‘Santa!’ the children squealed and ran towards him.
‘It’s Grandad!’ shouted Charlotte.
‘Shh!’ Zoe said, forcing herself to laugh.
She sat on the floor with the children, Louise propped up in the space between her crossed legs. Martin – as Santa – handed out the presents. He and Rosemary gave Louise a toy piano that played nursery rhymes. Thanking her mum, Zoe gave her a hug, and the smell of Rosemary’s hairspray and perfume almost made her weep. She wanted to tell her mum how she felt, how Nadia’s news had left her with a pit of anxiety in her stomach, but she couldn’t spoil the day. She knew what Rosemary would say: that she was overreacting, and misjudging Nadia. Maybe she was.
Violet handed Zoe a small parcel, beautifully wrapped in shiny silver paper with a white ribbon and bow. ‘For Louise,’ she said.
Zoe smiled and smoothed Violet’s hair back from her face. ‘Oh, Louise says thank you very much!’
‘Open it, open it!’ Violet squealed.
‘OK!’ Zoe squealed back, laughing. Her hands trembled as she began to untie the bow. She handed the ribbon to Louise to play with while she turned the box over and began to peel back the corner of the sticky tape with her short fingernails. As she gently took off the paper she stared at the cream-coloured box inside, the name of a jeweller etched in black on the lid. She didn’t want to open it; she wanted to hand it back straight away. She knew it was something expensive, when all she had bought for Nadia’s children were sticker books and selection boxes. Charlotte, Violet and Harry were watching her with wide eyes, bouncing up and down.
Lachlan nudged her. ‘Go on, open it.’
She lifted the hinged lid of the box. Inside was a solid silver charm bracelet, with a single charm attached. A stork, carrying a baby in a sling from its mouth. Zoe’s heart pounded.
‘I hope you like it,’ Nadia said. ‘I thought I’d get her something nice, you know, for her first Christmas.’
‘It’s beautiful, thank you,’ Zoe managed to say. ‘Look, Lachlan.’
He took the box from her. ‘Wow, thanks!’
Didn’t he see what she saw? But Lachlan had put the box down and was opening his own gifts now, as if there was nothing amiss. Zoe lifted Louise up against her chest. ‘I’m just going to change her nappy. Then we should go. We’re due at Lachlan’s folks.’
‘OK,’ Lachlan said. Zoe began to push herself up off the floor with one hand.
‘Here, I’ll take Louise,’ said Nadia, leaning over the arm of the couch.
‘No! I’m fine, just a bit stiff …’ Zoe struggled to her feet then looked at her sister. Nadia’s eyes were so sad; Zoe remembered again exactly what her sister had done for her.
‘Sorry,’ Zoe mumbled. ‘She’s just a bit clingy at the moment. I’ll be right back.’
After changing Louise, Zoe bundled up all their presents into a bag. As she, Lachlan and Louise were leaving, she noticed that Nadia didn’t come to the door to say goodbye.
* * *
Zoe walked ahead of Lachlan to the car, shielding Louise’s face from the sun with her hand. She strapped Louise into her baby capsule; she cried and protested, but settled as soon as Lachlan started the engine. As they drove away, Lachlan said nothing. Zoe switched on the radio, then looked out of the window at the quiet streets. The heat shimmered off the tarmac. She tilted the air-conditioning vent towards her, then fanned her face with her hand. Shifting in the seat, she glanced sideways at Lachlan; he kept looking straight ahead. She cleared her throat. ‘So, what do you think about Nadia and Eddie moving?’
He sighed. ‘Oh, Zoe. Don’t read too much into it.’
‘I’m not, I’m not, it just all seems a bit sudden.’
‘You’re making too much out of it, Zoe.’
Zoe looked out of the window. Was she? Nadia had never talked about moving back to Perth before, in fact she’d always gone on about how much she loved living out of the city. She thought again about how Nadia had looked at Louise, and about the gift she’d chosen, then shook her head.
‘No, Lachlan, something’s not right.’
They stopped at some traffic lights. Two little boys pedalled across the road on shiny bikes that were just that bit too big for them, their helmets slipping over their eyes.
