The Mothers' Group (19 page)

‘They were too hard to defrost in the middle of the night,' explained Monika.

Suzie turned, enraged.

‘And you just keep a tin of infant formula handy, do you?'

Monika knew how opposed Suzie was to complementary feeding; she'd sworn that no formula would ever pass Freya's lips.

Suzie stormed to the front door, Freya on one hip and several bags slung across her shoulder.

‘I'll help you to the car,' offered Monika.

‘No, thank you.'

She slammed the front door behind her.

The next week at the mothers' group, she told them the whole story. It was a bright summer's morning in December, and the babies seemed fractious in the heat.

‘Monika
cut Freya's hair
without asking you first?' Cara repeated, incredulous.

‘
And
fed her formula,' said Suzie, ‘when I'd specifically given her bags of expressed breast milk.'

‘God, that
is
a bit of a problem,' said Cara. She waved at the barista behind the counter. ‘Another round of drinks, girls?'

The barista nodded at them. After so many mothers' group meetings at Beachcombers, he practically knew their order by heart.

Suzie dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Cara put an arm around her shoulder.

‘I shouldn't be so upset,' said Suzie. ‘It's not like it's totally out of character. This is the sort of stuff Monika does all the time, so I shouldn't be surprised.' She blew her nose. ‘I guess I was just hoping that things would be fine. Now I never want to leave Freya at her place again.'

‘Don't worry, I can totally relate, Suze,' said Miranda. ‘Willem's mum keeps her distance
most
of the time. But when she visits, it's hell on earth. She actually goes around sliding her finger along the tops of doorframes and showing me how dusty they are. And Willem's no help, he just tells me to ignore it. Men
always
side with their mothers.'

‘Oh, Jesus,' laughed Ginie. ‘What I wonder is, didn't any of these women have mothers-in-law
themselves
?'

‘They're not
always
so bad, Gin,' said Cara. ‘My mother-in-law is quite nice, really, but we don't get to see her very often. She's too busy looking after Richard's dad.'

‘He's got Alzheimer's, hasn't he?' said Miranda.

Cara nodded. ‘It doesn't leave much room for grandchildren, unfortunately. My dad's got it too. That's how Richard and I met, actually—our mums both go to the same support group. Not the most romantic of first meetings, unlike Suzie here.' Cara turned to her. ‘How's it all going with Bill, anyway?'

Suzie tried to suppress her smile. She didn't want to seem smug. ‘It's great. We have a real connection.'

‘That's good.' Ginie laughed. ‘Because you'll need it when you meet
his
mother.'

Suzie hadn't even thought of it. Bill hadn't mentioned his parents or any other extended family, apart from a sister with two sons. The idea that she might end up with
two
mothers-in-law was appalling, considering Monika's track record.

Made cleared her throat. ‘My younger sister in Bali, her name Komang. She marry husband last month, now she live with mother of husband.'

Everybody groaned.

‘You've
got
to be kidding,' said Ginie. ‘How old's your sister, anyway?'

‘She seventeen now.'

‘And that's
legal
?'

Made nodded. ‘In Bali, this is normal. Our culture say woman after marry must move in with husband family. Mother of husband help to raise children. Everyone in family compound help. Aunty, uncle, cousins.' She tickled Wayan's feet; he cackled his throaty, infectious giggle. ‘My sister Komang, she have less freedom now. Husband mother tell her what to do. She cook, she clean, she do many other thing for husband mother. In Australia, women very lucky.'

Suzie reddened, a little embarrassed by the comparison. Perhaps she'd overreacted to Monika's behaviour.

‘It's like that in other countries, too,' added Cara. ‘I had an Indian friend at university whose sister was burned to death by her mother-in-law in a dowry murder.'

‘Christ,' said Ginie, shaking her head. ‘What the hell are
we
bitching about, then?'

‘I really don't know,' snapped Pippa, out of the blue. Her eyes flashed. ‘There's not much that
any
of you should be complaining about, as far as I can see. Healthy babies, working husbands, in-laws that help out. What more could you ask for?' The bitterness in her voice was palpable.

No one spoke. Eyes darted from face to face, seeking direction from others.

