Fractured

by Barker, Dawn

  Wendy opened her own bag. ‘I’ve got money, here … You don’t need to pay after driving out here to get me.’ But it was too late. Ursula was feeding coins into the machine.

  She watched them squabble. It felt like she was intruding on something intimate, so she hung back until Ursula beckoned to her to follow them to the car.

  * * *

  Tony opened his front door, stepping quickly inside, then closed it behind him. He hoped none of the neighbours had seen him. They would have seen the police car this morning, discussed it over breakfast, then gossiped outside the school gates when they dropped off their kids. He had no doubt that they would have heard about Jack, but he wasn’t ready to face them. He peered out of the frosted glass panel in the front door, but the street was empty. After locking the door he turned around. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see – black whorls of fingerprint dust or yellow crime scene tape, maybe – but, cruelly, everything looked the same as it had yesterday, as it did every day. As it had when Jack was here.

  He saw a piece of notepaper on the hall table and recognised his mum’s handwriting: Fed Jessie. Police been and gone, they want to talk to you. Call me. I love you, Mum.

  He left the note where it was and looked down the hallway. The door to Jack’s room was closed. He took a deep breath and hurried past it into the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and kicked them into the corner then had a quick shower. In the bedroom he put on some clean underwear; opening the wardrobe, he tried not to look at Anna’s clothes hanging politely next to his. He closed it again and put on some shorts and a polo shirt from his drawer. For a moment he looked at the bed, still made, and Anna’s cold cup of tea. He longed to crawl in and hide under the blankets. The last time he had slept in it, two nights ago, Anna had been with him. He needed her; he wasn’t good on his own, he was only good with her. He knew he needed to leave this room; there were too many intimate memories. After closing the bedroom door carefully behind him, he went into the living area.

  The kitchen bench was tidy, with no signs of the pizzas his dad had brought over the night before. His mum would have tidied up when she let the police in. In a way, he wished she hadn’t. Anna had struggled to keep on top of the housework since Jack had been born, but he hadn’t cared. He’d liked to see the toys littering the floor and the nappy bags piled outside the front door. Clean, it was as if she’d wiped away some of the spirit of Jack. And Anna. He opened the patio doors and Jessie came running in, wagging her tail. He crouched down and scratched her ears, then took his bag and laptop over to the coffee table and sat on the couch. His secretary, Donna, had left a message on his phone and he had some emails that he needed to sort out. Jessie jumped up next to him; for once, he let her stay. He felt better when he opened his computer and it started up. Work was comfortingly familiar, and Tony wanted to grab onto something in his life that was still the same, where he knew his purpose and his role.

  The screen flickered in front of his eyes, then settled. The desktop background was a picture of the three of them, the same one that Anna had printed out and kept by their bed, taken just before they walked out of the hospital to bring Jack home for the first time, six weeks ago.

  He had woken early that morning. He’d slept at the hospital for the first four nights, lifting Jack up when he woke and handing him to Anna to feed in bed, changing his tiny nappy so that Anna could rest. But on that last night, Anna had insisted that he stay at home and get a good night’s sleep. He had slept well, but woke at 5 a.m., excited that his son was coming home. He tidied the house, put some washing on, and changed the sheets on the bed. He had dressed, then walked Jessie to the shops and bought some flowers and blue balloons. Back home, he rechecked the baby capsule in the car; it looked so big for such a little baby. When he was sure it was secure, he’d driven to the hospital where Anna was dressed and ready for him. They had loaded up a trolley with all the flowers and gifts, then asked the nurse to take this photo of their family.

  How could it all go so wrong so quickly? What had happened? Tony rubbed his clammy face and blinked hard. He pushed the thoughts away and forced himself to breathe slowly. He would sort out work first, then he could move onto the more difficult things. He opened up his email program and scanned through the messages. He hadn’t yet told work what had happened. Donna had assumed he was still unwell and had cancelled his meetings for the day. She wanted to know if he’d be back soon. Tony didn’t know what he was going to do tomorrow. Or next week or next month.

