The Moon is Missing: a novel

by Jenni Ogden

  “He was a healthy young father and he didn’t need to have the aneurysm clipped at all because it had never bled. It was to prevent it from rupturing in the future. I feel bad about encouraging him to have the surgery and now there are two small children without a father.” Through blurred eyes, I could see Finbar struggling not to cry.

  “It’ll be all right, Mum. I should have been more helpful. It must be awful. You’ll get over it; you have to. You can’t just not operate any more, can you?” He kicked the table leg.

  My throat tightened. “You’re right, sweetheart. I can’t.” I pulled him close again and whispered into his hair. “I’ll come right soon, I promise.” Reluctantly releasing him, I held his narrow shoulders. “I am still doing all the rest of my job, you know, so they’re not going to chuck me out. Don’t you go worrying about that.”

  “Can’t you take a pill or something?”

  “Oh, for a pill that would solve my problems,” I said, shaking my head. “Pills can help with anxiety problems like mine for a while, but they’re not a cure. I’ve got to work out why I’ve got them and do something about the cause, or they’ll just keep coming back.”

  “But what happens to you so you can’t operate? Do your hands freeze up or something?”

  “Anxiety can affect people in lots of different ways, but my problem is that I had this thing called a panic attack when I was operating. It’s like I suddenly couldn’t breathe and I did sort of freeze. I couldn’t think straight for a few minutes and then I calmed down and the panic went away. So until I’m sure that I’m not ever going to have a panic attack again, it’s simply not safe for me to operate.”

  Finbar’s smooth brow furrowed. “That sounds pretty bad. I’ve heard of those before. Jamie’s mum has panic attacks when she has to go outside so she just stays home all the time. That won’t happen to you, will it?”

  “Not a chance. In fact I’ve only had one when I’ve been in theater, so it’s different from people like Jamie’s mum who’ve had panic attacks for a very long time. You’re not to worry your head about me; it’s my worry, not yours and Lara's. If you can put up with my moods for a bit longer and try and cheer Dad up by being your happy self, then that will be a massive help.”

  “OK, Mum, I’ll try.” He put his arms around my waist and squeezed. “I love you,” he muttered.

  “I love you too, sweetheart. And you know what, I reckon that’s enough serious stuff for one morning. Let’s start frying.”

  Adam didn’t come home until four, bringing with him a bottle of wine, a large bag of velvety purple grapes, and my favorite blue cheese.

  “Thought it was time we had a quiet pre-dinner drink and snacks,” he said, bending his head and brushing my cheek with his lips. “Sorry I deserted you today. I wanted to get Monday’s lecture written.” Walking over to the sink he filled a glass with water and took a long drink. He stood, back to me, looking out the kitchen window. He muttered something.

  “Say again? I didn’t catch that.”

  He turned around and leaned on the bench. “I said that I thought you might need some space away from me. Was that why you went off so early this morning without even a kiss?”

  “You were asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I wasn’t to know you’d be gone when I got back. You never said you were planning to go into the university today.”

  “I hadn’t planned it. But I can’t seem to work at home anymore. Too much on my mind. Fewer distractions at work, especially in the weekend when no one much is around.”

  “What if I’d had to go into the hospital? It would have been unfair to count on Lara staying in all day just to mind Finbar.” I heard the irritation in my voice and tried to soften my tone. “You should have called me.”

  “You knew where I was; I asked Finbar to tell you. All you would have had to do was phone and I’d have come home. Although why would you have to go in when you don’t do on-calls any more?”

  “I do have other responsibilities that might require me to go in. I just wish you’d be more communicative about your plans so we could organize our schedules better.”

  “Got it. Here’s what I’m doing tomorrow. Mac and I are taking off into the country for a day’s walk. I checked with Lara and she’s going to Amber’s for the day, and I’ll drop Finbar off at Jack’s. You do remember he’s been invited to go with Jack and his dad to the cricket?”

  “Yes, of course I do. Where are you walking? Can I come?” I felt a smidgeon of warmth creeping through me. I felt suddenly desperate to be out of London.

