This I Would Kill For

by Anne Buist

  Later Natalie wondered if it was distracting Chelsea through the singing that caused the child to lose concentration and draw what she wasn’t meant to.

  Chelsea drew Jenna first, herself on one side, and then on the other what Natalie initially thought was going to be Chris. Except she did him as a stick figure. And then added Chris at her mother’s feet. One figure that didn’t belong, and drawn in a regressed manner.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Luke.’ Chelsea looked up at Natalie, eyes wide. In them Natalie saw the girl’s recognition of her mistake. She grabbed the picture and screwed it up, threw it, and went to sit in the chair at the opposite side of the room.

  Natalie felt her heart pounding. Chelsea had given away a secret and didn’t want Natalie to betray her.

  ‘Is Luke your mother’s boyfriend?’

  Chelsea looked miserable. ‘I hate him,’ she whispered.

  ‘And you miss your daddy.’

  Chelsea nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  This cleared something up for Natalie. She’d wondered how Jenna had managed to put her children above the man in her life, Malik. But she hadn’t. There was another man in her life, who had helped her escape one problem only to create another. Natalie had accused Jenna and Malik of letting their own issues get in the way of seeing their children’s needs—but she’d been doing the same thing. Wary of trusting men, Natalie had been blind to this fundamental difference between her and Jenna: Jenna had a deep-seated need for male approval that dominated her choices. The missed appointments made sense now, too—Jenna had been afraid this might come out.

  ‘Chelsea.’ Natalie knelt in front of her, put a hand on her hand. ‘This is going to be really tough, and it isn’t your fault. Can you trust me to try and sort it out? Maybe I can help you get some time with your daddy, but it might not be straight away.’

  The little girl leaned forward and fell into Natalie’s arms, Natalie could feel the child’s whole body shake and it felt like she was shattering into millions of pieces that would never, could never, be put back together.

  What the hell did she do now? Natalie wished that Declan was there instead of her. The weight of the responsibility was greater than she had ever felt with her adult patients, and all the worse because she knew that barely beneath the surface was her own unprocessed trauma. She didn’t want to stuff this child up—and was afraid her own wounds were so dangerously close to the surface she wasn’t able to see clearly.

  She looked at the clock. Declan would be seeing patients. She was going to have to handle this herself.

  ‘Can I call Mummy in to see what we need to do?’ she asked when the sobs had turned into sniffs. Chelsea held onto her so tightly that Natalie wondered if she’d squash the bean.

  She thought of Gaylene not being allowed to touch children in the schoolyard. She probably wasn’t meant to either, but no way in hell was she going to reject this child who was so desperate—and had chosen finally to trust her.

  It took another ten minutes to convince Chelsea to let her go to the phone, to tell Beverley to send Jenna in. Natalie was sitting next to Chelsea on the chair when she arrived. Chelsea was looking down into her hands.

  ‘Jenna, Chelsea’s been pretty upset,’ said Natalie. She took a breath. Steadied her anger, not sure how much was her own at her mother from long ago redirected to Jenna. Or just plain fury that this woman had let her boyfriend abuse her daughter. ‘And I’m going to have to ask you to promise me something.’

  Jenna looked at her daughter. ‘Chelsea, are you okay?’

  ‘She’ll be fine, but she needs to be safe.’

  Jenna stiffened.

  ‘Is there anyone we don’t know about that might make Chelsea feel unsafe, Jenna?’

  Jenna’s look clouded over. Not guilt, not anger. Natalie tried to grasp it but it was gone too quickly. ‘No. She’s safe at home with me.’

  ‘And your boyfriend, Jenna?’

  ‘I don’t…’ Jenna looked at Chelsea and stopped.

  ‘Promise me you won’t have him in your house, Jenna, when Chelsea is there. That’s all I ask.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Promise me.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Jenna glared at Natalie. ‘You don’t know anything. Chelsea, come on. We’re going home.’

  Natalie couldn’t stop them leaving. But in Chelsea’s look as she left was something worse than anger or accusation of failure—it was a loss of hope.

