Fractured (14 page)

‘Oh, Anna. I’m sorry, babe. You get into bed, I’ll take him through to the living room and just watch TV.’

‘You can’t have the TV on, it’ll overstimulate him!’

‘I’ll keep it quiet.’

‘It won’t work, he needs to be fed!’

Tony patted Jack on the back with his right hand as he rocked him. ‘Why don’t we do what Mum suggested then and give him a
bottle? It’ll give you a break, help him sleep —’

‘No! I want to breastfeed him. I’m not giving up already. I don’t need a quick fix, Tony, I need …’ She stopped as she saw
Tony start to yawn. Adrenalin surged through her and she gritted her teeth. ‘Don’t worry about it. Just go back to bed, you
have to work tomorrow.’

‘Don’t be like that.’

She saw the hurt in Tony’s face, took a deep breath and made herself speak more gently. ‘Look, thanks – thanks for trying.
It’s just that I want to breastfeed him. Mothers have done this for thousands of years, I’m not the only one. I just have
to toughen up.’

Jack’s cries were slowing down now. She looked at Tony holding him, and pushed away a feeling that she knew was jealousy.
And
rejection. Of course Jack would settle for Tony, she thought, make it look like she – his own mother – didn’t know what she
was doing. ‘Do you want to try and put him down again?’

Tony nodded and laid him in the bassinette. Jack fussed a little, but didn’t cry.

‘I’ll sleep in here with you tonight,’ Tony said. ‘Come on, get in.’ He held back the covers while she crawled into bed. She
put her head down on Tony’s chest and cried. She didn’t know if they were tears of relief or shame.

Friday, 18 September 2009

Wendy looked at the spines of Emily’s cookbooks on the shelf above the fridge. She reached up and took down one by a chef
she’d seen on TV, then carried it over to the suede couch and sank into the cushions. She looked out through the glass doors
that opened onto a large balcony, facing south towards the city. Even though the sky was overcast, the harbour still sparkled.
The bridge curved like a rainbow, and she could just make out the white sails of the Opera House. Toy ferries zipped across
the water, and miniature boats bobbed about in their wake. She could see why Anna chose to live in Sydney. Wendy thought back
to her own cramped house and for a moment felt ashamed, then admonished herself. She had tried her best; it wasn’t easy raising
a child on your own.

She kicked off her thongs and curled her legs under her, then started to flick through the cookbook. It was no wonder Anna
wouldn’t eat the hospital food – Wendy had seen the tray of lukewarm mashed-up meat casserole that they had brought her for
dinner. It was awful to think of Anna being hungry: Wendy wanted to take her some home-cooked food. What did Anna eat these
days? It was a long time since she’d cooked for her, and she suspected that Anna would have outgrown her macaroni cheese,
made with a sachet of powdered cheese sauce. She needed to find a recipe for something nutritious; with some food in her,
Anna was bound to feel better.

Wendy scanned the pages, then sighed. She could never make these fancy meals; she hadn’t even heard of half the ingredients.
She looked at her watch; it was already lunchtime. She had to go to the shops, buy everything she needed, make the food, and
then get to the hospital by visiting time at three o’clock. Her heart sped up and she felt the familiar flurry in her belly.
She didn’t have time. Anna needed to eat something, she
had
to eat, otherwise … she closed her eyes and spread her fingers out wide. She could see Anna having her first proper meal
as a baby, wearing a blue smock and a pink bib. She had pureed apples all over her face, and a gummy grin. Wendy’s hands shook;
she raised them up to her face as she cried. She let herself sob, really sob, for the first time. It didn’t matter; there
was no one here to hear her.

Her mobile phone rang from the bedroom. She ran across the soft carpet to the spare room. The sound was muffled; the phone
was under the blankets somewhere on the unmade bed. It was Tony ringing.

‘Hello?’

‘Wendy?’

‘Yes, sorry, I …’ Wendy knew she sounded terrible.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I just … Bit of a cold. Is everything OK?’

Tony paused. ‘I’m at the hospital. I was in seeing Anna, and talking to the psychiatrist.’ Wendy held her breath. ‘They think
she’s got an infection or something. She’s not well, she’s got a fever —’

‘A fever? My God, what kind of infection? Is it bad?’

