Where We Begin

by Christie Nieman

  ‘Did I say that?’

  ‘You said something to Basil about bringing me here?’

  Leonie shook her head. ‘Oh, no. Basil was right. There’s a story of this place that you should hear one day, that’s all.’

  ‘Tell me now.’

  ‘Now isn’t the time, honey. It’s not a pretty story. I’ll tell you soon.’

  ‘I really fucking wish people would quit not telling me things.’

  Leonie laughed quietly and then her voice came in jagged breaths as she set off carrying me across the paddock. ‘That is a very fair point, my girl. A fair point.’

  31

  The three of us managed to get me out of the gully. Basil carried me piggyback for some of the way too. And then, feeling much better, I walked nearly the rest of the way, and when my headache started to resurface Leonie took over again and Basil walked alongside us, carrying my things.

  The wind had picked up. Darker clouds were coming in now from the south, nudging the gentle grey ones away.

  Leonie was puffing as we approached the fence, but when she stopped suddenly I lifted my head from her shoulder to look again at Bromley Cairn. I didn’t know what made me do it, but I wanted to look up at the top window, at the place where I had stood earlier, feeling watched. And there – a thrill ran through me – was a pale face shimmering in the glass in front of the darkness behind. A boy, or a man, I couldn’t tell. Watching me. And then it was gone. Sunk back into the shadows.

  ‘Oh my god,’ I said. I slid from Leonie’s back and stood staring at the top window.

  ‘What is it?’ said Leonie. ‘More pain?’

  ‘Who was that?’ I was pointing, up at the top window. ‘Someone was just there. I just saw someone there, watching us.’

  ‘In Bromley Cairn?’ said Leonie, at first disbelieving, but quickly her expression changing – her mind was working, I could see it. She turned and looked at Basil.

  Basil stepped backwards and looked at the ground. ‘Umm, Mum, so . . .’

  ‘Basil,’ said Leonie. ‘What have you done?’

  He looked guilty as hell. ‘It was his idea.’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘Hessel’s.’

  ‘What? That makes no sense.’

  ‘Who is it?’ I said again, but they ignored me.

  ‘But it was!’ said Basil. ‘He wanted to –’

  ‘Ow!’ A spike of pain bent me over, and Leonie reached out and put her hand on my back just as an unfamiliar but very sleek silver car turned off the main road and pulled into the driveway. We paused – me doubled over, Leonie’s hand on my back, Basil cringing around the edges, trying to avoid his mother’s eyes – and watched as it drew up to just the other side of the fence, then came to a halt and sat there, a strange shimmering mirage, completely out of place in the surroundings.

  The clouds swept in on the back of the wind. The light dropped. Mum stepped out of the driver’s seat, drew herself up straight, and looked around.

  We watched her register my stuff strewn about on the gravel and then, as she raised her eyes, we saw the look of horror on her face as she saw me bent over with Leonie’s hand on my back. Mum left the car door open behind her as she ran to the fence.

  ‘What’s happened? Is she alright?’

  ‘She’s okay, Cathy,’ Leonie said. ‘Everything’s fine.’

  Mum climbed through the wire. She rushed to me, smoothed the hair from my forehead. ‘What is it?’ She turned to Leonie. ‘What have they done?’

  Mum grabbed Leonie’s arm as Leonie said, ‘Nothing. She’s fine.’ And for a moment Leonie laid her fingers over Mum’s, keeping them there. ‘She’s fine, Cathy. Really.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mum, nodding vigorously and removing her hand. She reached for me, seeming to be about to pick me up like a child.

  I resisted and stood straight and stepped back.

  ‘Mum, what are you doing?’

  ‘Helping you up.’

  ‘No, why are you here?’

  ‘Why are you here, Anna?’ That was too big a question to answer easily, but it didn’t matter, Mum kept on talking. ‘I had to come and get you – you don’t know – I had to come and get you away. You needed me.’

  Everything fell away – Hessel’s bizarre anger, my pain and bleeding, the face in the window. Everything was replaced by a white-hot rage at my mother. ‘What are you talking about? I didn’t need you. I don’t need you. I never need you. Not now. Because you have never, never, been there when I did.’

