Sticks and Stones

by Ilsa Evans

‘Yes, fine.’ Maddie felt crowded with questions. She took a deep breath to get them straight. ‘Can you talk?’

  ‘Sort of. Dad knows I’m ringing. I told him. He said good idea.’

  Maddie was filled with a bizarre gratitude. ‘Good. That’s good. How’s Ashley?’

  ‘Yeah, good. Running around and checking out her old room and stuff.’ Sam paused and when he spoke again, his voice sounded like a little boy’s. ‘I really wish you’d come too.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, Dad said he asked when you guys were talking, when we were in the car, but you wouldn’t come.’

  Maddie opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

  ‘I wanted to go ask you again but Dad said we had to get going. That maybe you needed a break. But it just would’ve made everything easier. You know.’

  ‘Sam, I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Sam paused for a second. ‘Dad’s calling me.’

  ‘Wait.’ Maddie leant forward desperately. ‘Do you want me to come down? To get you?’

  The phone crackled around silence, as if he was thinking. ‘Nah, that’s okay. I reckon that’d maybe make things worse anyway. Besides, Dad said it’s just for a couple of days. To get to know each other again.’

  ‘A couple of days? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, absolutely. I asked.’

  ‘Oh.’ Maddie was flooded with a relief that verged on joy. Relief that they would be back soon, and that she didn’t have to force his hand. ‘Till when? Thursday? Friday? The weekend?’

  ‘Dunno yet. But I gotta go, Mum. I’ll ring you again tomorrow.’

  Maddie kept the phone to her ear even after the dial tone sounded, needing to prolong the connection. Finally she lowered it to her lap and stared at the wall. They were fine. They were back there, but only for a couple of days. She thought about what Sam had said, about her coming along, and felt sick. Then she was suddenly struck by the realisation that they must have been out there, in the car, while Jake had been in here with her. Only a hundred metres away. She clutched at her stomach and folded over with miserable fury. And the image of them in the car, waiting, fingerprints a flattened ivory, crystallised so clearly that she could almost touch it, and then broke into fragments as she began to cry again. But it was still as much with relief as anything else. A couple of days. Just to get to know each other again.

  Finally the tears slowed and she straightened, her eyes swollen and sore. She put the phone down and wiped at them, roughly, until the swelling birthed a throb that echoed through her skull. A couple of days . . . They were fine and they were coming back and this was only temporary. She thought of Ashley’s Tigger, now lying on her bed, with whom she had slept every night for the past six years. Camps, sleep-overs, every single night. She wanted to wash her hands, desperately, but instead she rang her sister.

  ‘Hello?’

  Maddie felt the tears rush once more. ‘Hannah.’

  ‘Mattie? Is that you?’ There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘You’re using the home phone! Are you mad?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Maddie shrugged, even though her sister couldn’t see her. She wiped her eyes again with her free hand.

  ‘What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Of course it matters!’

  ‘No. It doesn’t. He found us.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He found us,’ repeated Maddie. She suddenly saw her sister, miles away, her mouth open as she tried to register what had just been said. The silence stretched until she thought she’d have to repeat herself again.

  ‘But how?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is he was here, sitting in the lounge room.’

  Another intake of breath. ‘Are you okay? Did he hurt you?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Maddie swallowed. ‘But he’s taken the kids. They’re down there, at the house. Hannah?’ She sounded the name like a plea. ‘What am I going to do?’

  ‘God, I don’t believe this. Have you rung the police? No, cancel that. Stupid idea.’ Hannah took a deep breath. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

  Maddie closed her eyes for a moment, feeling almost irritated by the request. ‘Well, I got home from work and they weren’t here. So at first I thought they’d just . . . I don’t know, popped out or something. But after a bit I started getting really worried and then suddenly there he was, sitting on the couch. And, oh Hannah, it was so bloody awful. He kept asking me how it felt, to not know where they were. Then he kept saying six years. Six. Years.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘And he asked me why.’ Maddie heard the gulp in her voice. ‘Why I did it.’

