The others were looking at her, waiting for her to speak again. But there was no pressure; they all got lost in thoughts during these sessions. For everyone except for Nadia, their thoughts were the only place they could see their children. But she wasn’t the same as them, Nadia reminded herself. She had gone into this voluntarily. She had known what she was signing up for before she was pregnant. Perhaps she’d been naive, but she’d become pregnant with the sole purpose of relinquishing the child. Not like Jill and Tracey and the others; their children had been taken from them against their will.
Nadia cleared her throat. ‘Sorry. Sorry … I was miles away. You’re right, Jill. Louise is my child, biologically. But I’ve got no one to blame, no one to be angry at apart from myself. You can all point at someone – the church, the state, your families – and say that they made you do it, that you had no choice. I know you say I’m the same as you – and I thank you for making me feel so welcome here – but I’m not the same as you, because I did this to myself.’
Tracey shook her head. ‘No, Nadia, you’re wrong. We all thought that we made the decision ourselves. None of our children …’ She swept her arm around the room. ‘None of our children were wrenched from us. We all thought we were doing the right thing. Just as you do now. You’re thinking what we thought twenty years ago, that we made the decision voluntarily. But the fact that you’re here says to me that you felt the same pressures that we did – pressure to do the right thing, pressure to conform, pressure to give in to everyone else’s expectations, but in the process, that pressure means that the decision hasn’t been made voluntarily at all.’
‘I’d give anything to be in your position, Nadia,’ Jill said, leaning forwards in her seat and looking right at her. ‘You still see your child. And you still have options. Don’t let anyone tell you that Louise doesn’t belong with you. You’re her mother.’
Nadia had tears rolling down her cheeks and her head felt like it was going to burst. She didn’t want to hear this, and yet it was exactly what she needed to hear. She was vulnerable, she knew that, open to suggestion. But she desperately wanted to agree with them, to ask for their help and strength to stand up for her rights as a mother. Rights, she reminded herself grimly, that she had relinquished when she signed the papers over to Zoe, her little sister, a kind, generous, and desperately unlucky woman who was also a wonderful mother to Louise.
Chapter Nineteen
Zoe tucked her chin to her chest to brace herself against the wind as she stepped off the bus; the rain trickled down the back of her neck. She glanced up as the bus hissed away from the kerb, then watched for a break in the traffic as the cars rolled along the wet road, splashing through puddles slick with rainbows of oil. The air smelled tangily of electricity. The thunder had stopped, at least for now. She looked behind her, towards the harbour and the ocean, but the horizon was blurred and grey.
When she’d left for the hospital this morning, Lachlan and Louise were still asleep, as usual. Zoe hadn’t told Lachlan that she was leaving work early to see her rheumatologist; she hadn’t wanted to give him anything else to worry about, but her headaches had been worsening for weeks. If she was relapsing, if she couldn’t work, then what would they do for money? She’d only been back at the hospital for four months, she had no sick leave, and there was still no sign of Lachlan finding a job.
As the large storm had rolled in mid-morning, she’d concentrated on keeping the children calm. The power had flickered off and on, and even though the hospital had back-up generators, the atmosphere in the ward had been tense and anxious when the sky darkened, lit up only by flashes of lightning. There had been power cuts across the city, and a fire on the train line. Hail was forecast, and no one had yet forgotten the storm two years ago when the stones had smashed windows and the stained glass of the university’s bell tower, and left cars scarred with pockmarks.
Zoe had hurried across the hospital campus to the adult medical clinics for her noon appointment. She dreaded having to go home and tell Lachlan the bad news. She was the only person holding their family together, and if something happened to her, Lachlan – and Louise – would flounder. But when she was called through to see the doctor, the news wasn’t all bad; yes, her blood pressure was up and her kidney function had deteriorated, but the specialist was optimistic that with a change to her medication, they could keep it under control. She’d walked out of the clinic smiling. Finally, something was going right.
There was only an hour left until the end of her shift. Zoe had started walking back towards the ward; then, on an impulse, she stopped, turned and hurried the other way, towards the bus stop, before anyone spotted her.
