Fractured
Page 17
They walked, single file, to the waiting black cars, Jim taking up the rear and locking the door behind him.
No one spoke as they began the grim drive to the church.
* * *
Tony couldn’t understand how they had arrived so quickly. As they drove in, he saw some stragglers finish their cigarettes and hurry into the church. The droning of the organ inside grew louder as the driver opened the car door.
Somehow he managed to stand and get out of the car. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He just had to get through the day, had to hold it together a little while longer. Someone had their hand on his back and he began to move towards the church doors where two official-looking men waited with sad smiles on their faces. They didn’t look him in the eye.
And now, as one set of wooden doors closed behind him and another set swung open, the organ music was deafening. He heard the pews creak as mourners turned round to watch them come in, the echoing of Lisa’s heels walking behind him, and a cough reverberate around the church. Or was it a cry? Then it was as if someone pressed a button and he was watching everything in fast forward. He couldn’t understand how he managed to walk down the aisle to this processional of sobs. He couldn’t understand a word of what the minister was saying. Wendy clutched his hand, but she might as well have been holding the sleeve of his jacket: he couldn’t feel it. Somehow he managed to walk to the front of the church and speak. What had he said? Everyone kept looking at him. What did they expect? Did they want him to break down, to scream, to weep? He wanted to do all of those things, but his body and mind were no longer connected.
He couldn’t understand how he could be at his son’s, at Jack’s funeral. And, most of all, he couldn’t understand what the hell Anna had done.
* * *
Outside, everything went back to normal speed. He stood to the left of the church doors, flanked by his mum and dad. So many people were spilling out, heads bowed, heaving and gasping for the fresh air, as if they were escaping a burning building. They hovered around him, hugged him and said they were sorry before darting off again, blowing their noses with soggy tissues, relieved to have done what was expected of them. Now they could chat about how beautiful the flowers were, what a tragedy it was, then go home and watch the news. A woman of about his mum’s age clasped both his hands in hers and pumped them up and down. She leaned close to him and he breathed shallowly to avoid inhaling her cloying perfume. He wanted to take a step back but he was against the wall. She moaned and sniffed, and the sound of her phlegmy nose made him want to gag.
‘Oh, Anthony,’ she said. ‘Well done.’
Well done? Who was this woman? What was she to him, to Jack? One of his mother’s friends, no doubt, here to gawp. He could see the grey roots of her dyed red hair and her garish pink lipstick. She was still holding on to him, she was crying now, sniffing again. He pulled his hands away from her and sidestepped before she could hug him. His body was rigid; his face ached from clenching his jaw to keep his anger and his sorrow held tightly inside. He hadn’t cried.
He hadn’t done well at all.
Across the crowd he saw Sean and Emily standing with a group of their friends. He pushed his way towards them, noticing how the crowds parted to let him through. Emily looked up as he neared them and smiled, though her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Her normally unruly blonde curls were tied back in a bun, and her freckles were faded behind her make-up. She stepped away from the group, and hugged him, hard.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
He hugged her back. He knew Emily was sincere, and appreciated that she didn’t blurt out some cliché about heaven or Jack being at peace, or how it would get easier. As he let her go, Sean was waiting to hug him too. Sean sniffed, then gave a sad laugh. ‘Bloody hell. That was horrible in there.’
He nodded.
‘You OK?’ Emily asked.
‘I’m glad it’s over. Well, that part anyway.’
‘Me too.’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘Shit, I can’t stop crying. Still got the wake to get through. We could all jump in a cab and go to the pub instead!’ She tried to laugh, but it snagged; she sobbed, then reached into her bag for a tissue.
‘Have you spoken to Anna today?’ Sean asked, looking down at his shoes.
Tony gritted his teeth. ‘Not yet. I’m going to go now, get it over with. Can I borrow your car?’
Sean put his hand in his pocket and took out the keys. ‘Of course. It’s parked just over there. Are you OK to drive though? I can take you …’
He wrapped his hand around the keys. ‘No, I’m fine.’
