by Barker, Dawn
As she said it, she knew it was true. What did she expect? That people would tell her it was OK, that they forgave her? That she could go back to her normal life as if nothing had changed? Of course that couldn’t happen.
This was exactly what she deserved.
* * *
For the next few days, Anna did as she was asked: she took her medication, she answered Dr Morgan’s questions, and she ate what they put in front of her. But she was thinking all the time. It wasn’t like before: her thoughts weren’t rushing around in panic, nor were they slow and sluggish. Her thoughts were clear, and they were calm.
Dr Morgan was right: she was better now. The ECT, the tablets, the therapy; it had all done its job. She couldn’t really remember being ill, but when she looked back she knew that she had been in a terrible way. The old Anna, her true self, was coming back. But that didn’t change the fact that she had killed Jack.
Whenever she was alone, she thought about her future. The idea of going to prison didn’t bother her now; it was preferable to going home. She knew what prisoners thought of child killers, but threats and beatings would be better than whispers and gossip. However, Scott had told her that even if she was sent to jail, the maximum sentence she would get was twenty-five years. Not life. One day she’d have to walk out, and what would she do then? She’d be over fifty. She’d have no friends, no job, no relationships. No children. Tony didn’t want her; he wouldn’t wait for her. No one would ever trust a woman who’d gone crazy and killed her child.
All she wanted was to have her family back, Tony and Jack.
That was impossible.
She knew, deep down, what she’d been doing at the top of that cliff. The only option was to succeed this time. Everyone would be better off: Tony wouldn’t have to be tortured by his sense of obligation to stick by her; Ursula would be relieved; no one would have to worry about the safety of their children around her. Her mum; well, she would be sad. She’d be devastated. She pushed those thoughts away, and began to make a mental list of her options. As she did so, she felt better than she had for weeks.
Every day, Anna took the little plastic cup from the nurses at medication time and poured her tablets into her mouth. She used her tongue to push them down into the space between her gum and her cheek, then funnelled a mouthful of water straight down her throat. As soon as the nurse left, Anna spat the tablets into a pouch made from a piece of paper, then slipped it into the corner of her pillowcase.
She would know when she had enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Four weeks after
Saturday, 17 October 2009
Tony stepped out of a taxi then nodded to the doorman shuffling around outside the pub. Sean had insisted that he come out for a few drinks, said it would do him good to get out of the house. He hadn’t had the energy to say no, but now he wished he had.
The bouncer pulled open the heavy door and the thump of the music spilled out into the dark Paddington street. He took a deep breath, ducked his head, then stepped into the thick air inside the pub. The door closed behind him. He stood at the edge of the room trying to see Sean’s red hair among the hundreds of bodies bunched together. He stumbled as a girl pushed past him, too busy shrieking at someone to notice that she had spilled her neon pink drink on his jeans. He glared at her, then his eyes filled with tears; he blinked them away. Anna would know how to get the stain out. But he couldn’t ask her things like that any more.
He headed towards the bar. He’d stay for an hour, then go home. His house was empty and sad, but that suited him at the moment.
‘Tony, mate! Over here!’
He craned his neck and saw Sean’s hand waving above the canopy of bodies. Tony turned back to the bar, ordered two beers, then pushed his way towards his friend, holding the schooners high as if he was wading through a river.
Standing with a group of four other guys, Sean grabbed one of the beers and took a big gulp. ‘You made it – brilliant! These are the guys from work I was telling you about: Dave, Phil, Macca, Paolo …’
Tony could see the euphoria in Sean’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and envied him: Tony didn’t think he’d ever laugh again. He sighed; he had to stop thinking like this. He forced himself to smile then shook Sean’s workmates’ hands. They said hello, then returned to their conversation. Did they know? Of course they knew: Sean was bound to have told them. Tony could always tell when people knew; they did anything they could to avoid mentioning babies, or wives, or death. Which meant there was very little to talk about, and instead they didn’t say anything at all.