  45

  Winona was not answering. Natalie left a message and another with the on-call team to contact her urgently. Then she cycled to Declan’s.

  If Declan had been seeing her mother and knew more than she did about her past, she needed to get over it, infuriating as it was. And if it was more than that? She’d deal with it. For Chelsea’s sake as much as her own and the bean’s. And she couldn’t afford not to have him on side at a disciplinary hearing.

  She didn’t think she could have done much different with Chelsea and Jenna but she felt guilty all the same. On the bike ride her thoughts were jumbled but there was a recurring theme. Anger. Anger she felt towards Jenna. Then guilt. Guilt at failing Chelsea. But somehow that guilt was also tied up with her dream, and with anger at her mother and guilt she seemed to be carrying for something she had done as a child. Something she could no more have been responsible for than Chelsea was for being abused.

  She sat outside Declan’s house for half an hour before deciding to knock. Looked across at Melbourne basking in the sunshine, the roof of a new complex glistening as the rays reflected off it. This wasn’t just about being a good therapist. She also had to try to be a good mother, and she needed Declan’s help for both tasks. Pregnancy made it hard not to focus internally. Every kick was like, hey Mum, think of me. Her. A mother. There was something not so bad about the thought.

  Who was she then not to give her mother the same chance to make mistakes? Who was Natalie to say now, thirty-odd years later, that Jan hadn’t wanted it to be different? Natalie’s issue wasn’t with the absent father—it was in trusting her mother.

  Declan was alone, or at least not with a patient: no sound of his wife cooking or watching television in the background. He didn’t look surprised to see her, and in his concern she could see an element of relief. They sat in their usual chairs, no offer of tea or wine, and he waited for her to begin.

  ‘I’m sorry I missed the last appointment,’ Natalie began.

  Declan was seated in his usual chair, regarding her with a grave air.

  ‘My mother has been here at least a couple of times, right?’ Natalie didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I will ask her again for the truth, and perhaps I’ll get it. But right now…’ Emotion threatened to choke her up. She stopped, wouldn’t meet his eye. She poured out what had happened with Chelsea and Jenna.

  ‘I really didn’t want to let her leave,’ Natalie finally said. ‘But I had to, didn’t I? Was there something else I should have done?’

  Declan leaned forward. His hand covered hers. ‘The only thing you need to do now is take a breath. I know you care. But you’re the therapist, not mother or auntie or foster carer. You need to keep a distance to be able to see clearly.’

  ‘I should have seen Jenna needed a relationship to survive. Both the dependency and the histrionic aspects of her personality were clear markers and I missed them. I wanted to think she’d grown up.’ Like Natalie wanted herself to. ‘But I can’t believe she let the bastard—’

  ‘Slow down, Natalie.’

  Natalie took several breaths.

  ‘You don’t know anything,’ said Declan. ‘Jenna didn’t want to see what she couldn’t handle, simple as that. It doesn’t mean she wilfully allowed anyone to abuse her child. Just lacked the capacity to judge.’

  Natalie saw the passing look again on Jenna’s face. Dissociation? Something was still wrong about it, but it slipped past her again.

  ‘You know Gavin Boreman rang the College.
He was… unimpressed.’ Declan was taking the report seriously, but it was hard to tell how he felt about it.

  Had she really been that out of line? Or was he stigmatising her too, using his knowledge of her having been ill to cover himself?

  ‘He’d be more unimpressed with @KidsReallyMatter if it happened to be one of his nurses,’ she said.

  Declan smiled. Well, almost. ‘As it happens, exactly what I said.’

  ‘Thank you, Declan.’ Natalie relaxed her fingers—her nails had almost broken the skin of her palm.

  ‘But this is potentially serious, Natalie. We’ll get through this meeting at the College, but you should have a lawyer present. To be safe.’

  He’d said ‘we’. It was the only good thing about this. Chelsea, Liam…and her own past that seemed intent on nagging relentlessly at her: there was too much in her head at the moment for her to process or even worry about dealing with it at the moment. Better to let Declan take it on.

