More Than Us

by Dawn Barker

  The comments sections in newspapers are clearly for people who have nothing better to do at work. In fact, I bet these people don’t have a job, because who else would waste so much time and energy writing ignorant comments about my choices and my son, a boy whom they have never met? Not only do they think they’re experts in the treatment of mental health, this Fred of Willoughby and Margaret of Cremorne who say that I’m a ‘despicable’ and ‘devious’ mother, they also appeared to be qualified experts in psychology, vaccinations, parenting, medicine and police work. Geniuses.

  I focused my rage into my fingers. I clicked reply. I created a profile. I created several. I became Julie of Bondi, and Graham of St Leonards, and Michael of Botany. Throughout the morning, I replied to all the ignorant, judgemental comments, which made me feel better for a moment, but they always came back with something else. I knew that by responding, I was feeding them, fuelling a burning argument I could never win, but I didn’t want anyone to read those comments and think that there wasn’t another side to this story. There was my side of the story, and I needed people to understand what happened, otherwise they’d think I was a terrible mother to do this to my child. I’m not.

  I’m not.

  * * *

  I’d managed to get an appointment before school pick up with Dr Davidson. My stomach churned as I sat in the waiting room. I hadn’t been able to eat all day. I felt bile rise up in me at the thought of food. I was dressed in running pants and trainers, a baggy T-shirt, and my hair was pulled back in a ponytail. I looked a mess. I was a mess.

  Dr Davidson’s door opened, and she looked around the waiting room, empty except for me. ‘Cameron not here today?’ she said.

  I shook my head, my eyes immediately filling with tears.

  She nodded. ‘No problem. Come straight through.’

  In her room, the absence of Cameron seemed bigger than the physical size of him.

  ‘How are you, Emily?’ Dr Davidson said as I sat in my usual blue armchair.

  She was wearing a tight dress today, striped like a zebra. I could almost see Paul raising his eyebrows. It almost made me smile. Almost.

  I rearranged the cushions behind my back. ‘I’m okay. Thanks for fitting me in this afternoon.’

  Dr Davidson frowned. ‘It’s fine, I had a cancellation, and I know Cameron’s been in hospital over the weekend, so I was keen to see him.’

  ‘Oh, so you knew?’

  ‘Yes. I had a message from the neurologist on my answering machine saying he was in there and they’d get the consultation-liaison psychiatrist to see him, but that’s the last I heard. He got knocked out playing rugby?’

  ‘Yes. He got tackled and next thing I knew he was on the ground and he was having a seizure.’

  ‘Oh, Emily, that’s awful. How frightening for you. How is he now?’

  I started to speak, then paused to compose myself. ‘I don’t know… Paul discharged him, without me, I mean.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She sat up straight, frowning.

  ‘I know. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Yesterday, first thing, when I went to pick him up, they’d gone. And, this sounds ridiculous, but they flew out last night to Scotland.’

  She shook her head a little, and hesitated.

  ‘I was probably overreacting, but I even went to the police. They won’t do anything. They say he’s with his father, so in their eyes he’s safe.’ I held up my phone, in my hand. ‘They’ll still be flying. I’m hoping they call late tonight, or early tomorrow morning…’ I covered my face with my hands.

  When I took them away again, Dr Davidson held out a box of tissues.

  I took a few, blew my nose and continued. ‘I’ve spoken to Paul’s mum, he’s spoken to her, she’s picking them up from the airport and I know she’ll let me know when they’re there. I haven’t really told you before, but he’s very anti…’ I waved my arms around the room. ‘This. Psychiatry. Medication. So, he’s taken him away from it all, I guess. Said he wants to get some space. He thinks he knows better. I haven’t told you before but he’s part of this group, he went to rehab when he was gambling and they seem to hate doctors…’ I rubbed my face with my hands.

  She shook her head, a sympathetic smile on her face. Then she leaned back in her office chair and twirled her pen in her fingers. ‘Are you worried?’

  My chin quivered. I nodded. ‘Cameron’s not on his medication. Paul won’t give it to him. He thinks it caused the seizure and he’s angry at me for not telling him about it.’

