Things We Cannot See

by Dianne Maguire

  Laura looked up to the ceiling, rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll see you downstairs, Tara,’ she said, crossing her arms and stepping towards the door, suddenly aware that despite what he had done, she was incapable of fully abandoning him. Not like this. ‘I’ll visit again tomorrow,’ she said with the tone of the morbidly disgruntled.

  Again she was unable to concentrate on her reading, this time distracted by Simon’s pleas of innocence, playing over and over in her mind. She left her novel lying open on her lap as she surveyed the parade of foot traffic between the hospital’s giant sliding front doors and the elevators behind her, resting her head back on the armchair in the hospital entrance and allowing her sense of confused powerlessness to simply wash over her. An oil painting extending the full length of one wall caught her attention, and for a moment she was drawn into the textures and colours, the abstract garden scene represented, until the clipping of heels and the sound of Tara’s voice drew her back to reality. She watched as Tara lowered herself into the seat alongside and laid one hand on hers.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she said.

  Laura shrugged her shoulders, swallowing back tears, berating herself for being so helplessly pathetic.

  ‘Well, before we discuss Simon,’ Tara said, rolling her eyes, ‘let me tell you my news. It may cheer you up.’ She straightened her shoulders, a smile crossing her face. ‘Anthony and I had coffee yesterday.’ Her smile broadened, reminding Laura of Tara as a teenager after going out on a particularly good date. ‘I think it’s going to work,’ she said, nodding. ‘He’s very anxious to see Seth and so are his kids, who are both independent now and in their twenties.’

  ‘It must have been surreal seeing him again after seven years,’ Laura said, enjoying this reprieve from the overwhelming subject that was Simon, searching the pockets of her jacket and withdrawing a tissue, dabbing her eyes.

  Tara nodded, her expression intense. ‘It felt terrifyingly good to see him again.’ She could not suppress her smile.

  Laura briefly clasped Tara’s hand. ‘What did he say about Seth?’

  ‘Well . . . He said he’s thought about Seth and me practically every day from the day we separated, which was also the day Seth was born. He said that regardless of how difficult it was to pick up his life with his wife and family after he and I ended, he still thinks it was the best thing he could have done, because at the same time I told him I was pregnant, his wife was diagnosed with leukaemia.’

  Laura gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh Tara. Did you know about that at the time?’

  She shook her head. ‘He deliberately didn’t tell me because he thought there’d be no hope for a clean break if he did. Apparently he and his wife have travelled and done wonderful things together over the past six years. Since she died six months ago, he’s now ready to pick up with Seth and me, if we’re prepared to have him.’ Tara’s beautiful dark eyes shone with tears.

  ‘Go with it, Tara. Ride the wave, darling,’ Laura said without hesitation. ‘I think this is the beginning of good things for you and Seth. I think Anthony may be the reason why you have never fallen in love again.’

  ‘I could give you the same advice, Mum,’ she said. ‘You loved Simon with a passion. Who’s to say that his accident can’t provide you with a clean slate? That you can’t start all over again?’

  Laura felt her gut turn to stone. ‘Me. That’s who’s to say. Your inability to forgive him for what he has done to my trust and loyalty seems to have disappeared, Tara,’ she spat, immediately regretting her tone but without any inclination to back down.

  ‘Mum, I showed him the photo of the breakfast with that woman. He actually cried. I believe him when he says he can’t remember. Anyway, let’s not talk about it now,’ Tara said with an embarrassed glance towards the steady line of visitors heading for the elevators.

  Laura lifted her chin. ‘He may not be able to remember, Tara, but I can’t forget.’

  They parted minutes later, each still maintaining her stance and Tara having the final word. ‘Just think about it, Mum. Eight years of good marriage should not be easily tossed aside.’

  ‘Eight years of good marriage should not be easily tossed aside,’ Laura mimicked later as she turned onto the expressway, the car heater pumping out its soothing warmth. ‘Well, guess what, Tara? For me the marriage was middling to OK – and he was looking further afield. So it wasn’t even OK for him. Why the hell would I subject myself to that again?’

