by Barker, Dawn
‘Anna?’
She rushed down the hall to the door and flung her arms around him.
‘Wow! This is a nice welcome home.’ Tony hugged her then held her arms with his hands and took a step back. She wore an apron, smudged with food. She was smiling. ‘Are you wearing lipstick?’
‘Yes. I’ve had enough of being fat and frumpy.’ Anna extricated herself from his grip and walked towards the kitchen, beckoning him to follow.
‘Babe, you’re not —’
‘We’ve had a great day. I’ve realised that I’ve just got to keep going. I’m not the only one who’s not getting any sleep. I have a new plan: every day I’m going to go walking in the morning after Jack’s feed, and I’ve joined the gym – I’ll just put him in the creche. And we’re going to the movies tomorrow; they have a special session where you can take your baby – how good is that? Now, come in and sit down, I’ve made you a green curry, fresh!’
Tony looked at her and smiled. He shouldn’t have been worried. It was just that he’d become so used to seeing her miserable that he’d forgotten how lively and vivacious she really was.
She pulled a cold bottle of riesling out of the fridge. ‘One won’t hurt.’ She took two glasses from the cupboard and poured generously, then licked the foot of the glass where she had spilled some. ‘Yum.’
Tony took his glass and tasted the wine. It trickled down his throat, cold and sweet. He let out a deep breath. Thank God. Anna seemed her old self again. He had missed her.
He walked over to the bassinette, next to the couch. Jack was inside, fast asleep. ‘What a handsome little fella,’ Tony whispered.
Anna came over and leaned her head against him, and he put his arm around her. This was what he had imagined it would be like; the three of them, happy and content. At that moment, he knew that everything was going to be fine.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Six weeks after
Monday, 26 October 2009
Anna reclined on her hospital bed, reading a tattered old romance novel that she’d found in the ward bookshelf. Not so long ago, she could barely concentrate on a column in a gossip magazine, but she was enjoying this book. Reading took her back to life before this, when she used to spend hours with a book in the garden chair with Jessie asleep beside her. She missed that.
Anna looked forward to this time of day, after lunch and group therapy, when she could rest. She had become used to the order and routine. It meant that she didn’t have to think too hard, and that meant she could forget. Prison would be the same. The fact that she liked being institutionalised scared her. But whatever happened, it wouldn’t last forever. At some stage she would have to leave and rejoin the world.
There was a knock at her door. Rachel looked into the room. ‘Anna, Mr Hardy is here to see you.’
Anna nodded, and put her book facedown on the bed. She ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it.
Scott walked in, his shoes clicking on the floor. He wore a crisp white shirt with thin threads of blue and red woven through it, and chunky silver cufflinks on the French cuffs. Tony had a shirt like that.
‘Hi, Anna. I’ve got some news.’
Her heart began to beat faster. She didn’t want news; she wanted to stay in this state of uncertainty. News meant change. ‘Yes?’
He sat down next to the bed, unzipped his leather document wallet, and took out a thick sheaf of papers held together with a bulldog clip. He reached into an inside pocket of his suit jacket, flashing the blue silk lining, and took out a silver pen. Anna held her breath.
He spoke softly, almost apologetically. ‘We’ve got a date.’
She breathed out. ‘A date? For the trial?’
‘It’s not a trial, it’s a hearing. We’re pleading guilty, remember? The infanticide charge fits your case exactly. There’s no question that you were mentally ill, and no doubt it was a direct result of birth or breastfeeding, the way it’s defined in the law.’ He stabbed his pen on the paper. ‘It’s our best chance of avoiding a custodial sentence. We enter your plea, the judge will read the submissions from me and from the prosecution, then he’ll set a date for sentencing. It’s quite straightforward.’
Anna clenched her jaw as she nodded. She hated people talking to her as though she was a child. Of course she remembered; it was all she had been able to think about. And we’re pleading guilty? Our best chance? Scott didn’t have to stand up and admit that he’d killed his child, he didn’t have to face going to jail or returning to a life that was completely destroyed. But she didn’t bother pointing this out to him. It didn’t matter.