He realised that Sean was shouting something to him above the noise, and he bent down so that his ear was close to Sean’s mouth.
‘We’re going to the Cross later, you should come. Macca can get our names on the door, there’s a new club open …’
He nodded and sculled his beer. His fingers tingled and his limbs relaxed as the alcohol coursed through him. He pointed to the bar and his empty glass, and headed off for another round.
* * *
A few hours later, the group staggered out of the pub onto Oxford Street and started to walk towards Kings Cross, each holding their left arm out to try to flag a taxi. The cold air jolted Tony back to reality. ‘Sean, mate, I think I should go home …’ He was surprised at how slurred his voice was.
Sean stopped in surprise, then reached up and put his arm around Tony. ‘What? Nah, mate, you haven’t been out with me for ages. Come on, it’ll do you good to have a night out.’
Tony was still walking the wrong way. Home was the other direction; he was getting further and further away. He knew he could turn around, but what else did he have to do? There was no one waiting for him except the dog. He looked behind him and pictured it: the street would be quiet, dark, full of houses with people sleeping after watching a movie at home. He looked forward again, towards Darlinghurst. He felt himself being pulled towards the sound of cars revving, swaying people screaming and laughing, and he wanted to be amongst it, just for a few hours, to feel part of life again. He knew he would regret it later, but he patted Sean on the back. ‘All right, maybe just one.’
Sean hugged Tony, and they stumbled forward, just as a taxi pulled up and emptied its load of passengers at their feet. They hopped in, and Sean shouted to his mates further down the street, ‘Meet you there!’
The club, when they got there, was even darker, even louder, even busier than the pub had been. Tony followed Sean to the bathrooms. Inside, Sean knocked on a cubicle door, and Macca opened it and let them in. Someone was bending over the cistern, snorting a line of coke through a rolled up twenty-dollar note.
Tony started giggling. ‘It’s like a fucking tardis.’
They all laughed.
‘Shh.’ Sean waved his hand at them as he leaned down and moved his head in circles around the toilet lid to snort up any stray coke. He sniffed loudly, licked the end of the rolled-up note, and handed it to Tony.
Tony hadn’t done this for years; Anna was never into it. But it felt so familiar. This was who he used to be, before he met Anna. He used to have fun, he had nothing to worry about, just did what he wanted. Right now, this was what he wanted to do. He put the rolled-up note into his left nostril, held the right nostril closed with his finger, crouched down and inhaled.
* * *
Tony felt alive. He was on the dance floor, moving with the crowd. Sean was next to him, his fist pumping into the air along with the dance music. Opposite Tony, a girl with shiny lips swayed in slow motion. He moved towards her. Her short dress swung over her thighs, and with each flick of her hips it seemed to lift just a little bit higher. She wore a long string of beads that fell between her breasts. Tossing her hair back she looked up at Tony through dark eyelashes. She turned around so that her back was to him and raised her hands, throwing her head back again and writhing her hips towards him. He put his hands on the girl’s waist and felt the thin strap of her underwear beneath her dress. She stepped back,
fitting perfectly into his groin, then spun around to face him. He still held her waist, and moved his hands a little lower as she put her hands on his chest and gripped his shirt. She stared up at him, biting her lip.
The room began to spin. Letting go of the girl, Tony staggered back to the table and slumped into a seat. The girl was on the edge of the dance floor near him, dancing, staring at him. He rubbed his face then glanced back at her. Shit, she looked like she was still at school. Tony could see the sweat stains on her dress under her arms, and the black smudges of mascara around her eyes. What was he doing? He was married; he had fathered a child. He shook his head and looked away. He needed some water, some food, and he needed to get out of here. He looked for Sean and saw him leaning against a pillar, talking to some other young girl.
Tony walked over. ‘I’m off.’
‘Really?’ Sean stood up straighter and brushed the girl away. ‘All right, mate, I’ll come too.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I’ve had enough. Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s go get a burger.’
Tony nodded and walked towards the door.
