by Ilsa Evans
She threw the covers back and then paused, feeling exposed, every nerve straining to listen. After a few moments she got out of bed and paused again, waiting until her eyes adjusted to the semidark. She saw her ceramic frog on the dressing table, the gold tips of its splayed feet glittering in the gloom, so she took it, curving her hand around its belly so that it became a weapon. Then walked slowly, steadily out of the room and down the passage, into the lounge room where Guess’s barking was now a series of short, sharp, agitated yaps. He ran over to her immediately, jumping up against her as if needing reassurance himself.
Maddie gripped the frog tighter and reached out to flick on the light with her other hand. The room was immediately bathed in fluorescence, so bright and sudden that she almost preferred the darkness. Especially since now everything was clear. From the curtains gusting across the jagged hole in the window, occasionally being sucked in by the wind and then straightening once more into rippling folds, to the glass that was scattered all over the couch, the carpet, even the computer. Knife-shaped shards and icicle splinters and hundreds of tiny glittering stars, gently scattered over the carpet pile. In the centre, just beyond the couch, was a mid-sized rock. A craterous type, like from a garden bed. Maddie stared, her heart still pounding, her mind racing. Frustrated fury bringing tears to her eyes.
And she could see sparkles glimmering within the carpet, only centimetres from her face. A scattering of tiny twinkles, like stars spread across the night sky. Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight. She knew, but didn’t want to know, that it was actually broken glass. Thousands of miniscule shards that wanted to embed themselves within her flesh. But it didn’t really matter because if he increased the pressure any more then her head was going to burst open, like a ripe watermelon, and she herself would drown the little glass stars. A tsunami of fluid, and she would be gone.
Guess froze suddenly and cocked his head, ears pricked, before breaking into fever-pitch barking once more and taking off down the passage. Almost immediately the doorbell rang, the cheerful dingdong chillingly out of place. Maddie froze as her body liquefied, warm and runny and terrified, the musty smell of carpet still heavy in her throat. She turned slowly, instinctively, and made herself walk all the way to the front door, one foot after the other. Guess whipped around to face her, his tail beating with enthusiasm, and then shoved his nose back into the gap along the door. Sniffing and snorting and working his front paws against the wood. Through the frosted glass she could see the outline of a man, a bulky, wavering shadow that seemed far larger than it should. The doorbell rang again, right next to her ear, and Maddie thought that she was going to implode. Sucked inside out until all that was left was a pool of viscous liquid.
‘Maddie? Maddie? Are you all right, love?’
Realisation dawned amidst a veritable flood of relief. She sagged against the passage wall, the ceramic frog still clutched in her hand. The voice belonged to her next-door neighbour, Tom. Elderly, friendly, pleasant. Absolutely no threat at all. Her heart continued to pound, hammering painfully against her ribs, so she dragged in deep breaths to cushion it.
‘Maddie? Are you there?’
‘Just a minute.’ Maddie flicked the outside light on and then slipped the latch, pulling the door open, revealing Tom, who stood there in pyjamas and a chequered dressing-gown, staring at her with obvious concern. Guess recognised him immediately, leaping outside to fawn around his legs.
Tom patted the dog, held him still, without taking his eyes off Maddie. ‘Are you okay? What’s going on?’
‘I’m not really sure.’ Maddie suddenly realised that she was wearing an oversized T-shirt and very little else. She hunched slightly, automatically. ‘But I’m fine. Someone just threw a rock through my lounge room window, that’s all.’
‘I saw, from the front. Smashed to smithereens,’ Tom frowned crossly. ‘I bet my bottom dollar it was bloody teenagers. You going to call the police?’
Maddie nodded slowly. ‘Did you see anyone? Who it was?’
‘Nah. Long gone, the little bastards. I had a garden statue smashed a few weeks ago,’ Tom paused, patting Guess as the dog wriggled around him. He glanced at the ceramic frog still clutched in Maddie’s hand and then back up to her face. ‘But as long as you’re all right, love, that’s the main thing. Want a hand to clean up?’
