Fractured (27 page)

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!’

Wendy rubbed her back as they embraced. ‘Shh, it’s OK. We’ll get her back, Anna. Come on. Come and sit down.’

Anna walked back to the couch, then sat down and curled her legs under her. She hugged one of the cushions and rested her
chin on it. They shouldn’t have let her out of hospital. What was she doing here?

She felt Wendy touch her shoulder. ‘Anna? What about a cuppa?’

She nodded, and looked up at her mother. She tried to smile. ‘Thanks, Mum. I’m sorry … I’m OK. I think I’ll go and have a
shower now, all right?’

‘Of course, love. Go ahead – I’ll bring you a clean towel.’

Anna walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

* * *

For the next week, Anna planned each day to the minute. Shower, breakfast, take tablets, go for a walk, lunch, nap, dinner,
television, bed. But she couldn’t plan her nights. When she went to bed, she lay on her back with her eyes closed, imagining
conversations with Tony in which she asked him what he had done at work that day, what they would do on the weekend. In her
mind, he’d reply, just as he always used to, and they’d be a couple again.

Jack never featured in those dreams. Anna didn’t want to think about what she’d say to Jack; she didn’t want to think about
him at all.

* * *

Wendy didn’t talk about Jack either. She, too, pretended that everything was normal. She tried not to watch Anna, but she
was terrified that she might do something to hurt herself again. Wendy kept Anna’s medication in her handbag and didn’t let
it out of her sight, day or night.

In the evenings, she sat beside Anna and pretended to be interested in the news, or some TV show.

She pretended that she was able to sleep.

She pretended that this might not be the last month she would spend with her daughter. If Anna was imprisoned for twenty-five
years, Wendy might not live to see her set free.

Christmas Day 2009

Tony woke to the cackle of kookaburras just as the sun rose. He stretched out in the single bed and looked at the yellowing
plastic stars and planets still stuck on the ceiling from when he was a kid. His skin was clammy already; it was going to
be a hot day.

He looked around the room in the dim light, half expecting to see a pillowcase stuffed with presents at the bottom of the
bed next to an empty glass and a saucerful of crumbs. But he was a grown-up now, and all he saw was his open suitcase, clothes
spilling out of it.

He sighed, sat up, and rubbed his face. He picked up his board shorts and a T-shirt from the floor, put them on, and walked
out into the kitchen.

‘Dad. You’re up early.’

Jim was sitting at the kitchen table reading yesterday’s newspaper. His grey hair was sticking up at the crown and he hadn’t
shaved yet. An empty mug lined with tidemarks of frothed milk sat next to the paper. He looked up and smiled at Tony. ‘I wanted
to get the turkey in the Weber soon; it’ll take a while.’

Tony leaned against the kitchen bench. ‘What time are people coming?’

‘Oh, not till twelve, but you know what your mother’s like.’ They both smiled.

‘I thought I’d go down for a swim. Fancy it?’

Jim raised his eyebrows and his eyes twinkled. ‘Me?’

He smiled at his dad. It was nice to be spending more time with him now. When Tony had last lived at home, as a teenager,
he had been self-absorbed, unable to see his parents as people with their own hopes and independent history. When he thought
of his relationship with his mum and dad, it was the volatility of Ursula that dominated, but being at home had made him realise
that Jim, with his quiet reliability, deserved as much space in his mind and his life. ‘Come on, you’re not that old!’

Jim chuckled. ‘Yeah. All right then, maybe I will. Let me grab my stuff.’ He leaned towards Tony and whispered, ‘Your mother
will have a heart attack!’

* * *

By mid-morning, the house was in chaos. Ursula was mixing and chopping and blending and whisking. Tony offered to help, but
after slicing the strawberries too small, he had been banished to the backyard with Jim to fill the eskies.

‘Dad, I’m just going to the servo to get some more ice.’

Jim was crouched over a huge esky, ripping the cardboard off six-packs of beer and stacking them inside. He raised his hand
to wave Tony goodbye.

