***
3:04am
I stare at the shadows on the ceiling, waiting. It can’t be long now; she only sleeps two, sometimes three hours straight at a time. No sense trying to get back to sleep. Rob snores beside me and I feel a surge of anger. How can he just fucking sleep through it all?
Everything has changed. Rob’s changed. I can sense it in his body when I flop, exhausted, into bed beside him. Can sense it in the way he touches me – still the perfunctory goodbye and hello kiss. The Saturday morning fuck before Ruby screams for her morning feed is robotic, lacking the tenderness I’d grown to expect. The tenderness I took for granted.
Am I imagining it? Is it possible I’m so jetlagged from this stop-start sleep routine, the constant feeling of drowning, the not knowing which way is up, that I can no longer see what’s real? Maybe things are as they were. Maybe it’s me who’s changed. Ruby who’s changed me.
But then I see him watching me. Standing at the kitchen sink, dressed in his suit, hair slicked back, coffee mug pressed to his lips. I can feel his eyes. And, when I look up, they’re narrowed, suspicious, fixed on me. I’ll smile and jiggle Ruby on my hip and sing ‘Say goodbye to Daddy!’ and she’ll stretch out her chubby fingers and grin at him and he’ll dissolve. He’ll smile at her, tears in his eyes, and kiss her cherubic face. But it’s too late. I’ve seen. And it’s like being touched on the inside with cold fingers.
A wail pierces the air and my skin zings with adrenalin the way it always does, even when I’m expecting it. I rush to her room, lift her warm little body from the cot and cradle her in my arms. Her seeking mouth finds my nipple and she latches on.
There’s no point pretending. The darkness, it’s back. As I stare at the electronic swirl of blue stars on the ceiling above Ruby’s cot, her squirming body – always squirming, never still – in my arms, the tinny, stylised rendition of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ filling the room, I can feel it. Unfurling within, scratching at the inside of my ribs. An anxious awakening. A bad omen.
Chapter 10
Erica
June, 2017
Saturday, 5pm
The garden is lovely at this time of year – a sea of pinks and purples, baby blues and daffodil yellows. Winter is beautiful here, most of the time at least. In summer it’s far too hot on this side of the house, and my babies tend to suffer in the heat. Still, I’ve managed to keep them alive all these years. More than twenty years and counting and I haven’t lost a single one. Letting them down a second time simply isn’t an option.
David is always the first I tend to, then Lucy, then Amanda, then You. It’s silly, perhaps, but I find comfort in keeping to a routine. That’s the order in which they were created, and that is how I always think of them. David, Lucy, Amanda and You. The family I’d have had if everything had gone the way it was supposed to.
Sometimes I lie on my back amongst them and close my eyes, letting the sunshine warm me and the gentle wind soothe me. I do this now, the freshly mown grass soft against my back and fragrant in the air, and in my mind they’re all here. David, the larrikin – he was always so active! Lucy, my gentle girl, Amanda my little livewire. And You. The angel I held in my arms.
In my mind I’m reading a book on the patio and David’s haring around after a ball – to think he’s now a young man! How time has flown. And Lucy and Amanda are squabbling over who’s the mother and who’s the baby in the make-believe game they always play. You’re in my lap, nearly ten years old but still loving to cuddle. The baby of the family, Mummy’s little shadow, my precious angel.
Samir’s upstairs making dinner – he’s a fabulous cook, much better than I am, try as I might – and the smell of something rich and savoury makes my mouth water. He’s the most wonderful father, as I always knew he would be, and the children just adore him. How jealous my silly sister was when I met him! How she envies me even now, because her two-year-old twins are giving her grief, unlike my angels, and Gary isn’t half as supportive as Samir. Nor half as wealthy. Fortune truly smiled on me on that fateful day, so many years ago now.
A sharp wailing shatters the illusion and reality rushes back with such force it leaves me breathless. I squeeze my eyes shut as the baby’s cries pierce through me like broken glass.
Chapter 11
Liz
June, 2017
Wednesday, 6:15am
My head aches as if I drank a bottle of red last night. The sleeping pills have left me groggy, dehydrated, and still I lay awake most of the night, worrying.