‘Babe, I know you’re worried but maybe she’s telling the truth,’ said Lachlan. ‘Maybe she just wants to be near her family …’
Zoe turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She wanted him to back her up, to tell her that her feelings were legitimate, that they mattered. ‘Lachlan, sometimes I wonder if you —’
Lachlan drove off as the lights turned green. ‘What?’
Zoe paused before she spoke. She knew that once she said it, she couldn’t take it back. He’d react angrily, she knew, but anything would be better than this detachment, this distance. She took a deep breath then spoke softly. ‘I just wonder if you’re coping OK with all this —’
‘What?’ He turned towards her; his face was angry, but she saw hurt in his eyes.
Zoe looked at her lap, picked at a thread on her dress. ‘Babe, it’s just that ever since we got Louise, you’ve been —’
‘I’ve been what?’
‘Well, you know, distant, preoccupied …’ Her voice was practically a whisper now. She wondered whether she shouldn’t have said anything, but she couldn’t stop now. ‘It’s like you don’t notice me, or Louise.’
‘Zoe, that’s a ridiculous thing to say! I can’t believe this. Don’t … don’t turn this on me because you’re so paranoid and insecure!’
‘I’m not being paranoid! Nadia misses Louise, I can see it, I can see it every time she looks at her. She’s regretting it —’
‘Too bad if she does. It’s too late for her to regret it, she has no rights any more.’ Lachlan spoke with finality, as if it was all so black and white.
‘I know, but it’s not just about the paperwork, is it? Just because there’s an order in place, that doesn’t necessarily break such a strong bond and stop her feeling like a mum.’ Zoe’s voice cracked. ‘You just coast along like everything’s fine. We did a big thing, Lachlan, doing this. We did something that very few people do and it’s not necessarily straightforward …’
‘Well, didn’t I warn you that it wouldn’t be easy? I tried to say it was too hard, too risky, but you were so convinced that you wanted a child.’
Tears were running down Zoe’s face now. ‘Oh, so you didn’t want a child?’
‘Shit, Zoe, don’t twist my words.’ Lachlan floored the accelerator as they turned a corner, the force pushing Zoe back in her seat.
‘The baby! Jesus, Lachlan!’
He said nothing, but his face was scarlet.
‘Should you even be driving? How much did you have to drink?’
‘Leave it.’
‘I’m just —’
‘Shut up!’ he shouted. Zoe shrank back in her seat as she saw the hatred in his face. The veins in his neck bulged and his hands gripped the steering wheel. She wished she could take it all back, rewind to this morning when it was just the three of them at home in front of their Christmas tree. Instead of bringing them closer together, she knew she’d just forced them further apart.
Chapter Thirteen
Lou was still grounded. After another awkward dinner – her dad had come home early so they could all eat a meal together (something Ross had obviously suggested) and had tried to engage Lou in conversation – she had escaped to her room. Her dad had forgotten to take her phone back off her tonight; she’d been allowed to take it when she walked Sandy in case of an emergency, so it was still in the pocket of her running pants. She’d tried calling Theo when she was out, but he hadn’t answered. He must be at swimming practice; he represented the state. She’d left a message, and texted him, hoping he might check his phone in between laps or something, but he hadn’t called back yet.
Lou sat on her bed. Her laptop was on the dining table; she was only allowed to u
se it where her parents could see what she was doing. Her iPad was somewhere in their room, confiscated until she could ‘earn’ it back, though they hadn’t told her the currency. She made sure that her mobile was on silent, texted Theo again, then checked her emails and Facebook updates to try to work out what he’d been doing. Her parents didn’t understand how important it was that she contact him: Theo loved her but if she couldn’t see him or talk to him, he’d find someone else. There were plenty of other girls from her school waiting to pounce on him.