‘Let me come, Tony – you shouldn’t be alone,’ Emily took a step towards him. ‘I’d like to see her too.’
‘No – thanks, Em, but I need to do this on my own.’
Emily and Sean didn’t ask anything of him; they let him go. He wanted to hug them again. They still believed in Anna.
‘I’ll see you at Mum and Dad’s. And thanks. I mean it.’ Tony walked away from the church, towards Sean’s car.
* * *
He knocked on Anna’s door and waited. He heard her clear her throat, then say ‘Yes?’ in such a small voice that he wondered if he’d imagined it. He opened the door and walked in.
She was lying on her side with her knees curled up, on top of the sheets, facing him. Her eyes widened when she saw Tony, taking in his black suit, and she propped herself up with her arm and began to sit up. She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Hi. Tony …?’
He realised how he must look. Did she remember that he wore this to their wedding? Looking at her, he couldn’t believe she was the same person he had stood next to at the altar. Then she’d been the most beautiful woman in the world. Now, she wore baggy black leggings and a grey singlet. Her hair was tied back, and her face was blotchy and bloated, with pimples on her chin. He could see from the working of her jaw that she was biting the inside of her cheek. He couldn’t believe this was the same person he’d said his vows to, believing with absolute conviction that nothing could ever destroy them.
He tried to smile. ‘Hi.’ Closing the door behind him, he sat on the chair on the far side of the bed, near the window. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘OK. My head’s sore.’
‘Your mum said you were having more ECT this morning.’
Anna nodded, and tears filled her eyes. Neither of them spoke. There had been a time when they could sit in contented silence, but this was different: now the space was filled with tension. He saw her look at the plastic bag that he gripped in his hand. He lifted it onto his lap and put his hand inside.
‘Did you …?’ she said. ‘Have you …?’
He leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. They both knew what she was talking about. ‘Yes. I’ve just come from the church.’
She brought her fingers to her mouth as if trying to stop herself from saying anything.
The bag rustled as he pulled out the photo frame. It was a picture of Jack, lying on their bed wrapped in a fluffy white towel, just out of the bath. His eyes were wide open and bright. Tony looked at it for a few seconds, then handed it to Anna. She held the photo in both hands and stared at it, unblinking. She bit her cheek again. He waited for her to say something, do something. But she remained silent.
He cleared his throat. He hadn’t wanted to say this to her now, the day was hard enough, but he couldn’t stand this blankness any more: he needed her to react. He needed to know what had happened. His voice trembled and he stared straight at her. ‘I spoke to the coroner on Monday, about the autopsy.’
Anna kept looking at Jack’s photo, as if Tony hadn’t said a thing. He started to doubt if he had actually spoken out loud. ‘Anna?’
‘Hmmm?’ She didn’t look up from the photo.
He shouted now. ‘Are you interested in how he died? In what actually happened to Jack? Or maybe you don’t need me to tell you, because you know? Do you know?’
‘It was a head injury,’ he said. ‘The police thought maybe you had shaken him at home and panicked, but the coroner said no. It was from the fall. He was still … alive, when you got to the beach.’
Had she heard him?
‘Jesus, Anna.’ He felt his heart beating faster and fought the urge to stand up and flee. He tried to breathe slowly; he had promised himself he wouldn’t do this, not today. She was smiling now, a tense fixed smile that looked as if it was causing her pain. She was still staring at the picture. Tony needed to move, to stand up, to get out of here. His hands shook as he shoved the balled plastic bag in the pocket of his suit trousers.
‘Right, well, I’m going now, Anna. Anything you want to say?’ He waited. She didn’t look up. ‘Fine. If you decide you want to talk to me, I’ll be at our son’s wake.’
Anna didn’t move; she just smiled stupidly at the photo. At that moment, Tony felt such an intense hatred for his wife that he practically ran out of the room. He slammed the door behind him.