Pippa's cheeks were burning. Her hand shook as she stirred her coffee. Then suddenly she dropped the teaspoon into the saucer with a clatter. Tears began to slide down her face, dripping onto her shirt, the table, even Heidi. She pulled Heidi closer to her chest and buried her face in her hair.

Suzie looked around the table, alarmed. Everyone was shocked, that was clear, but still no one moved. If it had been anyone else in the group, Suzie might have reached out. But she could sense the anger seething beneath Pippa's tears.

After what felt like an eternity, Cara leaned across the table and laid a gentle hand over Pippa's.

Suzie exhaled. Thank God for Cara.

‘Is everything okay?' Cara asked quietly.

Pippa shook her head. Her shoulders were rounded, defeated.

‘I have to go into hospital in a fortnight's time,' she said finally. ‘I'll be in for about a week and I don't know how Robert will cope. I've never left him with Heidi for longer than two hours.' She looked up, the tears starting anew. ‘I wish I had some in-laws, anyone, to call on.'

‘But
we'll
help, of course,' said Cara immediately. ‘Are you alright?'

Pippa blushed a deeper red.

‘I will be,' she replied. ‘I have to have an operation . . . to repair the damage done when Heidi was born.' She closed her eyes. ‘I had a bad tear. It made me incontinent.'

‘Oh, no,' said Cara. She glanced around the group, as if looking for support. ‘I mean, I'm not the same down there either—Astrid stretched everything—but not to the point of incontinence. That must be awful.'

Pippa stared out at the playground. Heat haze rose from the sandpit.

‘I might as well tell you everything,' she said. ‘I mean, why hide it anymore?' Pippa pushed her oily hair behind her ears. ‘I've been incontinent since Heidi was born. I haven't been able to control my bladder. Or my bowels.'

Suzie clapped a hand over her mouth. She'd heard that some women had pelvic floor issues after birth, but she'd just assumed that, like her, most bounced back unscathed.

‘I let it go too long,' Pippa continued. ‘I kept thinking it was going to get better.' She covered her face with her hands. ‘The doctors say it's one of the reasons I got . . . post-natal depression.'

‘Oh.' Suzie made the sound involuntarily. She'd never imagined that behind her thorny armour, Pippa was hiding
this.

Pippa looked up at the sound. ‘Yes.' She nodded at Suzie. ‘I've had trouble bonding with Heidi. It's not been fair on her. But it's hard to feel positive when you're worried about changing your own nappy, let alone your baby's.' Pippa's cheeks were scarlet, her eyes haunted.

Suzie felt terrible. She'd ignored the signs of Pippa's distress; it had been too hard to connect with her. What would
she
do, she wondered, with a pelvic floor in tatters? She certainly wouldn't be going out with Bill. The idea brought tears to her eyes.

No one said anything for a moment.

‘Oh God,' said Cara. She put her arm around Pippa. ‘You poor, poor thing. Why didn't you
tell
us?'

Pippa leaned into her for a moment, then shrugged. ‘You were all enjoying your babies. I didn't want to drag you down.' She sniffed, then straightened up, pulling away from Cara. ‘I'm getting the right help now, anyway. I'm on medication for the PND and the operation will help with . . .' She looked suddenly embarrassed. ‘Look, I'm sorry for dumping all that on you. Any help you can give while I'm in hospital would be great.'

Pippa's face was resuming its usual expressionless mask. Suzie leaned towards her, proffering a plate of biscuits. It was a feeble gesture, she knew, but what else could she say or do?

Pippa shook her head. ‘I should go. I have a doctor's appointment in thirty minutes.' She stood up and buckled Heidi into her stroller. ‘See you next week.'

The group watched her leave, pushing the stroller over the grassy slope and into the car park.

A moment later, Ginie coughed. ‘Well, that explains a lot, doesn't it?'

‘Yes,' said Miranda. ‘I wish I'd known about it earlier. I might have tried to help.'

‘She's been pretty hard to help,' said Ginie.

‘Still,' sighed Cara. ‘I suspected something was wrong from the beginning, but I never actually
did
anything about it.'

‘Me too,' admitted Suzie. ‘It was obvious something was wrong.'

‘We still can help, I think?' said Made.

Suzie nodded. She knew what it was like to be alone, without family support. ‘You're right, Made,' she said. ‘It's not too late.'