  ‘You know why,’ said Hannah, almost harshly. ‘And don’t you forget it. Then what?’

  ‘Then I asked him where they were and he said they were at home where they belonged. And all the time . . .’ Maddie paused, and swallowed. ‘All the time they were out there in the car! Just out there in the car!’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because Sam just rang and told me!’

  ‘You’ve spoken to him?’

  ‘Yes.’ Maddie closed her eyes for a moment. ‘He rang on his mobile. Said they were both fine and that they’d be back in a couple of days. Jake said so.’

  ‘A couple of days?’ Hannah’s words were infused with an upward lilt. ‘And he actually said that? Well, that’s something.’

  ‘Yes. Except now . . . well, now everything’s different.’

  ‘True. But how did he even find . . .’ Hannah paused for a moment and then spoke briskly. ‘Doesn’t matter now. Okay. Let me think.’

  Maddie stared over at Guess, who was still watching her from the doorway. She thought he looked less disapproving, as if pleased that she had taken some action. And she even felt a little better herself, as if by sharing she had lessened the load.

  ‘It could be worse. At least he didn’t hurt you, and he didn’t just take them and disappear without saying anything.’

  ‘Like me?’

  ‘Don’t start. It’s totally different,’ snapped Hannah. Then she took an audible breath and became suddenly practical. ‘But you can’t just leave everything till they get back either. I mean, obviously he’s going to want to see them regularly now, and we can’t have that.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We need to be prepared. We need information on where you stand legally. And whether there’s something you should do before he does. Because he will. Unless he’s changed dramatically, you know he will.’

  For a moment he was back, condemning her. Six years. ‘Listen Hannah, can you ask your Nicholas about something called a recovery order? Whether there’s any such thing?’

  ‘Recovery order,’ repeated Hannah. ‘Okay. And, Mattie, you have to look on the bright side. At least they’re older now. It’s not like when they were little and basically powerless. In fact, Jake may find he’s got his hands full because teenagers aren’t malleable. Not at all. Even if he dares push this through to court now, well they’d get to have a say also.’

  Maddie nodded again. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Do you know, I don’t think he’ll risk it. Because who knows what they’d tell the judge? Sam in particular. After he’s calmed down, he’ll probably try to strike a deal with you instead.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which puts you back in the driver’s seat,’ said Hannah with a confidence that was rather infectious. ‘In the meantime, do you want to come down here? Have some company?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine,’ said Maddie unconvincingly. She tried again. ‘Really, I will. And if I’m not, then I’ll come down. Okay?’

  ‘Okay. Just promise me you won’t wallow.’

  ‘I won’t wallow.’ Maddie surprised herself with a smile. ‘Promise.’

  ‘And I’ll ring tomorrow after I speak to a few people. So don’t worry. It’ll work out.’

  ‘Goodnight, Hannah. And thanks. I love you.’

  ‘Ditto.’

  Maddie presse
d End and then laid the phone down in her lap. Her hands throbbed lightly from where she had scrubbed them earlier and this suddenly annoyed her. That she had let herself regress so rapidly. And while she certainly didn’t feel as confident as Hannah sounded, she definitely felt better than she had before the phone call. A couple of days. The words reminded her of a television sitcom from years before, with a Greek greengrocer who, with arms waving, had used that as his mantra. At one stage it seemed the entire country had picked it up as a refrain. A couple of days, just a couple of days. And now it would have to be hers.

  FIVE

  Maddie woke on the heels of a nightmare that melted even before she opened her eyes, puddling into residual nausea. And in its wake blossomed the events of the preceding day, the real nightmare, the one that wouldn’t go away. She lay still and let everything permeate; all the little details. What he said, what she said, what he did. Even how he looked. Incidentals that by themselves weren’t really important but together made up the whole. Filtering through it all over and over again, until the sheer depth of their impact receded and she became almost desensitised. More objective. And this helped enormously.

