by Barker, Dawn
‘I’m ready.’
She stood up and smoothed down her jade silk dress. She had asked her mum to bring it in for her yesterday. The last time she’d worn this dress was on her final day of work, but then the silk had billowed down over her pregnant belly. It hung limply now. There was still a tiny grease spot above the waistband, a drop of oil that had dripped from an olive at her farewell afternoon tea. She tucked her hair behind her ears; she had blow-dried it this morning, and put on some make-up. She thought that maybe if she looked more like a professional than a patient, then maybe the police would see that she was a normal woman. This – the hospital, the police – wasn’t her world.
She had been surprised to see Scott this morning. He had looked familiar, but it was only when he introduced himself that she remembered him from uni. He’d given her hope: not only because she knew he was a good lawyer, but also because if Tony had organised this, he must still care about her. Scott had explained what was going to happen and insisted that all she had to do was tell the truth. That was easy: she couldn’t remember what had happened. But would the police believe her?
She picked up her cardigan, and walked towards Dr Morgan. Just outside the doorway, she saw the two policemen who had been hovering around before, as well as Scott, her mum, and Tony.
‘Tony!’ Anna’s breathing quickened. It had only been a week or so since she’d seen him last, but his face was somehow thinner, older. ‘You came! I didn’t think I’d see you.’
He nodded and gazed at her. For a moment, Anna felt as though it was just the two of them there, the way it had been before. The way it was when they met, when they said their vows, when they read the Sunday papers in bed, and when they held their little boy. She blinked; already the moment had passed. She was walking now, away from him, away from her mum, towards the door. She turned her head so she could see him for just a moment longer. He stood there, watching. Anna wanted to run back and grab him, but she had to keep up with Scott and the police. She kept moving forward, away from Tony, and left him behind.
* * *
As the heavy security door of the unit slammed closed, Tony’s legs began trembling. Wendy clutched his hand and her fingernails dug into him. He took his hand away; he didn’t want anyone clinging to him now. It should be Anna’s hand he was holding, her he was supporting. What was he doing? That was his wife they were taking away, and he was standing here like an idiot. Why didn’t he go with her? She had looked so small as she walked out. Tony thought he heard an engine start; Anna would be in the car by now.
Dr Morgan put her hand on Tony’s arm; he jumped. ‘She’ll be OK,’ she said. ‘Your lawyer seemed good.’
Tony nodded.
‘They could be a few hours, but you’re welcome to wait here until they bring her back.’
‘Tony,’ Wendy said. ‘Do you want to wait?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Do you?’
‘I don’t mind, but I suppose she could be a while …’
‘Let’s go then.’
He regretted not saying anything to Anna, but he’d been scared that if he did, she would cry or ask more of him and, for now, this was all he could manage. She needed to hold it together; even with Scott there she would need all her strength to cope with the police interview. And part of him was relieved when she’d walked out. He could never say it out loud, but he wanted the police to take Anna away and question her; maybe she would tell them what she refused to tell him. As much as he pitied her and worried about her, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Jack. And when he pictured his lifeless child lying still, so still, he didn’t care if Anna was scared in an interview room. Jack was dead, and only she knew what had happened.
His face burned and the room around him blurred and swirled.
‘Tony? Tony? Are you all right?’
He opened his eyes and blinked hard, seeing Wendy’s and Dr Morgan’s faces come into focus. ‘Yeah, I’m OK.’
‘Do you want to sit down in my office for a while?’ Dr Morgan asked. ‘I’ll get you some water —’
‘No. I’m fine, I just need to get out of here.’
‘Let’s go then,’ Wendy said, and he felt her hand on his arm, propelling him towards the door.
‘Just give me a second …’ He took a few deep breaths as if he needed to catch his breath, but really he wanted to wait a moment before he went out into the car park to make sure that Anna had definitely gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Two weeks after
Monday, 28 September 2009
Tony gasped when the cold waves slapped his legs, but he kept moving. He needed to take his mind off what was happening to Anna at the police station. What were they asking her? What was she saying? He had taken Wendy home, promising to call her as soon as he heard anything. But waiting was torture.
He ignored the chill of the water and ran through the breakers, then leapt onto his board and paddled furiously. The sea was a sharky grey, and the surface simmered with froth. Tony had been big on surfing when he was a kid, and used to love his dad taking him down to nippers on a Saturday morning. He’d always thought he’d do the same for Jack.
He watched as a big set came in, then turned around and paddled to catch it. The force of the first wave propelled him forward; he was weightless, powerless. He grinned as the wave closed out around him, even as he was thrown from his board. The pounding of the ocean drowned out his whoops and screams, and he was still yelling when his head went under.
He closed his mouth and the noise around him faded away into the gurgling wash. He stopped kicking and let his burning muscles relax. The currents shifted his floating limbs in a freefall dance and he imagined himself going deeper and deeper. He opened his eyes and watched the silver-white bubbles rise up to the turquoise light. Below him was dark weed. The salt water stung his eyes and his chest was red-hot, needing air. The ocean forced itself to the back of his nose and throat and pushed into his sinuses. He kicked for the surface.