‘I don’t know. They’re calling in a medical specialist to see her, and they’re doing some blood tests.’ Wendy heard Tony’s
voice break. ‘It’s just one thing after another. I told them that there was something else wrong, but they said they’d checked
and that she was OK.’

‘Is this why she’s like this? Have they missed something?’

‘Dr Morgan said she didn’t know.’

‘But they’ve started ECT – what if it’s something else?’

‘I know! It’s like they just jumped to conclusions. I told them this wasn’t her, she’s never been like this before.’

Wendy screwed her eyes shut, then opened them. ‘I’ll come now. I was just going … to make her something to eat, but I realised
I don’t know what she likes any more.’ The tears started again.

Wendy hung up, then called a cab. She quickly washed her face and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Grabbing her bag,
she put her thongs back on and went downstairs to wait for the taxi.

* * *

Tony leaned on the wall outside Anna’s hospital room, next to the closed door. A doctor was in there looking at her. He’d
noticed how the doctor had hesitated before going in, then hung back behind the nurse, as if he was frightened of Anna. Were
medical staff scared of everyone in a psychiatric ward, or just his wife? Tony should have insisted on being in the room while
Anna was examined, but he hadn’t. Was fear to blame for that too? Was he any better than this doctor?

He heard Wendy’s voice at the nurses’ station and walked back along the corridor to meet her. Her face was swollen and blotchy.
She saw him, then walked towards him and hugged him. He felt her tears drip onto his shirt. He pulled back.

‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

‘The doctor’s in there now. Come on, we’ll wait up there.’

Wendy nodded. ‘God, I must look a state. I just left straightaway … I can’t bear to think that on top of all this, she’s sick
too.’

‘I know.’

‘Not that she’s not sick – I mean, clearly she’s not well – but something else. I just don’t know —’

Anna’s door opened. ‘He’s finished. Come on.’ He started walking down the corridor as the doctor came out.

‘Doctor? I’m Anna’s husband,’ Tony said when he was a few metres away.

‘Oh, hi.’ The doctor shook Tony’s hand.

‘And I’m her mum, Wendy.’

‘Good to meet you both. I’m Dr Nguyen.’

The nurse, Rachel, came out of Anna’s room and closed the door behind her, then joined them.

‘What’s wrong with her, doctor?’ Wendy asked shakily.

‘She’s got a high temperature, and she says she doesn’t feel well, but it’s hard to get a history from her.’ Dr Nguyen clutched
Anna’s notes to his chest. ‘There’s a few things it could be. When someone has a high temperature after starting antipsychotic
medication, we do have to rule out a serious reaction to them. But her blood tests don’t seem to fit with that – they suggest
that she’s got an infection somewhere.’

‘What kind of infection? They did head scans in Emergency,’ Tony said.

Dr Nguyen shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’s her brain – there was no sign of infection when she was admitted.’ He dropped
his gaze just a little. ‘Mr Patton, Anna was breastfeeding, wasn’t she?’

Tony nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘She was.’

‘I think she has a condition called mastitis.’ Dr Nguyen cleared his throat. ‘Her left breast is red and quite engorged. When
someone stops … breastfeeding suddenly, the ducts can get blocked and the breast can get infected.’

Tony heard a buzzing in his ears. He leaned back against the wall.

‘How do you treat it?’ Wendy said.

‘She needs antibiotics, but the best thing to do is for her to express milk, to clear the blockage.’

‘Express milk? We can’t ask her to …’ Tony looked at Wendy.

Dr Nguyen carried on as if Tony hadn’t spoken. ‘The risk is that this can turn into an abscess, and that’s much harder to
treat. We can use ultrasound to break down the blockage, or drain it surgically.’

Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing; shouldn’t someone have thought of this already? ‘How the hell can we explain that
to her?’

Dr Nguyen’s face went red and he looked at his feet. ‘I’ll talk to Dr Morgan and recommend some treatment, and I’ll write
it in the notes.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Any other questions?’

Tony was stunned.

Dr Nguyen darted off with the file. Rachel squeezed Tony’s arm. ‘I’ll just go and let Dr Morgan know.’

Tony looked at Wendy, ‘We’re going to have to tell her,’ he said.

‘We can’t, we can’t.’ Wendy’s voice shook. ‘She’s too sick, it’s too soon …’

‘We’ll have to! How can we tell her that she has to have a pump on, or people prodding and draining her breast? She’ll ask
why! She needs to know.’