  ‘I think you need to consider offering to cut your workload. You’ll have to soon anyway.’

  ‘It’s not fair. I’m fine.’ Natalie sunk back in the chair.

  Declan patted her hand and sat back, waiting.

  ‘I realised something,’ said Natalie slowly. ‘As I was cycling here. About myself.’ She looked up at the ceiling. ‘I’ve been angry at my mother for not telling me about my father, all these years. But something happened when I saw Jenna and Chelsea together, locked in their pain and guilt. I’m actually angry at myself. I don’t know quite what for, but something way back. I think I’m to blame and rather than deal with it, I blamed my mother.’

  ‘You were little more than an infant, Natalie.’

  Natalie looked at Declan, for a moment, wondering about just how well he knew Jan, how much she had confided in him. ‘You know how important you’ve been in my life. Part therapist, part…father. You were there for me when no one else was, in a way no one else could have been. I know my mother wanted to be, but I was too angry, too…hurt, and I needed someone to blame. When I was diagnosed with bipolar, it was like I was being punished.’

  ‘I think your mother may have felt the same, Natalie. If she could have taken the burden from you, she would have.’

  Natalie bit her lip, took a moment to get her emotions in check. ‘I went into medicine for me, Declan. But psychiatry—that was because of you, and I’ve never regretted it. You’ve helped me accept my illness, maybe even accept that it limits me, although saying that makes me want to scream.’ She paused and wiped the tear that threatened to weaken her. Declan looked like he wanted to hug her, but they both knew it would undo her.

  ‘Please Declan…I may be about to be prevented from practising yet all I can worry about is my past. I don’t even begin to understand why, but my subconscious is leaking. Badly. Do you know what happened when I was a child? Who my father is? I know she’s rung you. Visited you.’

  Declan sighed. ‘I knew your mother before I met you,’ he said. ‘I regret not telling you that but if you recall, when you met me at sixteen, with your leg and hip in traction, you weren’t very fond of your mother and my link to her might have prevented you letting me in. She called me to see you—trusted me because she knew me.’

  Natalie crossed her arms, never taking her eyes off him. She would not let him get away with a lie. How had her mother known him?

  Declan smiled. ‘Truth was, when I saw you in that ICU bed with tubes and pins and metal frames, you were just any other patient; you know I care about all my patients and you weren’t going to be any different.’

  ‘And then?’

  Declan leaned forward; his smile had a sad edge. ‘The moment you looked at me and heard I was a psychiatrist—you yelled, “Bloody shrink,” in case you’ve forgotten—you had me engaged.’

  Natalie frowned. Why hadn’t he answered her question?

  ‘That look of bugger off was clear,’ said Declan, ‘and maybe that was all your biological father. But I also saw all the stubbornness, determination and resilience that is your mother. I knew I was going to keep turning up until you finally gave in.’ Which she had. But not until after at least five visits spent mostly in silence.

  ‘Natalie,’ said Declan quietly, ‘your mother has seen me recently for advice. She has been desperate to help you, and terrified of sending your relationship back into the past anger and silence.’

  And as she left, though Declan still hadn’t answered her question, her thank you and the hug she gave him were entirely genuine. If it was fatherly on his part, she couldn’t say.

  Liam had left her a message to say he’d parked the Lotus in her cul de sac while he had a mediation session regarding child access around the corner, and to suggest dinner. She left him a message now so he wouldn’t think the car had been stolen, took the spare keys that were still in her warehouse and drove to Warrandyte.

  For the first time Natalie could ever recall, she felt she needed her own mother. Who had continued to be there, despite all the tension that her absent father had created between them.

  ‘Jan, love,’ Craig called from the balcony as he watched Natalie slam the door. ‘That racket was Natalie in the race car.’ The spray of stones had hit the garage door and sent Hercules hobbling for cover.

  ‘Natalie, what a…’ Jan stopped herself. ‘Natalie. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Did I have a teddy bear as a kid?’

  Jan looked at her blankly.

  ‘I mean, like, a special one?’

  Jan had had time to process the question. ‘Yes. You wouldn’t sleep without it.’

