‘What is it?’ Lilla asks. ‘You’re not worried about the whole Marcus thing, are you? Seriously. It was nothing. I just had to get rid of Tim. You know what it’s like. And it’s all turned out pretty well, hasn’t it? For you two.’
‘God no,’ Anna shakes her head. ‘It’s not that. I don’t care about that. I was just thinking about Benjamin. Remembering.’ She sighs again. ‘Missing him.’
‘Oh. Right. The baby. Maybe you should try not to think of him so much?’ Lilla says. ‘Focus on happier things.’
The suggestion is so ludicrous and insensitive, so stupidly offensive, that Anna has to fight an urge to slap Lilla’s face. She clenches her fists by her sides, then forces herself to release them, to smile even.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ she says. ‘I should stop feeling sorry for myself. And God, I’m not the only one who misses him, am I? I’m just being selfish.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you know, I wasn’t the only person who loved him. People don’t make babies all on their own, you know.’
‘Oh. Of course. The father,’ Lilla says, looking down at her fingernails, as if the topic is all a bit of a drag. ‘How’s he coping with all this? The whole accident thing?’
‘How’s he coping?’ Anna says vaguely, going to wash her hands at the sink. ‘Well, actually, I think he’s okay. I think he’s doing quite well.’
‘So you still see him then?’
‘See him?’ Anna turns so that she can face Lilla, watch her reaction. ‘Of course I do. I see him a lot,’ she smiles. ‘But you’re just teasing me now, aren’t you? Playing more games? Pretending not to know?’
‘What?’ Lilla’s eyes snap up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Marcus,’ Anna says, her eyes on Lilla’s, her voice firm and clear so there can be no misunderstanding. ‘Marcus was Benjamin’s father.’
Lilla takes a step back. ‘Marcus? No. No way.’ She shakes her head. ‘He never . . . I mean, he couldn’t have—’
‘You didn’t know, Lilla? Really? That’s so strange . . .’ Anna shrugs. ‘Though I guess that’s just Marcus, isn’t it? So secretive. So private. Nobody can ever really get close to him.’
Lilla nods, but her face is closed tight with fury, her lips drawn together in a thin line.
Anna collects the platter of cheese and fruit that Tim had prepared earlier.
‘Would you mind just handing me a knife, Lilla?’ she asks, indicating a drawer with her chin. But Lilla’s obviously distracted, upset, and she reaches vaguely for a kitchen knife from the block on the benchtop and puts it on the platter. It doesn’t matter. Cheese knife. Kitchen knife. Nobody is likely to notice or care.
‘Thanks,’ Anna smiles. ‘I’ll just take this out.’ And as she leaves the room she can feel Lilla’s eyes on her back, like two little daggers, pointed and sharp with malice.
79
WHILE LILLA AND ANNA ARE IN THE KITCHEN, MARCUS GOES TO the toilet.
Fiona crosses her arms over her chest and turns to me.
‘You and Anna?’ she says. ‘You’re seeing each other?’
‘Seeing each other?’ I imitate the gruff tone of her voice in an attempt to lighten the mood, but her expression doesn’t change. ‘Yeah. I guess we are.’
‘Serious, is it?’
‘Don’t know yet,’ I say. And it’s none of your bloody business, I think.
‘You know what happened, don’t you?’
‘Happened?’
‘Last winter.’
‘She told me about her son, Benjamin, if that’s what you mean?’
She gives a curt nod. She’s watching my face so closely that I feel like I’m being put through some kind of test, one that I have no chance of passing.
‘I think she’s pretty amazing,’ I say. ‘And incredibly strong.’
‘Strong? Really? That’s what you think?’
‘Yeah. Why not? I haven’t had a kid, obviously, but I know it’s the worst thing in the world to lose one. That’s what people say, anyway. And the circumstances with Benjamin, I mean, they make it even worse. And she’s been here dealing with that, pretty much on her own. That makes her strong in my eyes.’
‘She’s not strong at all,’ she says, now so angry or upset – I can’t tell which – that her voice is shaking. ‘How can you say that? You of all people? You told us what she did, Tim. You know what’s been going on. She’s vulnerable. She needs help.’
‘I don’t think so. I think she’s getting better,’ I say.
‘She forgot to lock the pram,’ Fiona insists. ‘Did you know that?’
