Sticks and Stones

by Ilsa Evans

  ‘But isn’t he . . . I mean Jake . . . upset?’

  ‘I’m guessing yes.’ Maddie brought two fresh mugs of coffee over to the table and sat down. ‘Wouldn’t you be? But I’m hoping that once he gets over the anger, he’ll be more approachable. More willing to come to some arrangement. Because he won’t really have a choice anyway. And Sam says he’s changed. Nicer.’

  Kim was staring at her. ‘Six years.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wow. That’s a long time. A really long time.’ Kim spoke slowly, as if imagining being parted from her own son. For six years. ‘Will you . . . I mean, can you be charged?’

  ‘No, not really. There weren’t any parenting orders in place or anything so I haven’t really committed a crime.’ Maddie searched her friend’s face as she spoke, looking for any signs of condemnation, of disgust in a system that would allow a woman to act in such a way without retribution. But for once she couldn’t read her. ‘He could have taken out recovery orders, and that might’ve meant trouble. For me. But he didn’t.’

  ‘He didn’t?’ Kim stared at her. ‘Well, that was pretty decent then, wasn’t it?’

  Guess started scrabbling noisily at the back door so Maddie rose to let him in. He ran immediately over to his food bowl and then stared at it, as if astonished to find it empty. Maddie fetched a can of dog food and opened it, levering the contents into the bowl. When she turned around Kim had risen from the table, bringing her half-empty mug over to the sink. She stood beside Maddie, her back to the counter.

  ‘Do you know, I’d always guessed you’d had a rocky marriage. That it’d been less than pleasant. Because you never spoke about him and neither did the kids. But this? God.’

  ‘You understand why I couldn’t ever tell you?’

  Kim nodded slowly, staring towards the back door. ‘And it must have been hard for you. To leave everything and start again. As a single parent as well, without even that support.’ She transferred her gaze back to Maddie. ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Not sure. I’d prefer no contact at all but I’m not sure that’s going to be possible. In fact, I know it’s not.’

  ‘No, probably not,’ replied Kim slowly. She dropped her eyes for a moment and then, when she looked back up, she was smiling. ‘So what do you prefer? Maddie or Mattie?’

  Maddie paused, considering. My little Waltzing Matilda.‘Let’s stick with Maddie.’

  ‘Good, I’m used to that one,’ Kim glanced down at her watch. ‘And I’m really sorry but I have to go. Otherwise Ryan’ll be the only child left at after-school care. But we can talk more tomorrow night when I come around.’

  ‘Okay. Sure.’

  Kim stared at her for a moment and then suddenly leant forward and wrapped Maddie in her arms. At first it was rather awkward, but then Maddie relaxed, breathing in the musky coconut of Kim’s hair. Just as they got it right, they both started to pull away, parting clumsily with Kim reaching forward to pat Maddie on the back and striking her on the shoulder instead.

  ‘God, sorry!’

  Maddie laughed. ‘Keep that up and I’ll be running away from you next.’

  ‘Ah, but now I know your tricks,’ Kim grinned, and then turned serious. ‘Look, Maddie, any time you need me, just ring. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I mean that, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed that everything turns out okay. But I’m sure it will. It’ll be fine. And I’ll see you tomorrow night anyway. I’ll bring dessert. Something decadent, I think you need it.’

  Maddie nodded, for a moment finding it difficult to speak. By the time the words arrived, Kim had already left, so she went over to the kitchen window to watch her hurry down the driveway, the sound of her heels scrunching against the gravel audible even at a distance. She waited until Kim got into her car and then washed her hands briskly before turning around and leaning back against the sink.

  Sunday. Two more days. It was disappointing but, now that she thought about it, not altogether unsurprising. Of course he would want to hang on to them through the weekend; even apart from the logistics, he would still be deeply mired in revenge mode. And he would stretch this out as long as possible, not just as a show of strength but as a sample of the retribution that would come later. But the children were older now, less easily manipulated, and they had roots up here. Sooner or later he would have to come to the table and start discussions. All she had to do was be patient.