  By nightfall Laura was convinced that the only future remaining for her and Simon was a financial and property settlement, divorce, and, if he required, her support as a friend while he was healing. As she puzzled over what she could tell their friends and colleagues, how she could avoid their judgement as the abandoning wife in Simon’s hour of need, Flynn rang.

  ‘The funeral is tomorrow,’ he said, ‘so I should be home in a couple of days. I hope the girls are not causing you any trouble?’

  ‘No. They are a joy actually.’

  ‘How is Simon?’ he said in a tone that hinted he already knew the answer.

  ‘He’s conscious. I saw him today.’

  He hesitated. ‘You don’t sound as happy as I thought you’d be.’

  Laura hesitated. Aching to be as frank with him as he had been with her, she wavered, not only because her decision to divorce Simon was still so new, but also because Flynn was dealing with his own form of grief, not needing or deserving of anyone else’s. ‘Correct. I’m not happy,’ she blurted in her police officer’s voice, taking a deep breath in the silence that followed. She sighed. ‘I’ve found out some things about Simon that have convinced me beyond any doubt that I’ve been married to a stranger.’

  ‘Do you want to tell me?’ Flynn said.

  Unshed tears built and lodged in her throat, making it difficult to breath let alone talk. ‘He was having sex with other attached people via the Grayson website, once a week at least, sometimes more. And I don’t know why . . .’ She whooshed several tissues from the box on the kitchen bench, pressed the wad to her mouth to stifle her tears.

  ‘It’s not your fault, Laura,’ he said in barely a whisper.

  ‘He can’t remember doing it,’ she said.

  ‘Does that change anything?’

  ‘No. It just means he doesn’t need to take any responsibility – even in his own mind.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Jayne’s red lace slip displayed far more leg than a mother should be showing, Maddi thought as she followed her into the marble ensuite. ‘Pleeease, Mum?’ she begged.

  Jayne zipped up her gold and black makeup bag, passing Maddi as she stepped into the walk-in robe. ‘For once your father and I are agreed, Madeline, that you are to stay away from Alex’s house until Roger Grenfell is in jail,’ she said, ripping a floral suit from the hanger and wriggling into the skirt.

  ‘I told you. They think Roger is a witness, not the attacker. But they have a lead. They may have caught him by now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jayne’s freshly glossed lips grimaced as she hoisted the tight skirt and straightened her slip. Fastened the red buttons on the floral jacket.

  Maddi’s ears echoed with the warning Alex had given her when she’d told her about Mr Martin. Her dire threat that she was strictly, definitely not to tell anyone else. ‘Alex had another nightmare. She gave them a better description this time,’ Maddi said.

  Jayne slipped into a pair of red stilettos. ‘But he’s not in jail, is he?’ she said, strutting across to her bed and grabbing up her handbag.

  ‘No. But Noah Tamblyn said—’

  ‘I don’t care what Noah Tamblyn said.’ Jayne rushed from the bedroom. ‘The answer is still no, not until her attacker is caught.’ She stopped and turned. ‘Now please stop following me, Madeline. And do something with your hair. It’s everywhere again.’

  Maddi made a futile attempt at smoothing the fluff of hair with her palms. ‘But she’s my friend, Mum. And she’s frea
ked from having that nightmare.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Madeline. The answer is no,’ Jayne said, selecting an apple and banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchen bench and dropping them into her handbag before leaving the room, clicking along the corridor towards the study and returning to the kitchen a moment a later with her briefcase.

  ‘That’s great. Another weekend alone while you and Dad host openings Saturday and Sunday,’ Maddi said, widening her eyes.

  ‘Why don’t you invite Alex here for the weekend?’ Jayne said.

  Maddi rolled her eyes. Shook her head. ‘That totally does not make sense, if you’re worried about security, Mum. At least Greg is at Alex’s house.’

  Jayne studied Alex’s face.

  Maddi continued. ‘They could have interviewed her attacker by now. He could even be in jail. Pleeeeease.’