Within a week, Suzie had devised a plan. She sent an email around the mothers' group entitled
Project Pippa
, calling for volunteers. Much to her delight, everyone agreed on jobs they would do to help support Pippa while she was in hospital. Ginie volunteered her nanny's services in the kitchen, preparing a week's worth of frozen dinners for Robert. Miranda offered to mind Heidi in the afternoons, so that Robert could visit Pippa. Suzie decided to postpone her morning coffees with Bill, popping by Pippa's house instead to help with Heidi's breakfast routine. By the time Pippa was admitted to hospital in January, every day of her absence had been accounted for.

Three days after Pippa's surgery, Suzie and Cara walked over to the hospital together. It was a cloudless summer's day and miraculously, both Freya and Astrid were asleep in their prams by the time they arrived. Suzie bought a huge bunch of sunflowers from an expensive florist on the ground floor, while Cara found out which room Pippa was in.

They knocked on the door.

‘Come in.'

Suzie peeked through the small rectangular window. Pippa looked tiny, almost childlike, against the bleached expanse of hospital sheets enveloping her. She waved them in.

‘These are from the mothers' group.' Suzie pushed the sunflowers into Pippa's hands. ‘Although I see Made's already been.' She nodded at a woven basket on the tray table, its wide green leaves decorated with fresh flowers, rice, and a small cake.

‘Yes, it was there when I woke up from the anaesthetic,' Pippa said. ‘The sunflowers are beautiful, thank you. Robert's told me all about the meals, the coffees, the play dates . . . I just don't know what I would have done without you all.'

Cara pointed at Suzie. ‘She organised it. We're just her slaves.'

Suzie laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘There's this as well.' She passed Pippa a pink envelope. ‘How are you feeling today?'

Pippa smiled. ‘Well, they bring me my meals, a morning newspaper, I get to sleep whenever I want . . . I've had more straight sleep in the last seventy-two hours than I've had in the past eight months. If it wasn't for the pain, I'd consider it a holiday.'

Cara laughed. ‘Are you in much pain?'

‘Not when I'm lying down. It hurts a bit when I move. They'll take the catheter out this morning.'

‘Open the envelope,' Suzie urged.

Pippa lifted the flap and removed a card with the words
Get Well Soon!
emblazoned across it in fluorescent pink letters. A voucher dropped into her lap. She turned it over and gasped; it was a three-hundred-dollar voucher for a gourmet meal delivery service.

‘Oh!' She looked stunned.

‘We thought you wouldn't feel like cooking when you get home,' explained Suzie. ‘That should help out for about a month. And you know . . .' She paused. ‘I'm sorry for not seeing how hard things were for you. If anything awful ever happens again . . . I hope you'll tell us.' She looked at Pippa. ‘I mean, you won't always
want
to tell us. We're all pretty different in the mothers' group. If it wasn't for our babies, we mightn't be friends. But we have to look after each other.'

She glanced at the floor, wondering if she'd said too much.

When she looked up again, Pippa's eyes were filled with tears. She reached for Suzie's hand. ‘Thank you.' Her voice was shaking. ‘That's so kind.' They held hands in silence for a moment. Suzie marvelled at how natural it felt.

There was a brusque knock and the door swung open. Suzie turned to see a tall, dark-skinned doctor with a stethoscope slung around his neck.

‘Good morning, Mrs Thompson,' he said. ‘I'm one of the surgeons.'

Suzie couldn't pick his accent.

‘Oh, you have visitors.' The doctor nodded at Suzie and Cara. ‘I'll come back . . .' He stopped and stared at Cara. Suzie watched, confused, as the doctor's earnest expression morphed into a neon smile.

‘Cara?' he asked. ‘Is that you?'

Cara stood up from her chair. ‘Ravi?'

The doctor glanced at Pippa. ‘I'm sorry,' he said. ‘Cara and I are old . . . friends.'

‘Oh,' said Pippa. An awkward silence ensued.

‘Um, would you two like to talk outside?' Suzie suggested.

Cara turned to her. ‘Oh,' she said, her tone flustered. ‘Sorry. Yes, good idea.'

The doctor held the door open and Cara stepped past him.

More than five minutes passed before the door opened again and Cara returned.