  On the heels of this thought, Maddie realised, quite suddenly, that she felt good. Lighter. As if she had purged herself somehow. And she knew that it wasn’t just because playing a waiting game actually suited her proclivities, or that she had now told someone, finally, but she felt good about everything, even including the fact that Jake had finally found them. Maddie’s eyes widened as this thought formed and she realised, with a surge of warm, frothy surprise, that it was true. Maybe, just maybe, it would turn out to be a positive thing. Once the kinks were ironed out. There’d be no more secrecy, no more paranoia, no more looking over her shoulder and seeing Jake in every crowd. She had no illusions about the difficulties coming her way, even if he had really changed, but there would also be real benefits. Just the simple act of having a bank account, a credit card, parenting allowance. All the little things that connected one within the community. Being able to travel down to Melbourne whenever she chose, to visit her mother or her sister or see her niece’s new baby for the first time. And then there was her, and what she wanted out of life. Further education, a career, pride in her own achievements. The ability to both reclaim her past and shape her future. To finally move on.

  SEVEN

  Maddie sat in her car, hands clasped on the steering wheel, staring at the house across the road. It seemed a fairly innocuous dwelling, with clinker brick and burgundy striped awnings and two cars parked in the driveway with another by the nature strip in front. It was these that had given her pause, bringing with them the reality that this support group would be made up of people, several people, each with their own car and story and background of abuse.

  She had decided to attend only that day, driven by the thought that she had another two days to go before the kids returned. To spend them simply waiting no longer seemed as appealing as it had. She wanted, needed, to do something proactive during this hiatus. Even if it was just to listen to other women recount how they negotiated child access with problematic ex-partners. After all, knowledge was power.

  But now that she was here, Maddie was having second thoughts. The idea of walking into a room full of women, to see them smile at her and know that they all knew what she’d come from, what she’d experienced, made her feel cold. To become one of them, when she, he, they, were so different. At this last thought, Maddie grinned wryly, because nowadays she knew that feeling unique was in itself not unique. That every woman who had ever been abused believed that her situation was different. Distinctive. It was yet another thing they all had in common.

  Maddie opened the car door and got out quickly, before she could change her mind. She crossed the road and walked up the path, the heels of her boots clicking lightly against the concrete. At the front door she hesitated, but only briefly, before pressing the buzzer and listening to it echo within the house. Then she wiped her hands rapidly down her jeans as footsteps approached and the door swung open to reveal a plump woman with short, blue-black hair. She flung out her arms and smiled welcomingly.

  ‘You must be Maddie? For the support group?’

  Maddie nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then come on down!’ said the woman loudly, in a game-show voice. She gestured for Maddie to follow and led the way up a dark passage towards a lit room at the end. There was conversation coming from that direction, which got louder as they approached but then stopped abruptly. It was a very feminine lounge room, with a dusky salmon-pink suite and an array of glossy white furniture. A large bay window was festooned with matching salmon drapes that were swagged at the top and then caught back on the sides with brass r
osettes. Two women were sitting on the couch, both staring at her with interest.

  Maddie’s companion beamed proudly. ‘We have a new member. This is Maddie.’

  ‘Welcome, Maddie,’ said one of the other women, a big-boned blonde with a fleshy face. ‘I’m Lyn and this here is Fiona.’

  ‘And I’m Jenny,’ said the woman who had greeted her. ‘Grab a seat. Now what can I get you? Coffee, tea? How do you have it?’

  ‘Coffee thanks. And white with one.’

  Maddie sat down in one of the armchairs and then surreptitiously glanced at the other two women, who both immediately smiled back. They made an odd couple, with Fiona a small but angular woman with a bob of dark hair and thin features.

  ‘Do I know you?’ asked Lyn suddenly.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Probably just seen each other around,’ said Fiona. She had a husky voice that reminded Maddie of old-time Hollywood and cigarettes in long, pearl-handled holders. ‘You live locally?’

  ‘Badgerton,’ said Maddie. ‘So not far at all.’

  Jenny came back in with a mug of coffee and placed it on a side table by Maddie. She took the spare armchair and then beamed around the room. ‘Perhaps I should give our newest member a very brief history of the group, just to fill in the gaps.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Fiona, nodding approvingly.