‘We should ask Dr Morgan, see if —’

‘It’s not up to Dr Morgan! Jesus, Anna has to find out sometime; I want to get it over with. She keeps asking about Jack,
and I don’t know whether she genuinely doesn’t know, or …’ He ran his fingers through his hair. Or what? Did he think she
was lying, pretending that she didn’t remember? Or had she blocked it out? He needed to see her reaction; it might help him
figure everything out.

He looked straight at Wendy. ‘When Dr Morgan gets here, I’ll do it. I’ll tell Anna what happened to Jack.’

Friday, 18 September 2009

Anna watched Dr Morgan disconnect the tube attached to the cannula in the back of her hand, then reconnect a plastic syringe
full of pale yellow liquid. It could be anything in that syringe, but she didn’t care. As Dr Morgan squeezed the solution
into her veins she felt nothing; it was as if it was someone else’s arm. She shivered, even though she could feel sticky sweat
under her arms.

Then she did feel something: an icy chill creeping up her hand and crawling up her forearm. She wanted to scratch it, but
didn’t move. Her arms were too heavy, and she could barely lift her head. She lay back on the pillows, and shivered again.

‘Anna? That’s the antibiotics in now – you’ll feel better soon. Are you all right?’

She managed to nod.

Dr Morgan put the blue plastic kidney dish on the bed, then sat on the arm of the chair by the window. ‘Anna, Tony and your
mum are here and want to see you.’

Anna managed a smile. ‘He came back …’

‘He was with me when Rachel called about your temperature. He’s been very worried.’

Anna thought about this carefully. Tony had been so angry with her, but if he was here then maybe he
did
still care for her. If he was really upset, then he would have left, wouldn’t he? Did he understand after all?

‘Anna, they want to talk to you about something, and Rachel and I would like to be part of that conversation too.’

Anna nodded, knowing she couldn’t refuse. She wanted to talk to her mother and Tony too, but she didn’t want an audience.
She wanted it to just be her family, not these strangers. A wave of heat washed over her; she dabbed at her upper lip with
her finger, then wiped it dry on the sheet. She had a sudden urge to jump out of the bed and run, far away from this conversation
that everyone wanted to have. But there was nothing she could do. There had never been anything that she could have done,
this whole time. She had never had a choice.

Dr Morgan went to the door of her room and held it open. Tony, Wendy and Rachel filed in. They looked so serious. Anna drew
her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her mum sat on the end of the bed, and stroked Anna’s bare foot
like she used to when she was a child. She was torn between kicking out at her and wriggling closer. Tony dragged a chair
to the head of the bed. It creaked when he sat down on the vinyl cushion, a coarse noise followed by a puff of air. She had
to stifle a laugh. Tony didn’t laugh: he looked like he’d been crying. Anna clasped her hands together to stop them shaking.
Suddenly she didn’t want to hear what they had to say.

She turned towards the sound of the door closing. Dr Morgan leaned against it; next to her, Rachel stood against the wall.
This room was too small for them all. Anna couldn’t get her chest to expand properly; there wasn’t enough air in the room.

No one said anything; they seeemed to be waiting for something. She looked around at everyone. Was she meant to start?

She tried to make her voice sound bright. ‘Tony? Mum?’

Wendy let out a sob and buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh, darling.’

What was going on? The throb of her headache quickened. Everything was so strange, like she was here but she wasn’t. ‘Mum,
it’s OK.’ She knew that, somehow, she was the cause of all this: the
crying, the anger, the upset. She had never wanted to drag anyone else into this.

‘I’m OK.’ Wendy squeezed Anna’s foot. ‘I’m OK, don’t worry about me.’

She had heard that before, too many times. It had always been like this: her mum would cry, Anna would worry, her mum would
reassure her, and Anna would worry even more.

Tony cleared his throat. Anna stared at him, silently pleading with him; she didn’t want him to say anything.

‘Anna, you know you’ve had a fever and the doctors have been trying to find out what’s wrong. Well, they think you’ve got
an infection …’

She shook her head and let her tears drop. ‘It’s all right Tony, it’s not true, I know it. I’ve worked it out.’

‘What? It is true, what do you think —’

‘I know where I am.’

‘Where do you think you are?’