  Jayne’s face softened. ‘OK. But I’ll be ringing to check up on you, so don’t you dare complain when I do,’ she said, smiling and playfully pointing a manicured finger at Maddi’s shoulder. ‘Now, if you’re ready I’ll drop you off at school.’

  ‘Yes,’ Maddi said punching the air and scuttling towards her bedroom.

  ‘And Madeline, please do something with your hair,’ Jayne called after her.

  They sat side by side in the car. Maddi glanced at her mother’s profile, grateful she had finally given in. But now that her visit to Alex’s house had suddenly become a reality, she had mild reservations about going there. Ever since her latest nightmare Alex had been sullen and withdrawn when Maddi had expected the opposite, that it would have been a mammoth relief. And she hoped Alex would not be in her ear about old Fullavit again. Maddi’s view was that Alex saw Fullavit as the most positive force in her life, cruelly ripped from her arms and her heart by evil forces.

  In fact, Alex’s entire family seemed different since the attack. Whereas Maddi would once have enjoyed good-natured bantering between them whenever she visited, lately the mood was tense and sullen, particularly when Greg was at home. She glanced again at her mother’s profile, anxious to tell her all about Mr Martin, about Alex’s continued obsession with Fullavit and about the aggression she had witnessed from Greg towards Roger Grenfell last time she had stayed there. But she remained silent, turning to face the side mirror. If she said anything more, her mother was certain to take back the permission she had given for tomorrow night’s sleepover. She watched the traffic slow at her side, heard the clicking of the indicator as Jayne changed lanes, convinced that once Mr Martin was outed and jailed, Alex and her family – everything – would return to normal.

  ‘Have a good day,’ Jayne said leaning into Alex and turning her cheek for a kiss.

  Maddi climbed from the car, immediately spotting Alex at the front gates, anxious to catch up. As she waited on the kerb for a break in the traffic, she watched Alex’s shuffled steps, her bowed head, and knew that this would not be a good day.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, running up behind her a minute later. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Alex said, making a face. ‘Does there always have to be something wrong?’

  Maddi glanced over to the lawn where a pair of magpies warbled and pranced in circles around each other. ‘Guess what?’ she said, smiling. ‘I can stay at yours tomorrow night.’

  Alex turned with an expression Maddi could not fathom. ‘That’s great,’ she said, her usual enthusiasm noticeably absent.

  ‘It’s still OK for me to come, isn’t it?’ Maddi said.

  ‘Yeah. That’s cool,’ Alex said, suddenly brightening. ‘Come after breakfast and we can hang out all day. By the way, Isaac rang me last night. I think he was curious about why I wasn’t at work yesterday. He didn’t say anything about Mr Martin, nor did I. I don’t think he knows about him yet.’ She shrugged off her backpack as though it had suddenly grown too heavy, and balanced it on her hip. ‘Anyway, Isaac apologised for the way he’s been treating me. He said he’s been dealing with some personal shit that was getting to him.’

  Maddi lead the way up the steps. ‘Isaac said that?’

  ‘Yes, Maddi. Who else?’ Alex said, making a face. ‘Anyway, I figure it’ll be cool working with him after all, once they . . . after they arrest you know who,’ she whispered, scanning the corridor for potential eavesdroppers.

  ‘Have you heard anything yet? Like, have they arrested him?’ Maddi murmured, also glancing around before shoving her backpack into her locker.

  Alex suddenly stared ahead, her movements laboured then frozen.

  Following her friend’s line of vision, Maddi was not surprised to see Fullavit loping towards them. By now everyone had heard the school gossip about his impending suspension following the visit from the police . . . but the latest news seemed to be that the principal wanted him to stay until his replacement had been found. But because Chinese whispers abounded in the school, Maddi had rejected this as gossip and had chosen to ignore it. On the other hand, the rumours seemed to have spurred Alex on. It was as though she was even more desperate for his attention.

  Fullavit approached, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his books, eyes glaring ahead. Alex followed him with her eyes as he walked past, staring pointedly ahead without any form of acknowledgement coming their way. Maddi watched Alex for signs of disappointment, anger, bewilderment, anything. But there was nothing. And neither of them spoke of it as they walked side by side into their home room.