‘But there’s no guarantee, is there? I mean, anything could happen. I could still go to prison.’
Scott twirled the pen round with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Well, I’m really hopeful we’ll get a community order. You’re pleading guilty, the prosecution have accepted the charge, you’ve never been in trouble before and we can easily prove you’re of good character.’
She looked out of the window. ‘I don’t care anyway.’
‘Anna, please don’t worry —’
‘It’s OK.’
‘What’s OK?’
She turned and looked him in the eye. ‘Tell them I’ll go to prison.’
‘What?’ He stopped twirling his pen.
‘It’s the best place for me.’
Scott leaned forward. ‘Anna, I’m here to provide you with the best legal representation that I can, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t try to keep you out of prison.’
She shook her head and looked away. There was no point discussing it with him; she’d already made up her mind what she had to do. ‘So when is it, then?’
He glanced down at the papers on his lap. ‘Nineteenth of November.’
‘November,’ she said. ‘Next month.’ Her hands began to shake.
Scott put his hand on hers. ‘We’ll be ready.’
She blinked back tears. ‘Thanks … Thanks for trying to help me …’
‘My pleasure.’ Scott shook her hand, gathered up his things and walked out.
The door opened again almost immediately. She quickly wiped her eyes, thinking he must have forgotten something.
‘Only me,’ said Dr Morgan as she walked in and closed the door. ‘I heard that your lawyer was here, and I wanted to see how you were feeling.’
Anna raised her eyebrows. She wanted to find out the gossip, more like. Dr Morgan looked tired today and there was a run in her stockings. Anna knew that sometimes she worked all night in the hospital. Looking after crazy people like her must be tiring. How many other patients did she have? Anna had realised that she’d been naive to think Dr Morgan really cared about her; she was just another patient to her, just more work before she headed home to her undoubtedly perfect family. She turned her head away from the psychiatrist.
‘Anna?’
She spun around and spat the words out. ‘It’s on the nineteenth of November. The hearing.’ But her voice broke as she said it. She laid her head back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink away her tears.
Dr Morgan sat down. ‘Are you OK?’
She shrugged.
‘I suppose it’s good in a way to have a date, to know what’s happening, but on the other hand, it makes it all very real, doesn’t it?’
Anna didn’t want to talk about her feelings right now; she had no idea how she felt. ‘It’s fine, I’m fine,’ she said impatiently. ‘Had to happen.’
‘Do you want me to call your mum?’
She shook her head. She was a grown woman, not a child. ‘I’ll do it.’
Dr Morgan leaned back and clasped her hands around one knee. ‘I’ve been waiting to find out when the hearing is before we make plans about your treatment from here on.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, we need to decide when you’ll leave hospital – whether you stay until the hearing, or the sentencing, or whether you go home before that.’
She sat up
, her eyes wide. What did she mean? Go home before the hearing? ‘But the police said … My bail … I have to stay here!’
‘No, no, you just have to comply with your treatment; that doesn’t mean you have to stay in hospital.’
She couldn’t do this; it wasn’t in Anna’s plan. She’d thought she had more time. ‘I’m not ready!’
Dr Morgan held a hand out towards her. ‘Anna, calm down. I’m not discharging you today, I’m just saying that it may happen before you go to court, but you’d still have all the support you need from us. There’s a long way to go before we get to that point. I’m sorry for bringing it up, I thought you understood that …’
Anna grabbed the box of tissues from her bedside table, whipped out a few, then wiped her eyes. She looked away from Dr Morgan. No one was ever honest with her. No one trusted her any more, and that was how it would always be from now on: people tiptoeing around her, worried about how she’d react, worried that she’d become insane if they upset her. She couldn’t live like that. Her breath came in shallow gasps. It felt as though she’d been dumped by a wave at the beach, and now she was flailing around trying to work out which way was up. She wasn’t strong enough to right herself.
