Let Her Go

by Let Her Go (retail) (epub)

  Lachlan was crying now too, oblivious to the glances of two teenage boys walking past. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I haven’t had a drink since that day – I mean it. But I’d never, never hurt —’

  Zoe closed her eyes, and he broke off. She believed him, that was the sad thing. Maybe that made her one of those women, a woman who told herself that he’d never do it again and went back for more, but listening to him now she believed what he was saying, and the knowledge that her marriage was over was worse than any physical pain she could imagine. ‘But you did hurt us, Lachlan. You already have. It’s too late.’

  * * *

  Zoe poured herself a glass of wine. She started to take a second wine glass out of the cupboard, then hesitated and glanced at Lachlan. He was sitting on the couch holding Louise, humming a lullaby as she gazed at him with her eyes half closed. Zoe drank a mouthful of the wine, then poured the rest down the sink and filled the kettle instead.

  They hadn’t said much as they walked back to the unit. How she’d longed for Lachlan to take her hand, put his arm around her, but instead they had walked with a space between them full of things unsaid.

  The groceries had been delivered while she was out. The butter, milk and eggs had been put in the fridge; now Zoe busied herself with unpacking everything else. ‘I was just going to make some pasta, with bacon and veggies. That OK?’

  Lachlan looked up, nodded and smiled. She almost wept. She had missed this, missed him so much. She had missed being part of a couple, having someone – Lachlan – to keep her company, to share everything with, the good and bad. And yet there was still that distance in him, and Zoe couldn’t work out if it was manners, respect, or that same something that had changed when Louise was born.

  ‘Should I put her to bed?’ he whispered.

  Zoe shook her head. ‘Just hold her a bit longer, until she’s sound asleep. She’s missed you.’

  She saw his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed. He settled back into the cushions and resumed his quiet singing. Was this really the same man who had shouted at her and pushed her, who had ignored and neglected Louise? Could it have just been the drink, the pressure of being a stay-at-home dad, the shame of sending his wife out to pay the mortgage? She had never made him feel that she resented going to work. Or had she? Zoe shook her head; there she went again, blaming herself. She needed to stop making excuses for him. The anxiety returned as she thought about money, work, about the unpaid leave she was taking. When she looked at Lachlan, she knew that she had to face reality sometime. But when she looked at Louise, she wanted to claim just one more day with her, one more moment. Before it all fell apart.

  She made two cups of tea and took one over to Lachlan. She put it down at his feet and paused for a moment to look at Louise. Zoe’s hands started to tremble and she wanted to clutch onto them both, her family. How could this be happening? What if she refused to go back, refused to accept what Nadia was doing? But if she didn’t go back, what could she do? She couldn’t stay here forever. What kind of mother would that make her? Not one that would be allowed to keep Louise, of that she was sure.

  ‘You could try putting her down now,’ she said. ‘I moved her cot into my room so you can have her room tonight.’

  ‘I can get somewhere else …’

  Zoe shook her head, and her voice broke. ‘We can’t afford it. Not if …’

  Lachlan nodded, then slowly stood up. Louise didn’t stir. Zoe walked towards the bedroom to hold the door open for him.

  * * *

  They ate dinner like a couple on their first date, skirting around the important issues. He told her the meal was great; she knew it was nothing special. She told him how Louise could stand on her own now, and would be walking soon, and he acted amazed. When they’d finished eating, he stood up quickly and cleared the dishes. She picked up the salt and pepper, their glasses of water, and followed him into the small kitchen. He put the plug in the sink and started to run the water.

  Zoe put her hand on his arm. ‘Leave it.’

  ‘I’ll just —’

  ‘We need to talk.’

  They stared at each other for a moment, and Zoe felt a pull so strong that she swayed on her feet. It was physically painful to look at him and not be able to touch him. She had an urgent need, a hunger in her guts, to connect to him again, to join together. As they stared at each other, she knew he felt it too. She leaned towards him, and that was all it took.