‘Yeah. She told me the full story. And it’s crap and I know she must feel like utter hell. But it was an accident, Fiona. And she’s dealing with it. She is. I know she is.’ I’m abrupt, trying to make it clear that I don’t want to talk about it.
‘I don’t think so. In fact I think she’s getting worse,’ she finishes urgently as Marcus reappears. ‘Imagine what that guilt would do to a person. It would send you mad.’
80
‘WHO WANTS SOME OF THIS AMAZING CHEESE?’ ANNA ASKS AS SHE enters the dining room a moment later. She’s holding the cheese platter and a pile of plates.
Lilla marches in with a venomous look on her face. She doesn’t take a seat; instead she stands behind her chair and glares down at everyone. We all watch her as she takes three big gulps of her drink. She grimaces, gasps. Then she lifts the glass to her mouth and finishes the rest.
‘Whoa,’ Marcus says. ‘Lilla. Take it easy. What are you trying to do?’
‘I’m trying to get drunk, Marcus,’ Lilla says coldly. ‘What are you trying to do?’
‘Nothing,’ Marcus looks bewildered at Lilla’s tone.
Lilla puts her glass back on the table so roughly that it wobbles. ‘So, anyway,’ she says. ‘In case you’re curious. Anna and I were talking about Benjamin in the kitchen.’ She stares at Marcus. ‘Such a horrible tragedy, wasn’t it? So terrible. Unimaginable, really.’
‘Yes,’ Marcus looks down. ‘Terrible.’
‘And it must be hard for the father too. Hard for him to accept,’ Lilla says. ‘To forgive. Move on.’
‘I suppose so.’ Marcus goes white. He picks up the knife as if to cut himself some cheese but puts it straight back down again without doing anything. He looks suddenly ill or frightened or both.
‘What’s wrong with you, Marcus?’ Lilla asks.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ he asks. ‘What’s wrong with you? Why are you staring at me like that?’
She leans over the table. ‘What the hell do you think is wrong, Marcus? I don’t like being lied to. That’s what’s wrong. I don’t like being tricked.’
The hypocrisy of her words would be funny if she wasn’t so serious, so genuinely outraged.
‘Tricked? I haven’t tricked you.’
‘You didn’t tell me about Benjamin, though, did you? It’s a pretty big thing to forget to tell me. I mean, fucking hell, Marcus, if I’d known . . .’ She slaps the table with her open palm, making everybody jump. ‘You’re a fucking liar!’
‘Benjamin?’ Fiona stares at Marcus. ‘What about Benjamin? What’s she talking about?’
Marcus puts his head in his hands. ‘Jesus Christ. I don’t believe this. I simply do not believe it.’ Then he sighs, lifts his head to look at Fiona. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Sorry? What are you sorry for?’
It’s clear that Marcus is rattled: he clears his throat, blinks. ‘Anna and I didn’t tell you . . . or rather I didn’t tell you, because I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to. I didn’t want you to find out like this. Not tonight. And all I can say is sorry. I’m sorry I was such a coward. I’m sorry for all of it.’
‘I don’t . . .’ Fiona says. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying Benjamin was my son. I was Benjamin’s father.’ Marcus’s voice cracks, and he looks down. ‘I couldn’t acknowledge it myself, let alone to anyone else.’
‘Benjamin’s father
? What? Is this really . . . I don’t . . .’ Fiona stands up. She’s completely still for a moment, a look of stunned confusion on her face, as if she’s forgotten where she is, what she’s doing. Eventually she collapses back into her chair, puts her face in her hands. ‘Oh no. Oh God no. No.’
Marcus pats Fiona’s back awkwardly. She flinches, her shoulders shaking.
Marcus looks at Anna, his eyes full of despair. ‘Are you satisfied now? Are you happy?’
‘Not at all,’ Anna says. ‘Don’t think I’m getting any joy out of this.’
‘Then why? I thought we had an agreement. Why tonight? Like this?’
‘Well and why not?’ Lilla spits out. ‘What do you expect, Marcus? She’s mad. Obviously. You must be mad yourself, getting involved with someone like her. What exactly do you expect? You can’t expect normal behaviour from a lunatic.’
‘That’s right, Lilla. I’m mad,’ Anna says. ‘Or is that just what you want everyone to think?’
