“The police and ambulance should be here in half an hour and Nath and Mackenzie are coming too.”
“Thanks. I think.”
Poppy slumped down on the front step and he sat beside her. Her usual confidence was shattered. He lay his arm loosely across her shoulders and she sank into his embrace. Poor thing, she must be exhausted. First the funeral, then helping her mother move house and now this.
They sat together unspeaking, staring out at the darkened front yard. Behind them, the lights still burned. In a tree somewhere an owl hooted and a cow bellowed, but otherwise, the silence was deafening.
“This must be so hard on you,” he said, stroking her hair.
“I’m used to it, but yeah it’s still hard. That’s why I live as far away from her as possible. Ignorance is bliss, you know.”
“So what happens if she gets manic and you’re not in the country?”
She looked down at her hands in her lap. “It’s only happened once the whole five years I’ve been away. One of the neighbors called the police because she was walking around naked outside covered in blood. Turns out she was pretending to be a zombie and it was food coloring and tomato sauce, not blood. They sectioned her and she was hospitalized for four months while they got her back on her medications.”
“And you didn’t come home then?”
“There was no point. She refused to talk to me on the phone, refused to see me if I showed up then refused to eat until I agreed not to come again. After that I became even more determined to keep doing my own thing and have as little as possible to do with her.”
“Was it always like that?”
“Growing up I was so scared I’d turn out like her so I did everything opposite. When she was depressed I became the life of the party and when she was manic I kept a calm, quiet demeanor. It worked sometimes.”
“Is this the worst she’s ever been?” he asked.
She shook her head and a tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t even stop to wipe it away.
“Not even close.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Poppy,” he said.
“I don’t know about that.”
He cupped her chin until she met his gaze. “You’ve endured all this and you’re still standing. That’s brave. Plenty of others would have given up.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Plenty of others have run in the opposite direction when they’ve met my mother.”
Headlights appeared at the top of the driveway.
“The cavalry have arrived.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Everything’s going to work out. And trust me, I’m not running anywhere.”
Chapter 26
Poppy had never been so embarrassed in her entire life when Nathan and Mackenzie arrived with a key for the back door. She burst through the back door and found her mother, half naked, stalking around the house like a cat, on all fours. It took two police and a male paramedic to physically restrain her. They’d dragged her, hissing and howling, to the waiting ambulance.
Poppy sobbed while Liam and Nathan moved the furniture back where it belonged. Later, after Nathan and Mackenzie left, Liam surprised her by pulling her onto the couch, holding her tight and stroking her back until her tears finally subsided. He kept assuring her everything would be alright and that he wasn’t going anywhere, but as much as she wanted to believe him, history told her a different story. He wouldn’t hang around.
She almost asked him to stay the night because the idea of sleeping on her own filled her with unwarranted fear but she sensed he wanted to go home, so she thanked him, told him she was okay and hugged him good-bye. She then stood at the door in the freezing night air until his headlights faded in the fog and immediately regretted her decision.
Poppy didn’t accompany the ambulance to the hospital that night because she couldn’t face seeing her mother restrained, physically and chemically, but the next morning after Terri was transferred to a psychiatric facility in Orange, Poppy drove to visit her.
At first Terri refused to see her, so instead Poppy met with the psychiatrist who said she expected Terri would be there for a couple of weeks at least. Poppy wasn’t surprised. At this rate, returning to the States at the end of the month was looking like it might not happen.
She also wasn’t surprised to learn that her mother’s general health was an issue too. As well as her non-compliance in taking her medications, an ulcer on her leg was so bad the doctors in the emergency department at Birrangulla had requested a surgical review. The consensus was Terri would likely need her leg amputated. If that was the case, she’d require permanent care in a nursing home.
And if that happened, it changed everything.
Once again, it felt like Terri was trying to ruin Poppy’s life.
*
It took two nurses and the psychiatrist two hours to convince Terri to see Poppy. They finally met in a dingy cafeteria that pleaded for someone to open the windows and release the cloying smells of grease, body odor and stale smoke.
Terri sucked in a long drag of her cigarette and through pursed lips blew it out toward the ceiling. Poppy resisted the urge to cough. Her mother’s fat, nicotine-stained fingers traced the graffiti on the tabletop and she refused to meet Poppy’s gaze.
Poppy dumped a bowl of creamy congealed pasta in front of her mother and a bottle of Coke. She’d chosen a salad of limp lettuce and a water for herself from the cafeteria. Grabbing an ashtray from another table she dropped it on the table and stood over her mother until she stubbed out her butt.
“You’re late,” Terri said. “What took you so long to get here?”
Poppy ignored the question. There was no point arguing that she’d been there all morning waiting for Terri to agree to see her.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Tired and I’m sick of this hell hole.”
“You look better already.”
“I look like crap.”
“I spoke to the doctors this morning. They say they have to do surgery on your leg.” Poppy decided not to mention anything about a possible amputation in case that set her mother off.
“They’re going to cut my bloody leg off,” Terri said.
“Maybe,” Poppy said carefully.