  The words landed. I saw them land. She flinched. And it was awful. I’d never told her straight like that, and it felt like I was doing something to her. Something unfair and unkind. The look on her face – wounded, righteous – instantly made me feel like I was making it up, like maybe she hadn’t been all that bad.

  Clearly Leonie felt it was too far. ‘Anna, maybe wait until –’ she began, but Mum cut her off.

  ‘I’m sorry that you feel that way, Anna,’ she said stiffly. Her walls had shot up. Those same old walls. ‘But you shouldn’t be here. You had no right to come barging in here. This is from my life. Perhaps I should have said something before but it’s too late now. But it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You just need to come with me now.’ Mum gestured to her shiny hire car, gleaming like a silver bullet in the driveway.

  I stood up straight then. It was now. Now or never. I had to say it, loudly and clearly. ‘Mum, I’m not going to go with you. I’ve left. Properly. That’s why I’m here. I’ve left you. There’s a note at home. I’ve moved out.’

  Mum stood still and looked at me. ‘But . . .’ She shook her head slightly, not comprehending. ‘Anna, I know I made things a bit hard for you before, I know. But I told you, it’s going to be different. I’ve promised Dad, and now I’m promising you.’

  ‘It’s too late, Mum. It’s too late. You’ve been stuffing everything up for me. You must see that.’

  ‘Please, honey,’ Mum said, softening suddenly and holding out her hands. ‘I wanted to apologise, Anna. Again. For the other night.’

  I wanted to believe her. To go with what she was saying. I had done it before. I had acquiesced, given in, allowed her to pull me into a big squeezy hug. Part of me wanted to do that right now, so I could remember the way she used to hug me when I was little, when we hugged each other so hard, each trying to pop the other one’s head off and squeeze out their insides like toothpaste. I looked at her face. Her sober face. And it hurt. It fucking hurt. I loved her. I missed her. I needed her.

  ‘I wanted to explain to you what happened,’ Mum went on. ‘I didn’t want to do it in front of other people.’ She cast a glance at Leonie and Basil, who I could see were withdrawing, almost imperceptibly stepping back away from us. ‘But if that’s the way it has to be . . . I wanted you to know I was so sorry –’

  ‘You said that.’

  ‘And you know,’ she cleared her throat. ‘You know I was a little bit drunk. I was.’ I could see words forming in her mind, ready to pile out all at once, carrying whatever new explanatory narrative she had come up with to let herself off the hook. And I knew the longing I was feeling was for something I had never really had. ‘But Anna, it wasn’t just that,’ she said. ‘The letter from Bette, you and Nassim – ah!’ She breathed out heavily with frustration. ‘I can’t tell it the right way, it’s too –’

  And then I really remembered the awful night with Nassim, the smashing glass and Nassim pulling a shard out of his arm, and I remembered breaking up with Nassim and not having her to lean on, and now, right now, when I most needed her to help me sort out this mess I was in, here she was, making everything about her.

  ‘No, Mum, you’re not listening. I don’t want to live with you anymore. I didn’t ask you to come here. I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want you in my life anymore.’

  Mum just kind of stood there. She looked down and stared at the ground. Her eyes filled with tears. It was awful. It was so awful. But how many times had she made me cry?
How many?

  Basil had his hand on his face. I imagined that he and Leonie thought I was being awful. I imagined that they’d started to hate me. And I hated Mum even more for that.

  ‘You’ve ruined everything, Mum. You’re ruining everything. Even now, right now. Everything.’

  Her face was instantly hard. I knew that face.

  ‘Anna you’re being a bit ridiculous. Come on, nobody wants a scene.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘No. And don’t ask me again. It’s done now.’

  ‘You just can’t stay here. You know that. And there are other things you don’t know, that aren’t your business. So stop arguing and come on. Let’s go.’

  I knew this feeling so well. Swept aside. Always. Always swept aside.

  But I didn’t have time to respond before Mum had turned on Leonie. ‘And you,’ she said. ‘Why did you let her stay here, when you knew –?’

  ‘As I said, Cathy, I thought you knew she was here, and I didn’t know he was still so . . . active.’ Leonie remained calm in the face of Mum’s antics. It seemed to take the wind out of her sails.