  ‘Emily, don’t worry about the medication. You and I know that it has helped him enormously, but he’ll be okay without it too. Are you worried about him in any other way, his safety, being with Paul I mean?’

  I shrugged. ‘The police asked that too and really, I know Paul wouldn’t hurt him. I’m not worried from that point of view, but I’m worried… he’s not here with me, I can’t see what’s going on for him and I’m worried that I lose him to…’

  ‘Paul?’

  ‘Yes.’ My voice was small.

  ‘He can’t belong to both of you?’

  I said nothing.

  ‘How’s Tilly taking this?’

  ‘Oh. She’s… well, I guess she’s okay. She’s worried about him, about me and her dad. I hate to think of her lying awake at night thinking about all this, but I know she is. She’s like me, always has been.’

  ‘You identify a lot with her.’

  I shrugged. That’s the way it’s meant to be, isn’t it? Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons.

  ‘Does she talk to you?’

  ‘We talk.’

  Now it was Dr Davidson’s turn to nod. ‘I’m sure it’s very hard for her, too.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She’s probably confused and frightened. Like you are.’

  ‘I’m not…’ Yes. I was.

  ‘You can bring her in next time, if you like.’

  I nodded, laughed in a forced way. ‘Paul would have a heart attack. Look what he’s done to Cameron. I don’t want him to take her too.’

  I blinked hard, then grabbed another tissue from the box.

  ‘I know it sounds like some crazy movie, I just can’t quite believe that this is happening. Paul has such fixed ideas about things, and I’m worried that he gets to Cameron. Paul now is so rigid in his… beliefs, but Cameron is so complex and Paul can’t understand that and he doesn’t know how to deal with him like I do.’ I looked up at her, my eyes pleading with her to take my point of view. ‘I thought it was harmless, you know, Paul not having alcohol or caffeine, or processed foods or whatever, but now he’s on about vaccinations and doctors and medications being the cause of it all. It’s like a… cult.’

  ‘What’s this group called?’ she asked. ‘That he’s part of?’

  ‘Phoenix. The rehab centre he was in was called Treetops Retreat.’

  She nodded slowly.

  ‘Do you know them?’

  ‘I know of them.’

  My heart sped up. ‘Should I be worried?’

  ‘Cameron’s not in one of their centres though, is he?’

  ‘No, they’re on their way to Scotland, for a holiday. I think they’re just getting away from it all and going to the country, or something. I think…’ That’s what they said, wasn’t it?

  ‘Emily, it’s not for me to say, but Cameron is vulnerable. I can’t say that all their beliefs are wrong, but I know that their views are… extreme. I guess I just have my concerns about Cameron getting caught up in all of that.’

  ‘But he’s with his dad.’

  She sighed and nodded. ‘Yes, he is. I’m sure you’re right. I’d just be careful.’

  I drove from Dr Davidson’s office to Tilly’s school. She usually got the bus home on Tuesdays but I had to see her. The spring sun made the red flowers of the bottlebrush trees that lined the street glow. What was Cameron doing now? Was he tired? Had he managed to get any sleep on the plane? I knew he was going to Aberdeen; Paul’s mum had been surprised t
hat I didn’t know. She was sensible. He was just going to his grandmother’s house with his Scottish family. But still, Dr Davidson’s reaction when I had mentioned Phoenix worried me.

  ‘Mum, what are you doing here?’ hissed Tilly, looking over her shoulder back towards the school gates where her friends were milling around.

  ‘I thought I’d pick you up today, save you getting the bus. I thought we could go for a smoothie.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just do slipway then?’

  ‘It was last minute, Tilly, I was early so I parked. You could say, “thanks Mum, for thinking of me!” I reached out to ruffle her hair.

  ‘Mum…’ She ducked out of my way.

  ‘Oh, I’m only teasing, come on.’

  ‘I’ll meet you over there,’ she said, pointing to the school car park. ‘I’ve just got to say bye to a few people first.’

  I raised my eyebrows then strolled back towards the car, my head down, my sunglasses on so that people couldn’t see my puffy eyes after crying in Dr Davidson’s office.