The time had come; she needed to act soon.
* * *
It was dark. Anna had spent the rest of the afternoon tidying up her room and thinking about tonight. She was calm, content even. She had called her mum, thanked her and told her she loved her. Wendy would be all right, she knew. She had thought about contacting Emily, but worried that she would know something was wrong. There was no one else to call; Tony wouldn’t answer anyway.
The nurse had switched the ward lights out over an hour ago, but a dim light crept in under her door. She heard the faint tinny sounds of a television coming from the nurses’ station. There were three night nurses on, as usual. They had just done their rounds, checking everyone was where they should be. They wouldn’t be back for another four hours; she had plenty of time.
Anna rolled over and sighed loudly, listening for a reaction from outside her room. She coughed. Nothing.
Slipping her hand into her pillowcase she found the little paper parcel of tablets in the corner. She moved her hand as if fluffing up her pillow. Still no one came. Some of the pills had stuck to the paper; she peeled them off. She slowly raised her hand and slipped about half of the tablets into her mouth, then reached for the glass of water by her bed. She gulped down the water then did the same with the rest of the tablets. She hoped it would be enough.
Turning onto her side she pulled the blankets up to her chin. She pictured the tablets being washed down by the cool water, hissing and fizzing as they dissolved into her bloodstream. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and willed sleep to take her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Six weeks after
Monday, 26 October 2009
‘Anna, can you hear me? Wake up! Call Dr Morgan, quick!’
Her head was pounding with pain. She was tired, so heavy, sinking down into the deep, into the dark. She heard a groan, and knew it was her own.
‘Anna, can you hear me? Open your eyes.’
Someone was shaking her. She wanted to tell them to stop, to leave her alone, but no words came out. Suddenly, her limbs jerked involuntarily as her sternum burned in agony. Someone was grinding the bone with their knuckles. She heard herself cry out.
‘Get the trolley, let’s get her over to Emergency.’
And then she was rattling along, her shoulder blades, her heels, the back of her head banging and bumping on cold metal. She was sure she was going to fall off, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her left arm bounced to the edge of the trolley then hung off with her elbow locked out straight. Her hand whacked into something hard, and the pain shot up her arm.
She was still alive.
She had failed again.
* * *
Tony watched Anna sleeping. He had been just about to get into bed for another night of fitful sleep when the hospital called. He had driven to the Emergency department again, shaking and crying. He knew it was partly his fault: he’d broken his word. He hadn’t been to see her. When he’d reached the hospital, they’d led him straight to Anna. She was even in the same small room she’d been in that day. The nurse told him that they kept it free for the psych patients. The doctors told him that she would be fine. Apparently it was difficult to kill yourself with the tablets she had taken. But Anna hadn’t known that. She was lucky, according to the doctor. It was as if they were talking about putting the wrong petrol in the car.
Tony didn’t think she was lucky at all.
It was after midnight now. There were leads on her chest monitoring her heart, plastic tubes in her nostrils blowing oxygen into her lungs and a clip on her finger to make sure it was getting into her blood. The beep of the heart monitor was hypnotic. Tony rested two fingers on his own pulse and compared it to Anna’s. His was faster.
He stroked the back of her hand, avoiding the tape that secured the plastic cannula. Asleep, she looked like his wife again. His eyes filled with tears. When would this end? He bit his lip as he allowed himself to think about what it would be like if she had succeeded. Back then, at the cliffs, or now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought it before, but that had been in anger. Now it was out of compassion. Or was it selfishness?
Anna’s eyes fluttered open and she licked her lips. She took a while to focus on him, then gasped.
‘Tony?’ Her voice was a croak.
He nodded, smiled. ‘I’m here.’
Anna looked away, but he could see her bottom lip quivering. He put his fingers on her forehead and brushed the hair out of her eyes. She turned back towards him with a hint of a sad smile.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.
