Fractured

by Barker, Dawn

  Anna threw back the covers and sat up again. Why was her mother bringing this up now? Didn’t she have enough to deal with without listening to some confession? ‘God, Mum, it’s always about you! Do you think I didn’t know? That you’d barely spoken to me for months, and nothing I did or said made you smile? That I didn’t hear you crying all the time, see you getting thinner and thinner and growing more distant every day? That – that you dumped me on Pam, just disappeared for weeks. Did you think I didn’t notice?’

  ‘Anna —’ Wendy’s eyes were wide, her face scarlet.

  ‘No! I’ve always had to look after you, to pretend that everything’s OK. It’s my turn now, my turn to be looked after! Even after what I’ve done, it’s still a competition – you still have to be the martyr!’ Anna got out of bed and stormed to the door. She thumped her fists on it and looked down at the floor, breathing heavily.

  ‘Anna,’ Wendy said, whimpering. ‘I just wanted —’

  She spun around. ‘What? To help me? Or to stop yourself feeling guilty? Maybe to get some sympathy? I told you, I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter any more!’

  Wendy crumpled in the chair, then reached for her bag and zipped it closed. ‘I’m sorry.’ She could barely speak for gasping.

  Anna’s fury dissipated. She understood now, of course. Why her mum had left her with Pam, where she had gone. It all made sense – the tears, the secrets, the silence. She knew that her mum had been ill, had needed treatment, just as she herself had. It wasn’t fair to stay angry with her. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she took a step towards Wendy. ‘Mum … I’m sorry. Don’t go.’

  Wendy stood up and hugged her tight, then put her bag down again. ‘Oh darling, I’m sorry. I am here to look after you, I promise. I’ll always look after you.’

  She clutched onto her mother. ‘I know.’

  And as she said it, she knew it was true. She crawled back into bed and cried. Wendy was quiet, and stroked her forehead until she fell asleep.

  * * *

  Anna had been fourteen, that summer. It was almost the end of term. She sat cross-legged on her bed, leaning over a textbook, trying to finish her final assignments before school broke up. Nirvana blared from her ghetto blaster; she had bought the tape with the money she’d saved up by skipping lunches. In between the songs, the cicadas outside chirped an interlude.

  There was a quiet knock at the door. Anna looked up, and frowned. Mum never bothered her after dinner; she rarely bothered her at all. She tried, Anna knew. She asked how school was, she pretended to listen to her response, but for months now, it had felt like they were each standing on opposite sides of a glass window. ‘What?’

  The door opened a little, and Wendy took a step into the room, her head bowed. She looked up and smiled, but only her mouth moved; the rest of her face was still. Her eyes looked bloodshot. ‘You all right, Anna?’

  ‘Yeah …’ She cocked her head to the side, and waited.

  Wendy walked into the room and turned down the music, then took a deep breath. ‘Anna, next week, when school’s finished, we’re going to go and stay at Aunty Pam’s.’

  ‘In Perth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Anna closed her book and sat up straight. ‘Why?’

  Wendy cleared her throat and looked past her. ‘I need to have a procedure. It’s nothing serious, but they can’t do it here. I won’t be away long, just a week or two in hospital.’

  ‘Why can’t I stay at Grandpa’s?’

  ‘He’s too old to look after you. It’ll be fun, OK?’

  ‘Fun? No it won’t.’ Anna saw that her mum wasn’t listening. She still had that stupid smile on her face but she was backing into the doorway. The skin on Anna’s face started to tingle around her jaw. She was going to cry. She pressed her lips together to stop herself, then nodded. ‘OK.’

  Wendy nodded too, then closed the door. Anna heard her mother’s footsteps recede along the hall, and the click of her door closing. She turned her music up to full volume, then turned out the lights.

  A week later, Anna loaded her bag in the boot of the car next to Wendy’s. They drove north with the windows open, singing along to the radio most of the way. When they weren’t singing, Anna told stories about the kids at school. She laughed loudly, hoping her mum would join in.