  ‘Emily, how are you?’ I looked up and saw one of the school mums, Tess, leaning from the driver’s seat of her car, queued in the slipway, towards her open passenger window. The queue wasn’t moving. I wiggled my fingers in a little wave then looked away, but out of the corner of my eye I could see her beckoning towards me. I pretended I hadn’t seen her, then felt a pang of guilt. Tess was a friend. Our girls had been at school together since Year 1. So often, I’d told Cameron the importance of friends, of social connectedness instead of sitting alone on his bloody computer all the time, and here I was, the most alone I’d ever been, blocking my friends. I stepped towards her car. ‘Sorry, Tess. I’m just trying to avoid a few people, you know?’

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘Oh God, do I understand that! How are you holding up? I read…’

  ‘Don’t.’ I held my hand up. ‘Sorry, I just can’t talk about it here. I’ll start crying again.’ I tried to smile and to my horror, a tear escaped. ‘Shit.’ I fumbled in my bag for tissues, hoping that Tilly didn’t choose this moment to catch up with me.

  ‘I just wanted to say that I understand why you did what you did. I know that a lot of the mums are judging, but I know how difficult Cameron was for you to manage.’

  ‘He wasn’t difficult. He was ill.’ My face was contorting as I tried to keep calm.

  ‘Oh, Emily, that’s what I meant! And he needed it. Just ignore anyone who says otherwise, and I have already told them to stop talking about it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. They were talking about it? All the mums at school were calling each other for a salacious gossip? I wanted to sink down into the ground. ‘I have to go.’ I didn’t care if she thought I was rude; I had to get back to the car. Just then, Tilly shuffled up beside me. ‘I’m ready.’

  In the car, Tilly slumped in the front seat. I indicated and pulled out onto the road. I tried to keep my voice casual. ‘How was your day?’

  I know that’s not what you’re meant to say to kids any more – the school psychologist had said we should ask about something that made them smile or feel proud, but it always sounded so unnatural coming out of my mouth that they knew it was forced.

  Tilly responded, as suspected, with ‘Fine.’

  ‘Just fine?’

  ‘Yup,’ she said, but by the way she bit the inside of her cheek, I knew that something had happened.

  I just nodded and kept driving.

  ‘Did Dad call?’ she said, eventually, not taking her eyes away from the window.

  ‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘They’re probably not off the plane yet.’

  ‘It’s not fair that he gets to go away and miss school and I don’t.’

  I sighed, gripping the steering wheel. ‘Did you have a bad day?’

  ‘No worse than usual.’

  I nodded a little, and waited for her to say more.

  ‘Everybody knows, Mum.’

  My heart almost stopped. I kept looking straight ahead, keeping my voice light. ‘There’s nothing to know.’

  ‘It was in the papers. I know it was about him. They said that he was psycho and you were hiding pills in his food.’

  ‘Oh darling—’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Don’t use that word, psycho, you know your brother had some difficulties but it’s just an illness like any other.’

  ‘You didn’t answer me.’

  ‘That article was rubbish, Tilly, rubbish.’ My voice was shrill and I knew I should pull over but if I only kept driving this conversation would be over sooner. ‘The tablets aren’t dangerous, they were helping him, sweetie. You know that, he was so much better. He just got knocked out.’

  ‘You could have warned me. Everybody was teasing me.’

  I wanted to sob at the thought of Tilly struggling through the day with the little stuck-up princesses at school teasing her. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s got nothing to do with you, Tilly.’

  ‘It’s got everything to do with me, Mum! It’s my family too, and they’ve gone and we’re just sitting here doing nothing.’

  ‘I’ll sort it out.’

  She sniffed and turned away from me, looking out the passenger window, her shoulders heaving. I bit my lip and blinked back my tears, then reached out and put my left hand on her knee. She tensed, but didn’t turn back. We drove home in silence. When we reached home, she kicked her shoes off in the hallway then stomped off to her room and slammed the door.

  Thirty-Four

  Paul

  Mum’s face broke into a grin as she spotted us walking out of customs at Aberdeen Airport. She waved, waved again, then clasped her hand over her mouth. She looked smaller than I remembered, greyer, a bit plumper. I smiled and waved back and put my arms around Cameron’s shoulders as we neared her.