“They can do whatever the hell they please.”
“You’ll need rehab after the surgery. And probably a nursing home.”
“Good.”
That wasn’t what Poppy expected. “Good?”
“Then you can dump me there and forget about me.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Haven’t seen you in five years. Sounds like you dumped me a long time ago.”
Poppy counted to three.
“If you’re in a nursing home, they’ll make sure you take your medications every day. That will help with your moods. And you’ll have people to help look after you.”
“Whatever.”
Poppy looked up as a young girl walked into the cafeteria, her ugg boots making a shuffling sound on the tiles. She was wrapped head to toe in a polar fleece blanket. Her parents – a haggard looking couple in their forties with dark circles and worried expressions – flanked her. A nasogastric tube snaked from the girl’s nose connected to an IV pole her father was pushing for her. Poppy watched them walk over to an empty table. She commiserated with the parents. It was hard enough having a mother with psychiatric issues, but Poppy guessed it would be harder being a parent.
That was one of the reasons Poppy wasn’t that keen on having kids of her own. She’d read enough to know that bipolar could be hereditary. She’d also read statistics that said on average a person wasn’t diagnosed until they were forty. Every time Poppy felt overly excited or overly depressed about something, she panicked. Perhaps if she was still sane at forty she might consider having kids. But knowing her luck, she’d be like her mother in that way also and be unable to conceive naturally.
“Do you miss him?”
Poppy was miles away.
<
br /> “What? Who?” she asked cautiously. She had no idea who her mother was referring to.
“Your boyfriend? Do you miss him? I never hear you talk about him. What’s he like? I’ve never even seen a photo of him.”
One conversation years ago. That was the only time Poppy had mentioned Adam. And the only reason she’d done so was to justify why she wasn’t coming home for Christmas – again.
“Is he good in the sack?”
“Mum!” Poppy hissed.
Terri lacked any sort of filter. She also lacked the awareness of how loud she was.
Poppy glanced around the small room. The anorexic-looking girl glanced up disinterestedly then went back to picking at her fingernails. Thankfully, no one else appeared to have heard their conversation. Or if they did, they’d spent enough time in mental health facilities to know it was best to ignore the things that didn’t involve them.
“That’s all you need, I s’pose. As long as he’s good in bed. What more could a woman ask for?” Terri studied her food before piercing a piece of fettuccine with her fork and twirling it around before bringing it to her lips and chewing slowly with her mouth partially open. “Your father was no good in bed. You should ask Jenni what he’s like now.”
“He’s dead, Mum, and I don’t want to have this conversation. It’s inappropriate.”
Terri shrugged. “At some point you’ll realize no man’s worth waiting for.” Terri polished off the last of her pasta and licked the creamy sauce from the corners of her mouth. “Mmm,” she mumbled. “That was good.” She stabbed her fork in the direction of Poppy’s salad. “Don’t you like it?”
Poppy looked at her mother. She’d inhaled her lunch like she hadn’t eaten since her admission.
“It’s fine. I’m not that hungry.”
“You need to eat more. You’re skinnier than a goal post.”
Poppy speared another forkful of lettuce and stuffed it into her mouth.
“When are you going to get a job?”
Poppy raised her eyes and swallowed. “I already have a job.”
“Here.”
“I’m not working here.”
“I mean in Australia, not here here, you idiot.”
“Oh.”
“And you need to find yourself a proper boyfriend. Like that Irish bloke with the long hair. He was hot. Bet he’s good in bed.”
Poppy gritted her teeth and refused to let her mother bait her.
Terri pointed to a woman in the corner around Terri’s age who sat with two women – obviously her daughters – and their children.
“You should be married and settled down with babies by now, like Dianne’s daughters. At least Dianne has a reason for getting out of this place. And if you’d stop sleeping around you might actually land yourself a man to marry.”
Poppy choked on her water. “I am not sleeping around,” she retorted.
“You’re sleeping with that guy in America and he hasn’t put a ring on your finger. Same thing.” Her mother wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and studied her. “You always were a tall Poppy. Always thought you were better than everyone else.”
Poppy shot to her feet, dropping her handbag, the contents flying everywhere. She bent to scoop everything back in before facing her mother.
“I don’t have to listen to this.”
“Poppy …”
Poppy held up a hand as she walked away, longing to break into a run. Outside, she stopped in the middle of the footpath, her heart pounding in her ears, and let the tears stream down her cheeks. She didn’t care that people had to veer around her or that they were casting curious glances her way.
If she never saw her mother again, she wouldn’t care.
Chapter 27
Poppy returned from Orange and spent the remainder of the day restoring order to the farmhouse as best as she could. Her heart was another matter. It was shattered in a million fragments. She kept busy, doing everything to stop thinking about her visit to her mother. She’d grown up telling herself that sticks and stones hurt more than words, but it was a big fat lie.
Meanwhile, the unopened letters from her father taunted her. Thankfully she’d found them, still bundled together, in her room where she’d left them. At least Terri hadn’t found them and read them, or worse, destroyed them before Poppy had a chance to read their contents.
