. I had suffered miscarriages—’

  ‘I have written about miscarriage. Did you know that?’

  ‘I’d read that, yes. I don’t know why.’ Kristen coughed a little. ‘I couldn’t find any sympathy for anyone else then. I just couldn’t. I don’t know why.’ She paused.

  ‘Sorry, go on…’

  ‘One of the things that I’m understanding now, through the counselling I’m doing, is that what I was trying to do—lashing out at the bloggers who seemed to have everything when I had nothing—was a very destructive behaviour. For me, for everyone.’

  ‘Did you enjoy it? Writing mean things, getting a reaction?’

  Mel looked distressed, so Kristen raised a hand to show it was okay. ‘Yes. Sometimes. I think “enjoy” is the wrong word, but I got a kick out of it. Out of saying something horrible to someone, anyone, and seeing others join in. Or seeing the target get upset. It feels terrible to me now to say this. But I felt I had no power at all, and this behaviour made me feel a bit less helpless.’