  That night, Maddi sat at her desk for hours, lifting her head occasionally to face the textured white curtain drawn against the night. Her parents had offered her dinner out and a film, but Maddi was determined to finish her homework before the weekend. Besides, the idea of going out with her parents was like more a punishment than a treat.

  Sighing and turning again to her laptop, she agonised over her chemistry notes, struggling to recapture the words Fullavit had used in describing what he expected from them in manipulating quantitative data. She thought about ringing Alex, given it was her favourite subject, but immediately changed her mind, anticipating the conversation, and feeling that, for the sake of her own mental health, she needed respite from Alex’s melancholy. Instead, she straightened in her chair and began to search the net for the missing information.

  ‘Mum and I are off to bed,’ her dad said later, poking his head in through the doorway, then padding barefoot across the carpet to kiss her cheek.

  ‘What time is it?’ Maddi said.

  ‘Midnight. Time for you to be in the land of zzz’s as well,’ he said.

  ‘I’m just finishing the last question for English lit, then I’m done,’ she said. ‘Oh Dad,’ she called after him. ‘Can you or Mum drive me to Alex’s house just after breakfast, please?’

  ‘Why?’

  Maddi’s heart sank at the thought that her parents had decided between them that she couldn’t go to Alex’s house after all. ‘Because Mum said I could sleep over tomorrow night.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh that. Yeah, sure. Sorry, gorgeous, I’d forgotten . . . other things on my mind. Are you certain you feel quite safe over there?’

  ‘Yeah. Course,’ she said, turning her attention back to her homework.

  Maddi was woken next morning by her parents’ voices bouncing off the walls between the kitchen and her bedroom. Her eyes not yet prepared for the day, her hand searched the bedside table for her phone, until she finally peered through one eye to find it was 7.30 am. Immediately springing from bed, she pointed the remote at her curtains, which duly skated open. Maddi hurriedly pulled her canvas overnight bag from the top of her wardrobe and shoved tops, underwear and toiletries inside, before showering and dressing in her daggiest jeans, her favourite shabbiest runners and a blue lightweight windcheater. She brushed her teeth and her hair, and scurried down the corridor to the kitchen.

  ‘Morning, sweet,’ Andrew said, looking up at her from the newspaper, the western side of their pool sparkling through the spotless length of window behind him.
‘Were you up till very late last night?’ With his brows meeting in creases he examined her face.

  Maddi resisted the urge to comment on the way her parents watched her every movement, as though she was some sort of scientific study. She shook her head and cut two slices of ciabatta from the loaf on the bench, dropping them into the toaster and leaning on the bench to study her mother, already dressed for work, sipping coffee and gazing out at the garden through the wide window above the sink.

  ‘Did you make your bed, Madeline?’ Jayne said without turning.

  Maddi immediately headed back to her room, hearing Jayne telling Andrew in the background, ‘I think it’s time we took a weekend off, or even better a holiday. I feel like I need a break.’

  ‘Wrong time of year,’ Andrew was saying as Maddi ran into her room and pulled the quilt over, picked up her wet towel from the carpet and tossed it into the bathroom.

  ‘You seem chipper this morning,’ Jayne said, bending to place her cup in the dishwasher as Maddi returned to the kitchen. ‘You must really be looking forward to spending today with Alex.’

  Since Alex’s attack, Maddi’s eyes automatically focussed on the entrance to Connor Lane whenever they drove up to Alex’s house, and she wondered if Alex felt the same.

  Andrew pulled into the kerb opposite Alex’s house. ‘I won’t go in with you, pet,’ he said, peering out the side window at Alex’s house with what Maddi detected as a form of judgement. The garden did seem more tangled and overgrown than she could remember and the lawn was in definite need of a cut.

  ‘Have a good time, sweets,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘And ring if you want to come home. We’ll come straight away to get you.’

  ‘Oh God, Dad. I’m not five,’ Maddi said, climbing from the car. She stood on the kerb and waved as his thick tyres crunched into Alex’s driveway before turning and accelerating from the street. And for some unfathomable reason Maddi instantly felt as though she wanted to run after him.