Gasping, then coughing as he inhaled the spray, his chest heaved and his arms and legs trembled, but it felt good. He pulled his board towards him and clambered on, panting. He surrendered and caught a broken wave into shore.
He lay down on his back on the beach. He was exhausted from his exertion, but just for a minute, he had been able to forget.
The sun was lower in the sky now. He looked at his watch – almost four o’clock. Anna had been gone all day. He didn’t want to think about whether that was good or bad. He wrapped his beach towel around his shoulders.
His phone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Tony, it’s Scotty.’
He held his breath.
‘Sorry it’s taken so long —’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Mate, it’s been a long day. Are you sitting down?’
‘Just tell me!’ His heart was thumping.
‘They’ve decided they have enough to charge her.’
‘Charge her? Oh, shit …’
‘They’ve charged her with something called infanticide.’
‘Infanticide?’
‘Look, Tony, it’s probably the best outcome. It’s a charge used for women who’ve been mentally ill after having a baby, and who’ve done this sort of thing. It means they’re not contesting the fact that Anna’s been ill, they’re agreeing she had diminished responsibility.’
He closed his eyes. He couldn’t think, couldn’t take this in.
Scott continued, ‘It’s what I expected really. And the good news is that they’ve agreed to grant her conditional bail.’
Bail? The word made Tony think of police cells and courts and prison. That was what Scott was talking about now; Tony’s body reeled as the implications hit him.
He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. ‘Where is she?’
‘She’s still here at the station – the police are doing the paperwork. She’ll go back to the hospital soon and stay there on bail as long as she keeps getting
treatment.’
‘How is she?’
‘She’s as good as she can be, under the circumstances.’
Tony thanked him and hung up. He gripped the phone and let Scott’s words reverberate around his head. Infanticide. Anna – his wife – had been charged with killing his son. He began to shiver all over, and his teeth chattered. It had been different when it was something that everyone speculated about. Now it was real. Anna would have to go to court, maybe even prison.
The worst thing was that he wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or devastated.
* * *
Anna stared out the window of the police car as they drove back to the hospital. The roads were busy as people hurried home to make dinner, or to help with their kids’ homework, or to watch television. These ordinary people stared at her through their tinted windows, no doubt wondering what she’d done, then they went back to their own lives. She’d have done the same – before.
She’d told the police again and again that she didn’t know what had happened, but they kept trying to make her say something wrong. They had confused her, and now she wasn’t sure what she’d actually told them.
They’d left her alone in that terrible room for ages. Then they’d come back in, but they didn’t look her in the eye. Detective Hill had put his hand on her shoulder, cleared his throat, and told her that she was under arrest. They marched her through to another room, and he said that he was charging her. He hesitated, just before he said Jack’s name, as if he couldn’t quite remember it. She stared at them, then at Scott. She might have gasped, maybe even laughed. That would have really made them think she was mad.
Now they were driving her back to the hospital. The concrete building loomed ahead, but it looked different from how it had this morning.
Everything was different now.
The police led Anna back into the building. Through the small glass window of the security door, she saw her mum and Tony standing outside the nurses’ station. She raised her hand in a small wave, but neither of them waved back. She was flanked by the detectives and had no choice but to keep walking through the door. She looked straight across the room into Tony’s eyes, and heard the slam of the door closing behind her. She jumped and her legs started to buckle under her. Nausea crept up into the back of her throat and saliva seeped into her mouth; she was going to throw up. They turned right into the passageway towards her tiny room. Tony was still there behind her. She stumbled, looking back at him.
‘Tony.’ She was at the entrance to her room now, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She held out her hands, but he stood there, watching her, motionless. He was crying; Tony never cried. It was almost more than she could bear. ‘Tony, I didn’t do anything, please …’
He shook his head and turned away from her.
‘Do you believe me? Tony?’ she shouted. ‘I would never …’
He was walking now, but in the wrong direction, away from her. For a moment, Wendy looked as if she was going to follow him, but instead she hurried towards her. Anna didn’t want her mum. All she had ever wanted was gone.
She put her hands over her face and screamed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Twelve days before
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Anna stood in the doorway to the bedroom and watched Tony playing with Jack on the bed. He was tickling him, trying to get him to smile.
‘He’s too young,’ she said.
He didn’t stop. He talked in a stupid high-pitched voice. ‘My little boy is so clever, he’ll smile for Daddy!’
She clenched her jaw. He was going to get Jack all excited, then go off to work and leave her to deal with him when he was agitated and overtired. Then Jack would cry and cry; that’s when Anna got frightened.
She started to walk towards them, then stopped. She didn’t have the energy. Taking a step back, she left them to it.
She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water and sipped it while she sat on the couch. She wished she could cancel the doctor’s appointment this morning. But Tony knew it was today, and she had promised him she’d go.
After he went to work, she held Jack to her breast without saying a word, avoiding his accusing eyes. Her breasts felt empty. She wasn’t even sure he was getting any milk.