Her parents were bickering downstairs. She turned on the radio; surely they couldn’t complain about that? They probably wouldn’t notice anyway. They were making a show, now, of being interested in her, but when had they ever noticed what she did? All they’d ever done was hover over her, trying to force themselves into every aspect of her life without ever really listening to her. If, as they’d said to Ross, they’d been worried about her for a year, why hadn’t they said anything twelve months ago, when it might have made a difference? Why hadn’t her dad come home early for dinner then? She knew why, because this whole year her mum and dad had been arguing behind their bedroom door and pretending to Lou that they were fine, when she knew that something was very wrong with her parents’ relationship.
They were shouting now. Maybe they’d heard the radio after all and assumed that she couldn’t hear them, that she was oblivious to their shitty marriage. As if. Lou bit the inside of her cheek, then turned up the volume, but she could still hear them. She stood up, opened her door, then slammed it shut. They stopped yelling, though she could still make out the sharp whispers that they spat at each other like shards of glass. Lou’s eyes filled with tears. Didn’t they get it? How could they expect her to be perfect if they couldn’t hold themselves together? She sat on her bed and squeezed her fists and her eyes tight. This was why she did it, why right now all she wanted to do was to go out and get pissed or smoke a joint or take a pill or get a razorblade and cut her arms. Because anything felt better than being here, listening to them.
She opened her schoolbag and emptied it onto the floor, not caring if her books were damaged as they thudded to the ground, then found the novel she was meant to be reading for English. She lay on her bed and flicked through the pages, trying to work out where she was up to. She’d only just found her place when there was a knock at her door.
‘Louise?’
‘I’m doing my homework, Mum!’ she shouted, quickly wiping her eyes.
‘Can I come in?’
Lou rubbed her forehead. Why hadn’t her mum wanted to come and talk to her when Lou was happy, when she was getting those A’s that her parents had apparently been so proud of? Now they were both upset and suddenly her mum wanted to have a heart-to-heart. ‘Not now, Mum, please.’ Her voice cracked.
Her mum paused, then spoke quietly through the door. ‘All right, love. Well, when you’ve finished, come and talk to me, OK?’
‘OK, once I’ve finished this homework.’
Her mum’s voice was thick. ‘Can I get you anything? Some toast?’
Tears spilled from Lou’s eyes. ‘No.’
‘How about a hot chocolate? I can put marshmallows on top.’
‘No, thanks.’
‘All right.’
Lou listened as her mum walked away. Then she saw the screen of her phone light up with a message. It was from Theo. She smiled; thank God. She spent the next hour exchanging messages with him, though she didn’t tell him how she really felt, because he hated needy girls. He promised he’d wait for her, until she wasn’t grounded any more. After they’d texted their goodbyes, Lou clutched the phone, desperate to see him.
She needed to go to the toilet. She couldn’t avoid her mum; Lou knew she’d be waiting to have this talk she so wanted to have. Lou looked at herself in the mirror above her dressing table, her reflection framed by peeling stickers of fairies and rainbows. Her eye make-up was smudged and looked like drips of melted black wax on her cheeks. She opened the dressing-table drawer, took out some cotton wool and cleanser, and wiped it all off.
She opened her door and looked down the hallway. Her parents’ bedroom door was ajar and light spilled out; her mum would be reading in bed, as she did every night. Her dad must be in the living room; Lou could hear the sounds of a documentary on TV. She took a deep breath, then knocked gently on her mum’s door and pushed it open.
The blankets on the double bed were rumpled on her mum’s side, but she wasn’t there. A thick book, a novel, lay on her pillow, bookmarked about halfway through. Lou started to turn away, then frowned and stopped. Peeking out from underneath the book was the corner of a photograph. But all of their recent photos were on the computer; they never printed any out. And all the old photos were in albums. She glanced down the hallway. The only sound was that of the television show. She stepped into the room, closed the bedroom door behind her, then went to the bed, lifted up the book and picked up the photograph.