‘Why would I give a shit what people think? All I know is you need a lot of help. And so does everyone else here.’ Lilla looks around the table as if for confirmation. ‘You’re all sick in the head. Face it. And you, Anna – that whole cot scenario up in the attic? You sitting up there every day pretending your baby’s alive? It pretty much confirms that you’re seriously screwed. Not to mention all the weird stuff you’ve been—’
‘Shut up, Lilla,’ I interrupt. I’m suddenly so angry I can’t control myself. My voice comes out in a rough growl, my hands shake. Lilla stares back at me with shock at first – she’s never seen me like this before – but her expression quickly shifts to one of hostility. It’s hard to remember what I ever saw in her, how I ever thought I loved her. ‘Don’t you dare bloody sit there insulting Anna in her own house. Why don’t you just shut up for once in your life?
‘I’m only stating the truth, Tim. Your girlfriend’s sick.’
I want to smash her, wipe the self-satisfied look from her face. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had an urge to hit a woman. Anna puts a restraining hand on my arm.
‘Maybe I am mad,’ she says quietly. ‘I don’t know. I can see that it probably isn’t all that good spending so much time in the attic. Living in my head like that. And obviously being agoraphobic isn’t . . . well, it’s not exactly healthy.’ She lifts her chin. ‘But I’m not an aggressive or malicious person, Lilla. I don’t destroy things. I don’t paint horrible phrases on walls or put spiders on people’s beds.’
‘Come on,’ Lilla scoffs, ‘you don’t really expect any of us to believe that.’
‘I do expect you to believe it. And, just so you know, for a while there at least, I really did think I was going mad. I thought it must have been me doing all those things even though I had no memory of it. I thought I was as crazy as you say. But when I discovered that you and Marcus have known each other all along, I started thinking about it. You’ve been lying, Lilla. To me and Tim. And we don’t get it.’
‘And you know else we don’t get?’ I interject. ‘This!’ I pull out the torn and defaced photo and put it on the table where everyone can see. The raw violence of it is stark, shocking.
Lilla’s mouth drops open, but she recovers quickly.
‘Going through my bag now?’ she spits. ‘First Anna perves on my Facebook photos, then you raid my bag. I don’t believe this!’
‘I wasn’t going through your bag. You threw the picture on the table yourself the day we were in Manly. I was just putting it back, cleaning up your bloody mess as usual, just like we had to clean up the spiders. And the paint on the wall.’
‘My mess?’ Lilla says viciously. ‘My bloody mess? I don’t think so, Tim. It wasn’t me who started this. The truth is you and Anna have been invading my—’
‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ Marcus interrupts, standing up. ‘This is all getting out of hand. You’re all getting worked up and hysterical and if you want my opinion all three of you are sounding quite mad right now. I think you’d be a lot better off having this conversation tomorrow. When you haven’t been drinking.’
‘Marcus, stop. Wait,’ Fiona suddenly interrupts. She has been sitting there in silence, staring at the laptop. She turns to Lilla. ‘It says here that your last name’s Buchanan?’
‘Yeah? So?’
‘What’s your mother’s name?’
Lilla is completely taken aback. ‘What?’
‘Hazel,’ I answer for her. ‘Hazel Buchanan.’
‘Hazel Buchanan,’ Fiona turns to Marcus. She straightens up, her voice is crisp and full of urgency. ‘I knew Lilla’s name was familiar. My God, Marcus. We set the payment up, for Anna’s father, for Stephen London. Remember? He asked us to keep it strictly confidential. You must remember? Two hundred dollars a month to Hazel Buchanan. And then in his will, to be paid from the estate, in perpetuity . . .’
Marcus puts his head in his hands. ‘What?’
‘Where did you meet her?’ Fiona asks, taking his arm. ‘Marcus? Listen to me. Where did you and Lilla meet?’
‘Don’t answer that,’ Lilla says to Marcus, grabbing his other arm. Marcus looks from Lilla to Fiona and back again. Lilla’s voice is as brash and as arrogant as ever, but there’s a change in her eyes, a distinct flicker of fear. ‘It’s none of their damn business.’
Marcus brushes her away. ‘That’s easy,’ he says to Fiona. ‘We met at Stephen London’s funeral.’
‘Right,’ Fiona says. ‘The funeral. Of course. So—’
‘Daddy’s funeral?’ Anna’s interrupts.
Marcus nods.
‘But . . .’Anna looks over at Lilla. ‘Why were you there? You didn’t know my father. Why would you go to his funeral?’
Lilla doesn’t respond. She toys with the knife in the centre of the table, pressing it down on one end so the blade lifts in the air.