I gaze out of the window through aching eyes just as the side gate to the left of the Haddads’s house opens and someone enters the yard. It’s Erica, her back to me as she reaches up to touch the leaves of the tallest of four green, leafy trees. It’s hard to see clearly from here, but when I squint it almost looks like she’s caressing them. She does the same with the tree beside it, which is slightly smaller, and the one beside that, which is smaller still, moving along the row to give each plant the same attention. I shake my head. Some people really believe that stroking and speaking to their plants helps them thrive. But who am I to judge? For all I know, they could be right.
‘You’re already up,’ Adam says with surprise as he enters the kitchen, his eyes running over me. I’m huddled at the counter by the window nursing a strong cup of coffee, and I know I look like death warmed up.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I murmur, rubbing my eyes.
Adam’s brow creases. ‘Is it the cold? I know it’s a bit draughty …’
I shake my head. ‘It isn’t that. You’re like a furnace.’
Adam grins and I manage a weak smile.
‘It’s …’ I trail off, suddenly reluctant to finish my thought.
Adam comes up beside me and places a hand over mine. He smells of the cologne I bought him for Christmas and there’s a faint whiff of toothpaste when he speaks.
‘Have you been having nightmares again?’
I pull my hand away and immediately regret it.
‘It’s not that,’ I say stiffly. ‘It’s … that woman. Across the creek. You said her name is Dee?’
Adam frowns. ‘What about her?’
I hesitate. ‘The other night I saw her in the middle house, through the window.’
Adam looks confused. ‘Well, that’s where she lives, Lizzie.’
I sigh, annoyed that my foggy brain isn’t sorting the words right. ‘I know that. It’s just, she … she had a black eye. It looked pretty bad.’
‘How do you …?’ Adam trails off then grins, amused. ‘Have you been watching? Found Dad’s binoculars, did you?’
‘I wasn’t—’ I feel my face heat up. ‘Look, it isn’t the point. This isn’t funny. What do you know about her husband? I haven’t seen him around.’
Adam shrugs. ‘I didn’t know him that well, but we did share a few pints now and then. And like I said, he seemed like a pretty good guy.’
‘Ugh, I hate that phrase. What does it even mean? A lot of guys can seem pretty good and then turn out not to be. I should know, shouldn’t I? Christy and her baby were killed by that bastard because …’ I choke up and Adam puts an arm around my shoulder.
I take a deep breath and swallow the lump in my throat. ‘My instincts are playing up, and you know I should have listened to them last time. Don’t you think it’s strange we haven’t seen Rob?’
‘I know how you must be feeling, sweetie. But I honestly don’t think it’s that strange. Rob was always away a lot. He’s a pilot, I think. Rolling in money.’
There’s a trace of resentment in his tone, but I can hardly blame him, given our circumstances.
Adam pours cereal into a bowl and drowns it in milk. He chews thoughtfully. ‘I don’t want you to get too excited, but I have some news that might cheer you up. I think we’ll have closed the deal within the fortnight.’
My face breaks out in a smile. ‘Really? That’s brilliant!’
Adam grins. ‘Fingers crossed. I just need to bring the buyer up to spe
ed on Dad’s business model, which will take a while, as you know, as I’ll basically have to decipher it myself first, but then apart from that we’re good to go!’
‘That’s amazing news,’ I clasp my hands together. ‘And the house …?’
‘Still working on a settlement date, but we’re looking at about a month’s time at this stage.’
My face falls. ‘Another month here?’
‘We might not have to be around for that, but I’ll have to make sure. I don’t want to be overseas and have them say something’s gone wrong and we need to sort it out in person. Although there are usually ways around these things these days, with most things being digital. The good news is that once the company buyers have signed on the dotted line, they’ll be transferring a deposit into my account. We’ll finally have a bit of money until the rest comes through.’
I brighten slightly at that, but I’m desperate not to be stuck here for an entire month longer. Hopefully, as Adam says, it’s not something we have to be around for.
My gaze drifts to the window. Dee’s blinds are drawn and there’s no sign of life. A pair of birds land on the stretch of lawn in front of her house, screeching and squawking – I can hear them from here. Plovers, according to Tim’s bird book. (Yes, I’ve been that bored). Ugly things with big yellow wattle under their sharp little beaks. This particular breed is native to this coastal region and rarely found anywhere else. Lucky us. They’re so bloody noisy I can hardly hear myself think.