He went round the side of the house to his car, and drove towards the service station. Midway along the main street he sighed,
then pulled over and switched off the engine. He took out his phone, hesitated for a moment, then called Anna.

She answered on the first ring. ‘Tony!’

He closed his eyes; it was nice to hear her voice. He hadn’t had a Christmas without her for years. ‘Hi. What are you doing?’

‘Nothing much. Emily’s coming over soon for a coffee, then Mum and I are just going to have a quiet day.’ Her voice quivered.
‘What about you?’

Tony laid his head against the headrest. ‘Just getting some ice. Mum’s doing the full Christmas as usual.’

He could picture Anna’s sad smile.

‘It’s always fun though, isn’t it?’

He wondered if he should have made an effort to spend today with Anna, in case it was her last Christmas, for a while anyway.
Maybe he should have tried to make it more special for her. ‘Did you want to … I’m sure it would be —’

‘No. Thanks, but I don’t feel very Christmassy.’

He nodded, relieved. He was sure she was just saying no to make him feel better, and he appreciated the gesture. ‘I know.
Me neither.’

‘How are you, Tony?’

His eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m OK. I’ve got a couple of weeks off work now. But work … helps. How about you?’

‘Oh, you know … I can’t – I can’t think of anything else, I just want to get these next few weeks over with. I feel … stuck.
And I can’t think of … him. It’s too much.’

Tony bit his lip. ‘It’ll get easier. Or so everyone keeps telling me.’

‘Will you come, Tony? In January?’

Did she really think he would stay away? ‘Of course I will.’

‘Thanks.’ He could barely hear her.

There was a pause. ‘I better get this ice.’

‘OK. Thanks for phoning … Tony?’

He leaned his head to the side, as if cradling the phone between his face and shoulder could somehow substitute for her. ‘Yes?’

‘Merry Christmas.’

His bottom lip quivered. He cleared his throat and managed to say it back. ‘Merry Christmas, Anna.’

* * *

Anna and Wendy sat on the couch with dinner plates on cushions on their laps. Anna looked down at the meal her mother had
made, and smiled. Ham, roast potatoes, carrot, little chipolatas rolled in bacon, gravy. Just like they’d always had when
she was a kid. She cut a potato in half and lifted the fork to her mouth, actually looking forward to eating for the first
time since she got home.
It’s a Wonderful Life
was showing on the television in the background. She thought about turning it off, but didn’t. It was just a movie
title; she had to realise that the world was going to go on regardless of whether or not she was in prison.

She put her plate down on the coffee table, went into the kitchen and came back with two glasses clinking in one hand and
a bottle of shiraz in the other. Putting the glasses on the coffee table in front of them, she unscrewed the lid of the bottle
and filled them up. She handed one to her mum. ‘May as well drink this.’

Wendy nodded, smiled, and took a sip. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’

She sat back down and sipped her wine. It was bold, strong, spicy. She licked her lips and took another sip. She put it down
again and picked up her food. ‘Thanks for making this, Mum. I’m glad you did.’

Wendy raised her glass into the air. ‘Merry Christmas.’

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, and finished the bottle of wine. They found some ice cream and frozen raspberries
in the freezer and made dessert. When Anna went to bed, she fell asleep straight away for the first time since being home.

* * *

She woke a few hours later with her heart thumping. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt rough. She lay still, listening,
but heard nothing other than the high-pitched purring of the cicadas outside. It must have been a dream.

She reached for the glass of water by the bed and gulped it down. It was lukewarm. Even though she wanted to finish it all
she made herself leave a little in the bottom of the glass so that she wouldn’t need to get out of bed if she woke up again.

Her skin was clammy. She kicked off the cotton blanket, then took off her pyjama pants and lay in her underwear and singlet
on the edge of the bed where the sheets were still cool. She took a few deep breaths and tried to ease herself back into sleep,
but she couldn’t. The dream stayed with her.

