Putting Alice Back Together (12 page)

There was one benefit of feeling and looking like death, a cramping uterus and 10 mg of Valium on an empty stomach, I was still so pale fifteen minutes later that I didn’t blush when he walked in the kitchen. I was trying to find my keys and purse to put in my bag so I could beat a hasty retreat.

In fact, the only person blushing was Hugh.

‘I’m sorry.’ He came right out and said it. ‘If I was out of line last night, if I forced myself on you…’ I didn’t really hear the rest. There was a roaring sound of relief in my ears as he went on about being a bit confused about Gemma, how he’d never come here with the intention of meeting someone, how he’d had a bit to drink and, well, look, he liked me and…

A martyred look I’d perfected came to the fore then.

‘It’s fine. We’d both had too much to drink.’

‘Look,’ Hugh said. ‘I’m going away for a couple of days, it’s been planned…’

‘That will be nice,’ I said, sure he was lying.

‘Just for a couple of days, catching up with some
friends of Gemma’s and mine, and I…’ His voice trailed off for a moment. ‘Look, about Gemma…’

‘Hugh!’ I glanced up from trying to wedge my purse into my bag. ‘It’s no big deal.’

‘But it is.’ There was this note in his voice that made me start. ‘And I haven’t had too much to drink now.’

And he kissed me again. A different kiss, a kiss that was deep and slow and
deliberate
, a grown-up kiss that meant business.

‘We’ll talk when I get back.’ I wanted to count each fleck in his eyes. I gazed at each one in turn, as his mouth patiently waited, while his arms held me. And then selfishness won—because I kissed him. Because, whether or not I was good enough, or good
for
him, still I wanted him. I got a glimpse, almost as if I were floating outside my body and watching couples the world over kissing each other goodbye at breakfast, a sort of vision of a normality that I really ached for. The picture had never seemed right before, the picture had only ever had me in it, and a man, just a man, but I could see it clearly now, because this picture contained Hugh.

‘I’m going to talk to Gemma.’

And I almost floated out—I mean, for the first time in my life I was winning, and then a little white box fell out of my overloaded bag and I felt my throat squeeze closed as Hugh bent down and picked it up.

‘Valium?’ I could see that shrewd psychiatric brain tighten a fraction as he weighed me up.

‘Yeah.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Remember I wasn’t well before you came? I had an allergic reaction.’

‘And they gave you Valium?’

‘And steroids. It was pretty scary…’ I shrugged. ‘I’ve
got to have some tests to find out what I’m allergic to. I just got worked up when I couldn’t breathe—I haven’t taken any.’

I dropped the white packet he was holding back in my bag; fully knowing the blister pack was empty.

Fully knowing that I had to do something about it—a week in and I was down to zero.

Which was why, even though I was on a late at the paper today, I was up at eight to get to the doctor’s by nine.

Dr Kelsey is, I suppose, my family doctor. Well, she’s Bonny’s doctor and when I got flu when I first arrived in Melbourne, Bonny took me to her. She’s a nice lady, and worth the trek for certain things. It took me living here for a year though to work out that I didn’t
have
to see her. Doctors are a bit like McDonald’s here: there are massive bulk-billing clinics, and you can walk into any one and see any doctor. I did that for things like a sore throat or when I needed a sick note for work, but for this I figured I had more standing with Dr Kelsey and she would know I wasn’t after drugs or anything. Well, I’d never asked for any before and I also wanted to talk to her about the horrible cramping.

She was lovely—as I said, she’s a nice lady—except she didn’t want to give me Valium, and she suggested I go on the Pill, but wouldn’t give me a script for contraceptives without doing a smear.

I had tried to lie and say I had my period, but I’d already put my foot in it by saying that I’d had cramping with no bleeding, so I had to sit and go through the Valium thing knowing what was coming next.

‘You’re not sure that it was a panic attack?’ She peered
over her glasses at me. ‘But you want me to prescribe Valium?’

‘They’ve helped.’ I swallowed. I didn’t want it to be a panic attack. I had been sent home with twenty from the hospital and I’d used them all. I don’t know how they worked. I wasn’t even sure that they did, but this morning I had been jangling with nerves and hangover and I had taken my last, and by the time Hugh had joined me in the kitchen I had felt better.