* * *
Wendy stood in Ursula’s kitchen and watched her and her friends rushing around with plates of sandwiches, sausage rolls and vol-au-vents. Wendy had tried to help, but Ursula had shooed her away. When she went to put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, Ursula told her they needed to be washed by hand; when she started to fill the sink with water, Ursula told her they would do it later.
She looked around the room. She didn’t know any of these people. This was Anna’s life, not hers. No one else from Western Australia had come over. Pam had offered, but Wendy had asked her to go and stay with their dad: he was too frail to travel and she worried about what this was doing to his heart. At the thought of her family back home, Wendy wished for a moment that she was back in her own house. She felt useless here.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder; she jumped, then smiled as Emily leaned in to hug her.
‘You OK, Wendy?’
‘Oh, Emily, not really. You know …’
Emily nodded, and both women took a moment to compose themselves.
‘Have you got a drink? Wine?’ Wendy said.
‘No, but I’d love one, thanks.’
Wendy busied herself with pouring two big glasses of white wine.
‘Is everything all right with the flat?’ Emily said as she took one of the glasses.
Wendy put her hand on Emily’s arm. ‘Oh yes, it’s great. It’s so beautiful, thanks. I’m just sorry that I’ve taken over – I feel like I’ve kicked you out.’
‘No, not at all, don’t be silly. I spend most of the time at Jamie’s anyway, so it’s no hassle at all. I really should get rid of it, it’s silly to be paying rent on two places, but I’m holding out for the ring …’ She smiled and pointed to her left ring finger.
‘Good for you,’ Wendy said, then sipped her drink. She swallowed a mouthful then lowered her voice. ‘Have you seen Tony?’
Emily shook her head. ‘Not since the church. I think he went to see Anna.’
Wendy was pleased. She had hoped he would go and see Anna today; she needed him. ‘I saw her this morning – they let me visit early.’
‘How was she?’
‘She’s getting there, you know, slowly. I tried to talk to her about today, just to make sure she knew what was happening. All she said was that she wanted a photo of Jack. That’s got to be progress, right? It’s got to mean that she’s coming to terms with what’s happened. Do you think?’
‘Yeah, Wendy, of course it is. She’ll be better soon, I’m sure of it. We just have to get through each day at the moment, stay strong.’
‘Definitely.’ She looked at Emily again, and saw the little girl who used to play in the backyard with Anna, and have sleepovers at her house. When did they grow up into women? Anna was still her child, still too young to have to go through this. She should be standing here with Emily, a glass of wine in her hand and complaining about the cost of rent. Wendy put her glass down on the kitchen bench and leaned in to hug Emily. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’
Emily hugged her back. ‘It’ll be OK, Wendy.’
‘I know. I’m just going to pop out for a cigarette. You go and find that boyfriend of yours.’ She smiled at Emily, picked up her glass and walked towards the back door.
* * *
Tony stood outside his parents’ house and listened to the voices and laughter coming from inside. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his hand; he’d had to park Sean’s car in the next street and walk. Cars rested with an air of abandonment at odd angles on the verges. He loosened his tie and started to take off his suit jacket, then stopped. Was that disrespectful to Jack? He left it on.
He opened the door. The house was full: even the hallway was crammed with people, holding glasses of wine and fingers of sandwiches. A hush swept through the crowd like a Mexican wave as one person after another spotted him. He allowed himself to be hugged and kissed and glanced at and patted like a child, then walked down the hallway to the living room, which was filled with more people sitting on white plastic seats and green deckchairs. He felt the corners of his mouth curl up and wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He saw Sean perched on the arm of the sofa eating a sausage roll while talking to his mum’s next door neighbour. What was the point of all this? He went over and handed Sean his keys, took off his jacket then walked out of the room. He forced himself to speak briefly with some more people, as was expected of him, avoided his mum, then went out the back door.