  Adam walked over to the glass-fronted cupboard and took out two wine glasses. Opening the wine, he poured two glasses and handed me one. “Actually we’ve decided we deserve a boys-only day. There are a few things we need to vent about, and we’ve spent no time outside of work together for months. I thought you’d rather like to have a day for yourself with no kids or husband around. Read a novel or muck about in the garden. It would do you good.”

  Yesterday’s rain had washed London clean, creating one of those rare and almost balmy late spring days. I considered working in the garden for two seconds before writing Adam and the kids a note and grabbing a bottle of water, an apple, and my car keys.

  Once out of London I opened the car window and breathed in the scented Oxfordshire air. I felt almost happy, random thoughts flicking through my mind as I meandered down narrow country lanes and through timeless thatched villages. But I missed Adam. Why couldn’t we have done this together? I couldn’t remember when we’d last escaped on a weekend drive without the kids. I sighed. Perhaps I shouldn’t blame all our problems on my therapy. Perhaps we’d been losing the romance long before that. Work pressures, teenagers, and now these horrible panic attacks.

  Drawing up at a crooked, ivy-covered pub on a village green, I took my coffee and carrot cake to the only outside table not already occupied by lazy, happy, weekenders, some with children in tow. Adam, we used to be these people. What happened to our pledge to spend at least one day of every weekend I wasn’t on call enjoying being a family and exploring some of the beautiful spots in and out of London?

  Driving on as the sun swapped its warmth for a soft glow, I felt more hopeful. Of course Sarah’s right. I’ll find a way to remember what happened that night. I have to. That’s the only way I’ll get to the bottom of these panic attacks. And I owe it to Lara. Adam and Finbar as well. They’re all suffering because of my fear. Why is it so hard to go deeper? It was all so long ago. It’s not as if I’m a young woman whose lover has just died. Surely I’m secure enough now to deal with the truth, whatever it is? Adam and I have to find a way to talk again. Really talk. And being miles out of London on a Sunday evening isn’t a good start.

  I drew over and stopped on the side of the road and pulled out my mobile. Adam answered after the third ring.

  “Adam here.” He sounded grumpy.

  “Hi love. Did you have a good day? I’ve had such a lovely drive, but it would have been more fun if you’d been with me.”

  “ We had a magnificent walk. We’re going to do it more often. We’d forgotten how much we enjoyed each other’s company.”

  “Oh. That’s great. Are the kids home?”

  “It’s seven o’clock, Georgia. Of course they’re home. Where are you?”

  “On my way. I’ll be back in an hour at the most.”

  “If you’re going to be that long, perhaps you’d better get yourself something to eat on the way. The kids and I are having dinner. We’re all tired.”

  My eagerness to rush home and explain to Adam how much I loved him evaporated, and on the outskirts of London I found another pub and tried to bury my disappointment with a Caesar Salad and a small glass of wine. As the rumble of conversation and the patter of a TV sports commentator merged into the background, I forced myself to think about Danny and what happened that night. Perhaps if I prepared myself gradually, tomorrow I’d be able to talk to Sarah about it without risking another panic attack? Perhaps I
’d finally remember what happened.

  Neither Danny nor I had, as yet, told our families about our relationship. We figured we needed this time on Great Barrier to get to know each other first. All Danny's parents knew was that he was traveling around New Zealand’s North Island before going to Queenstown.

  Danny reckoned his folks would be over-the-moon about him marrying a Kiwi girl and staying in New Zealand. He booked his flight to Queenstown for January 3rd. He’d surprise them and then break the exciting news; tell them they were going to have a Kiwi daughter-in-law and he’d be staying in New Zealand. “Mum will love that,” he said. “N’Orleans is too far away for her.”