  Outside a tardy possum began stuttering with displeasure, probably at her elderly neighbour’s cat, which was always allowed free rein throughout the night. Maddie sat up and leant over to pull open the second drawer of her bedside chest, sliding out a gold-framed photo. Then she shuffled her bottom backwards until she was propped against the bedhead, staring down at the photo in her lap. It showed her, as a bride, standing on the steps of a stone church, with a background so blurred that it emphasised her own clarity. The photographer had captured her within a gust of wind, with her white satin gown wrapped around her body like a sheath and the veil spread across the cloudy sky beyond. And she was smiling, a broad open-mouthed, red-lipped smile that didn’t just speak of happiness but shouted it. Because it had been a wonderful day, one which she had thought would be the first of many.

  Maddie traced a finger across her past smile, and then touched herself on the chin. She tried to recapture the sense of wonderment she had felt on that day, that feeling of incredible invincibility, but it was too far removed. Not just by time but by experience. And also by the fact that, given distance, the good times simply did not have the buoyancy of the bad. So instead she whispered a message she knew she would not have heeded anyway. Because what do you do when the love of your life turns out to be your nemesis? And, even so, each morning you wake to find your body curved, like a jigsaw embracing the missing piece?

  That had been one of the last questions she had asked her counsellor before she stopped going a few years earlier. And it had been the lack of understanding that had made the decision all the easier. Plenty of sympathy, and knowledge, and compassion, but no actual understanding. Not the sort that was given out, for free, when someone had felt the incandescent warmth of letting their fingers entwine with those of the man they loved, even while using their other hand to trace the bruises on their face.

  Guess started scrabbling at the back door with rapidly increasing urgency, so Maddie slid the photo back into the drawer gently and made sure it was perfectly straight, edges aligned with the sides of the drawer, before closing it again again. After letting the dog out, she stood in the kitchen and stared around, using the earlier desensitisation tactic with her surroundings. This was where she had been standing when she first heard his voice; this was where she had moved to see him clearly; this was where he had lunged at her, grabbing her by the chin. And this was where they had both stood, in silence, just before he left.

  She made herself a cup of coffee, hot and strong, and then acknowledged a decision she had already made, perhaps even the night before, that she wouldn’t go into work today. She couldn’t face it, or anybody, even if no one knew. And the idea of working itself, of being normal, seemed almost sacrilegious. Instead she would give herself a day to come to grips with Jake’s re-entry into their lives, and what this meant. All the possible ramifications. Treat the whole thing as if it were an illness from which she needed some time to recover.

  The house seemed eerily quiet, although she knew it was only her imagination. Because even if the children had been here, they would have still been asleep. While she made coffee and hot chocolates, set the breakfast table, made lunches. Only then would she have gone to wake them because that initial half-hour was her time. Usually she loved it.

  She put her coffee down and then set the table, slowly, for one. Placemat, cereal, bowl, even vitamin tablets. And then stared at it, feeling miserable, and irritated because she had made herself feel miserable. But it was so much more than the mere absence of Sam and Ashley, it was the not knowing. What they were doing, who they were with, how they were coping. That was unbearable, and it no longer really helped to repeat the refrain a couple of days, because a couple of days of this was still hell on earth.

  By late morning Maddie acknowledged that taking the day off had probably been a mistake. The bustling preoccupation of other people’s concerns would have been a blessing. Instead, as the day wore on, the house seemed to get larger and quieter. She started off by making a list of things to get done but got no further than the first two items: ringing Georgia’s mother to make an excuse for the coming weekend, and then calling the high school to let them know Sam and Ashley would be absent for a few days, most probably the remainder of the term. But the next item was to make some phone calls for legal advice and she found herself unwilling both to hear what they had to say and for them to hear her story. How could she ever explain?

