‘I know,’ Catriona stammered. ‘It must have been awful for them, but—’
‘But nothing. There is nothing you or your husband could say to take away what that family had to deal with. Just think about all the things they missed out on with their baby. They can never get them back. It’s a big gaping hole in their lives that they’ll never be able to fill.’ She paused and took a breath, not yet finished with her tirade. ‘I hope you don’t decide to have another child. No child deserves to have you as a mother.’
Catriona felt tears pooling in her eyes out of shock and rage, but she held them back. She no longer felt like standing up for herself. She didn’t even know if she deserved to. Maybe she was partly to blame for what James did. If she hadn’t struggled so much after she had Sebastian then maybe he wouldn’t have died. Maybe, if she had been there, she could have changed something. Or at least she and James would have been able to deal with his death together and James wouldn’t have done something as ludicrous as kidnapping a baby. It was becoming clear to her that from the moment she and James had decided to have children, things had gone wrong in her life. Perhaps she should have taken her fertility issues as a sign that she wasn’t meant to be a mother. Perhaps Sebastian should never have been born and then she wouldn’t have to deal with the grief that enveloped her like a thick coat. Grief for Sebastian’s death, and grief for the loss of a child she loved who she would probably never see again.
Catriona turned and left the lunch room, leaving her lunch, her dignity and any feelings of self-worth behind.
After that encounter, she suspected that other work colleagues shared the same sentiment. She had assumed they felt sorry for her because she had lost her husband and son, but now she looked closer and saw that the emotion was closer to resentment than to sympathy. She booked a meeting with her boss that afternoon, intending to ask for advice on how to deal with the hostility directed towards her.
Terry was five minutes late to the meeting. She entered the room without looking at Catriona, jangling her bracelet as she sat in the seat furthest away from her and stacked her laptop, mobile and security pass into a neat pile.
Catriona waited for Terry to look at her, but when she didn’t look up from the tabletop Catriona began to speak.
‘I’m finding it really difficult here at the moment,’ she said. ‘I know people are uncomfortable around me because they heard about what happened with James, but it’s nearly impossible for me to get any work done. No-one’s turning up to meetings I book, or replying to my emails. Sometimes, when I speak, people pretend they haven’t heard me.’
Terry nodded, her eyes still on the table. ‘I know, I’ve noticed.’
When Terry didn’t elaborate, Catriona leaned back in her seat and stared out the window. The sun glinted off the harbour, which was just visible through a gap between two office buildings. A pair of window washers balanced on an unnervingly narrow platform, cleaning the windows of a tall building in the distance. Catriona could see the platform swaying in the breeze and she imagined herself in their place, trying to maintain her footing as the wind pushed against her. She doubted that anyone would care if she toppled right over the side.
‘To tell you the truth,’ Terry said, ‘I’m surprised you’re here. I don’t think I could manage it.’
Catriona sighed and looked away from the window washers. ‘I need the distraction. It’s too quiet at home. My mind goes crazy with all that silence.’
Terry finally looked up from the table. Her eyes looked wary, her mouth drawn tight. ‘I feel for you Catriona, I really do, but I think it’s best if you stay away from the office for a while. Just until all this passes.’
Catriona couldn’t believe those words had left Terry’s mouth. She had always admired Terry’s tenacity when it came to solving problems, but this problem was obviously too much for her to handle. She was just like the rest of them, wanting to get Catriona out of her sight so she didn’t have to see her every day.
‘Are you firing me?’ Catriona asked quietly.
Terry cleared her throat and resumed her study of the table. ‘No, of course not. I’m just talking about taking some time off. A few weeks, at least. Maybe go away for a while, clear your head. Let the dust settle here.’
Catriona tried to keep her voice from wavering. ‘If that’s what you think’s best . . .’
‘I do.’
‘When should I . . .’
‘We may as well make it immediate. You can take off now if you want. I’ll tell the team.’
Catriona stood up, collected her things and walked back to her desk, her shoulders slumped. As she switched off her computer she imagined she heard a collective sigh of relief from the people around her. She could feel their stares boring into her back as she slunk out of the office, her handbag clutched tightly to her body as if it were a lifesaver.
She left her office building and walked towards the bus stop. Was she imagining it, or were people on the street staring at her? The homeless man on the corner, the woman in business attire walking past her speaking on her mobile phone, the bus driver who greeted her as she boarded the bus to go home. Catriona felt they were all staring at her, judging her, hating her, seething with anger at a woman who caused a baby to be kidnapped and kept from his parents. Catriona longed for the bus ride to be over so she could hide away in her house, away from the rest of the world. She could feel darkness wrapping its black arms around her again, squeezing so tightly she had to work to draw breath. How could she go on like this, with no husband, no child and the whole world hating her? What type of life was that? She couldn’t even use work as a distraction any more. Her friends had stopped calling, even her parents seemed unsure of what to say to her. She had no-one. Maybe it was time to end it all; there was nothing for her in this life any more. No reason to get up in the morning. No reason to go on living.