  She hugged me. She barely came up to my chest but still managed to make me feel protected. She would look after us. She looked up and I kissed her cheek. Her skin was chamois-soft, slack and smooth. She turned and hugged Cameron, then held him at arm’s length. ‘Let me get a good look at you, son. You’re so grown up now, Cameron. So handsome!’

  ‘You must need new glasses, Grandma,’ he said with a smile.

  She swatted at him, smiling. ‘Oh, away with ye. You’re cheeky like your dad. Well, what are ye both waiting for, come on.’

  I pushed the trolley with our luggage as we followed Mum to the car. It had been raining; the ground was wet with a few puddles remaining. I inhaled; the air was cool, fresh. Dusk was already setting in. We’d left Sydney well over twenty-four hours ago and I had no idea what time of day it was here or in Australia. If it was evening here, it must be early morning in Sydney; I wondered if Tilly was off to school and what Emily would be doing. Cameron ducked into the back seat. As we stuffed our bags into the boot of Mum’s small hatchback, she muttered, ‘Emily phoned me. What’s going on?’

  I couldn’t look at her. ‘What did she say?’

  She spoke quietly. ‘It’s what she didn’t say, Paul. Have you had a tiff?’

  I shrugged as I managed to click the car boot closed. ‘Something like that.’

  She raised her eyebrows and put her arm on my hand to stop me. ‘Paul. I’m chuffed to see you, and Cammie, you know that. But ye canna run away from your problems.’

  ‘I’m not, Mum. Cameron and I just need a holiday. I’ll explain it all later.’

  She let go of my arm. ‘Aye. Well, I’m just saying. Your father and I had our differences, but we always went to sleep wi’ a kiss. And I’m glad we did, or I’d have never forgiven myself.’

  Despite myself, I felt tears well in my eyes. My dad had died in his sleep, years ago now, when his heart gave out suddenly. ‘Mum, not now. I’m worn out.’

  She stared up at me through her glasses. I could see the smudges on the lenses of them. Her hair was either grey or bleached blonde, I couldn’t tell, and she wore it cut short, framing her pale face, though her cheeks were pink. She had a dark purple
scarf wound around her neck and tucked under her black woollen coat. I sighed. ‘Do you want me to drive?’

  ‘Drive? You’ve been travelling for days. Away with ye. I’ll drive.’

  * * *

  Mum put the kettle on while I had a shower. Cameron had already had one and was getting changed in one of the bedrooms that Mum now used as a craft room. Mum’s house felt small, even though as a kid it had seemed huge. Three bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room and a kitchen. That was all we’d had, all we needed. I thought back to our house in Sydney, the scale of it, my complaints about how we only had two bathrooms, or that there wasn’t enough separation and we woke Tilly when we got up early to read the weekend papers when she was trying to have a lie in. How had I lost sight of what was important?

  I left my clothes in the corner of the bathroom and turned the water on, wincing as the pipes shuddered and knocked. As I waited for the water to warm up, I took off my watch and put it next to Mum’s candles and pot pourri on the glass shelf above the sink. I could hear her chattering away to Cameron. I knew he’d be exhausted, like I was, but I could hear him reply and laugh at something she said. Then I heard the doorbell and a high-pitched squeal that could only be my sister. I smiled.

  I took my time, savouring the sting of the hot water on my back, and giving myself a few minutes more before I faced Fiona’s questions. I stepped out over the edge of the bath, peeling the shower curtain off me, then tied a towel around my waist, bundled up my clothes and hurried through to my old bedroom. My childhood medals and felt-based trophies of footballers still lined the shelves on the wall. The wallpaper was the same textured cream colour, with a frieze of green with black and white footballs. I used to share this room with Alasdair. We’d always been close, only eighteen months’ difference and one year of school between us. It’d been great when he’d decided to move his own family out to Australia too. He’d have called Mum, I was sure. Emily would have contacted him. I’d kept my mobile switched off but had no doubt that by now, my voicemail would be full of messages. I wasn’t ready to turn it back on yet.