  Lachlan leaned forward too and they grabbed onto each other. She pressed herself against him, breathing in the scent of him, then held up her face so that he could kiss her. Her hands were under his t-shirt; his hands were on the back of her neck and his lips were on her throat, and she pressed her groin against his, wrapping one leg around him so that every part of her was touching him. As her face and body burned with desire and hatred and sorrow, she began to cry, for she knew that she was betraying herself, betraying Louise, and that this was the end for them all.

  Afterwards, she picked up her jeans and underwear and ran to the bathroom. She didn’t make a sound but her body heaved with silent sobs and she clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms, trying to draw blood, to leave four little crescent-moon scars etched into the life line and love line and head line, so that she’d see them every time she looked at her hands, a reminder of her weakness, of her stupidity in following her heart when, to have any chance of keeping Louise, she needed to ignore it.

  * * *

  Zoe sat on the end of the jetty with her feet dangling over the edge. Louise was fast asleep in her arms, wrapped in a blanket. The ferry – with Lachlan on it – was long gone, but she could see the twinkling red and green channel markers, and some white boat lights in the distant ocean: probably day trippers sailing home after a long day moored in a bay, fishermen maybe. She had passed a man still fishing off the jetty as she walked out here, but the white plastic bucket next to his reels and jigs was empty. It was dark now, but her eyes had adjusted to the gloom. She looked down into the black water, watching the colours of the rainbow dancing on a patch of slick oil below her, and the bloated corpse of a blowfish floating by. When they used to go fishing in the Swan River together, Lachlan had told her never to throw the dead blowfish back in the water, to always throw them in the bin. It could kill a dog, he used to say. Just a lick; that’s all it would take.

  The past forty-eight hours no longer seemed real, and Zoe almost wondered if she had dreamed them. Had it all been her imagination, a trick of the light, an echo of his voice? But she knew they had happened because she could still smell him, taste him, and she knew that she could never be with him again. It was Lachlan, or Louise.

  After the passion of the sex on that first night, it was like nothing had changed. He was trying – she could see every cell of him straining with the effort to act normal – but he was still so disconnected, distant. When she touched him, he flinched. When he touched her, she remembered those big hands shoving her, remembered his furious face looming over her as she lay crying on the floor in her rain-soaked underwear. The second night, when they had sat on the balcony while Louise slept inside the villa, he had tried to kiss her again, but this time she had pulled away.

  ‘Why won’t you talk to me?’ she said. ‘We can’t just go back to the way things were. You need to open up, tell me what’s been going on.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I said I’m sorry …’

  ‘You’re still so far away, Lachlan, it’s like you’re not here.’ She took both of his hands in hers. ‘Please, talk to me …’

  He closed his eyes, shook his head, and let the tears spill out. It almost broke her heart.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered, begging him to give her a reason, an excuse to be with him.

  ‘I can’t.’

  She pulled back, rubbed her hands over her face. She looked at him and knew what she had to do. ‘Lachlan. You’re dragging us both down, and I can’t keep all of us afloat if you won’t help me. I need to do what
’s best for Louise. Please, just go, just leave.’

  ‘But —’

  She stood up. ‘There’s a ferry in the morning. Sleep in the spare room tonight, then go before Louise and I wake.’

  She had desperately wanted him to argue, to fight for her, but he had wiped away his tears and nodded. ‘I’ll move out of the house as soon as I get back.’

  And with that, the space between them had become impossible to bridge any more. In the morning, she had heard him zip up his bag and close the door behind him.

  Out here now, on the jetty, the breeze smelled of salt, of fuel, of decay. She could see the lights of Perth far across the water. She thought back to the ghost stories. They weren’t just stories, though. Those men had been real. Their women, back on the mainland, had lit fires on the shores to tell their husbands, their sons, that they were thinking of them. They sang to the whales that travelled up and down this stretch of water, begging them to bring their men home. Zoe’s eyes filled with tears, and she took a swig of the beer she’d brought with her. Was there a light over there for her? For Louise? She closed her eyes and listened hard: to the water lapping against the jetty, the tink tink of sails against the masts of the sailing boats, the hush of the waves. Was someone singing her home, begging her to bring back Louise?