Had been able to chat to him normally.

As if I was normal—which I was, of course.

‘I have been feeling anxious lately,’ I grudgingly admitted, and I was back in the kitchen suddenly, standing over us, watching us kiss. Then I was peering into the bathroom, to that pale unmade-up face and the chaos behind the locked door, aware suddenly of the sheer effort that had gone into that small moment, that it was getting harder and harder somehow to
be
normal. I looked at Dr Kelsey’s face, could see her waiting for me to continue, only I truly didn’t know what to say. ‘I tried talking to a psychologist but it didn’t help.’

‘Who did you see?’

So I told her about Lisa and the pointless hour we had spent. ‘The hospital said that if I came to see you… they wrote a letter.’ I was rummaging in my bag, trying to find the blasted thing, but I couldn’t. ‘I had a letter!’ I could hear the note of desperation in my voice and I tried to check it. My hands were shaking as I pulled apart the contents of my bag.

‘Alice,’ Dr Kelsey said, ‘I believe you. I’ve been your doctor for years now and I know you don’t make a habit of asking for this type of thing.’ She scanned through
my notes. ‘Let’s get the Pap smear done and then we’ll have a little chat.’

Joy and double joy.

I hate having Pap smears. I had one with Dr Kelsey six years ago but she asked too many questions. My last two have been at one of those lovely anonymous places, but I’ve been putting this one off, and Dr Kelsey isn’t taking any excuses.

‘Just relax, Alice. Let your knees flop.’

I can’t. My legs are shaking and I can’t let them flop, but eventually I do just enough, and I lie there with my eyes screwed closed and her idle chatter does nothing to soothe me—I just want it over.

Every cervix tells a story—I’d read it in one of the magazines. I hated anyone looking. I mean, I was careful and everything. I always used condoms. I was so paranoid about getting pregnant and, given the transient nature of my lovers, no matter how pissed I was I always made them dress for the occasion.

Dr Kelsey asked the same questions—had I had any problems, any procedures or pregnancies?—just as she had done last time. She asked about my medical history in the UK and I answered as I had done last time—nothing. I scaled down the number of sexual partners because, well, given they always wore condoms, she really didn’t need to know, and anyway this last year there’d been hardly anyone.

Well, anyone down there.

‘Okay, all done!’

I dressed behind the curtains as she tapped on the computer and chatted away to me as I walked over and sat down.

‘I don’t like to prescribe Valium without counselling. I’ll give you a script but I want to see you again soon.’ I could feel a flood of relief as she started typing up my script. ‘But I’m not going to give you any more without you seeing Lisa again.’

‘Can you recommend anyone else?’ I asked.

‘She’s excellent,’ Dr Kelsey said.

‘She’s expensive,’ I attempted as Dr Kelsey typed up a very long letter. I was trying to peek but the screen was angled so that I couldn’t really see.

‘We’ll put you on a mental health plan,’ Dr Kelsey said (bloody cheek!). ‘You’ll get a decent rebate. I’ll get the receptionist to make you an appointment, but I’m not giving you any more till I’ve heard back from Lisa. Okay?’

‘Fine,’ I said, because she didn’t really give me much choice.

Lisa had a cancellation for the day after tomorrow, Saturday morning as it turned out—and because Dr Kelsey was at the desk I nodded and said that would be fine and then I stepped out onto the street and went to the chemist.

Fifty-five mg and no repeats.

I was relieved, of course, to get them, but instead of the euphoria of before I knew that these would only last me a few days.

I opened my purse to pay and there it was, tucked inside, the letter from the hospital.

It was almost as comforting as paying for my pack of Valium.

Eighteen

When I went back for my next lesson, neither Gus nor Celeste were home. I’d had my hair straightened again. I was nervous but looking forward to seeing him, sort of. There was no answer at the door and, even though Gus had mixed up my lesson times once before, this time I knew it was no mistake.

I also knew I couldn’t tell Mum.

That she would ring him and ask for an explanation.

And when, on the next Thursday, it happened again, I knew that Gus didn’t want to see me. I rang him, but he just hung up. So for the next few weeks I practised hard on my own, and took the money from Mum. I did go to his house once or twice, but in the end I would just spend the evening sitting in the park.