More than anything, he wished he was going home to Anna.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
One week before
Monday, 7 September 2009
Tony woke up to the sound of Jack crying. He looked at the digital clock next to the bed: almost six. He turned over in bed; the other side was empty. Jack was wailing. Where was Anna? He rubbed his eyes, got out of bed, went through to the baby’s room and picked him up, then stumbled along the hall. He could hear music coming from the living room.
When he walked in the smell of vinegar was overpowering. Anna was in her pyjamas, kneeling on the floor and rubbing at the glass doors with a tea towel. There was a pile of used rags in the corner, next to a bucket of soapy water. The rug from under the coffee table was rolled up, and the kitchen stools were stacked upside down on the bench. Anna turned towards him; strands of her hair had escaped her ponytail and were stuck to her face with sweat. Tony’s pulse quickened.
‘Anna, what are you doing?’
She grinned. ‘Morning! Oh, Jack’s up, I didn’t hear him. Just hold him for a bit longer, will you? Now that you’re both up I can vacuum.’ She stood up, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then started to walk towards the hallway cupboard.
Tony put out his arm as she passed him. ‘Don’t be silly. When did you get up?’
‘I don’t know, a while ago. It won’t take long.’
Jack squirmed and fussed, mouthing at Tony’s bare shoulder. ‘He’s hungry, babe. Just sit down, I’ll make you some tea. You don’t need to be doing the cleaning —’
‘Hungry, hungry, he’s always hungry … Come here, you hungry hippo.’ She held her arms out to Jack, and Tony passed him to her. Anna lifted her pyjama top and latched Jack onto her breast, then sat on the edge of the sofa, gesticulating with her free hand. ‘I just feel so much better today, normal again – well, better than normal, really. I don’t feel tired, I have energy. I woke up starving! There’s nothing in the cupboards, so I’m going to go shopping today to restock the fridge. What have we been eating? This has gone on long enough, I need to be more organised. Go and get ready for work, I’ll make you breakfast – what do you want, eggs? I’ll make you eggs and toast.’
Tony scanned her face, confused. This was a complete turnaround. How could she have changed so much overnight? ‘Anna, slow down. You’re talking too fast. I’m glad that you feel better, but you’ll wear yourself out. You need to go back to bed.’
‘No, I’m fine! When I’ve fed him, I’m going to go for a big walk to the park, show Jack the ducks. I need to get fit again, I haven’t been looking after myself. Then we’ll go to the shops – I want to get back into cooking.’
‘Anna, stop for a second.’ His mouth was dry; something wasn’t right. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes!’ Anna frowned. ‘You ask if I’m OK when I feel sad, now I feel great and you’re still going on at me!’
Her voice rose and Tony thought she was about to cry. She was right: he should be thankful, it was good to see her bright and active again. He stepped forward, ready to hug her, but she smiled again and waved him away with her free hand.
‘I’m fine! Go and have your shower. I’ve ironed your shirt, it’s hanging in the laundry – that’s one less thing for you to do!’
He hesitated, not sure how to react. She was saying all the right things, but why had her mood changed so suddenly? Maybe the tablets were working after all. He looked at her again: she was talking to Jack as she fed him. He turned around, glanced back at her one more time, then went into the bedroom to get ready for work.
* * *
Anna pushed the pram out of the front gate and smiled. It was a beautiful day. The warm breeze tickled her face and the sun had tinted everything lemon. She took a big breath in; even the air smelled fresh, like citrus. She straightened her back and stood tall, pushing the pram with her arms straight out in front of her. This was life, not her pathetic tears about not getting enough sleep. This was the world at work: smartly dressed women waiting for the bus to their glamorous jobs in the city; beautiful children chattering on their way to school; cars waiting impatiently at the traffic lights.
Anna walked faster. There were so many other mothers out pushing strollers, she’d never realised before. They were all so thin, so well dressed. She looked down at her clothes. She should have worn shorts, rather than these faded jeans. And she needed some fancy new trainers, not these old thongs that were already rubbing the tops of her feet. She touched her hair, still wet from the shower, and wished she’d worn her contacts instead of squinting through her thick glasses, the lenses dotted with dried tears. How had she got to this state?