By the time the bus arrived back in Fremantle, the rain had started again. Zoe stepped off the bus into a gust of wind. She held out her arms to steady herself; maybe she should have called Lachlan to pick her up from the hospital. Too late now. She tucked her bag under her arm and braced herself against the wind and rain, thinking of the warm house, a hot bath, an hour to herself before Louise woke up. She smiled and ran the five hundred metres to her house.
For a moment, Zoe stood under the shelter of the verandah and looked out at the garden. The water poured down from the sky in sheets, and yet here she was perfectly dry. It was like standing behind a waterfall. The water bounced off the paving slabs on the path and pooled on the patchy grass, then ran off onto the road in streams.
She bent down and took off her shoes. The leather was soaked through and her socks were sodden. She peeled them off too and propped her shoes against the wall near the front door. As she squeezed her ponytail, water poured out as if she had been submerged in the ocean. She opened the door, quickly stepped into the hallway then closed the door behind her. Once inside, she struggled out of her uniform, which stuck to her like a cold, wet shower curtain. When she was down to her bra and knickers, she tiptoed down the hallway. With the rain battering down on the tin roof, the sound of the storm inside the house was as loud as outside. She paused at Louise’s closed door, but couldn’t hear any cries; she was amazed that Louise could sleep through this.
As she neared the living room, she heard the tune of the games console. ‘Lachlan?’ she whispered loudly. ‘It’s just me.’
There was no answer. Zoe poked her head in the doorway. The television screen was glowing with the title page of a game, and the long grey cord of the controller snaked across the room to the couch. From this angle, Zoe could only see the crown of Lachlan’s head above the arm of the couch. He wasn’t moving. Then he let out a gasping snore, snuffled and panted, and went quiet again. He was fast asleep.
‘Lachlan,’ Zoe said more loudly. But he still didn’t move. Zoe frowned. What if it was Louise crying from her room in this storm, how would he hear her? She stepped into the room. ‘Wake up. It’s me!’
She walked closer. He was lying on his side with his neck at an acute angle, and from the corner of his slightly open mouth a thin trail of saliva led to a damp patch on the green cushion. His right arm was draped across his body, just above where the controller lay on the floor. Zoe’s eyes widened and her heart began to hammer. Had he collapsed, had a fit or a heart attack?
Then she noticed that there were five beer bottles next to the controller. She looked again. One was lying on its side, the other four were upright. All were empty.
‘Lachlan!’ She shook his shoulder. ‘Wake up!’
He groaned and opened his eyes. His face was red and his dark hair stuck to his forehead. He raised his eyebrows and peered at her, clearly disorientated.
‘It’s the middle of the day,’ said Zoe. ‘What are you doing?’
He blinked, then wiped at his mouth and sat up, frowning. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s almost two. I’m home early. What are you doing?’ she repeated.
His voice was slow and slurred. ‘Just having a nap. What’s wrong?’
Zoe was incredulous. What did he mean? What was wrong that meant she was home early; or what wa
s wrong with what she saw in front of her; or what was wrong with him, with their marriage, with their entire life?
She held her hands in the air. ‘What’s wrong? I come home at lunchtime and you’re passed out on the couch in a filthy house —’
‘Give it a rest! I’m not passed out!’
‘You’re drunk.’
Lachlan groaned. ‘Oh, here we go again.’
‘Here we go again?’ Zoe pointed to the bottles on the floor. ‘You’ve been drinking? While you’re meant to be looking after our daughter?’
‘I was just having a nap!’
‘Lachlan, I walked into the house, through an unlocked door, and had to shake you to wake you up. Why the hell are you drinking in the middle of the day?’
Lachlan sat up, then stood, a little unsteady. ‘Don’t start this again.’
She stared up at him, furious. ‘Don’t start? Here I am, going to work every day, and I come home to this? You’re playing computer games and drinking when you’re meant to be looking after Louise! Has she been with Nadia again, is that it? While you sit on your arse and do nothing? Do you know where I’ve just been? I’ve been to the doctor because I’ve been sick but I was too scared to tell you because you’re so preoccupied and depressed and I didn’t want to worry you, but look at you! I’m sorry, but I … I can’t do this any more.’ She shook her head and ended with a cry.