I never worried at first that I might be pregnant—I was just consumed with wanting to see him. I knew how hard it must be for him, I mean, he had a wife and a baby on the way and was moving back to Australia soon, but I couldn’t believe it could just end like that. He had told me I was beautiful and sexy. I knew for a fact that he
wasn’t happy with Celeste—if I could just see him again then it would all be okay.

He was all I thought about.

I practised on the piano all the time. It helped me to think of him, to remember, and I liked remembering, so I practised some more.

I should have been worried, of course, when my period didn’t come, but I was sort of numb from worrying and I told Mum that I’d run out of tampons and she bought me some more. I remember flushing them one by one down the loo unused over the next couple of days so that she could see the packet getting smaller, and I felt safe—I’d got away with it.

Nineteen

Even though he was away, even though I normally hated spending a night on my own, I was quite enjoying this one.

In a wretched, maudlin, suicidal way.

I’d got my credit-card statements and two phone calls from recovery agencies, so I’d turned down the phone and was letting it go straight to the answering-machine. The period Dr Kelsey had said was imminent had arrived by the time I’d got home from the doctor’s surgery, and even by the next night it was still sending my uterus into spasm. Still, the Valium combined with wine was helping. I had my little Russian dolls all out beside me. I was reading a New Age book, but I was tired of all the affirmations and crap about loving my inner child, so I’d given up. I lay on the bed, tackling the never-ending problem that was my bikini line with a pair of tweezers, tossing up whether I’d get the Brazilian keratin treatment or get my pubes lasered away when my ship came in, and watching for maybe the fiftieth time
The Holiday
.

I love that movie—not the Kate Winslet and the other
guy bits, but Jude and Cameron. I want to be her. I want to lie with kids who think I’m a princess, staring up at the sparkles, or look sexy as I swig out of a wine bottle. I want to have sex like that and wake up and he’s still sexy even in his glasses.

Like Hugh.

I paused and rewound—watched Jude all bumbling and so lovely he made my toes curl and had a giggle to myself, and then I heard the bedroom door open.

‘Alice?’

I felt as if I’d been caught.

I
had
been caught.

Lying on top of the bed, drinking wine, eating chocolate and wearing a pair of knickers and a vest top. Thankfully the face mask was off, the tweezers down and the nails were painted, but this was so not how I wanted to be seen.

This was my night in.

And I was supposed to be out.

‘Hey.’ He sat on the edge of the bed as I turned over my book so he wouldn’t think my life needed healing (he was a psychiatrist after all). ‘What are you watching?’

‘Just a movie.’ I flicked the pause button again, didn’t want him to know that I was home alone and watching a romantic comedy. I’d far rather have been found watching a documentary or reading something highbrow. ‘How come you’re back?’

‘I think jet lag hit.’ He shrugged; he was wearing his glasses and he looked a bit tense. ‘Well, that’s what I said to them—they’re nice and everything, but they’re friends of Gemma’s. It just got…’ He gave another shrug. ‘It’s complicated. People want answers and I don’t want to
give them. Probably because I don’t know them. Look, about before, Alice…’

‘Forget it,’ I said, and I was being very grown up, because even though I fancied him rotten, even though I hated Gemma with a passion, I didn’t want to mess with his head, I mean, we were talking an eight-year relationship.

I just never imagined what would come next.

‘I can’t forget about it.’ Hugh sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I’ve got a headache from trying not to think about it—the thing is, I don’t want to forget about it.’

Thank God the main light was off because my face was burning. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t really understand what Hugh was saying, so he clarified a touch.

‘When I asked Gemma for a break—I meant from each other. I never thought I might meet someone else while I was here. I have to tell her.’

My eyes jerked to his and he just stared; he stared at me and I looked back. And what I saw was so unfamiliar that it was scary. I could see his want, his desire, his affection for me, see what I had never actually seen in a man’s eyes before, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

I just didn’t know how to respond, so I turned my eyes back to the screen.

I stared unseeing at a frozen image on the screen and I wanted to pause my life. If there had been a button I could push, I think I would have done it then.