  Seconds passed, maybe minutes. The laptop went into sleep mode and the screen went dark; he shook his head quickly to banish his thoughts and sent a brief reply to Donna saying he’d be away for at least a week. That was the best he could do for now.

  His phone, on silent, vibrated in his pocket. Without looking at the screen, he rejected the call and turned it off. He couldn’t talk to anyone yet. He reached across and picked up his bag from the coffee table; balancing it horizontally on his knee, he opened it to find some paperwork. As he did so, several documents slid out and fell onto the floor.

  ‘Shit,’ he said, and bent down to pick them up: an A4 notebook, a printout of his presentation, and some unopened mail. He shuffled them back into a pile, then stopped. On the top of the pile was an envelope with his name handwritten on it. He had never seen it before but he recognised Anna’s handwriting.

  His hands started to shake as he turned the envelope over, lifted the unsealed flap, then pulled out a single folded sheet of plain white A4 paper. He didn’t want to read it. He knew that he’d be better off ripping it up and pretending he hadn’t seen it. But before he could stop himself, he was unfolding the paper and scanning the messy handwriting. The tremor in his hands increased; he had to put them down on his lap to stop the letter flapping about in front of his eyes. He smoothed it out, leaving patches of sweat from his fingers on the paper. He read it, then read it again, disbelieving. Was this a joke? Some cruel trick intended to torture him some more? He began to hyperventilate and tears filled his eyes, dropping onto the letter, soaking into the paper. The ink spread and the words blurred. He threw the letter down next to him. He lifted the front of his shirt and covered his face with it as he sobbed.

  Suddenly, Jessie raised her head and her ears pricked up. He jumped, expecting someone to walk through the door at any second. He sniffed and wiped his face, then quickly refolded the letter, stuffed it back in the envelope and shoved it back into his bag.

  No one walked in, but he left the letter where it was. He didn’t want to look at it again. He closed his eyes and let his heart rate settle, but the words taunted him. What did it mean? He kept his eyes shut, wishing he hadn’t just seen what he had. But it was too late; he would never forget.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Tony stopped his car just around the corner from his parents’ house with the engine idling. He didn’t want to be here; he wanted to stay at home, lock the doors and turn out the lights, but he had responsibilities. A car slowed, then drove around him. Tony watched the driver, an ordinary man going home after an ordinary day at work, probably to his wife and kids. Lucky bastard.

  He put the car into drive and turned left into his parents’ cul-de-sac. The nature strip was littered with purple petals from a big jacaranda tree. The sound of a television blared out of the open window of the Soutars’ house next door. He drove up onto the verge and parked the car on an angle, then got out before he could change his mind and reverse back onto the road. He wasn’t even halfway up the path to his parents’ front door when it opened.

  ‘Anthony, love, we were worried,’ Ursula said, holding the door wide open.

  ‘Sorry, I had some work to do.’

  ‘Work?’ Ursula frowned, then held her arms out as he stepped into the house. He didn’t hug her; she dropped her arms by her side. ‘Anyway, how are you?’

  Tony shrugged, and took off his shoes, leaving them side-by-side on the shoe rack in the hallway. ‘I’m all right. Did you pick up W
endy earlier?’

  ‘She’s here now. We’ll take her to Emily’s place later. Come in, come in, can I get you something?’

  He closed the door behind him. ‘A beer. Thanks.’ He walked into the living room while his mum went into the kitchen. Jim and Wendy were sitting on the cream leather couch. They both stood up. Wendy hurried towards him.

  ‘Tony,’ she said, starting to cry. ‘I’m so, so sorry …’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, as he hugged her. He gently extricated himself. ‘Thanks for coming …’

  ‘Oh, of course … I just wish … You know, I wanted to come over when he was born, but I wanted to give you space, and she said, she said not to. And now … I never even got to meet him!’

  Tony felt his own tears threatening to escape as Wendy covered her face with her hands and sobbed. He cleared his throat and looked over at his dad, who stared at the floor. Just then, Ursula walked into the room and handed Tony a beer. He gripped the foam stubby holder and took a gulp.