‘Morning!’
Anna jumped. A woman in tight black lycra pants and a clingy turquoise singlet smiled at her. Her baby, maybe a month or two older than Jack, was fast asleep in the stroller. Anna looked up again, ready to chat, but already they were too far past each other. She bit her lip. She should have said hello, stopped to ask about the baby, and asked the woman if she wanted to go for a coffee. If she had been brave enough, she could have asked her how she coped, how she slept, how she managed to look so good and not lose herself in the monotony of caring for a newborn. But by the time she had thought of all this, it was too late.
Jack was still asleep. Anna picked up her pace again, determined to leave her negativity behind. With each step, her breath became more laboured but her mood lifted futher. She went into a cafe on the beachfront and bought a takeaway coffee, then went to the park. Once she’d put the brakes on the stroller and draped a muslin cloth over the hood to keep the sun off Jack, she sat down on a bench and sipped her coffee through the little hole in the plastic lid. It tasted amazing. She removed the lid and licked off the chocolate powder stuck to the inside. Next to the bench, gulls pecked at the rubbish bin and the discarded fish and chip containers strewn around it. She looked over towards the green oval. Two toddlers screeched and chased a ball while their mothers sat talking on the grass beside them. A man wearing industrial headphones drove a lawnmower up and down the pitch.
Jack stirred. Anna lifted the muslin cloth, peered into his pram and smiled at him. He smiled back.
It was his first smile.
She unstrapped him and cradled him in her left arm, squeezing his warm little body tight. His eyes were open and he gazed up at her. She didn’t want to put him down; she wanted to snuggle into him and cuddle him and protect him. This was the feeling she’d expected from the start, the one she’d waited for. She almost cried with the joy of it; everything was going to be OK. She had known that she didn’t really need medication, and she had been right.
It was time to go; she had things to do. She put Jack back in the stroller, tucking the muslin wrap around his legs. ‘We’re going to go to the shops and buy Daddy something nice for dinner. What will we cook?’ She sprung up
, pushing the pram ahead of her as though she was in a race, then sprinted across the road. She would cook some Thai curry.
In the supermarket, she picked up a jar of curry paste, read the ingredients, then put it back again. These sauces were full of nasty additives; it would be much nicer to make it from scratch. Tony deserved it; she’d been so horrible to him lately. She rushed up and down the aisles looking for the ingredients: ginger, garlic, chilli, vegetables, chicken. Damn it, she needed galangal. The recipe definitely had galangal in it. She searched among the pile of ginger, in case some was hiding in there. None. She raced round to the spices aisle looking for some in a jar but there wasn’t any. She’d have to walk home, get the car, and drive to Chinatown, or out to Cabramatta; they’d definitely have some there. Come to think of it, the vegetables were much nicer there. She’d just buy the chicken from here. And some rice, just in case.
Anna bounded up to the express aisle and hummed as she waited, leaning on one leg, then the other. She paid, then rushed out of the shop, no longer feeling her thongs rubbing. It was hotter now. She turned her face up to the sun and closed her eyes, then giggled as she tripped over an uneven kerb. Jack’s arms shot forward as if to stop himself falling into a hole.
‘Oops, sorry, little one!’
His arms relaxed by his side and he fell asleep again with his feet stretched out in the warm sun. Anna looked at his tiny toes. She needed to buy some baby sunscreen, especially now that she was going to do lots of walking. And a water bottle to keep in the pram, one of those metallic ones to keep the water cool. And some new running shoes, a nice pair. She would do that after she found the galangal.
* * *
Tony opened the front door slowly, unsure of what to expect. He had been worried about Anna all day; he was glad that she felt better, but something about it made him uneasy. He could hear the television blaring from the lounge room as he closed the door behind him and put his laptop bag on the floor.