  The plan was that when Danny returned to the island we’d call my parents—they weren’t due back from Australia until March—and give them the happy news. About our marriage plans, that is, not about the baby, if my suspicions turned out to be right. I’d had sore boobs and some nausea for a week, and had finally checked my dates and realized I’d not had a period since our romantic roll in the sand on Cape Cod—the only time we’d indulged in unprotected sex, for heaven’s sake. My periods had never been very regular and I’d been too crazily happy to worry. Just put it down to my stress levels at the end of my Mass General Residency. I was dying to tell Danny, but I wanted to be absolutely sure first. What if he thought it was too soon? It was too soon, but we’d manage. Danny would see that. The island doctor was away for Christmas and New Year, but I’d managed to make an appointment to see him the day he got back, a few days after Danny flew out. By the time he got back from seeing his parents I’d know for sure. That’s when I’d tell him.

  Danny's excitement at being back in Queenstown after so long away was palpable when I phoned him on the night he arrived—no easy task as the public phone box was a thirty minute walk away from our house.

  “I haven’t told them yet,” he said, and my heart slowed down. “They’re so excited to see me I thought I’d spin it out a bit. Tell them tomorrow after I make them pancakes for breakfast. Then I might come home early. I miss you already.”

  “Oh, I wish you could,” I said. “But you have to stay a little longer; it would be unkind to leave so soon when your family hasn’t seen you for so long. We’ll have the rest of our lives to celebrate.”

  “The rest of our lives, oh oh the rest of our lives…” Danny crooned into the phone, and I enjoyed the little shiver of pleasure that flicked up my spine. Even when he was fooling around, his voice touched something sensual inside me.

  But when I phoned the next night, my hands shaking a little as I dialed the number, there was no reply. Perhaps they’d all gone out to celebrate their son’s forthcoming marriage? I tried again the next morning and again was too shy to leave a message. Finally, that evening, Danny’s brother John answered. He told me that Danny had flown to Nelson to keep an old school friend company while he nursed his dying father. I stood in the phone box almost mute with disappointment. When I asked for Danny’s friend’s phone number, John was unable to oblige. Danny, he pointed out, was in the habit of not telling them where he was. Their parents, John added, had also gone away on a fishing trip. Obviously John had no clue about Danny and me. Had he even told his parents?

  And now seven days had passed and still no word from him. I was having a hard time forgiving him for his silence. How could he be so thoughtless and not at least leave a phone contact? I felt some empathy with his parents being kept in the dark about his whereabouts when he was on Great Barrier Island.

  On the island the weather was draining. Usually we didn’t get this humid wild northeasterly weather until February, when cyclones haunted the Pacific. But this cyclone was early, hitting the Cook Islands, causing havoc there, and then whipping up the sea as far away as New Zealand. On Saturday, after two days of dense sea mist hanging low over the hills, it dropped its weather bomb, hitting Great Barrier Island with gale-force winds and torrential rain. According to the news on my temperamental battery-driven radio, nearly fifteen centimeters of water fell on the Barrier in forty-eight hours. I welcomed the storm; it fitted my mood just fine.

  Late that afternoon I pulled on my running gear and took off along the beach. The rain had finally eased off, and the light drizzle and still strong winds cooled my hot skin as I ran in my bare feet, dodging the flotsam and jetsam that littered the sand, and exhilarated by the massive surf crashing onto the foam-covered shore. An hour later, wet with rain and sweat, I puffed back up the sand dunes. The house in its little hollow was bathed in a strange yellow glow as the sun, now low in the sky, tried to penetrate the racing storm clouds. As I reached the deck I heard a creak, creak, creak, that didn’t seem part of the storm. Then I saw him, moving back and forth in the old rocking chair in the far dim corner of the deck, his red hair luminous in the eerie light.

  I covered the distance between us in a millisecond. “Danny. Darling, thank heaven you’re back. I’ve been out of my mind with worry. Why didn’t you write or leave your phone number so I could call you?” Relief almost choking me, I dropped to my knees beside the chair and peered into Danny’s face. Leaning over to kiss him I saw his eyes close and felt his cold lips on mine. Then I was falling back as his head jerked to the side and his hands pushed on my shoulders.

  “No Georgia, don’t,” he rasped. “We have to talk.”