Following my line of vision, Adam places a hand on my arm. ‘Look, I wouldn’t worry. Dee’s got a new baby, so she’s probably sleep-deprived. Maybe she walked into a door or something.’
I raise an eyebrow.
That earns me a chuckle. ‘I know, I know. Sorry. But I just can’t believe Rob would do something like that,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘He’s the softest bloke. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
I furrow my brow. ‘I didn’t think you knew him that well.’
Adam stares out of the kitchen window toward the trio of houses. ‘I didn’t. I don’t. It’s just … you get a sense about a person, don’t you? He spoke so fondly of her. Dee, I mean. And the way he was so keen for children …’
‘That doesn’t mean he can’t get angry, can’t, you know … lose his temper.’
‘I know, darling,’ Adam sighs. ‘And you never know what goes on behind closed doors. God knows the people I’ve thought I’ve known, have trusted, who’ve turned out to …’ He trails off and I’m sure we’re both thinking about what happened with his business partner and his ex. ‘It’s just such a shame, isn’t it? I remember how chuffed Rob was when he met Dee. Never thought a woman like that would look at him twice!’ he chuckles. ‘I can’t help but wonder …’
‘What?’
Adam looks sheepish. ‘Well, she had a bit of a reputation.’
‘Oh, so she was asking for it, is that what you mean? Because of course, if a man does something bad to you, it must be your fault.’
Adam chuckles and kisses my cheek. ‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
‘What did you mean, then?’ I fold my arms and turn my head. I know it’s childish of me, know I’ve got the wrong end of the stick, and yet I continue the show. Sometimes I wonder if I’m testing Adam.
‘Almost the opposite. I’m just wondering if maybe his insecurities finally got the better of him. Maybe he’s taking it out on her. You know what jealous types can be like.’
‘Oh.’ My shoulders lower from beneath my ears. I forget, in moments, that Adam isn’t like the others. I expect him to act in certain ways and then he surprises me. It’s a reminder that things are different, now.
‘It was a shock, that’s all.’ I clasp his hand – my way of apologising. ‘What if I see something again? Should I … I don’t know, should I report it or something?’
Adam looks at his watch and curses under his breath. He gets to his feet and takes his empty bowl to the sink. ‘Yes, I suppose if you see something actually happen. But I don’t want you … stressing about this, Liz. It’s the last thing you need.’ He gives me a meaningful look. ‘You’re taking the medication? Exercising?’
‘Yes, thank you, Dad.’
‘Good. Keep it up.’ He gives me a swift kiss on the forehead, looking apologetic. ‘I wish I could stay. But it won’t be long now.’
‘I know. Go.’
My husband kisses me deeply before he walks out of the door, and I think of poor Dee, left alone, and how sinfully, unfairly lucky I am.
***
1:17pm
The child’s doll with seaweed for hair has gone, but the number of empty beer bottles has doubled. I quicken my pace, unable to shake the sense of unease I feel as I pass the campsite.
I approach the row of houses on Cockle street, looking up instinctively when I reach the middle one. All the windows are open, plantation shutters flung wide as if to air the place of an unwanted smell. It’s a different house to the one I passed the other morning. Airy, inviting. Sheer white curtains billow in the breeze and I can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the other side, to a patch of blue sky. Dee and the baby are nowhere to be seen. But as I near the house I see a figure standing on the other side of the road. It’s a man wearing a faded blue baseball cap, a grubby grey jacket and tracksuit bottoms. He’s staring up at the house, hands buried in his pockets, unmoving.
For some reason I think of the discarded trainers and empty beer bottles. Could this man be homeless and squatting in the bush? It seems a strange, cold place to park yourself if you’ve nowhere to live.
I’m so busy staring that I nearly collide with a woman pushing a pram.
‘I’m sorry!’ I say, side-stepping to let her past. It’s then that I recognise her. ‘Oh, Erica. Hi!’
Erica looks confused.
‘I’m sorry … I’m, uh … I’m Adam’s wife, Liz. Adam is Tim Dawson’s son? I’m sorry if I gave you a start!’