Tony stiffened, took his hand away. Was that why she had done this? Did she think it would make him come back? That because he was here, everything would return to normal?
‘Is that all you’ve got to say? You missed me?’ He felt a wave of anger go through him again.
She reached her arm out towards him. ‘Tony —’
‘How could you? Haven’t we been through enough? How could you do this to me? To your mum?’
‘I —’
He clenched his fists, shook his head. All his worry now turned to fury. ‘I can’t believe you’d be so … so selfish!’ he shouted. ‘You must know what I’ve been through, and now you’d leave me to deal with this too? Did you even think about me? Jesus, your mum is frantic, she’s given up her life to be here with you, to help you, the doctors have done everything they can, you’ve got a brilliant lawyer, and still you’d leave me to pick up the pieces?’
She shook her head, crying, ‘I’m sorry!’
‘Did you think I wouldn’t care? You’re my wife: what did you think this would do to me?’ He thumped his fist down on the arm of the chair. His face burned.
‘But you haven’t been to see me. I thought —’
‘And that’s why? That’s your reason? It’s my fault?’ He couldn’t believe what she’d just said. She was blaming him? As if he hadn’t already tortured himself with what he could have done differently. He knew he wasn’t faultless, but he wasn’t solely responsible either. And he certainly wasn’t responsible for Anna deciding she’d be better off dead. That was her choice.
He pointed his index finger at her. ‘Don’t you dare put this on me. It’s not my fault, OK? I did … I’ve been doing the best I can!’
He had run out of energy. He leaned back in the chair, out of breath, and stared into the corner of the room, not trusting himself to look at her.
‘I didn’t mean …’ Anna began, in a timid voice. ‘Of course it’s not your fault. It’s all mine. I just mean … what’s the point? How can I live after this? Everything is gone now …’
Tony heard her sob quietly, and he sighed. He wished he could stay angry and just walk away, but time after time he was pulled back towards her. ‘The point,
Anna, is that it’s not all about you. There’s more than just you to think about. I have to live with this too.’
Her voice was clearer now. ‘But you didn’t do it, did you? It was me.’
The room was silent except for the beeping of the monitors.
He cleared his throat, but his voice still quivered as he spoke. ‘Just promise me something. Promise me you won’t try to hurt yourself again.’ He couldn’t look at her.
‘Do you hate me?’
‘Hate you? God, of course I don’t hate you.’
Anna hugged herself with her arms. ‘I would if I was you. I hate myself.’
He looked at her. She looked so small. ‘I hate what you’ve done, I hate that this has happened to you, to us. It’s not you I hate.’
‘OK. I promise …’
Tony leaned towards the bed and wrapped his arms around her; it felt so natural to have his wife in his arms, and suddenly he missed her so much and realised how lonely he’d been. They both sobbed. He forced himself to pull away and hold her at arm’s length.
‘I love you, Tony.’
He nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to say it back to her; he no longer knew if it was true. And he couldn’t let her think she could get what she wanted by trying to end her life. He wasn’t convinced yet that he wasn’t still being lied to; he hated to think that she might be manipulating him, but his sense of love and loyalty and family was completely shattered.
He looked into her eyes. ‘We’ll get through this, all right?’ he said.
That was the best he could do.
* * *
Ursula walked along the pavement to Lisa’s shop clutching a paper bag from the French patisserie at the end of the street. She didn’t come to this area very often; there was little else here to interest her. There were a couple of cafes, full of university students, a second hand bookshop, and a few other clothes shops run by young designers like Lisa. She needed to talk to her daughter in person. Tony had called that morning and told her what Anna had done. He’d been at the hospital for hours with Wendy, waiting to see if she’d recover. Ursula hated the thought of Tony having to deal with this; he’d been through enough. It’s not that she couldn’t understand how distraught Anna was, but this was a selfish act, unforgiveable.