  Louise was happy with her, Zoe had no doubt of that. But it wasn’t real, this place, this life. Zoe had hoped that all Louise needed was her, but knew now that she – alone – wasn’t enough; Louise needed more than just Zoe’s desperate love. She had to take Louise home.

  No matter what happened, it was time to go back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Nadia hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. She looked around her living room: the vacuum hose snaking across the floor, the basket overflowing with unfolded washing, the unpacked grocery bags. It was as though she was in someone else’s house; she barely recognised it. None of this, the domestic drudgery, mattered. Finally, Zoe and Louise were coming back, and Nadia could move again, stop treading water.

  She dialled Eddie’s number. He answered straight away.

  ‘They’re coming back,’ she said.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Later. Dad just called me – he got a message that they’ll be back this evening.’

  ‘Wow.’ She heard the scratch of his hand on his stubble. ‘Where’s she been?’

  ‘Rottnest, apparently.’

  ‘What’s she going to do about Lachlan?’

  ‘I don’t know. She didn’t say anything, just sent a bloody text message. This is typical of her, to disappear then just come back again with no explanation. What will I do, Eddie? Will I go over there?’

  ‘No, Nadia, not right now, give her a chance to settle back in.’

  ‘But I want to see Louise …’ Nadia began to cry. God, she’d missed her daughter. She’d tried to distract herself by focusing on what she could control: the court process. Instead of admitting to the despair she had felt at not knowing where Louise was, she had stayed up all night poring over legal documents, past cases, stories on the internet. But now, knowing that Louise would be back in only a few hours, she let herself feel it again, all the fear and grief.

  ‘Don’t – don’t cry,’ Eddie said.

  ‘Can you leave work early today and pick up the kids from school? I want to go over to Zoe’s place, wait there until they come back.’

  ‘No, don’t —’

  ‘I’ll ask Rosemary then!’ Nadia snapped. ‘If you can’t tear yourself away from work to help me.’

  Eddie groaned. ‘You know that’s not what I mean. The kids have been upset enough, let’s just keep their routine for now. It’s going to be a tough time for them.’

  ‘What do you mean? They’re only upset because they miss Louise. And that’s exactly why I need to go to Zoe’s: I need to see Louise and check she’s OK so I can tell the kids their sister is all right!’

  ‘Nadia, please,’ he said quietly.

  Her chin trembled. ‘What? Please what?’

  ‘Don’t bring the kids into this.’

  ‘I’m not bringing them into anything! They’re in it already, they always have been. Louise is their sister, they’re missing a sibling! Zoe can’t just do what she wants!’

  Eddie sighed. ‘OK. Look, I’m behind you. I support whatever you want to do about Louise.’

  Nadia’s face burned. ‘Whatever I want to do? So you don’t want to do this? You don’t think we should be trying to get our baby back, protecting her? Jesus, Eddie! We’re about to go through the courts and you don’t even think we should be doing it? Don’t you think the psychologists and psychiatrists and judge will pick up on that? You’re going to ruin it! You won’t even come home to help me when they’re on their way back – my daughter!’ Tears spilled out of her eyes.

  ‘Fine, I’ll pick up the kids.’ He sounded defeated.

  She wanted to hurl the phone across the room. ‘Don’t worry about it. If you’re going to be like that, I’ll sort something else out. I’ll see you later.’

  Before he could answer, Nadia ended the call, then threw the phone down on the couch next to her. She clenched her fists and screamed out loud, then grabbed her hair in her hands. Why was this so hard? All she asked for was some support from her husband instead of this passivity. He’d been like this from the beginning: patronising, humouring her as if they were talking about a pet, not a child. The truth was that he’d never supported her in this; he was always the one cautioning her, warning her. He was setting her up to fail, so he could say, I told you so. I told you that you wouldn’t be able to do this.