  ‘Wendy, can I get you another glass of wine?’ Ursula said, putting her hand on Wendy’s shoulder. Wendy took a deep breath, nodded, and picked up her empty glass from the floor beside the couch. Ursula walked over to the half-empty bottle of wine on the walnut sideboard and poured two glasses.

  Jim raised his own bottle of beer as if he was going to propose a toast, then let it drop again. ‘It’s been a long couple of days.’

  Everyone nodded, then Wendy looked up at Tony. ‘How’s Anna?’

  He shook his head. How could he explain it? If he hadn’t seen her for himself, he’d never have believed it. ‘Not good. She was still sleeping when I left this morning, conked out on some medication they gave her. I haven’t been able to speak to her.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘They moved her to the … psychiatry ward.’ He waited for Wendy to protest, to gasp in horror, but she just nodded. Was he the only one who thought she shouldn’t be there?

  ‘I heard. I called the hospital earlier but they said I couldn’t visit until after her rest time.’ Wendy wiped tears from her eyes. ‘I’m sure the doctors know what they’re doing.’

  He nodded, but his face started to flush as he thought of the letter in his bag.

  ‘Does she know about Jack?’ Wendy asked, almost whispering.

  He shook his head. He was too tired to piece everything together, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to try. ‘I don’t know. I have no idea what she knows.’

  ‘Dear God,’ said Ursula, under her breath. ‘Well, we need to go and see her. They can’t keep her family away. Wendy, Tony can take you.’

  He picked at the label on his beer bottle, avoiding his mum’s gaze. ‘They have rules, Mum. She’s in the locked ward.’

  Ursula frowned. ‘The locked ward?’

  ‘I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything, love,’ Jim said.

  ‘Why is she locked up?’

  ‘Mum, surely you can work it out.’ He slammed his beer bottle down on the coffee table. ‘They think she’s dangerous.’ He let out a laugh that was close to a cry.

  Ursula opened her mouth to speak, but Jim caught her eye and shook his head. She closed it again and looked at Wendy, who was sitting forward with her hands over her face.

  ‘She’ll need some clothes,’ he said quietly, looking at Wendy.

  Wendy sniffed and wiped her cheeks. ‘Of course. Where —’

  ‘I’ve got a bag in the car. Just a few things, her toothbrush and shampoo. She hates the stuff they give you in hotels – I can’t imagine the hospital having anything she likes. And some expensive soap that she uses when she wants a treat.’

  ‘That sounds great, Tony.’

  ‘And a book – you know what she’s like, always reading …’

  ‘Well, let me just wash my face and we can go now.’

  He looked at Wendy. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Can’t what?’ Ursula said.

  ‘I can’t visit her. Not now. I’m just …’ He stood up. He didn’t want to explain. He needed to sort things out in his own head before he could see Anna. He didn’t know what to say to her, what to ask her. This morning, he’d been so certain that he knew what had happened, but now nothing made any sense. ‘I just want to be on my own for a while.’

  Jim stood up and put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. ‘Fair enough, Tony. It’s only been a day since … well, you know. She’ll still be there in the morning.’ He looked at Wendy. ‘I’ll take you to the hospital to see her, Wendy, and you can let Tony know if there’s any change.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.’ Wendy stood up and walked out of the room.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Jim nodded. ‘Give me your car keys. I’ll go and get Anna’s bag and put it in my car.’

  Ursula began clearing up the glasses and bottles. He held out the keys for his dad and whispered, to no one in particular, ‘I’m sorry.’

  * * *

  When Jim and Wendy had left for the hospital, and Tony had gone home, Ursula made herself a piece of warm, buttery toast. She wiped crumbs from her lips as she leaned on the kitchen bench. Her back ached, and her jaw felt stiff and frozen as she chewed. She forced herself to swallow, then picked up the plate and dropped the second half of the toast in the bin. She opened the dishwasher and started to stack it with the dirty dishes scattered all over the kitchen. Why couldn’t people put things straight in there instead of leaving them in the sink? It just created extra work for her. She screwed up her face as she poured the dregs of Wendy’s wine away, then noticed the pink lipstick stain on the glass. She sighed; she’d have to wash that off by hand.