  Pam and her husband, Charlie, lived in a posh house by the river, all white with big balconies. It was huge compared to their own fibro cottage. Anna and Wendy had stayed there last Christmas for a few days. This time, Anna had the spare room all to herself, while Wendy slept on the couch so she didn’t disturb her when she left early the next morning. That night, she lay diagonally across the double bed with her fingers in her ears so she couldn’t hear her mum crying or Pam trying to calm her down. Eventually, it went quiet.

  The next noise Anna heard was a car idling outside. She looked at the clock by the bed: 7 a.m. She hurried over to the window and held back one of the thick cream curtains, then squinted against the sun outside. There was a taxi waiting.

  Someone was walking towards her door. Anna let the curtain fall and leapt back into bed. She turned away from the door and curled up under the sheet with her eyes closed, trying to breathe slowly, evenly. The door opened. Anna heard quiet footsteps. She smelled her mum’s hairspray as she approached the bed. Anna didn’t move, even as her mum kissed her on the forehead and whispered, ‘I love you.’ Wendy tiptoed away and the door closed. Anna didn’t open her eyes until she heard the slam of the car door, and the taxi driving away. She allowed herself ten minutes to cry, then dried her eyes and went down to breakfast with Pam and Charlie as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

  No one mentioned Wendy.

  After breakfast, she sat out on the balcony on a wicker chair. She picked at the sharp ends of the frayed wood and looked out at the river. Last year, she had sat in this same chair and watched three brown baby swans desperately paddling as they tried to keep up with their graceful black mother. They weren’t here today. She opened her book, and concentrated on the words on the page.

  * * *

  Three weeks later, Anna was reading in the shade of a sprawling fig tree on the banks of the Swan River opposite Pam’s house. She heard a car stop across the road, then her mum’s voice.

  She shaded her eyes with her hand and peered back towards Pam’s house. Her mum was heaving a bag out of the boot of the taxi. She looked different, even from a distance: puffy, bigger. She hadn’t done her hair; it hung limp and flat, and her roots needed to be bleached. Anna looked away, then shifted so that she was hidden from the road by the vast, thick trunk of the tree. She dug her nails into the dry crumbly sand until there was a little trench on either side of her.

  There was no point going back yet. There would be too many tears and questions. She looked out across the water, towards the spit.

  Then she heard frantic calls behind her and a golden shaggy dog bounded towards her. She smiled and half stood, ready to brace herself, but the dog ran past her towards a beautiful black swan and her two gangly young strutting around on the shore. The mother swan raced into the water with her wings fanned out, but the cygnets hung back. They stood their ground until the very last minute, then darted into the water behind their mother, hissing over their shoulders. The dog stopped at the edge of the water, panting, its tail wagging.

  Anna went back to the house eventually. Her mother was smiling, and pulled her into a hug. It felt warm, real, but Anna no longer wanted to hold onto her. Something had changed in Anna that summer. She knew her mother had something wrong with her, something shameful and secret, something she couldn’t trust her own daughter with. When Wendy had driven off in that taxi a few weeks ago, she’d broken off a piece of the bond that had held them together. Anna gently pulled away from the embrace and went inside.

  The next day, they loaded up the car again and drove back down south with the windows wide open. As soon as she opened her mouth, the wind stole the words that started to form
on Anna’s tongue. This time, neither of them sang.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Eleven weeks after

  Tuesday, 1 December 2009

  Tony leaned back in his office chair, watching the ferries chug in and out of Circular Quay. The harbour sparkled. It was one of those summer afternoons that drew people down to the Quay to drink cold beer and white wine in the waterside bars.

  He looked back at his computer. He had been back at work for two weeks now. He’d waited until Anna had entered her plea – Guilty. It seemed like a milestone and he knew he couldn’t sit around at home waiting for her sentencing. When he first returned to the office, people had avoided him, stopped their conversations when he walked in, and blushed when they mentioned their children. But they were treating him more normally now. Tony wasn’t sure who felt most relieved. Most of the time it was good being back at work. It felt nice to be part of something again, and to be useful.