  Hi, my name is Madeline McCourt and . . . well, actually no, that’s not strictly accurate. My name is really Matilda Hampton but I changed it about six years ago. No, not legally. Why? Um, because around that time I left my husband for a trial separation and then, just when he thought we were getting back together, I shot through with the two kids. Changed their names too. Everything. And yesterday he finally found us, so now I need help. Yes, he’d been trying to find us all that time. That’s right – six years. Why did I do it? Oh, because he was . . . abusive. Proof? No, not really, except I do have some photos of injuries except I suppose that doesn’t prove he caused them. And how do you provide proof for all the mental stuff? I mean that’s all still here, you know, it never goes away. Intervention orders? Well, yes there was one but it was actually against me, not him. He just got in first, manipulated the system. No, I don’t know why I never got one. Or rang the police, or visited the doctor, or told anyone. Parenting orders? Yes, we did have a date for a hearing coming up, but I left before that. I was worried he’d manipulate the system. Like with the intervention order. So what advice do I need? Why, how to make sure I get them back, that’s all. And how to keep them away from him again. Yes, I know how that makes me sound but you don’t understand. See, he was always one step ahead of me, always, so that’s why I had to run. But now . . . well, now he’s caught up.

  Maddie shook her head and laughed, but without any humour. She thought of some of her fellow workers at the community centre, and what they would say if they heard her story. For all their training and experience, it was so easy to be judgemental about the way other pe ople should behave when you yourself had never been in that position. How many times had she heard variations of the proclamation that if Tom, or Dick, or Harry, ever dared lay a hand on them, well, they’d be out of there like a shot. Always clear evidence that Tom, or Dick, or Harry, were lovely men and their wives didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.

  So she decided instead to leave that side of things to Hannah. After all, her son-in-law, Charlotte’s husband Nicholas, was a lawyer. And, besides, Maddie had a growing conviction that while legal advice would be handy, it wasn’t the priority Hannah thought it was. She already knew she hadn’t done anything strictly illegal when she’d left six years ago. Morally reprehensible perhaps, but illegal, no. It wasn’t like she had entered into any contracts using different names. The most she could expect w
ould be a slap on the wrist for enrolling the children at school as Ashley and Sam. That and, of course, a great deal of embarrassment.

  But if Jake applied for parenting orders now? She mulled it over and decided that he wouldn’t take the risk. Not with Sam and Ashley being older and entitled to have their opinions voiced and heard. Which meant that eventually, after the initial anger wore off a little, they would have to come to some sort of agreement between themselves. Weekend access, time during the school holidays, that sort of thing. The type of arrangement that her friend Kim had lived with for the past three years. Would that be so bad? Maddie got up and washed her hands. Through the window she could see Tom, her neighbour, rolling his wheelie-bin down the driveway. Life as usual. Guess nuzzled his head against her leg so Maddie crouched down to give him a pat.

  ‘You miss them too, hey?’

  Guess stared at her and then blinked, as if he was trying to tell her he understood. Maddie took his head in both her hands and lowered her own until their foreheads were touching. She suddenly felt like crying again but instead she ruffled his fur and then straightened. This wouldn’t do. She left the list and went down to the bathroom where she peeled her pyjamas off and turned the shower on. The water felt instantly blissful; almost cathartic. Maddie decided spontaneously to give herself the works. She washed her hair and then shaved carefully before stepping outside the spray while she lathered herself with body treatment, counting methodically to sixty before stepping back underneath and watching the soap cascade down her body, forming frothy rivulets on shiny legs.

  After the shower, Maddie stood naked before the full-length mirror and stared at herself. Her body shone damply and her short hair tufted in wet spikes that looked deliberate. It was clear that she was carrying a little extra weight nowadays, but thankfully it was not centred in any particular area. More a general roundness where once all had been flat and sleek. She rubbed her arms and then put a hand underneath one breast and lifted it, trying to measure both size and firmness. More than a handful’s a waste . . . She measured the other one also and then laughed at herself, standing there with a hand cupping each breast while all else was on full display. She let go and then tracked herself from head to toe. Really, had she changed so much in six years?