  ‘Can I ask if you’ve ever been in a support group before?’ Jenny waited for Maddie to shake her head before continuing. ‘See, some of them run for a certain period of time and then just stop. That’s what happened to us. We were in this organised group, with a facilitator and everything, and that was great. For eight weeks. Then we had this nice break-up afternoon tea, sort of like a graduation, and that was it. So we all looked at each other and said, “What now?” Because eight weeks just didn’t seem enough.’

  ‘Not even close,’ added Lyn with a snort of disgust.

  ‘And we decided to keep going by ourselves, meeting at my house. Only because I don’t have any kids so it’s easier. And that was, what? Three years ago?’

  Fiona nodded again. ‘About that.’

  ‘We started off with eight women but most have dropped away over time. Or just come to a meeting every so often to touch base. That’s why we thought we’d start advertising for new members. Also to, well, try and give something back.’

  ‘Not that we think we’re experts,’ said Fiona, smiling.

  ‘Although we are,’ finished Jenny without any trace of humour. ‘Now for very brief potted backgrounds. I was married for fifteen years and have been separated for four, divorced for two. No children, which is probably good, because there’s nothing to tie me to him. He’s remarried now. Lives not far away but I hardly ever see him. Fortunately. Over to you, Lyn.’

  ‘I’ve been separated for four years and I’ve got four kids. The oldest is ten and the youngest is three.’ Lyn paused and grinned at the expression on Maddie’s face. ‘I can see you’re doing the maths, hey? But the thing is, I was pregnant when I left, and so he was born after. Anyway, not like Jen here, I see my ex all the time. And the crap just keeps on coming.’

  There was silence for a few moments after this, as if the women were paying tribute to an unpleasant reality. Finally Fiona coughed politely. ‘While I do have children, two of them, I’m lucky in that they’re both older. Young adults. So whether they see their father or not has nothing to do with me. We’ve been divorced for five years now and I don’t think I’ve seen him since then. Although my daughter gets married early next year, so the wedding should be rather interesting.’ She shrugged philosophically. ‘But I’m sure I’ll cope.’

  Maddie waited for a moment to make sure that Fiona had nothing further to add, and then she cleared her throat. ‘Well, I suppose that leaves me. I have two children as well and I’ve been . . . separated for six years.’ She paused. ‘Ah, it’s not easy.’

  ‘That’s the understatement of the century!’ Jenny grinned and then looked at Maddie quizzically. ‘Can I ask a personal question, Maddie?’

  ‘Um, okay.’

  ‘Was there some particular reason you decided to join a support group now? I mean, if you’ve been separated for six years but you’ve never joined one before, well, why now?’

  Maddie hesitated momentarily. ‘It’s just everything was going quite smoothly, before, mainly because my ex was out of touch. Living overseas. But now that he’s back, well, we just have to work out access and things like that. Which I’m sure we’ll get on top of eventually. But I suppose I wanted to . . .’

  Jenny jumped in quickly as Maddie trailed off. ‘That’s fine. Absolutely fine. And I hope I wasn’t rude. I really wasn’t trying to pry.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Maddie, trying to look as if she meant it.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asked Lyn, leaning forward.

  Maddie looked around the room. ‘Actually, would you mind if I didn’t? I think, for tonight, I’d like to just listen. Is that okay?’

  ‘Absolutely!’ said Jenny heartily. ‘Sometimes listening is the best medicine.’

  ‘And it should be prescribed a little more frequently,’ added Fiona with a smile. ‘With a double dose for most men.’

  The other two women laughed and Maddie relaxed, just slightly, now that the pressure was off. They started talking about Fiona’s daughter’s wedding, and the difficulties of a seating plan when half of the guests were no longer speaking to each other. Maddie sipped her coffee and smiled every so often, just to feel included.

  ‘Well, I have some news as well,’ said Jenny during a brief lull. ‘Good news and bad news but I’ll start with the good.’ She sat back and smiled at each of them in turn. ‘I’ve got a date this Friday night.’