‘No, that’s fine. But thank you,’ Maddie smiled her gratitude, putting the frog down on the hall table. ‘And thanks for checking on me as well.’
‘That’s what neighbours are for,’ Tom looked a little embarrassed. He gave Guess one last pat and then adjusted his dressing-gown fastidiously before backing up, nodding abruptly and taking the porch steps to disappear into the gloom, still muttering about teenagers.
Maddie grabbed Guess by the collar and yanked the dog back inside so that she could close the door as soon as Tom was out of sight. She latched it and pulled the safety chain across for added measure. Then she walked back into the lounge room slowly, with Guess panting by her side. Nothing had changed, the wind still blew through the gaping window and the rock still sat on the carpet surrounded by tiny, glittering diamonds. Reminding her suddenly of her engagement ring. In sickness and health, for richer for poorer, until death do us part.
∗
Maddie began her working day exactly as she had the one preceding, standing out by the back door with her mobile pressed against her ear as she rang Robyn. The main difference being that this morning she felt thick with tiredness as she had not made it back to bed after the early morning breakage. She had rung the police only to be told to leave everything as it was and they would attend the following day. Staring at the mess, she had quickly realised that she simply couldn’t do that. Couldn’t live with the overt evidence of Jake’s venom without at least doing something to rectify it. So she rang the police back, this time claiming that she could still hear someone outside, that the window was part of an ongoing intrusion. They had arrived fairly swiftly after that, searching around the house and then taking photos of the damage. They made a report, with impassive faces greeting her claim that the window had most probably, no definitely, been broken by her ex-husband. And then left after asking her to come down to the station the following day to make a statement.
Only then could Maddie begin the clean-up. Sweeping and vacuuming and then taping cardboard to the window frame with swathes of masking tape. Keeping her mind blank so that she could function as efficiently as possible. By the time she finished it was nearly six so she just curled up on the couch and napped restlessly until it was time to get ready for the day ahead.
The weather suited her mood. With the overnight wind having blown in grey skies and a steady drizzle that leached so much colour from the day it was difficult to remember it as it had been only yesterday, bathed in sunshine. Maddie pulled her jacket tighter and pressed herself against the building, under the eaves, as she waited for the receptionist to transfer her through. Only to discover, from Robyn’s voicemail, that she was in court for the day. Maddie left a brusque message, even though she wasn’t sure what more the lawyer could do, and then rang her real estate agent to report the window. Hoping that a glazier would be available at some stage during the day, especially since she wasn’t at all confident about her cardboard repair. If the rain continued, and hit the house at the right angle, she would most likely return home to a sodden mess impaled along the jagged glass, and a distinctly damp lounge room to boot.
Work was a blessing. A steady stream of people with problems that needed answers, or at least direction. The fact that they were still short-staffed only made it better, with little spare time to be had at all. It was in the early afternoon, just as Maddie was interviewing a young man with sallow, acne-scarred skin who had run out of money for his methadone treatment, that Olive knocked on the door to let her know there was a phone call. Maddie excused herself, expecting it to be the glazier confirming a time, or perhaps th
e police reminding her to come down and make a statement. She made her way through to a desk in the rear room and picked up the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Ms McCourt?’ It was a deep voice, with a slight nasality. ‘This is Kevin Collins, I’m the year level coordinator for your son Sam. From the high school.’
‘Oh.’ Maddie frowned, readjusting her expectations. Was Sam ill? ‘I think we might have met at the last parent-teacher evening. I also take Sam for History.’
‘Okay.’ Maddie tried to conjure up an image without success. ‘Is something wrong?’
Kevin Collins cleared his throat. ‘Well, no. I’m not sure. That is, Sam’s father came by the school last week to let us know he was the primary contact now, but he hasn’t returned my calls so I thought I’d best try you. Just in case.’
‘So something is wrong?’
‘Were you aware that Sam hasn’t been to school either yesterday or today?’