When he had finished feeding, she put him on a play mat on the living room floor, walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She showered and washed her hair for the first time in days. Back in her bedroom, she held up her black yoga pants, then dropped them on the floor and pulled out a clean pair of maternity jeans instead. They were loose around her hips and she had a moment of satisfaction as she thought about the weight she must have lost, but then that warm feeling was sucked away again. She went back to the bathroom, took her make-up bag out of the vanity drawer then wiped the condensation off the mirror. When she’d put on some foundation and mascara she looked like her old self, almost. But she knew it was only a veneer.
* * *
They arrived at the doctors’ practice ten minutes early. As soon as Anna sat down in the waiting room, Jack started to cry. Just give me a break, she wanted to shout. Just shut up for five minutes. I can’t do this. But, of course, she didn’t shout. She stood up and pushed the pram back and forward, back and forward. The lady sitting across from her was trying to catch her eye; Anna felt obliged to meet it.
‘Aww, he’s so little! How old is he?’ The woman leaned over to see into the pram.
‘He’s four weeks,’ she said with a slight smile, then turned away.
‘He’s so beautiful.’ Now the woman’s head was right inside the pram. ‘Hello, gorgeous boy. What’s the matter with you? Are you hungry?’
‘No he’s not,’ she said. ‘He’s just crying. That’s what babies do.’
The stranger raised her eyebrows and went back to her magazine.
‘Sorry,’ Anna mumbled. Her face burned. She didn’t want to cry, not here, in front of everyone. She sat down and took a deep breath, but she couldn’t get enough air. Her lips and fingers tingled. That woman was staring at her, but her face was blurred around the edges and white flashes exploded in front of Anna’s eyes. Was the woman laughing at her? She gripped the arms of her chair with her numb fingers and hoped she was smiling. Her ears rang, but she could still hear Jack crying.
Somehow, she managed not to collapse, not to break down in tears, not to pass out. The room started to come back into focus. The woman across from her wasn’t staring; she was reading her magazine. Anna stood up again, and picked up Jack. He stopped crying. She forced herself to smile in case anyone was watching her. Everything was OK; she was still in control.
‘Anna?’ Dr Fraser popped her head out of her room as an old lady shuffled out, holding a prescription.
‘Yes!’ Anna said. She cleared her throat, smiled at the doctor, then put Jack back into the pram. She bent down to pick up her bag then manoeuvred the pram with her free hand. It clattered into the coffee table. Her face began to burn again and she felt the flush of red across her cheeks; she couldn’t work out how to get around the table. Everyone was looking at her. ‘Oops,’ she said, and giggled, knowing she must look ridiculous.
‘No rush,’ Dr Fraser said as she handed something to the receptionist, still watching Anna. The lady who had talked to her earlier moved a chair out of the way; she mumbled her thanks, then followed Dr Fraser into the consulting room.
Anna had been in this room many times over the years. On her right there was a cluttered desk with piles of papers and notes leaning against the wall, and on her left was an examination couch. Dr Fraser closed the door behind her, indicating that Anna should sit down, then sat in the black leather swivel chair nearest to the desk. She looked at her GP. Dr Fraser was in her fifties, she guessed, with short hair that could be either grey or bleached blonde. Today, Anna couldn’t stop looking at the string of brightly coloured glass beads around the doctor’s neck. She had seen a necklace like that when she and Tony went
to Murano, an island just off Venice. They had watched a man hand-blowing glass, then looked at some similar beads; Anna had liked them but thought they were too expensive. Tony had proposed on that trip. Her eyes started to water; she had really wanted those beads. She should have bought them; she might never get another chance.
Anna arranged the pram behind her in the cramped room and sat on the edge of the chair at the corner of the desk. Her knees almost touched Dr Fraser’s.
‘How are you, Anna?’ Dr Fraser asked.
‘I’m fine, thanks. How are you?’ Anna blushed as she spoke. The doctor wasn’t just being polite; she was trying to get Anna to talk about why she was here.
‘I’m very well, thanks, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting this little one! I heard from the hospital that he’d been born. What’s his name?’
‘Jack.’ Anna took a deep breath. That was her opening; she needed to get this over with. ‘That’s kind of why I’m here. Well, Jack’s OK, I think …’ She paused, flustered. She had practised over and over what she would say, but now she couldn’t remember any of it. Dr Fraser sat back and waited. ‘I’m not sleeping very well. Tony – my husband – wanted me to come to see you. I’m not sure there’s anything you can do. I mean, it’s all part of being a mum, I suppose. I just thought I should check it out with you …’
Dr Fraser frowned, put down her pen, then sat back in her chair. ‘Tell me a bit more, Anna.’
‘I’m just so tired …’ Anna’s voice died away. Then the tears started. She pulled some tissues out of a box on the desk, then began to talk. She faltered and trembled through her story – Jack’s crying, how much it hurt when he fed. ‘It’s just not how I thought it would be!’
‘How’s your sleep, Anna?’
‘I don’t think anyone with a baby sleeps well,’ Anna said, smiling through her tears, but Dr Fraser didn’t smile back. ‘Not good. I can’t even sleep when he does.’
‘And your appetite?’