Lachlan flinched a little at her words, but then stepped to the side as if to walk around her. Zoe moved in front of him. He was not getting to walk away from this one. She had meant it when she said she couldn’t do this any more. ‘No, Lachlan, don’t you dare run off again. You need to tell me what’s going on. I’ve had enough!’
As Zoe watched, his face changed. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, and he spat his words at her, ‘You’ve had enough?’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Get out of my way.’
Zoe’s hands began to shake but she didn’t move. ‘No, I’m not letting you walk away from me,’ she said firmly. ‘You need to deal with this.’
‘Move!’ His face was livid and the sinew in his neck was taut beneath the black and grey stubble.
‘No!’
He stepped towards Zoe, and before she could react, raised his arms and pushed her chest with full force. She screamed and lost her balance, arms flailing. She crashed hard onto her back, landing on one of Louise’s wooden blocks that littered the floor. The sharp corner of the cube dug into her flank, and her upper back rolled onto the wooden floorboards. It happened so quickly, yet every movement seemed to occur in slow motion. Her head thumped on the floor and she heard herself cry out again. Lachlan loomed above her. He stared at her, with stunned horror on his face, then looked down at his hands as if they belonged to someone else, as if there was a stain on them that only he could see. Zoe rolled onto her side and covered her head with her arms, waiting for the next blow.
She lay still, waiting, frozen. She sensed Lachlan step over her, then heard him run down the hallway. Above the noise of the rain, the front door slammed.
When it was obvious that he wasn’t coming back, Zoe began to wail, lying on the floor among the toys and the beer bottles, bedraggled in her wet underwear. She lay where she’d fallen, her breath heaving with sobs, listening for the door. While she was terrified of what Lachlan might do if he came back, a huge part of her wanted him to open the front door and come in and kiss her and say he was sorry.
But even when she had cried herself out, he still hadn’t returned. The rain was slowing now, just a patter on the roof, and she heard Louise squeal and laugh from her bedroom. Zoe eased herself up to sitting, and rubbed her back, which already felt stiff and bruised. Suddenly frightened again, she got to her feet, ran down the hallway and locked the front door. She quickly dressed in dry clothes and went to pick up Louise.
She gave Louise some milk and plain biscuits, then sat her on the living room floor with her toys. After switching on a kids’ TV show, Zoe hurried into the bedroom and took a sports bag out from under the bed. She put a few clothes into the bag, then went into the bathroom and packed up her toiletries.
In Louise’s room, Zoe packed some baby clothes. She picked up Louise’s favourite pink rabbit, and her tears started to fall again. She wiped them away and tried to concentrate on what she needed, chanting the list of things in her head to block out any other thoughts. Bottles, formula, nappies, cream, bottles, formula, nappies, cream.
When the bag was packed, Zoe sat on the edge of the armchair in Louise’s room. Lachlan had been gone for over an hour now. Where was he? What would he do when he came home and found them gone?
Zoe walked out into the hallway and put the bag down next to the front door. She paused, then opened the door and peered out. Rainwater dripped through the rusted holes in the gutter. Zoe almost expected – hoped – to see Lachlan sitting on the verandah in the wrought-iron chair, waiting for her, racked with regret. She looked up and down the street, in case he was walking back through the spattering rain with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. She imagined him finding her loading Louise into the car, and collapsing at her feet, begging for her forgiveness. Biting her lip, she looked again: there was no one in the street. The occasional car splashed past, lights blurred by the wet air. Zoe slumped against the doorframe. Was he sad? Worried? Or was he still angry, full of loathing? She thought again of the enraged look in his eyes, the contemptuous sneer when he pushed past her. He wasn’t even man enough to stick around and apologise. For all he knew, she was still lying hurt or unconscious on the floor, while Louise cried in her room. He deserved this.