His dad loved this garden. Winter or summer, he was out here planting or pruning, or mulching the garden beds that framed the lawn. White roses reached up the brick wall at the rear of the garden, while yellow pansies bobbed their heads underneath. Jim’s little piece of England, even though he hadn’t lived there since he was a kid.
Wendy was sitting on the bottom step of the wooden deck with her feet on the lawn. An empty wine glass stood at an angle on the grass. Winston, his parents’ boxer dog, lay on his side while Wendy stroked his ears with her left hand. Her right hand shook as she brought a cigarette to her lips. He pulled the screen door closed behind him; Wendy jumped and dropped her right hand down out of view. Walking down the steps, he shooed Winston out of the way then sat down next to her.
‘You got another one of those?’ he asked.
‘A smoke? Didn’t think you did that any more.’ Wendy took a packet out of her handbag by her feet and held it out to Tony.
‘No, I don’t.’ Anna made me stop when we were trying for a baby, he wanted to say. Didn’t matter any more. Now, he wanted a cigarette.
He put the cigarette between his lips, then bent down to the lighter Wendy held out to him. He inhaled, coughed, then did it again. They both watched a lone willy wagtail parading on the lawn.
‘Anna should have been there,’ Wendy said softly, looking at her cigarette.
He said nothing, but nodded slightly.
‘She’ll be heartbroken, you know, when she’s well …’
‘We didn’t have a choice.’
‘I know, but maybe we should have tried harder, seen if they could let her out for a couple of hours.’
He pictured Anna’s face, that smile as she looked at the photograph. Would she be heartbroken? He wasn’t so sure. ‘I don’t think that would have been a good idea.’
‘Why not? It’s her own child’s funeral – if they were ever going to let her out, it would be for that! I don’t know, Tony, sometimes I wonder if people are just forgetting about her.’ She turned to look at him.
He stared down at his shoes, away from her gaze. ‘Wendy, it would have just caused a lot of problems, made it hard for everyone …’
‘Everyone? Or you? It sounds like you didn’t want her there!’
‘What, I’m not allowed to try and make things a little easier for myself? Af
ter all … all this?’ He swept out his arm as if everything he’d been going through was scattered around him. His arm dropped to his side; he had no energy left to fight. ‘Maybe I didn’t, OK? Maybe I didn’t want her there. Maybe I didn’t want to have to worry about her, while everyone whispered and stared. Can’t I have a day when I don’t have to think about Anna? A day just for Jack?’
Wendy’s face burned. ‘He was her baby too. She is part of this, you can’t just forget about her.’
‘I’m not forgetting about her! But just for today, I am going to try. I’m going to go in there and get a drink and be with my friends and family and people who cared about Jack, and who care about me. You are welcome to join us, but today is about Jack, not Anna. Nobody wants to hear her name right now.’
He stood up and stamped on his cigarette, then threw open the screen door. He wrenched at the handle of the back door, and heard the satisfying metallic clash as it closed behind him. He paused for a second, waiting for Wendy to follow him, but she stayed where she was, sitting on her own with the dog.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Two weeks before
Friday, 28 August 2009
Tony stared out of the window of his office, watching the rain run down the glass. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet, but it was dark. He could see the blurred lights from the ferries crossing the harbour below him, but otherwise it was like being in the middle of a cloud. He liked the way the battering sound of the rain soaked up the noise around him. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. The warmth of the room made him drowsy. He hadn’t been able to sleep much last night; every time he had turned over or stirred, Anna had been awake. He didn’t know why: Jack had slept quite well, only waking twice during the night, but Anna had been restless and tense, which in turn had meant that he couldn’t relax.
He yawned, then sat up straight and reached for the phone on his desk. He picked up the receiver, then hesitated. When he called her just before lunch, Anna had said she was fine. She was going to lie down if she got a chance; she might be sleeping now. He put the receiver down. She needed her rest; he wouldn’t disturb her. He’d leave soon, and they could go out for dinner tonight.