Maddie blinked. ‘No.’
‘As you know we have a strict policy that a parent telephone in the morning or send a letter in advance regarding any absences. So given that this hasn’t occurred with Sam, and that we haven’t been able to contact his father,’ he cleared his throat again, ‘there was some concern that his absences were legitimate. That is, a parent being aware he is not attending school.’
‘I see,’ Maddie swallowed a growing exasperation. She wished there was some hotline she could ring, straight through to the magistrate, so that she could say, ‘This is the result of your ignorance, your stupidity. This is your fault, but I have to pick up the pieces.’
‘So perhaps I can leave it with you?’
‘Certainly,’ Maddie injected her voice with reassurance. ‘And thank you for your call.’
‘No problem. Um, good luck with it all.’
Maddie hung up slowly, staring at the cork noticeboard that backed the desk. She frowned, frustrated, because there was actually very little she could do. Certainly she couldn’t call Jake, that would most likely make things worse. Oh, and by the way, thanks for smashing my window this morning. Very mature. Of course it was yet more ammunition for the impending court case, but she had so much ammunition already that she was beginning to feel like she was sitting on an armoury. Or a powder keg. But none of it addressed the situation at hand, and the underlying lament that was only becoming louder. It just wasn’t fair. So unfair, in fact, that she felt like clenching her fists and punching the noticeboard, the desk, him, while she screamed her frustrations. Venting, before it devoured her.
Instead she took a deep breath, dragging it down so deeply that it strained against her rib cage, and then stood up, intending to go back out to the interview room, deal with the sallow young guy. Get back on track. But just as she walked past the bench piled high with a recent grocery delivery, a stray thought slid into her consciousness. I’ll be okay. It’s Sam you should be worried about. She paused, frowned, stared through the glass-panelled door into the waiting room. A small toddler, scowling with concentration, was building a tower out of plastic alphabet blocks. Like they had this big huge-ass argument last night, after I went to bed. The toddler put a blue block on the top, towards the side where it seesawed a little so he adjusted it carefully. Didn’t even go to school today. Maddie put a hand out, against the wall, to steady herself.
And he smacked her full across the face. So that she flew sideways, tumbling off the table and onto the floor, where a shard of pottery sliced deeply into the palm of her left hand. Two edges of flesh peeled back, just like a ripe peach, allowing crimson blood to well up within. And then she was being lifted again, by the hair. But this time, as her hands shot up to scrabble frantically at the pressure, and blood spattered across them both like art gone mad, she saw her son in the doorway. His eyes huge with panicked disbelief. And she wanted to scream, yell, sob for him to leave, not get involved. But knew it was already too late.
‘Hey Maddie love, are you okay?’
Maddie turned to face Sue, one of the older volunteers. She nodded slowly, her mind whirling. Surely not, no, definitely not. He wouldn’t do that. Not Jake. Not that.
‘Well, you sure as hell don’t look it, love. You’re as pale as my mother’s drawers.’
‘Yes,’ Maddie nodded again, agreeing. ‘Look Sue, I have to go. Can you tell Olive? And there’s a guy in interview room one. Wants some money for methadone.’
‘Was it bad news then, love? On the phone?’
‘No. Yes.’ Maddie smiled, just to end the conversation, and then pushed past to grab her handbag from the locker by the broom cupboard. From the waiting room she heard a shrill scream of displeasure as the toddler’s tower came tumbling down. She used the back door, breaking into a run through the drizzly rain and reaching her car in under two minutes. She unlocked it and jumped in, turning on the ignition and then reversing out in one fluid motion. While the conversation condensed within her mind, until just the important bits were repeated over and over and over. It’s Sam you should be worried about. Big huge-ass fight. Didn’t even go to school today.
But if the fight had been physical, and Sam had been hurt, why hadn’t Ashley told her? Maddie answered the question before it was fully formed. Because she hadn’t seen him that morning, and then she’d come around straight from school. Which only left the question as to whether, even when angry, Jake was capable of this. Maddie closed her eyes briefly, and then gunned the car.