  ‘Well,’ said Mum, looking back at my stuff strewn on the driveway. And then suddenly she was looking furtively around. ‘You can’t stay here. You just can’t. Even Leonie would agree with that now.’

  ‘Sure,’ Leonie said, noncommittally.

  ‘Okay, Anna,’ Mum said, turning back to me, haughtiness entering her voice as it always did when she felt she was being judged or attacked. ‘You don’t have to stay with me. Once we’re out of here, do what you like, your decision – you can reject me and break my heart later on, as much as you like – but right now,’ and again Mum looked around her nervously, ‘you do have to come. We should get on the road back to Sydney as quickly as we can –’

  ‘I can’t, Mum.’

  ‘I just said I won’t hold you to anything –’

  ‘Anna needs to see a doctor, Cathy,’ Leonie cut in.

  ‘A doctor? Why?’

  I wasn’t going to tell her. I was never going to tell her. But in that moment it felt like a powerful thing to do. A way to slap her. A way to shut her up.

  ‘Because I’m pregnant, Mum.’

  Mum was silent. There was a flash of something behind her eyes, like I’d played a trump card. Like she had to take her walls down now and she wasn’t happy about it.

  ‘And because I’ve still got stuff here, some still inside the house and some over in Bromley, and also, I . . .’

  ‘But Anna,’ I could hear a tentative note in Basil’s voice – something new, some new distance from me. ‘Hessel chucked you out, remember? I don’t know if you should go in there.’

  Mum wheeled around to look at Basil as if noticing him finally. She looked properly at him. A really steady look.

  Basil stepped forward towards Mum and held out his hand.

  ‘Hey. I’m Basil, it’s really nice to meet you. I’ve heard –’

  Mum blinked at him, like she’d just woken up. She didn’t take his hand but again looked around her at my stuff on the driveway.

  Leonie said, softly, ‘Hey, Anna, what if Basil and I put all of this stuff in our car and go and get your things from Bromley and you can come and stay with us. Maybe your mum can even stay somewhere nearby and later, over the next few days or something, we can all talk if you want, or not –’ Leonie held her arm out to me and put her hand on my shoulder. ‘What do you think about that?’

  Leonie’s voice was soothing. The chaos of stuff on the gravel brought it home again to me – I couldn’t stay here.

  Mum was standing, paused, looking at the little house, like suddenly she was a process frozen, like all her decision-making faculties had stalled.

  ‘Cathy?’ said Leonie. But Mum was still staring dumbfoundedly at the little house. ‘Okay, Anna,’ Leonie said instead, gesturing to the house. ‘You go and get your things from in there, but don’t be too long, okay? I’m going to take you to the doctor’s, like, now.’ She transferred her hand to Basil’s shoulder. ‘And you, my boy, you and I need to talk.’ She sounded stern as she spoke to Basil and gestured pointedly at Bromley Cairn, at the top window. But her sternness belied her hands, which were gently manoeuvring her son away from the situation between me and Mum as though pulling him away from a dangerous animal. ‘And Cathy,’ she said as a final thought, as she turned Basil away from us. ‘Go carefully.’

  Mum looked at Leonie then, coming out of her daze, and some understanding passed between them, and she nodded. Leonie and Basil climbed away through the fence and walked towards the old house, Basil with a sheepish step and Leonie with a secret little reassuring finger wave to me that Mum didn’t see.

  I didn’t even look at Mum. I went through the fence and straight to the little house, not even caring if she was following me.

  As I entered, Bette looked up from the table, her face still wet with tears. She stood immediately and embraced me. ‘Oh Anna, I’m so sorry. He’s gone somewhere now, but I’ll talk to him, I’ll make it alright, you can stay, of course you can –’

  And then Mum entered the kitchen behind us, and Bette dropped her arms in shock.

  ‘Cathy?’

  Mum ignored her and turned to me. ‘Where are your things, Anna? I’ll help you get them together at least. It will be quicker.’

  The kettle was rattling away on the stovetop, the lid doing a merry clattering boiling dance, ignored or unnoticed by Bette. I walked gingerly to the kitchen bench seat, needing suddenly to sit down for a moment, the skewer in my abdomen making itself felt.