  ‘What happened to it?’

  ‘No idea.’ Jan frowned. ‘If I kept it, I would have put it in the box of stuff I dropped off when you moved.’

  ‘Not there.’ Natalie had looked. Twice.

  ‘Might have got caught up in Maddison’s stuff,’ Craig suggested. ‘She was a big doll kid; wouldn’t part with anything.’

  Maddison’s stuff, as it turned out, was still in the house. Natalie disappeared into Maddison’s old room without answering their questions.

  ‘We’ll get a new one for your baby,’ Craig yelled after her.

  ‘Do you want a tea or coffee?’ Jan added.

  Maddison’s room was unchanged from the day she’d left to marry Miles. Pale pink walls—Natalie’s room had been red and black and had since been repainted—with Laura Ashley floral curtains and a white bedspread on a single four-poster bed. The cupboards were full. Everything from Barbie and her caravan to a collection of antique dolls Nan had added to each birthday. Natalie looked at their dead eyes and they still gave her the creeps.

  On the top shelf were the Beanie Babies. Natalie struggled to see them decorating her warehouse; but one beanie babe, to her amusement, was a cockatoo. She didn’t think Maddison would miss it.

  Among the pile there were three teddy bears. A large pink one with a valentine heart—must have been from some boyfriend prior to Miles. An antique one, probably from Nan. And a third faded yellow one. Natalie picked the last one up—why was it familiar? It wasn’t the one from her dreams. For one thing, this had both eyes.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Jan from the door.

  Natalie turned around. ‘No, it’s not the one I meant.’

  ‘Actually you’re right. You never really did take to it. The one you had before this teddy fell apart. Had wires sticking out that were dangerous so we sent it off to the doll hospital and this one came back.’

  Natalie stepped down from the stool, still holding the yellow bear. Took the cockatoo as well and went back to the kitchen. She slumped on a chair as Jan poured tea for them all and Craig found some fruit cake only he would eat.

  ‘I want to say…’ Shit. Why was this so hard? Natalie steeled herself. ‘I want to say sorry. To you both.’

  Craig sat down after slapping her shoulder. ‘Nothing to say sorry for.’

  Natalie half-laughed. ‘Craig, you deserve a medal for surviving all I did to you. But this…Mum this is abo
ut you and me.’

  Jan flashed an anxious look at Craig.

  ‘Your mum did the best—’

  ‘I know.’ Natalie put her hand on her stepfather’s arm. ‘I’m not here to blame anyone about anything.’

  ‘I won’t go back to all that Natalie, I just won’t.’

  Natalie looked long and hard at her mother, as if she was seeing her for the first time. Every previous occasion they had had this conversation it had been: ‘I won’t tell you’ pitched against ‘You owe me and I want to know’.

  Now when Natalie looked at her mother she saw someone she had never seen before. Not the angry matriarch holding the power, but a mother who was scared, and who loved her daughter and thought she was doing the right thing.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Natalie. ‘That’s what I wanted you to know. I mean, really okay. I’d like to know, sure. But I was three years old and you did what you thought was best. I won’t ask again. But I love you both for doing your best and sticking around even after I made it pretty impossible. You did good, Mum.’

  46

  Winona rang back as Natalie was approaching home.

  She sounded grumpy. ‘The on-call team rang me at home. I work long enough hours without being chased. They said you were insistent.’

  ‘The Essa case? There’s a boyfriend on the scene.’

  There was a long silence. Winona’s job had already given her the air of someone older than she probably was. This case wasn’t going to help.

  ‘We’re going to have to do an after-hours unscheduled visit to spring him then,’ Winona finally said. ‘She’s denied having a boyfriend to us.’

  That didn’t make Natalie feel much better—she should have known to look harder for reasons to explain Jenna’s flight into health. Instead she’d bought the fairy tale Jenna had constructed for herself as well as everyone else.

  ‘What’ll happen to Chelsea and Chris?’

  ‘If we can’t trust her to keep this guy out, then we’ll take them to her parents’ I guess. Until the court decides tomorrow.’