Dr Lee picked up his clipboard again. ‘But that was . . . more than six months ago. Those symptoms should have resolved by now.’ He jotted more notes. ‘No wonder you’re having trouble coping. Do you often feel sad or anxious?’
Almost permanently, she thought.
‘Well, I’m not very happy a lot of the time.’
‘That’s understandable, given your symptoms,’ he said. ‘Who’s your obstetrician?’
‘I don’t have one. Heidi was delivered in the birthing suite downstairs.’ Pippa could hardly remember that night at all. ‘The midwives told me to wait six months for my body to recover fully.’
Dr Lee nodded. ‘Look, I’m an emergency room doctor,’ he said. ‘Today’s consult is for Heidi. But I think you should get a second opinion on what’s causing your incontinence. And a mental health assessment. It’s not uncommon for women in your situation to have post-natal depression. I can give you some referrals now to specialists at this hospital. Would you like that?’
Pippa stared at him, digesting his words. A second opinion on her incontinence couldn’t hurt. But post-natal depression? It had never occurred to her that what she’d been experiencing might have a label like that.
‘Okay.’
As he wrote out the referrals, Pippa hugged Heidi to her chest. She thought about Robert and the look on his face as she struck him. How would she ever make it better?
‘There,’ said Dr Lee, passing her the paperwork. ‘Now, I’ll be back to check on Heidi in two hours, and then again two hours after that. I’ll ask the nursing staff to bring you some pads, and a few more toys for Heidi. There’s tea and coffee in the corridor.’ He waved a hand towards the door. ‘There’s also a telephone out there, if you need to call anyone.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Dr Lee stood up. ‘See you shortly.’ He left, closing the door behind him.
Pippa reached into her bag for her mobile phone and dialled Robert’s number.
When the specialist told her she had a grade-four tear that could only be fixed by surgery, Pippa wept with quiet relief.
‘We’ll book you in for the procedure as soon as possible,’ Dr Sturgess said. ‘It should have been done much earlier than this. But once you’ve had the surgery, you should notice a difference immediately.’
Robert squeezed her hand.
Pippa imagined returning home, gathering up all the incontinence aids in the house—the pads, the mattress protector, the adult nappies—then burning them in the backyard.
‘What does the operation involve?’
Dr Sturgess passed her several fact sheets.
‘Read these at home,’ he said. ‘We’ll repair the muscles and ligaments in the area. It’s not always apparent what’s actually needed until the patient is on the operating table, but in your case, I think it’ll be a combination of bladder and rectum reinforcement. There’ll be myself, a senior surgical colleague, an anaesthetist and a nurse in the theatre.’
‘What kind of recovery period is involved?’ Robert wanted to know.
‘Ah, husbands are always worried about that.’ The specialist smiled. ‘You should be back on your feet within a week, and we do a follow-up at six weeks. Would you like to book in with my secretary?’
‘Yes, please.’ She didn’t need to discuss it with Robert. She didn’t care how much it cost.
‘Any questions?’
Pippa shook her head. ‘Thank you, Dr Sturgess.’
On her first night home from hospital she eased herself into bed, wincing with the pain. Robert appeared to be asleep already; his six days as Heidi’s primary carer had clearly exhausted him. She’d arrived home that afternoon, buoyed by the support of the mothers’ group and the raft of kindnesses they’d shown her. Meals prepared and coffees delivered to Robert, play dates for Heidi, visits and flowers and gift vouchers for Pippa.
But how quickly things revert to the status quo, she mused. It was as though she’d never left home. A stack of unwashed dishes lay in the sink, at least four loads of washing were piled in the laundry, and the pantry needed restocking. There was no soap in the soap dispenser, no paper on the toilet-roll holder, no milk in the fridge.
She reached out to turn off the bedside lamp, but Robert suddenly rolled over and wrapped his arms around her. His breath was warm on her face, their bodies closer than they’d been in months.
‘I never appreciated how tough it is,’ he said, his face earnest. ‘With Heidi, I mean.’
She looked at him in the lamplight.
‘I mean, I knew you worked hard with her,’ he continued. ‘But it wasn’t until you were in hospital that I learned how hard. And it wasn’t as if I was doing it on my own. The women in your mothers’ group were amazing. I didn’t have to make any meals for myself, or for Heidi. You normally do all that as well.’