  He stood up and closed his office door, then picked up his mobile. Ursula answered on the first ring.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Anthony, hi. How are you, love?’

  Tony sighed. ‘Tired. OK. You?’

  ‘We’re fine. Your dad and I were thinking of going out for something to eat tonight – do you want to come?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ He paused, then forced himself to bring up the question he’d been dreading. He hated to raise it. ‘Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you. I wondered if it would be OK if I moved back into yours for a little while, just until I find something else.’ He could picture Ursula frowning as she tried to work out what was going on.

  ‘Move in? Of course. But why?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Wendy called. They’re discharging Anna next week. I thought it would be better if she and Wendy stayed at the house, until …’ His mouth went dry. ‘Until January.’

  ‘Oh. Well, yes, of course you can. But is she ready to be discharged? Is she safe?’

  ‘Mum …’ He shook his head; it had been too much to hope that his mother would accept the decision, just keep quiet for once. ‘Of course she’s safe. Don’t you think the hospital and courts would have thought of that? There’s only six weeks until the sentencing – don’t you think she deserves a bit of time at home?’ He bit his lip as he realised what he was saying. He actually thought that Anna would go to jail. His face flushed. He listened to Ursula drumming her fingers on the table and gritted his teeth, waiting for her to react.

  ‘Anthony, are you sure you want to move out? Once you do that, you’ll lose any right to that house. Maybe Anna and Wendy can —’

  Tony forced himself to speak slowly. ‘Anna’s got enough to deal with at the moment without having to find a new place. And we don’t know what’s going to happen.’ Was he trying to convince his mother, or himself?

  ‘Does Anna even want to move back there? I mean, it might be too much for her, the memories …’

  He gripped the phone tight. ‘I won’t stay with you long, Mum, just until we see what happens.’

  ‘Oh Anthony, I don’t mean that. We’d love you to stay. I’ll get Dad to clear his junk out of your room.’

  ‘Don’t go to any trouble, I can do it. I thought I’d bring my stuff over this weekend.’

  They said their goodbyes, then Tony put the phone down. He raked his fingers through his hair, scratched at his chin. Part of the reason he found it so hard to talk to his mum recently was that she always seemed to say out loud the things he hated to admit to himself. But he knew he was doing the right thing for Anna, and it was just a temporary move. There was plenty of time to make decisions about the future.

  But the real question in his mind was one Ursula hadn’t asked. It was a question he didn’t know the answer to: why was he moving out because Anna was coming home?

  * * *

  Anna woke early, before the nurses switched on the lights. She rubbed her eyes; she’d barely slept. It had been her last night in hospital; she was going home today.

  It was almost three months since she’d been home, since she’d slept anywhere other than in this terrible, uncomfortable bed. In the past couple of weeks she’d had some days out of the hospital with her mum, and with Emily, but this was different. When Dr Morgan had confirmed to her last week that she didn’t need to be an inpatient any more, Anna had opened her mouth to argue, to beg to stay another month until the sentencing. But she closed it again and said nothing: if she stayed, it could be another twenty-five years until she slept in her own bed, cooked herself a meal or walked in the park. There were other things that she needed to do, too.

  She showered then dressed in the new clothes that Emily had brought in for her: a pair of jeans and a navy and white striped T-shirt. Anna looked at herself in the mirror; she didn’t look like a patient any more. Then again, she didn’t look like a murderer either. But she was.

  In the bathroom, she dried her bottles of shampoo and conditioner with the threadbare hospital towel and wrapped them in a plastic carrier bag. She left out her toothbrush and toothpaste until after she had eaten breakfast. She made the bed, even though she knew they would strip it for the next patient in the queue, then rechecked the cupboards for anything she had missed. Tony always left things behind when they went on holiday; it had been Anna’s job to check the cupboards. She stopped herself; there was no point thinking of the past.

  She sat on the bed to wait. It wasn’t cold, but she started to shiver, and soon her body shook all over.