A man sitting across the aisle from her on the bus stared at her with what felt like loathing and she knew he recognised her from images they had shown of her on television and in the newspapers. He sneered, turned away and looked out the window while she bowed her head and tried not to cry. She would have this for the rest of her life, the recognition and resentment. The whole world hated her for what James had done. His arrest wasn’t enough for them; they wanted her to pay for it too. Well, then, maybe she should give them what they wanted.
• • •
When she got off the bus and walked down the street towards her house, Catriona could see Spencer sitting on her front steps. He was idling with his phone, his long legs casually crossed at his ankles. Summer had refused to leave even though they were well into March, and the frangipani tree in the front yard was brimming with clutches of white flowers among the dark green leaves. Catriona paused in the middle of the street when she saw Spencer, but when he noticed her she forced a smile and resumed her walk towards the house.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked as she pushed open the front gate.
‘You haven’t returned my calls,’ he said. ‘I wanted to see if you were okay.’
‘I’m okay.’ She walked up the stairs, stepped around him and opened the front door.
He followed her inside as she busied herself with the lights, closed the shutters on the windows, opened the mail that was sitting in a pile on the kitchen counter where she had dumped it several days earlier – anything to avoid looking at Spencer and having to enter into a conversation with him that she didn’t want to have.
‘How have you been?’ she said in a tone that she hoped came across as casual.
‘Fine. Good. You?’
‘Yeah good, great.’ That didn’t sound believable. He obviously wasn’t going to believe she was great.
Spencer was standing at the door to the living room, watching her as she pretended to be busy. He seemed just as uncomfortable as she felt.
‘Has the media been harassing you?’ he asked. ‘James has received a fair bit of publicity.’
‘Not too bad.
A bit in the beginning, but it’s stopped now.’ She wondered if the reporters had been trying to get a comment from him as well, but she didn’t want to ask. ‘I didn’t say anything to them,’ she added as she slowly ventured back into the living room, closer to Spencer.
‘Me neither.’
They stared at each other for a while and then, once the pause in conversation became too long to pretend it wasn’t there, they broke their eye contact and looked around the living room as if searching for suitable topics for discussion.
‘How are your parents?’ Spencer asked, perhaps prompted by the photo in a frame on the mantelpiece.
‘Fine, I guess,’ Catriona said. ‘I haven’t spoken to them much. They don’t know what to say to me, so it’s easier if we don’t speak. Why do you care about my parents anyway? You’ve never met them.’
‘I’m just being polite. Give a guy a break.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
Catriona occupied herself for a few more minutes by clearing the coffee table of empty cups and old newspapers while Spencer watched her, seeming envious that she had something to do while he remained standing in the doorway.
‘Why are you really here?’ Catriona eventually asked when the coffee table was cleared and she had run out of things to do. ‘Did James ask you to look after me?’
‘No, not at all. He knows you can look after yourself. I just thought maybe you could do with some company. We could order takeaway and watch a couple of movies. Do you want company?’
‘I don’t care. You can stay if you want.’ She had nothing to do, nowhere to go. She didn’t know what she would do if she was left alone by herself, but she couldn’t admit that to Spencer.
Spencer opened a bottle of wine while she changed out of her work clothes and touched up her make-up. She tried not to think too much about why she was bothering with the make-up, except that she didn’t want to look her worst in front of Spencer. She changed into jeans and a green top that James had told her brought out the colour of her eyes and when she was moderately satisfied with her appearance she went back downstairs to find Spencer settled on the couch with a glass of wine, looking remarkably at home and not out of place. Perhaps it was because although he and James looked so different they had similar mannerisms and even sat the same way, with one arm stretched out across the back of the couch and the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other. If she squinted she could even pretend it was James sitting there, although when her eyes came back into focus it wasn’t her husband with his curly hair, glasses and the rugby top from his school days that he always wore around home. It was a man with a buzz cut, a deep tan and tattoos poking out below the arms of his T-shirt. No, not the same at all.
Spencer let her pick the movie and what they ordered from the Thai takeaway menu. She chose High Fidelity, green chicken curry and massaman beef, all the while wondering why he was being so nice to her. She wondered about Spencer’s girlfriend, Jess, and what she would think about him spending the evening hanging out with another woman. Although she was hardly another woman. She was more like a charity case.
After their food arrived they started the movie and watched in silence, only speaking to ask if the other wanted more wine or food. After a while Catriona settled into the movie and let the wine relax her. The dark thoughts that had followed her home from work had receded but they were still there, asking her why she was acting as if it was a normal night with her husband on the couch when it wasn’t James sitting there, and she would never have a night like that with him again.
‘How’s work going?’ Spencer asked after the movie finished.
‘They asked me to leave,’ Catriona said, her shoulders tightening as she remembered the way Terry had barely been able to look at her.
‘How come?’
‘People either think I was part of it all and somehow escaped being arrested, or I’m a terrible mother for not realising my own son had died and been replaced. I can’t decide which is worse. It’s like having to decide if you want to be Hitler or Stalin.’