He stroked her cheek.
‘I’m really sorry, Pippa. You’ve had no help at all, even when you were sick. I didn’t know how to handle the . . . the injuries after the birth. I just thought they’d go away somehow. And I thought that if I was around at weekends, that’d be enough. I took you for granted, and I’m sorry for that.’
Tears slid down her face. For the first time in months, she felt understood.
She thought about the day of the facial, how she’d slapped him. They hadn’t spoken about it since. ‘I’m sorry too,’ she whispered. ‘I never should have hit you. I’ll never ever do that again. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘I do,’ said Robert. ‘You were protecting your daughter. I stuffed up, she was hurt, and you reacted. You’ve been under a lot of pressure these past eight months.’
She nodded. ‘But I could’ve handled it better. I’ll get out of this rut, Robert, I promise.’
He smiled at her, his eyes gentle.
‘We’ll get out of this rut. We’ll do it together.’
And, slowly, they had. It was as though the surgery knitted together not only her physical injuries, but the deeper wounds of her heart.
She started seeing a psychiatrist specialising in post-natal depression. He prescribed antidepressants and suggested she attend a weekly PND support group. At first she felt self-conscious, but when the other women spoke of their darkest hours, she understood them perfectly. She needed to hear their stories, and to tell hers too.
The surgery wasn’t a miracle cure. It fixed the worst of her symptoms, but her bladder was still weak. On the specialist’s advice, she began seeing a pelvic floor physiotherapist and, eight weeks later, she and Robert finally had sex again. She was nervous and awkward and she felt next to nothing, yet she cried with relief afterwards. There is hope, she thought, as Robert held her in his arms in the dark. I have survived.
When she finally told the mothers’ group of her problems, a fortnight before the surgery, she felt relieved of her secret burden. She started to get to know them in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to previously. And shehoped that, in time, she would be able to repay them the generosity they had shown her while she was in hospital.
One Wednesday morning, when Heidi was nine months old, one such opportunity presented itself. Pippa’s mobile phone rang and she sat up from the play mat to take the call. ‘Hello?’
‘Pippa, it’s Ginie.’ The background noise was distracting, as though Ginie was at an airport.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you in Melbourne?’
‘Yes, I’ve just arrived.’ Ginie’s tone was urgent. ‘Can I ask for your help?’
‘Sure.’
‘I wouldn’t normally trouble you with this, but since you live around the corner . . .’
‘Go ahead,’ said Pippa.
‘Well, Rose has an appointment today for her six-month immunisations. They’re overdue by three months, but I’ve just been so busy . . .’ The line crackled. ‘Sorry, I’m at a taxi rank. Look, the appointment’s at eleven o’clock. I reminded Daniel about it on Monday, but I’m sure he’s forgotten. I’ve tried his mobile six or seven ti
mes, but he’s not answering. The nanny’s gone shopping in the city, so she’s no help.’ Ginie paused and spoke in a muffled voice to a cab driver.
‘Anyway,’ she continued. ‘I really don’t want Rose to miss the appointment. We’re going overseas in a fortnight.’
At the previous week’s mothers’ group meeting, Ginie had mentioned their upcoming family holiday to Tahiti, with the nanny in tow. Pippa had been quietly envious at the thought of lying on a beach while someone else looked after Heidi.
‘Would it be too much to ask for you to go over to my house and just bang on the door and remind Daniel about the appointment?’ asked Ginie. ‘He’s probably got his hands full of Rose and can’t find his phone. Men can’t multi-task.’
Pippa laughed. ‘Sure. I’ll pop over now.’
*
Ginie’s house was less than two kilometres from hers, a pleasant walk along a tree-lined street that barrelled towards the coast. Pippa parked the stroller on the grass near the letterbox and lifted Heidi out. Carrying the baby on her hip, she bypassed the front door in favour of the side gate. She’d been to enough mothers’ groups at Ginie’s house to know her way around. If she knocked at the front door, Daniel was unlikely to hear. The best way to attract his attention would be via the backyard, where an enormous kitchen and living area spilled out onto a large patio overlooking the ocean. The family spent most of their time out the back, reserving the front of the house for more formal occasions.