Erica hesitates before offering a cautious smile. ‘Oh. Hello.’
‘We’re staying at Tim’s place until it’s sold. He passed away recently, as you’ve probably heard.’
‘Oh dear, I am sorry,’ she says slowly, as if choosing each word carefully. Her eyes flick towards the direction of the creek. ‘I hadn’t actually heard. He hardly ever seemed to be there. Worked down in Sydney much of the time, apparently.’
‘Yes, he did.’
There’s an awkward silence. I smile down at the baby as two big blue eyes, framed with long, dark lashes, blink up at me from beneath a crochet beanie. A halo of gorgeous red curls peeks out from the hem of the beanie.
‘Oh, isn’t she lovely,’ I say, smiling up at Erica. ‘She looks like her mother.’
Erica’s brow furrows. ‘Do you know Dee?’
‘Not really, but I met her the other night at the pub. She seems nice.’
Erica seems distracted and I can’t help but feel she’d rather be elsewhere.
‘Right,’ she says absently, glancing down the street in the direction of the park.
‘She’s a cutie. Is Dee at work or something?’
‘Dee’s a kept woman. She doesn’t work,’ Erica snaps. Her eyes widen as if she’s as surprised by her words as I am. Regret flits across her face, and she bends quickly and coos at the baby.
So the husband is around. Maybe, as Adam says, he’s just away for work at the moment. And the black eye was just an accident.
But there’s definitely something funny going on between Erica and Dee.
The baby gurgles and grins up at Erica and my chest swells. I’ve never had any desire to be a mother. It seems I inherited Mum’s absent maternal gene. But there’s something innate, instinctive, that makes me want to pick her up.
‘Oh,’ I say, swallowing the lump in my throat at an unwanted memory. ‘Well, it’s awfully nice of you to babysit and give Dee a break. Is she with friends or family …?’ I’m aware that I’m prying but I can’t seem to help it.
Erica
looks up from the pram and her face is the picture of adoration. I suppose babies have that effect on people. ‘She doesn’t really have either. Well, apart from me. I’m her friend.’
Didn’t look like it the other day, I think, wondering why Dee would leave her baby with Erica if they were at odds about something. And why things seemed so civil between them at the pub.
‘Oh dear, how hard it must be for her raising a baby with no family. Lucky she has you!’
Erica nods slowly. ‘Yes. Lucky.’
I supress the urge to sigh. Trying to get conversation out of Erica is like drawing blood from a stone.
‘So, are your children at school today, or …?’
The smile vanishes from Erica’s face. ‘I don’t have any children,’ she says brusquely.
‘Oh! I’m sorry, I—’
‘Just assumed? Yes, I suppose you would.’ She eyes me with an expression resembling disdain. ‘Don’t you know it’s ignorant to assume all women of a certain age are mothers?’
‘Yes, of course, you’re right. I’m sorry, it was a silly thing for me to have said.’
‘Well, never mind. It’s done now, isn’t it?’
‘I really am sorry,’ I say, desperate to resolve this uncomfortable exchange. ‘It was a thoughtless thing to say.’ Erica’s eyes narrow, but some of the anger leaves her expression. ‘Well,’ she says, looking suddenly weary. ‘That’s okay I suppose.’ She gazes down at the child and fusses with her beanie as if she’d rather look anywhere but at me. ‘Just think twice before making assumptions next time.’
***
2pm
I’m not in the mood for a jog today after my run-in with Erica so I walk into town instead. What a strange woman. So defensive. As if I needed any other reason to want to leave this place.
But I suppose, if it’s the case for her – and I suspect it might be – wanting children but being unable, for whatever reason, to have them, is something that might never wholly leave you. I should really be more sympathetic.
As I reach the town centre I notice an acrid smell in the air. There are people milling at the foot of the stairs that lead to the pub, and beyond the old building with its exposed brick, bullnose veranda and old-world charm, the sky is thick with smoke. It appears to be coming from the mountain separating Oyster Creek from the rest of civilisation. At the sight of smoke, I feel a pang of panic. Earlier, when scrolling through my newsfeed, I’d noticed there were fires burning in a couple of nearby suburbs.
Across the Water Page 5