Zoe went back inside and scooped up Louise, who had crawled over to the couch and pulled herself onto her feet. Zoe turned off the television but didn’t tidy anything else up. He could do that when he came back. If he came back. Zoe frowned; why was she going? He should be the one to go. She shook her head. She was so confused and couldn’t trust herself to be strong enough if he walked through the door begging for forgiveness. The future – either with Lachlan, or without him – terrified her. But she knew that if he came back and she forgave him, and he hadn’t changed, Louise would ultimately be the one who was harmed and Zoe couldn’t live with herself if that happened. She knew he’d never physically hurt Louise, but it was as painful for a child to live amidst fear as it was to have her bones broken.
No, Zoe had to go. She had to protect Louise.
Chapter Twenty
Zoe let herself into her parents’ house with her spare key. They were both at work; her mum would be back from the university at around four, she guessed, and Martin after five sometime. Zoe kept the doors locked, and her phone by her side so she could call for help if Lachlan turned up; she tried to distract herself by playing with Louise, to show her that everything was normal. She froze when a car pulled up outside, then breathed out as she heard her mum’s heels approaching the door.
The door opened, and Zoe stood up as Rosemary walked along the hallway to the living area. ‘Mum,’ she said, her voice immediately breaking.
Rosemary shrieked, then put her hand to her chest. ‘Zoe. You scared me!’
‘Sorry, I thought you’d have seen my car out on the street.’
Rosemary took off her damp jacket and hung it on a stool. ‘It’s raining again, I wasn’t looking. Is everything OK? What’s going on?’
Zoe took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but then her chin began to quiver. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. Lachlan … he …’ She burst into tears and covered her face with her hands, collapsing back down onto the couch.
Rosemary hurried over and sat next to her. ‘What, Zoe? Lachlan what?’
Zoe dropped her hands away from her face. ‘He … hit me.’
‘What?’ Rosemary’s mouth opened in shock. ‘He hit you? Are you OK? Jesus …’
‘Well, he didn’t really hit me, he pushed me and I fell. I came home … he was drinking. He’s been so … oh, I don’t know …’ The sobs started again.
&
nbsp; ‘Oh, darling.’ Rosemary hugged her tight, and Zoe let herself be held. She had no energy left; she could no longer look after a baby and a grown man.
She felt her nose streaming and pulled away, then gave a sad giggle. ‘Sorry. I’ve messed up again.’
‘Don’t be stupid. You’ve never messed anything up. This isn’t your fault. Tell me what happened.’
Zoe described the day’s events, and then told her mother about the past few months, about the way Lachlan had been acting with her, and with Louise. ‘But maybe it’s not all his fault, Mum. I pushed him into this surrogacy thing, he was never as keen as I was —’
‘Stop it! For Christ’s sake, he’s an adult. You sound like some stupid woman blaming herself for her husband’s violence. Next you’ll be saying you deserved it.’ Rosemary’s mouth was pinched and her eyes blazed. ‘What about the police? Have you called them?’
‘No! I don’t want to do that.’
‘But —’
‘No, Mum, please. Honestly, I don’t want to involve them, it’ll just make it harder for us all – for Louise. I’m sure it was just a one-off, and he didn’t really hit me, it was more of a push …’
Rosemary raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m going to call Martin to come home straight away, just in case.’
‘Oh, Mum, he won’t cause any trouble. Really, it wasn’t that bad.’
‘Well, you’ll stay here, of course, until we work out what to do. Have you got your stuff?’
Zoe shrugged. ‘Just a few things, enough for now.’
‘Right. Stay there, I’ll be right back.’
Zoe nodded, then looked down at Louise, who was playing with Zoe’s purse on the floor. When Louise noticed Zoe, she grinned, crawled towards her and held her arms out. Zoe picked her up, then held her close and nuzzled her face into Louise’s fine blonde hair. Poor Louise. She’d been divided and shared around from the time her life was just an idea, a hope. She had seen her parents begin to drift apart, and now violently tear away from each other, with Louise caught in the seething channels in the middle. This all needed to end.
Let Her Go Page 18