‘Lilla,’ Anna says. ‘Answer me.’
‘You’re right,’ Lilla says. ‘I didn’t know him at all. I never met the man. Not once.’
‘So why were you at his funeral?’
An odd-looking smile appears on Lilla’s face. ‘I had every right to go to that funeral. Every right in the world.’
‘Every right? What?’ Anna’s voice is low and full of loathing. ‘What are you, Lilla? Some kind of gold-digger? Is that it? Money? Is that what you’re after? Or . . . what? Do you just like to prey on vulnerable people? Grieving people? What is it? What’s your game?’
‘Vulnerable people?’ Lilla says, still giving all her attention to the knife. Her voice is mild enough, but I can see the tremor in her fingers, the tension in her jaw. ‘What would you know about being vulnerable?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not going to get into another one of these ridiculous conversations,’ Anna stands up and slaps both hands on the table so that Lilla is forced to look at her. She leans forward, speaks furiously. ‘I just want to know, Lilla. What the fuck were you doing at Daddy’s funeral?
’ The response from Lilla is dramatic, shocking. She stands up and the two of them glare at each other over the table. Lilla lets out a low howl and raises her glass above her head, throws it with full force at the wall behind Anna.
Anna jumps, visibly startled. Then she shakes her head, gives a small, shaken laugh. ‘You’re a fool, Lilla. A trashy fool. And I can’t be bothered with you. I’m not interested in what you’ve been doing here or why you hate me. I just want you to get the hell out of my house.’
Lilla moans softly and shakes her head from side to side as Anna talks. She puts her hands over her ears as if she can’t stand to hear the sound of Anna’s voice.
‘Lilla?’ I say. Seeing her like this is disturbing, chilling. For all her talk of Anna’s mental health it’s Lilla who looks crazy right now. ‘Lilla?’
She opens her eyes and suddenly, her movements as quick and agile as a cat chasing a mouse, she snatches up the knife and dashes around the table towards Anna. She presses her forearm against Anna’s chest and shoves her backwards, s
o that Anna’s back slams hard against the wall.
‘I hate you, Anna London,’ she screams. ‘I fucking hate you. I wish you were dead!’
‘Lilla!’
‘Stop!
‘No!’
But before anyone has had the chance to react she thrusts the knife at Anna. We all move to stop her, but Fiona’s there first.
‘I hate you! I fucking hate you,’ Lilla screams, raising her arm again and again, but her rage has made her oblivious and it isn’t Anna who takes the brunt of her attack, but Fiona.
81
‘ANNA, ANNA, ARE YOU OKAY?’ TIM SHOUTS, AS HE AND MARCUS PULL LILLA away, dragging her to the other side of the room.
‘I’m fine,’ Anna says. ‘But Fiona’s hurt. She needs help.’
‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ says Marcus. ‘And the police.’
Anna doesn’t watch them, she’s too intent on Fiona, but Lilla’s animal sounds and Tim’s raised and angry voice echo loudly around the room, making her pulse race, her mind unclear.
There’s blood everywhere. All down Anna’s front and on her hands. Fiona’s blood.
‘Oh God,’ Fiona says, collapsing to the ground. ‘I’m bleeding. Oh God.’
Anna grabs a handful of napkins from the table, crouches down and presses them against Fiona’s wounds. There’s so much blood it’s hard to know where it’s coming from or how to staunch it.
‘I’m scared,’ Fiona says. ‘I’m really scared.’
‘You’re going to be fine,’ Anna says, trying to hide the fear in her voice. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’
When Marcus comes back, Tim is sitting on the opposite side of the room with Lilla, their backs pressed against the wall. Tim’s hands are wrapped firmly around one of Lilla’s arms. Marcus goes to sit on the other side of her, pressing his elbow against her arm to restrain her. It’s a particularly hostile gesture, as if he finds her repellant, as if he can’t bear to touch her with his hands.
Anna slides closer to Fiona. She would like to lift Fiona’s head, let it rest more comfortably in her lap, but she’s afraid of making her bleed more. She settles for brushing her hand over Fiona’s hair. Fiona grabs Anna’s hand and pulls it close to her face, presses her lips against the skin of Anna’s palm. It’s the first time Fiona has ever touched her voluntarily. The only act of physical intimacy Fiona has ever initiated. The realisation brings tears to Anna’s eyes.
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