‘Stalin. He had the better moustache.’
‘That’s not funny. No-one understands how difficult this is for me.’
‘I understand, Cat.’ Spencer moved closer to Catriona on the couch. She didn’t look at him. ‘Please don’t feel that you have to go through this all by yourself. There are people who want to help you.’
‘And who are they?’
‘Me, for one.’
Catriona forced a laugh. ‘I tried to reach out to you, don’t you remember? And you rejected me. So, don’t come here pretending you’re some saint, helping a woman in need.’
‘Don’t be like that. Don’t push me away. You need a friend.’
‘I have friends.’
‘Do you?’
Not really. The few friends who had been brave enough to call her after James’s arrest had stopped calling now. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Spencer.
‘Look, I appreciate you coming here and checking in on me but I’m fine, I don’t need you to look after me.’
‘Why do you always do that?’ Spencer asked. ‘Why do you have to act so tough all the time? There’s nothing wrong with accepting help from people.’
‘I’m not some damsel in distress that you can play hero with. Maybe you should just leave and find some other woman to rescue. If you’re lucky maybe you’ll pass a young girl with a cat stuck up a tree on the way home.’ Catriona couldn’t stop herself; she was being horrible to Spencer when all he had done was check if she was okay and keep her company for the evening, but she needed to put as much space between them as possible.
‘Fine,’ Spencer said. He finished the last mouthful of wine in his glass, collected his phone and wallet and headed towards the front door. ‘If you decide you need a friend . . . when you decide you need a friend . . . you have my number.’
Catriona remained seated on the couch while he let himself out. She poured herself another glass of wine while congratulating herself on her resolve. She didn’t need him. She had managed to look after herself for most of her life before James came along and she could do it again.
But then, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about what she was going through. Someone who wouldn’t judge her, or say one thing to her face and then another behind her back. She sorted through her list of friends in her mind, but she wasn’t sure how any of them would react to a phone call from her. The ones she had spoken to since James’s arrest had seemed nervous at best, terrified at worst. Then she thought of Lana, the girl she had met at the clinic. Lana wouldn’t judge her. She would understand what Catriona was going through. She had gone through dark times too. They hadn’t spoken in nearly two years, but Catriona had kept Lana’s number in a pocket of her wallet. She retrieved the number and looked at it for a while. The digits were smudged but still legible. She had thought many times about calling Lana since she left the clinic, but every time she had taken the number out she had thought better of it and put it back in her wallet.
She dialled the number and a woman answered.
‘Is this Lana?’ Catriona asked.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘No, this is her mother.’
‘Oh.’ Catriona looked at her watch. It was eleven o’clock. Her mother sounded annoyed. But she had already called, so there was no point in hanging up.
‘Can I please speak to Lana?’ Catriona asked.
‘Who is this?’
‘My name’s Catriona Sinclair. I knew Lana from . . . a while ago. We were friends. Is she around?’
She thought she heard a sob. ‘Lana killed herself.’
Catriona felt a lump form in her throat. ‘How?’ she asked before she could stop herself.
‘She slit her wrists,’ the woman said. ‘She locked herself in the bathroom and by the time we got in there it was too late to save her. The funeral was last week.’
There was silence while Catriona tried to think of what to say. Her head swam and he
r vision blurred.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she finally managed. ‘Lana was a special girl. I really liked her.’
‘Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.’
After Catriona hung up the phone she walked into the kitchen and stared at the knife block sitting on the counter. She pulled out one of the bigger knives and laid it flat across her open palms, moving it back and forth so the metal glinted as it caught the light. How did Lana do it? You were supposed to cut down the veins instead of across, weren’t you? She tested the tip of the knife with her fingertip and then rested the cool blade on the skin of her wrist while indecision formed a flurry of questions in her mind. Was this it? Was this how she was going to end it? What would James think when he heard the news in prison? Would Spencer tell him? How would Spencer react? Would he be relieved that he didn’t have to worry about her any more? And what about her parents? Would they be the ones to find her here after a few days, lying dead in the kitchen, when they came to investigate after she didn’t return their calls?
After a while she picked up the phone and dialled another number.
‘Yes?’ Spencer said.
‘I do need a friend,’ Catriona said, her voice breaking as her resolve crumbled. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m left alone.’
‘I’m turning the car around.’
Catriona put the knife back in the block and sat on the couch with her hands underneath her legs while she waited for Spencer to arrive.
20
DIANA
Sunday, 9 March 2014
Diana scrunched the warm sand beneath her feet, picking up small piles between her toes and luxuriating in the sensation as the grains sifted across her skin. She watched as Noah chased seagulls up and down the beach. Every time he came close to one it would take to the air only to fly a few metres further up the beach before it landed again, much to Noah’s delight. He would let out a squeal and then take chase again, running as fast as his chubby legs would allow until he caught up with the bird again. A few times she had to call to him to come back when he started to get too far away from her, but he was having so much fun that she didn’t want to reprimand him too often. He had been confined indoors for the past month since being returned to her, so she was happy to let him run around until he tired himself out.
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