As she was making lunch, she received a lovely text message from Jenni which brought fresh tears to her eyes. She had no idea how Jenni had found out what had happened to Terri unless Liam or Nathan or Mackenzie had said something, but surprisingly it didn’t bother Poppy as much as she thought it would to know that her privacy had been broken.
She was partly relieved that others knew, but also troubled. What would they be saying about her? Thinking about her? Her mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. At least Terri was in hospital receiving the help she needed. But it left the issue of the future. If she did need to have her leg amputated she’d have to be placed in a nursing home for permanent care. That meant Poppy could return to New York and carry on with her life, but that would make her as heartless as her mother claimed she was. On the other hand, if she stayed in Australia permanently, what would she do? Where would she live? If her mother moved into a nursing home, it could be anywhere in Australia, which meant there was no point in staying in Birrangulla.
Or was there?
Liam’s face came to mind.
Poppy straightened the cushions on the couch and surveyed the small lounge room. It was really such a cozy space and part of her would have loved to stay there, but for what point? Liam had seen her crazy mother in action and although he said he wouldn’t run, she bet he would. That’s what every other guy did, including her own father. It was part of the reason it had never bothered her having to keep her relationship with Adam a secret. She’d never expect him to come to Australia to meet her mother.
She sank into the couch and stared out the window at the green paddocks. A misty rain was falling again and heavy clouds threatened more rain. The darkening sky matched her darkening mood.
*
Poppy woke the next day feeling refreshed and having made a decision. She would stay until she knew what was happening to her mother. In the meantime she still had three weeks until her flight back to New York so she’d treat her time in Birrangulla as a mini vacation. She had free accommodation, a hire car to get around and enough money in her account to splurge on herself for a change. It had been months since she’d bought any new clothes and if Birrangulla didn’t have any good shops, she could drive into Bathurst. Or even into Sydney.
Staying also meant she could spend time getting to know Jenni and Hamish and Isaac.
Liam was another matter. As much as Poppy wanted to get to know him more, she didn’t think it was fair to lead him on and give him any wrong ideas. She’d made it clear she wasn’t after a fling and neither was he. So before she stepped into another relationship, she needed to end things properly with Adam.
Later that day Poppy was shown to the last available chair in a hair salon that would equal any of the ones she’d visited in New York. The floors were shiny polished concrete, the walls white, the chairs and fixtures chrome and black.
She was lucky there was a cancellation in the afternoon and they’d fitted her in. She’d come from the nail salon over the road where she’d treated herself to a manicure and much overdue pedicure. The following week she was thinking of booking herself in to a day spa in the Blue Mountains.
The salon smelt of coconut and lime, reminding Poppy of sunshine and the beach and warmer days. There were ten chairs facing mirrors that reached the ten-foot ceilings and every one of them was filled. Women sat, shrouded in black capes at various stages of having their hair cut or colored. Rather than minding their own business, with their noses and eyes buried in glossy gossip magazines, the women chatted like they knew each other. The steady buzz of conversation filled the room, loud enough to cover the sound of the music playing, bu
t the chatter volume dropped from a ten to a two when one of the hairdressers showed Poppy to her chair.
Was it because she was new in town? Or had everyone heard about the tall redhead with the mad mother? Probably both.
Poppy smiled politely when she caught the eye of a young blonde girl at the front counter. The young woman hadn’t stopped staring at her. She returned Poppy’s smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes and she looked quickly away. Poppy pushed away the feelings of insecurity and stared down at her phone pretending to be engrossed in something on the screen.
“I hope you’re not going to ask me to color your hair,” the hairdresser said, coming up behind Poppy and scooping her mane up in her hands and allowing it to run through her fingers. She smiled. “Because I’ll refuse.”
Poppy smiled back. Every hairdresser she’d ever been to had made similar comments. “No, just a trim.”
“Good. Because coloring this would be a major crime. It’s gorgeous. I’m Kelly, by the way. So, a trim and a blow wave?”
“Yes please. Can you wash it too?”
“Sure. I’ll get Sonia to do it.”
The blonde girl at the desk trudged over and Poppy followed her to the sinks.
Five minutes later Poppy was sitting in her original chair, a turban of hot pink towels wrapped around her head.
A voice called out across the room. “I overheard you saying you’re new. What brings you to Birrangulla, dear?”
Poppy stared into her mirror at the reflection of an old woman sitting behind her. The woman wore a disturbingly happy smile, loose dentures and a face full of wrinkles. Her piercing voice and loud question was enough to stop traffic. Or, as was the case now, stop everyone else in the salon from talking. Poppy wished she had a pin to drop on the concrete floor to see if it made a sound.
The last thing Poppy wanted today was to be the center of attention but she had no choice. Everyone was listening.
Like most sanguine-types Poppy usually enjoyed social interactions, but not after the week she’d had. Today she didn’t want to smile and act friendly. She wanted to blend in. Her plan was to get her hair done and get out again without drawing attention to herself.
Critical Condition Page 19