A lopsided fake Christmas tree on top of a glass coffee table; red paper wrapped around a plastic stem; presents arranged
to hide the tripod stand. Tinny laughter from the TV in the corner. The sweet, sickly
smell of bourbon, then the dark liquid oozing across the floor like lava running over the rocks of the shattered bottle. A
tall man, dishevelled, with blond hair, yelling. Mum yelling back. Crying, crashing. A sharp, stinging pain on her forehead,
her eye warm and sticky.

She should never have drunk that wine tonight.

Or perhaps she should have drunk more.

* * *

The next morning, she asked her mum for two paracetamol tablets, and forced down the scrambled eggs on toast that Wendy had
made. She picked up her cup of tea and walked over to the kitchen, where Wendy was filling the sink with water to wash the
frying pan.

‘Mum?’ She took a deep breath. ‘I was wondering if you would take me … to Jack.’

Wendy dropped the pan into the sink. Water and bubbles slopped out onto her top. She turned around and stared at Anna. ‘Oh
… Are you sure?’

She nodded. ‘I should have gone before.’

‘Have you talked about it with Dr Morgan? Did she say it would be all right?’

‘It’s not up to her. I … I need to go. Please.’ She didn’t want to argue; she’d been putting this off for too long. Now that
she had decided to go, she didn’t want anything to change her mind.

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek. ‘OK. When do you want to go?’

‘Now.’

‘Now?’

She nodded.

‘OK, I suppose … But Anna, promise me something. Promise me that you’re all right, that you’re going to be all right. If it’s
too hard, please tell me and let me call the doctor. Please …’ Wendy’s eyes filled with tears.

Anna stepped forward and took her mum’s hands, still wet from the dishes. ‘I’m OK, I promise. It’s just something I need to
do before … It’s just something I need to do. Please don’t worry.’

‘I’m your mum, I worry about you all the time.’

‘I know.’ She dropped her mum’s hands. ‘Thank you.’

Wendy smiled. ‘Go and get ready, I’ll finish up here then we can go.’

Anna gulped the rest of her tea and practically ran to the bathroom to have a shower before she changed her mind. As she passed
the door to Jack’s room, still closed, she hesitated and allowed herself to remember what was behind it. She moved her hand
towards the handle, then let it drop back down by her side.

* * *

Wendy leaned against the car and smoked another cigarette. She craned her neck again to see if Anna was coming back yet –
she had insisted on going alone. They had been silent on the drive here; there was nothing to say. It was so bloody unfair.
Anna never had a chance to say goodbye, and now here she was, walking on her own to find the plot. Wendy threw her cigarette
butt down on the concrete and stamped on it, then looked at her watch. She should have gone with Anna, she shouldn’t have
assumed she’d be OK. There was so much going on for her, with Christmas, Anna returning home, the sentencing in a few weeks.
Wendy’s breathing sped up. She reached down into her bag for her phone. Would Dr Morgan answer on Boxing Day?

She looked at the phone, then put it back in her bag. Dr Morgan would be with her family. There was no need to call her yet.
Catastrophising, that’s what her therapist used to call it. Forty-five minutes wasn’t that long really. She should have brought
a magazine or something, to occupy her mind.

Looking up again she saw Anna in the distance, walking towards her, hunched over. She exhaled, wiped her nose and eyes, then
walked around the car, bent down and pretended to examine a bright red grevillea flower.

When Anna was close, Wendy turned around quickly as if startled. Anna’s face was red and blotchy, her eyes swollen and bloodshot.
Wendy moved towards her daughter and put her arms around her, but Anna was limp; she had nothing left. Wendy
swallowed her own tears down. This was not the time for her to fall to pieces, too.

She put her arm around Anna and guided her to the passenger side of the car, opened the door, and helped her in. Anna stared
out of the windscreen while Wendy fastened her seatbelt, closed the door, and drove them both home.

Anna managed to get out of the car herself. She walked into the house, went straight to her room, and closed the door behind
her.

Wendy let her be.