As she walked along the hedge bordering the backyard, she heard someone giggle. She knew the voice; it was the infectious laughter of Nicole, Ginie’s nanny. She must be back early from her shopping trip, Pippa thought.
She rounded the hedge at the southernmost corner of the yard and stopped dead. In the living area beyond the patio, Nicole was seated on a lounge, wearing a figure-hugging dress that plunged at the neckline. Her eyes were closed and Daniel stood in front of her, board shorts slung low on his hips, squinting through a long-lens camera. Pippa could hear the camera’s shutter clicking as he moved around her. He leaned forward and said something to her in a low voice, prompting her to giggle again. Rose was nowhere in sight.
Pippa immediately stepped back behind the hedge, her heart hammering. Startled by the sudden movement, Heidi arched her back and wailed. Pippa tried to stifle the sound by pressing the baby against her chest, which only aggravated her further. She could hear their panicked whispering on the other side of the hedge. She hesitated, unsure what to do. Her natural inclination was to bolt straight back down the side path. But how would she explain that to Ginie? She made a split-second decision.
‘Hello?’ she called out, as loud as she could. She paused, stalling for time. Then she rounded the hedge once more, rocking Heidi on her hip. As she walked across the lawn, she focused on Heidi, making a deliberate fuss of her.
‘Goodness,’ she said, apologetic, as she stopped in front of the living area. ‘What a racket we’re making.’
Daniel stood in front of the couch, his arms folded across his bare chest, regarding her suspiciously.
‘Hi Daniel,’ said Pippa, endeavouring to sound relaxed. ‘I’m Pippa, one of Ginie’s friends from mothers’ group. We met at the Fathers and Partners session last September.’
He looked confused. ‘Oh yes.’
He glanced over his shoulder, towards the couch. Was Nicole hiding behind it? Pippa wondered. She desperately wanted to leave.
‘Um, I had a call from Ginie this morning. She couldn’t reach you on your phone.’ Her eyes moved involuntarily to Daniel’s chest. ‘You must have been . . . in the shower.’ She cleared her throat. ‘She wanted me to remind you about Rose’s appointment at eleven o’clock.’
Daniel looked at her blankly.
‘For her immunisations,’ Pippa continued. ‘Ginie didn’t want you to miss them, with your overseas trip and everything . . .’
‘Oh.’ Daniel’s jaw slackened. ‘I was just doing some work.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Well, I guess I’d better take Rose now. Thanks for letting me know.’
‘That’s okay.’ She smiled and edged back towards the hedge. ‘I hope it’s not too distressing for Rose. When Heidi had her immunisations, it wasn’t much fun. Was it, madam?’ She tickled Heidi in the ribs, making her squirm. She couldn’t believe her powers of small talk under duress. ‘Bye, then.’
She didn’t wait for Daniel’s response. She clasped Heidi to her chest and fled down the side path.
Later that night, Robert sat in silence as she described what she had seen.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she concluded. ‘How do you tell a friend that her husband is cheating on her?’
Robert quaffed the last of his beer then set the bottle down. ‘You don’t.’
Pippa frowned. ‘What, I’m just supposed to pretend I never saw it?’
‘That’s about right.’
‘But if I was in her position,’ she objected, ‘I’d want to know that my husband was having sex with the nanny.’
‘Well, you’re not in her position. And you’ve got no idea what’s going on in their relationship, Pip. Even if you did see something . . .’
Pippa gaped at him. ‘What, do you think I just made it all up? That I’m some stupid housewife with nothing better to do than concoct stories about other people’s husbands?’
‘No, that’s not what I said. It just mightn’t have been quite what you think it was.’
Pippa snorted. ‘What? With her cavorting around, pouting and giggling? Him whispering sweet nothings? I can’t imagine what else it might have been.’
‘He is a photographer. Maybe it was a legitimate shoot.’
‘Oh, please.’
Robert pushed his dinner plate away. ‘Look, Pippa, you’ve just got to be very careful about sticking your nose into other people’s business.’