  Half an hour later, she heard Jim’s ute pull up. She realised that she was still standing by the sink, staring at the mess. She closed her eyes, enjoying the last moment of solitude before he trudged into the kitchen.

  ‘Did they let Wendy in to see Anna?’ she asked when he came in and perched on a stool. She noticed the dark shadows under his eyes.

  ‘Yeah. No problem. I was going to wait, but Emily called her. She’s going to meet her at the hospital, then go back to her apartment tonight. They’ll pick up her stuff on the way.’

  ‘Good.’

  Jim raised his eyebrows. Ursula continued stacking the dishwasher. ‘Are you OK?’ he said.

  ‘As well as can be expected.’ She closed the dishwasher door while the drawers were still pulled out; the dishes crashed against each other. She knew Jim hadn’t done anything wrong, but she had no energy left to be polite.

  Jim slid off his stool and started to help. ‘Don’t worry about cleaning up now, love, sit down. You must be exhausted.’

  She spun around. ‘Yes, I am exhausted! We’ve been running around after everyone, worrying about Wendy and Anna, and being all nice and supportive. But who’s supporting us? We’ve lost our grandson, our son has lost his son, and everyone seems to have forgotten that!’

  ‘Hey!’ Jim moved towards her. He put his arms around her shoulders and rubbed her back, but she shrugged him off.

  ‘Everyone’s forgetting about him, Jim.’ She dropped her head to her chest. ‘Poor little baby. Poor little Jack.’ She clenched her eyes shut, wiping away a tear. ‘I just have this horrible feeling about it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, what if she did do it?’

  ‘Do what? We have no idea —’

  ‘You know what I’m saying – don’t be so naive. She’s locked up in a psychiatric hospital for God’s sake. They must think she —’

  ‘Don’t say that! We don’t know what happened. Like Tony said, she could have been mugged, attacked. We just don’t know.’

  She let herself cry. She wanted to agree with Jim. But no matter how much she prayed that Anna had had nothing to do with Jack’s death, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that she could have done it. It wasn’t impossible.

  She bit her lip. ‘Jim, what if she did? Jack was just a tiny baby! Poor Anthony, how’s he ever going to get over this?’
<
br />   ‘Love —’

  ‘Well, I’m telling you, if it was her fault, she shouldn’t just get away with it. I don’t care if she’s sick.’

  ‘Ursula, stop!’ Jim reached out and hugged her, firmly this time. ‘We’re all worn out, we’re all grieving. Let’s just wait and see. We’re a family – we’re all in this together.’

  She relaxed a little in Jim’s embrace, but she couldn’t let it go. ‘Well, we can’t just sit around pretending it didn’t happen. There are things to be done, a funeral to organise …’ She started to crumple. ‘I’m so worried about Anthony.’

  ‘Oh love, give him time. He’ll get there.’

  ‘There is no time!’ she said. ‘There are so many things to do. The police, the doctors, they won’t wait! It feels like I’m the one having to deal with it all. It’s hard for me too …’

  Jim pulled her closer. For a moment she tensed and started to protest, then gave in and clung to him. Jim kissed the top of her head. ‘And you’re doing a brilliant job, love. Tony knows that. Everyone deals with things differently.’

  She brushed at her cheeks again. ‘I know, I know … But I don’t want to see Anna. Not yet. Not until we know a bit more.’

  ‘That’s fine, no one’s asking you to. Go and wash your face. I’ll finish up in here. We’ll get through this.’

  She nodded and walked towards the bathroom. Jim was right: they would get through this. It was her job as a mother to make sure Tony did too.

  * * *

  Tony balanced a carton of beer on his knee and pressed the intercom button for Sean’s apartment.

  ‘Hello?’ said a voice.