  She wondered if he was right.

  * * *

  Nadia picked the children up from school as usual, gave them some fruit and popcorn for afternoon tea, then chopped up the vegetables for dinner while they watched some television. Then she sat down with the girls and helped them with their homework while Harry played with his games console. Afterwards, she folded the washing and put it in neat piles, then began cooking the kids’ risotto. Eddie was wrong: the kids weren’t suffering. She was still here for them, doing everything she had always done.

  When she heard Eddie’s car pull into the driveway at six, she took the lamb chops – already marinated with rosemary, chilli and garlic – from the fridge. She’d made the salad too; it was in the fridge covered in cling wrap. The kids were bathed and only needed to brush their teeth after their story. As Eddie opened the front door, Nadia was gathering up her keys and phone. She passed him in the hallway.

  ‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ she said, without looking at him.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘The kids just need a story. We can quickly barbecue the meat when I get back. It’s all ready, there’s nothing left to do.’

  He put his hand on her arm, then spoke softly. ‘Nadia, I’m sorry about earlier, it’s just —’

  She shook him off. ‘Don’t. I’ll be back soon.’

  It took less than fifteen minutes to drive to Zoe and Lachlan’s house. Nadia parked the car on the street, a few houses away from theirs, and switched off the engine. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, then leaned over to rummage through her handbag on the passenger seat. She checked her phone, but there were no messages or missed calls. She hadn’t expected any, but she’d thought that maybe Eddie would have wished her luck, or at least let her know he was thinking of her. After taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Nadia unplugged her seatbelt and put her hand on the door handle.

  Headlights from an oncoming car blazed through the twilight. She shielded her eyes with her left hand as the car slowed, then stopped on the opposite side of the road, and a light on top of it switched on. It was a taxi. Nadia froze, her heart racing. With her right hand still gripping the door handle, she slouched down in her seat.

  Zoe stepped out of the cab with Louise on her hip. Nadia shook her head at her sister’s stupidity: there were no baby capsules in taxis. That was typical of Zoe,
another example Nadia would document for the court. Why hadn’t Zoe organised someone to pick them up?

  Nadia watched the taxi driver get out of the car, open the boot and lift out a bag. He slammed the boot closed. Zoe struggled across the road, carrying the bag in one hand and a handbag over her shoulder, while Louise squirmed in the other arm. Still Nadia didn’t move. She watched her sister put down the bag, open the gate and push the bag through with one foot. She couldn’t see any more from where she sat, but she could hear Louise’s cries, muffled from inside the car. Nadia closed her eyes and tried to mentally send a message to Louise, to tell her that she was coming to get her, she was trying. That sound, the cry that she had first heard in the delivery room, was her siren song, and she was helpless to resist. She opened the car door and stepped out, then pushed it closed quietly behind her.

  She walked stealthily towards Zoe’s house. Was Lachlan in there? Their car was parked outside, but it looked cold, abandoned. At the next-door neighbours’ gate, Nadia stopped. She could see Zoe standing at the front door, her back to the street; Louise was still crying. Nadia put one hand out and held onto the fence to stop herself from running to Louise, snatching her away. Zoe was rummaging in her handbag, for her keys presumably. Without moving her feet, Nadia leaned forward, trying to close the space between her and her child.

  Then Zoe drew out her keys, and hoisted Louise higher on her shoulder. She patted the baby’s back and swayed her body from side to side. Nadia could see that she was hushing or singing in Louise’s ears, softly, gently. Louise stopped crying. As Nadia watched, Zoe unlocked the door and stepped inside, then let it slam closed behind her. She heard Zoe call out, ‘Hello?’, and then nothing more. Nadia’s legs began to shake, and she let go of the fence and staggered back to her car.