‘I don’t want to be involved,’ she snapped. ‘I didn’t go over there looking for trouble. I went over to help Ginie. But I saw what I saw. They’re going away next week. The bloody nanny’s going with them. He’ll be screwing the pair of them on holiday. How would it be acceptable for me to keep that to myself?’
He stood up. ‘Look, you asked me for advice. I’ve told you what I think. But don’t listen to me, I’m just your husband.’ His eyes flashed. ‘You don’t want my opinion, Pippa. You want confirmation of your own. If you decide to tell Ginie, don’t come crying to me when it causes a shit-fight.’
He picked up his mobile phone and car keys from the bench.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out.’ He slammed the front door behind him.
Pippa slumped onto the dining room table.
*
The longer she considered what she had seen, the less confident she became. Eyewitness accounts are notoriously unreliable, she reminded herself; a degree in psychology had taught her that. Had she just stumbled across a harmless photo shoot after all? No harm done, as Robert suggested.
But no, she would protest. It couldn’t possibly have been harmless. There was too much in their body language, their proximity, their laughter. The fact that Ginie thought Nicole had gone shopping for the day was, in itself, suspicious. But whenever Pippa concluded that she’d caught Daniel in a brazen act of infidelity, she began to fret about how to deliver the news to Ginie. After all, even after eight months of mothers’ group meetings, she didn’t feel close to her. There was an air of arrogance about Ginie that Pippa found off-putting. She was opinionated and self-confident—everything Pippa wasn’t. And the truth was, Ginie frightened her a little. So Pippa procrastinated, waiting for the ideal moment to speak up.
No time was ever right, however; there were always too many others within earshot. Ginie never lingered after mothers’ group, always barging off somewhere immediately after. And it was impossible to organise one-on-one catch-ups, because Ginie worked practically full-time. Indeed, she often missed mothers’ group on Fridays because of work demands. And Pippa couldn’t stomach just teleph
oning her—what exactly would she say? Hello, Ginie, it’s Pippa. I’m ringing to tell you that Daniel is doing the nanny.
Days dragged into weeks: the more she imagined telling Ginie what she’d seen that day, the more she started to relish the fantasy. Watching Ginie’s horrified face as she broke the news. How’s your perfect life looking now, Ginie? Pippa was ashamed and appalled by herself for even thinking like that. It must be the PND, she told herself. The doctor said it would take at least six months to see the full effect of the medication.
Once, she’d tried casually to gauge whether Ginie had an inkling of an affair between Daniel and Nicole. She’d made up some fanciful story about considering a nanny herself, but pretending to be worried about the possibility of an attraction between Robert and the hired help. Ginie had dismissed the possibility unreservedly. Eventually, Pippa grew tired of carrying around the mental burden of it all. Crippled by uncertainty, she decided to follow Robert’s advice and say nothing at all. It was better for everyone, she reasoned. At the very least, Robert would feel that she’d followed his counsel for once.
Robert. She opened her eyes, certain she’d heard the familiar sound of his ute pulling into the driveway. But that was impossible: it was only eleven o’clock in the morning. She must have fallen asleep again when she’d put Heidi down for her morning nap. She sat up on the sofa, remembering how she’d promised to call her psychiatrist. For Robert, as much as for herself.
She stood up from the couch and walked along the hallway to the front door. On his way out, Robert had slid a copy of the local paper under it. She collected it from the mat and padded back to the kitchen, glancing at the loaf of bread next to the toaster. She was eating normally again, but she didn’t feel like breakfast today. She perched on a stool and turned the newspaper over.
BABY’S TRAGIC DEATH A MYSTERY declared the unusually large headline, followed by a bold sub-heading—MOTHER TURNS HER BACK, CHILD DISAPPEARS. Pippa gasped at a photograph of a smiling Astrid on Cara’s knee, taken at Beachcombers. The caption read: Cara and Astrid Jenkins in happier times.
The article had been compiled by a junior reporter, who cited unnamed witnesses at the scene. Pippa’s eyes widened as the article speculated about the possible molestation and drowning of Astrid by one of the party guests. Worse, it quoted a ‘personal friend of Cara’s from her mothers’ group’ as saying, ‘I don’t know why she left Astrid alone in the first place. It’s very out of character.’
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