Her windscreen wipers worked steadily, their methodical rhythm only emphasising the minutes as they slid by. Outside the sky and the rain and the road seemed to be all the same colour, the translucent grey of dishwater. She cleared her mind as best as she could, driving with fierce concentration until she reached the outskirts of Silver’s Creek. Making her way through the rain-slicked roads until she reached his, and then turning, driving, pulling up at the kerb.
From the house, the half-pulled holland blinds regarded her slyly, as though they belonged in the pages of a Stephen King novel, the eyelids of malevolence. Maddie shoved her handbag underneath her seat and then got out of the car, locking it. She stared at the house again, the crooked letterbox, the empty concrete driveway, the singular garden bed by the porch steps. Half expecting one of the blinds to twitch, for someone to stare back at her. But it remained still, steadfast. She wiped rain from her forehead and ran across the road, up to the porch under the roofline. Shaking her head and then running her fingers through her hair.
A panel of opaque topaz-coloured glass edged one side of the door with a thick, embedded crack across the bottom corner. Next to this was a fat plastic doorbell, with a piece of packing tape across it to signify its unserviceability. How Jake must hate it, living like this. Maddie shook her head again and then knocked on the door, softly at first and then louder. She stepped back, listening intently, considering for the first time the possibility he might not answer. What would that mean? She knocked again, even louder.
‘Sam! Sam, are you there? Answer the door!’
And then, distantly at first so that she thought it might be just her imagination, praying that it was not, she heard the sound of footsteps. Coming ever closer until a shadow passed the topaz glass and the door opened, rather slowly. Sam stared at her, stunned. His eyes flicked behind her as if looking for someone else, and then back. ‘What’re you doing here?’
But Maddie couldn’t answer. She had been right, and very, very wrong. She reached out a hand and then stopped just short of touching the puckery blue bruise that cupped Sam’s right eye. Her hand fell again.
Sam shrugged, as if she had asked him a question. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’
There was an ugly redness that was webbing, spider-like, into the white of that eye, emphasising the smudged blue below. Maddie found her voice but it came out hoarse, desperate. ‘What happened?’
‘Mum, Dad’ll be back in a minute. He’ll go berserk if he sees you here.’
An instantaneous frisson of panic. ‘Isn’t he at work?
’
‘Nuh.’ Sam glanced behind her again. ‘So you need to go Mum, please.’
‘Sam, I can’t leave you here like this. Not a chance.’
‘But you have to, otherwise you’ll get charged.’
Maddie frowned. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Dad did. He had papers and all.’
A rush of pure rage flooded her body and clenched her teeth. ‘Get in the car.’
‘But –’
‘Get in the fucking car, Sam.’ Maddie’s voice came out steady, firm. She stepped back until her son came outside, reluctantly, and then put her hand at the small of his back to get him going, encourage him to move faster. Leaving the front door wide open behind them. But as soon as they took the porch steps, fear began to leach into her fury. At the hugeness of what she was doing, at the consequences that would unfold. But most of all fear that at any moment a bronze Holden would turn the corner and come screeching into the driveway.
‘Mum, this is –’
‘Just move.’ Maddie grabbed his hand to pull him along faster and he finally started to cooperate, as if recognising they were past the point of no return and might as well get to the car as soon as possible. A car splashed into the street and Maddie’s heart burst into her throat, electrified by adrenalin. But it was a small truck, a glazier of all things, and a hiccup of mirth exploded in her mouth, emerging only as a grunt. They reached the car and she fumbled as she unlocked it, cursing frantically. And then they were in and she was slamming down the locks, staring out at the rain, sucking in air.
‘We’d better get going,’ said Sam worriedly, looking over his shoulder.
‘Yes.’ Maddie turned the ignition over and then thrust her foot down on the accelerator, so that the car fishtailed a little on the wet road. She eased up quickly, straightening as she drove to the end of the road and then, with a giddy surge of relief, turning out of sight.