  ‘Cathy?’ Bette said again.

  ‘Is the rest of your stuff in there?’ Mum pointed to the lean-to and I nodded. ‘And what about in here?’ She walked straight past Bette and opened the double doors to the Dutch Room. ‘Were you even allowed in here?’

  ‘Cathy, I want to talk to you,’ said Bette. ‘I want to see you again. Please?’

  But Mum didn’t respond, she walked back past Bette and into the little bedroom. ‘Come on, Anna, come and make sure we’ve got everything. You’re never coming back here.’

  Bette moved suddenly towards the bedroom door. ‘No, Cathy, no, don’t take her.’ And she began to cry again. ‘Please don’t take her. Don’t take her away, please.’ She reached out and touched Mum’s shoulder and Mum yelped and slapped her hand away.

  ‘Don’t you touch me.’ Mum spat the words at her.

  Bette hugged her own hand and from then on only watched as Mum returned to picking up all my clothes and shoving them under one arm. Bette cried quietly. How could Mum be like this to lovely Bette? How could she? She was so callous. So selfish. Mum pushed past her, trailing my things, putting them by the back door.

  She started ushering me to grab any other things I had in the kitchen. ‘That jumper, that yours?’

  Sitting there, I ignored her bustling and closed my eyes. I put my hand low down on my abdomen and tried to breathe. I was so, so tired. I felt like my body was leached of every spark of energy: my exhaustion seemed to inhabit my very bones, it was in my cells, my blood, behind my eyes. Even my skull felt tired.

  ‘I’ll just –’ Mum started, but then stopped. I opened my eyes again to see her staring at the jumble of stuff everywhere, under the table and on the floor, as if she had just noticed it. For a moment she looked wild – afraid – and then it was gone and her clipped angry efficiency returned. ‘I’ll check in here for some more of your things, and then I guess I’ll head off and leave you alone in this wonderful new life you’re planning.’

  ‘You don’t have to help, Mum. I can do it.’

  But Mum had already moved away through the house, up the hallway to the front rooms. ‘There’s nothing up there of mine,’ I called, but she didn’t come back. Bette and I were alone in the kitchen. Bette looked up across the room at me sitting there, holding my middle. ‘You okay, sweetheart?’ she said.

  I nodded and said, ‘You?’ Bette nodded, but at the same time her eyes filled with tears again.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll miss you too, Grandma.’ And I meant it.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘It’s made a big difference for me.’ She crossed the room and sat down next to me, and I put my arm around her and hugged her tight.

  And then Hessel stepped into the kitchen.

  ‘You’re still here,’ he said to me.

  Sitting up with my arm still around Bette I saw now that Hessel looked terrible. As he stepped over the little mound of my belongings that Mum had left by the door I saw that he was ashen-faced and his eyes were red, and I noticed what I hadn’t seen before, that he had straw stuck to his clothes with blood.

  I had forgotten about the horse. Oh that poor, poor horse. I thought about what Hessel must have seen. What must have happened to make that much blood? That poor horse.

  ‘I’m just getting the last of my things together,’ I said.

  And then Hessel said, ‘What’s going on? There’s a car –’ just as Mum walked back into the kitchen and stopped still at the sight of him.

  Hessel looked at her. He said nothing. And then he shook his head. He turned away from her and turned the heat off under the rattling kettle.

  Mum didn’t move from where she stood. But she spoke, low and dangerous. ‘Did you fucking touch her?’ she said. ‘Did you lay a fucking hand on my daughter?’

  Hessel ignored her. He didn’t turn. He poured the water into the teapot until steam clouded the window above him. I stood. ‘Mum, it’s okay.’

  ‘And what about him?’ Mum said. ‘Where is he?’

  The room had grown so dark so quickly. The sky outside was blotted with clouds and behind them the light was fading fast. And then Mum stepped forward into the room. She stepped right up to Hessel, right up to him, like a cock in a fight. ‘Where is he?’ she said. ‘Where is he?’

  Hessel picked up a teaspoon and stirred the water in the teapot. He tapped the teaspoon on the edge of the pot.