  I scrambled back to my knees, my heart pounding. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Danny, you’re saturated.” I grabbed his cold hands. “Come inside, you’re shivering. However did you get here in this storm?”

  Danny didn’t speak as I led him inside. Pulling off his sodden anorak, I wrapped a throw around his shaking shoulders as he sank on the couch. “What you need is a good fire and a hot drink,” I said, trying to stifle the terror that was building in my chest. I could hear his teeth rattling as I laid paper and kindling haphazardly in the fireplace. The fire finally began crackling and I slid a kettle on the hob, and then sat close beside him. “Please Danny—darling, tell me what’s wrong.”

  Danny shook his head and a strand of wet hair slapped my face. “I don’t know how to tell you. Georgia, I’m sorry I’ve been off the radar. It’s taken me so long to come because I didn’t know how to tell you. And then of course I picked the worst weekend in living memory to get the ferry. It was so bloody rough even I was sick. Everyone was sick. I thought we’d never make it.”

  I put my hand on his and he shook it off, pulling the throw closer around him. “I managed to hitch a ride from the wharf across the island, but I got dropped off in Claris and had to slog the rest of the way in the pouring rain.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming so I could pick you up?”

  “How the hell could I do that? Mental telepathy?”

  “Well, perhaps if you’d left a contact number for me to call, we could have stayed in touch.”

  “I wasn’t in any fit state to talk to you, and I only got the guts up yesterday to come over here.”

  “What is it? What’s happened?” My voice came out in a whisper.

  “I’m sorry Georgia.” Danny got up and moved away, his back to me.

  “What? What are you sorry about?” My voice rose to a squeak.

  “I think we should put off our marriage for a while,” he said.

  “What did you say?”

  Danny turned around, his silhouette dark against the last of the light filtering through the window. “I can’t…” His voice cracked, and I almost fell in my desperation to get to him. His hands went up, palms towards me. “Don’t make it harder, Georgia. I’ve decided it’s too soon for me. I need to be sure. I can’t marry you, not yet.”

  Chapter 10

  I looked over at the door, wishing I were on the other side of it. I glanced at my watch. “Looks like my time’s almost up. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  Sarah got out of her chair and stretched. “This session has been tough, but you’ve come a long way.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it. I feel as if I’m gettin
g worse, not better.”

  “Today you talked about your painful breakup with Danny without any sign of a panic attack.”

  “Perhaps that’s because I spent most of the weekend thinking about it.”

  “That’s what I meant when I said a lot of the work of therapy is done between sessions. Having the courage to quietly walk yourself through part of that terrible night primed your memory so that today you were able to recall a little more. Before I see you again I hope you can go even further. You’ll have extra time because I have to leave London and I won’t be back until the middle of next week. I’m going to my granddaughter’s birthday.” Sarah smiled. “Turning five is pretty special.”

  “That’ll be fun. Pin the tail on the donkey, pass the parcel. I remember it well. Seems like a lifetime ago when our two were that age.” I swallowed a sudden urge to weep.

  “Wednesday next week then, same time. I’ll give you a colleague’s number in case you need an emergency session while I’m gone.”

  “I won’t need that. I’m not about to bop myself off.”

  “I want you to have Jasmine’s number anyway, for my own peace of mind. You have plenty of thinking to do before our next session, not least about why you find these sessions difficult to keep sometimes.”

  “I thought we’d covered that today? I won’t cancel again.”

  “That’s good to hear. Talk to Adam. Having his understanding and support is what you need before you can make peace with your past.”

  “Believe me, I’m going to do everything in my power to make it up to him and the kids. I can’t live like this. None of us can.”

  Friday, and I felt emptied out. Bending over backwards to please Adam hadn’t worked. He seemed to think he could stay longer at the university now that I was able to spend more time at home. His excuse that he had an urgent research grant application to write on top of a heavy teaching load seemed to me just that, an excuse. The kids were lost as well without Adam’s calming presence—Finbar shutting himself in his room as soon as he got home from school and Lara rarely home.