  Footsteps approached her room; she tried to settle her breathing. The door opened and Dr Morgan walked in with Wendy behind her. Dr Morgan looked pretty today in a cream flowery dress and strappy tan sandals; she looked as though she was going out to lunch. Maybe she was celebrating, happy to see Anna go.

  Wendy sat on the bed next to Anna; she let her mother clutch her hands for a moment, then withdrew them. She felt like a little girl being collected from school camp. Were the other patients picked up by their mothers? Perhaps parents were the only people left who loved you after you spent time in a place like this.

  Dr Morgan handed Wendy some paperwork and talked about Anna’s follow-up appointment and medication. Anna curled one leg underneath her and started twirling her hair in her fingers.

  ‘Anna, how do you feel now the day has arrived?’ Dr Morgan asked.

  She looked up, then turned to her mother, who was grinning. ‘Well, a bit anxious, but it’s good – of course it’s good to be leaving a psychiatric hospital.’ She looked straight at the psychiatrist, nodding to indicate that she had said enough. Thankfully, Dr Morgan took the hint and didn’t ask anything else.

  Her hands started to shake again. It was really going to happen; she was really going to walk out of here and go home. She linked her fingers together and squeezed them. Her wedding ring ground into the middle and little fingers of her left hand. For better or for worse, that’s what Tony had sworn. Obviously those vows didn’t cover something like this. She wondered if her ring would buckle if she squeezed hard enough.

  Wendy and Dr Morgan were both watching her, but she couldn’t look at them. She knew she would cry if she did.

  ‘Do either of you have any other questions?’ Dr Morgan said.

  Anna looked at her mum, then they both shook their heads.

  Somehow she stood up, picked up her bag and followed Dr Morgan down the corridor to the security doors at the front of the ward. Wendy walked behind her. Dr Morgan unlocked the door and held it open.

  ‘Good luck, Anna,’ she said.

  She looked through the doorway and out through the glass of the external doors. The path wavered in front of her like a mirage. She blinked away her tears and the image sharpened. She took a deep breath, then turned to Dr Morgan and shook her hand. Although she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, Anna started to cry again. She wanted to close the door and run back to her room. She realised that she was still grabbing onto Dr Morgan’s hand, but instead of letting go, she reached out with her other
arm and hugged the doctor.

  After a moment, she managed to stand back, take her mother’s hand and walk out into the bright sunshine.

  * * *

  Anna sat on the edge of the couch and looked around her lounge room. In the kitchen Wendy unpacked a bag of groceries. Anna felt like a visitor in her own home. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was going to knock on the door and tell her that they’d made a terrible mistake in letting her go.

  She bit her lip. She looked around the room; everything was in the same place. Their wedding photo was still on top of the dresser under the window. It would be easier if Tony had smashed the glass and ripped up the photo, or burned all of her things in a bonfire in the garden. If everything was trashed, it would reflect what had happened to her life. It seemed cruel that the house was so familiar, teasing her with memories of her old life. But everything had changed; her old life no longer existed.

  She stared out of the French doors to the backyard, where brazen dandelions were dotted all over the overgrown lawn. She stood up suddenly, ran over to the doors, unlocked them and slid one open.

  ‘Mum!’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘Mum!’

  Wendy hurried over, holding a plastic carton of milk. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Anna scanned the garden, tears falling. ‘Jessie, where’s Jessie?’

  ‘Oh, love. Tony took her to his mum’s house, he wasn’t sure —’

  ‘What? If I could look after her?’

  ‘Oh no, love, not that, just —’

  She slammed the glass door closed and spun around. ‘No one asked me! It was all I wanted, to see my dog, and he took her!’

  Wendy put the milk down on the floor and stepped towards Anna with her arms held out. ‘I don’t think it was like that, love. He just thought maybe you didn’t need the extra stress of walking her.’

  She leaned into her mum and cried. Tony didn’t even trust her to look after a dog. ‘Jessie’s my dog, Mum. I was the one who took her for walks, who fed her. Tony didn’t even like her!’