  ‘Who?’ Lyn sat forward. ‘Where? When? Details, please.’

  Jenny’s smile widened. ‘Well, he’s actually the friend of a friend. Sort of a blind date, though I have met him before, very briefly. He’s tall, dark and handsome. Lovely.’

  ‘The eternal optimist.’ Fiona looked at her pensively. ‘And what about the bad news?’

  ‘Oh.’ Jenny’s smile crumpled. ‘Yes. Well, you’re going to love this. There I was, doing my groceries, minding my own business, when who do I happen to see?’ She chewed her lip for a moment and then looked up brightly. ‘My ex and his new wife playing happy families. To be.’

  ‘She’s pregnant,’ said Fiona flatly, and it wasn’t a question.

  ‘Very much so.’ Jenny stared at her teacup for a moment and then jumped up. ‘Who’s for another cup? Maddie?’

  Maddie shook her head. ‘No thanks, I’ve still got some.’

  ‘Then I think I’ll just make a pot of tea and bring it out.’

  Lyn waited for a few minutes until they could hear Jenny in the kitchen, and then leant towards Maddie. ‘Poor Jen. She always wanted kids, you see. But he didn’t.’

  ‘She had three miscarriages with him,’ added Fiona in a low, even huskier voice. ‘And the last time she was nearly five months pregnant with twins.’

  ‘That’s not a miscarriage,’ spat Lyn. ‘That’s murder. Bastard. Life’s not bloody fair.’

  ‘Another month, even a couple of weeks, and they would’ve probably made it.’

  Fiona and Lyn went silent as Jenny came back in with a pot of tea, steam wafting gently from the spout. She put it down on the cloth-covered coffee table and then poured herself another cup. Finally she sat down and looked at them with eyes that glittered. ‘Look, I know you all want to give me sympathy but, well, please don’t. I’m wishing now I hadn’t mentioned it because I’m really not ready to talk about it yet. Maybe next time, okay?’

  Maddie nodded along with the other two and then Fiona reached out, fleetingly, and touched Jenny on the knee. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Maddie thought of her own two children. Anticipating some difficulties over sharing them seemed almost shallow now. She put her empty mug down on the side table and then swivelled it slightly so that th
e handle was lined up neatly with the angle of the tabletop. Then she looked up and straight into the gaze of Fiona, who was watching her with interest. Maddie glanced away quickly.

  Lyn clapped, breaking the silence. ‘Hey, I’ve got a good one for us this week. Everyone listening? Well, two of my kids were bickering and one of them came up with that old line, you know: sticks and stones may break my bones, but words’ll never hurt me.’

  Jenny gave a brittle, eager laugh. ‘Do they still use that?’

  ‘Hmm, I’ve never really thought about that one.’ Fiona paused. ‘Words will never hurt me. What a ridiculous saying.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Lyn nodded her head for emphasis. ‘That’s what I said! I mean, I remember using it all the time when I was a kid. I even remember my mother getting me to repeat it after her, if I was whining about something one of my brothers had said. And then I thought of you, Fiona, and your ex. Being so proud and all.’

  Fiona looked at her for a few moments, as if expecting Lyn to continue. Then she turned to Maddie, almost reluctantly. ‘What Lyn means is that Peter, my ex-husband, was extremely proud of the fact he’d never hit a woman in his life. He would lecture our son about men who hit women being scum of the earth. He never saw what he did as abuse. Never.’

  ‘And it most certainly was,’ said Jenny softly, glancing at Fiona. ‘In fact, of all the stories I heard at our group, I think Fiona’s was one of the worst. Because the abuse was so deliberate, so sadistic. There was no cycle, like there was with most of us. It was just continual. Unrelenting.’

  ‘We had another woman who copped mostly psychological abuse as well,’ added Lyn. ‘With just a little bit of physical, in her case. And she used to say that she’d try to egg the physical stuff on, just to stop the other. Because it hurt so much more.’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Bruises heal eventually, but the words – they’re there forever.’

  ‘Actually the words are like sticks and stones,’ said Fiona quietly. ‘Sharp and spiky and painful. Like little missiles.’