It was a baby photo. She’d never seen it before, but she knew it was of her. She couldn’t tell how old she was in it – maybe one? She hadn’t seen many photos of herself as a baby; her parents had never – as far as she could remember – sat with her and looked at pictures of them all in the hospital. In this photo, she was with her aunt; she was gazing down at the baby – Lou – in her arms. There was the hint of a smile on her aunt’s face, but she looked sad. They were in front of the railing of some sort of bridge with a lake behind them, its surface still and milky blue. It almost looked as though they were in the sky, surrounded by clouds, but Lou could tell by the shimmer around their edges that the clouds were reflected images. She frowned; the setting looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
She heard her dad’s voice from the living room, and her mum’s reply. Somehow she knew that she couldn’t be found here, with this photo. She quickly replaced it on her mum’s pillow, put the book back on top of it, then hurried out of the room. She walked down the hallway and into the living room, trying to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Her mum was on the couch, her legs bent up beneath her, resting her head in her hand. She looked tired; Lou wanted to run over and curl up next to her, but she stopped herself.
‘Hi, Mum.’
Her mother looked up and smiled. ‘Hi. Your dad’s just putting the kettle on. Do you want a cup of tea?’
Lou shook her head. ‘I’ve finished now. Did you still want to talk?’
‘Oh.’ Her mum frowned, then rubbed her eyes. ‘It’s OK. You must be worn out from all your schoolwork. I just … I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. You’re a good girl, Louise. You really are.’
As her mum gazed at her with a sad smile, Lou thought about the photo she had just seen. There was something about the look in her aunt’s eyes that she couldn’t put out of her mind.
* * *
‘Lou! They’ll be here soon, hurry up!’
Lou sighed. She was about to tell her mum that there was no rush, but thought better of it. After weeks of doing everything her parents told her to do, and staying out of trouble, things were starting to settle down: she was allowed to go out once on the weekend, as long as she was home by ten pm and didn’t drink. She was also allowed an hour a day on her laptop in her room, and in another week they’d increase it to two hours. Now she closed her computer, then swung her legs off her bed and went into the kitchen.
‘God, Mum, how much have you made?’ The benchtop was cluttered with bowls and plates full of food – cheese and biscuits, chips, dip, two salads.
Her mother waved a distracted hand at her. ‘Just help me, will you? Clear the table of all that stuff so we can put the food out. Dad’s gone to get them, they’ll be back any minute.’
‘I don’t know why you make such a fuss, they hardly eat anything anyway.’
‘That’s precisely why I make a fuss. Your grandma tries her best, but really, she’s not up to cooking at all. I wish they’d get some help.’
Lou went to the table and g
athered up all the newspapers. ‘Where do you want these?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Use your intelligence, Lou!’
Raising her eyebrows, Lou walked into the kitchen and dropped the papers into the recycling bin. She heard the front door open, and went out into the hallway, smiling.
‘Louise!’
‘Hi, Grandma!’ Lou grinned, hugged her, and kissed the smooth, cool skin of her cheek. She turned to her grandad and spoke loudly into his left ear. ‘Hi, Grandad, how are you?’
‘Good, love, good.’
Lou stepped out of the way as he shuffled down the hallway, and her grandmother followed, one hand gripping her walking stick. Lou hated seeing her grandmother’s swollen red knuckles, and her fingers bent from years of crippling rheumatoid arthritis. She walked behind them, then pulled out chairs for them both at the table and helped them sit down. She sat opposite them while her dad got them drinks – a beer for her grandad, a white wine for her grandma – and her mum fussed in the kitchen.
‘How’s school, love?’
‘Great, thanks, Grandma.’ Lou smiled. It wasn’t true, of course, but she could hardly tell her that she was being teased for going to see a shrink, and that she was worried that she wasn’t going to pass her final exams. Or that her boyfriend was losing interest in her.
‘I always told your mum and dad that you’d turn out all right, even after —’
‘Martin!’ her grandmother said sharply.
Lou’s mum hurried over with a bowl of chips and the platter of cheese and biscuits and held it out to the old man. ‘Cheese? I bought some of that lovely double cream brie that you like.’
Lou looked at her mum, then back to her grandfather. He was blushing, and her grandmother was scowling at him. Lou’s heart sped up, though she didn’t know why. She frowned, watching all the adults fumble for something to say. What was going on?
‘So …’ her dad said. ‘Martin, Rosemary. How are your drinks? It’s roast lamb for lunch. I hope you’re hungry!’
Let Her Go Page 13