Anna looked away. ‘You’ve locked me up. It’s OK. It’s the best place for me.’

‘Anna, no. Jesus …’ He sat forward and rubbed his face with his hands. ‘Well, it is a psychiatric hospital, but you do have
an infection. From breastfeeding.’

Anna froze. She glanced down at her chest and an image of a tiny baby nursing flashed before her eyes. She refused to see
it. ‘I’m not breastfeeding.’

‘But you were – you were breastfeeding Jack,’ Tony said softly.

Anna clenched her jaw and looked at the wall straight in front of her. ‘Where is he?’

‘Jack? Is that who you mean?’

‘What have you done with him?’

Tony stood up. ‘What have I done with him? I haven’t done anything with him, Anna!’

She stared at the wall in front of her and focused on a black smudge. Was it a squashed bug, a mosquito maybe? Her head shook,
and she tried to keep her eyes still, fixed on that little black spot.

‘Anna!’ Tony took a step towards her, but Wendy held out her arm and he stopped.

‘Anna,’ Wendy said. ‘What Tony’s trying to say is, there has been a horrible, horrible tragedy. I’m so sorry … but Jack’s
gone.’

The black smudge was getting bigger in front of her eyes; it was blurry now, and Anna couldn’t keep her eyes on it. She looked
away from the wall and stared at her mum. What had she said? Wendy looked pale, and thinner than ususal. Something wasn’t
right. She turned to Tony. He didn’t look right either. Was it really them? He raised his face and Anna looked into his brown
eyes; those
were
the eyes she knew. So what was going on? She felt so light that she thought she could almost float away off this bed, over
all of them and out of the door. Tony was still staring. It was almost more than she could bear. What did he see when he looked
at her?

‘Tony,’ she said quietly, not taking her eyes off him. ‘Tell them all to go away, please.’

‘Who?’

‘Everyone! Let’s make it just us, Tony, just us …’

He shook his head. ‘It’s just your mum, and the doctor and nurse.’

‘I don’t trust them,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’

Tony moved closer and took her hands. ‘It’s OK, babe. I trust them.’

How could she make him understand? He wasn’t listening to her. ‘Please …’

‘Anna, did you hear what your mum said? Do you understand what we’re saying?’

They were all looking at her. Anna squeezed Tony’s hands; they were hot and damp. It couldn’t be true. Jack had to be safe.
That’s all she had cared about, protecting him. ‘Tony … where’s Jack? Tell me, please.’

‘Anna, we told you.’

She felt the panic clawing at her throat, strangling her words and stifling her breath. She breathed more quickly, trying
to get some air in. She was dizzy; everything around her was spinning and spinning. ‘Where is he? Give me my baby …’

‘You know, Anna! Just stop!’ Tony shook his head, then let go of her hands and covered his face. Her mum was still stroking
her foot; her skin was burning and she pulled her knees in tighter to her chest, looking from Tony to her mum, and back again.
Tears poured down Wendy’s face. Anna began to wail. She could hear the noise she was making but somehow it didn’t seem to
be coming from her. Tony was going now, he was going to leave her here, alone, without her baby. She took a deep breath and
screamed. The noise was alive, malevolent, and it echoed and amplified as it gathered up all the grief around it.

She swung her legs off the right-hand side of the bed. Wendy jumped up and ran around the foot of the bed towards her, but
Tony didn’t move. Would her legs hold her? She had to get out.

She pushed past her mum and lunged towards the door, not taking her eyes off the door handle. The drip stand clattered behind
her as it fell and she felt the cannula rip out of her hand. From outside the room, she heard an alarm, shrill and piercing,
becoming louder. Someone held her by the waist. Anna put her hands in her hair, grabbed it and pulled as hard as she could.
She could hear the wailing still.

Then her knees buckled and she was down. Her head hit the floor; she lifted it up and banged it again and again.

‘Tony!’ she screamed. ‘Tony, help me! Get me out of here!’

She looked around for him; he was there, looking down at her, his face red and wet and contorted. His mouth moved but Anna
couldn’t hear what he said. He stepped back out of her view and was gone.

She felt something pinning her limbs down and a sharp sting, and then the terror was leaving her, she was floating, and she
didn’t have to think any more, just breathe slowly and drift off to sleep.

See
, she told herself,
it wasn’t real. Just go back to sleep
.