Fractured

by Barker, Dawn

  There was a knock at his door, and he looked up to see Neesha, one of the secretaries. She smiled. ‘You coming for a drink? We’re going to have it in the boardroom tonight, too wet out there.’

  Tony looked at his watch. It would be awful on the roads now, in that weather. He smiled back. ‘Yeah, OK, just one. I’ll be there soon.’

  By the time he drove out of the underground car park, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The six o’clock news came on the radio. ‘Shit.’ He hadn’t meant to stay so long; Anna would be angry. He took some chewing gum out of the glove box to hide the beer on his breath. Looking up at the endless stream of red tail-lights ahead of him he groaned: the traffic seemed to be conspiring against him.

  When he finally walked into the house, Anna was on the couch in her pyjamas and her old pink fluffy dressing-gown watching the news. Jack was asleep in his bassinette on the floor. Anna’s face was blotchy and wet; she didn’t even glance at him as he walked in.

  ‘Anna, what is it?’ He dropped his bag and hurried over to her.

  She didn’t move her eyes from the television. She smiled as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and then the damp sleeve of her gown. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s just the news. It’s so sad.’

  ‘Babe, the news is always sad.’ Tony walked over to the couch and massaged her shoulders as he stood behind her.

  ‘There was an accident on the M5. A whole family killed, just the grandma survived.’ Her voice quivered and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I was worried, you were late …’

  ‘Oh no.’ Tony walked around the couch to sit next to her. He shouldn’t have stayed for that drink. ‘I’m sorry I was late. I should have called you.’

  ‘No, I’m just being silly. It’s fine.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and have a shower? I’ll look after the little man. Take your time. Then we’ll go to Roma for some pasta.’

  Anna smiled wearily, pushed herself up off the couch and walked out of the room. Tony took a beer out of the fridge and unscrewed the top, then sighed as he sank onto the couch. He looked at Jack, fast asleep with his eyes flittering behind his eyelids. Anna seemed all right. They’d have a quiet dinner, a glass of wine, and an early night, and then maybe they’d both have a good sleep. They needed it.

  When Anna came back, she was wearing jeans and a silk blouse. The blouse stuck to her shoulders where her wet hair dripped onto it, but Tony didn’t say anything. He was relieved to see her looking more like her old self. He missed their life before Jack; the past four weeks had been hard, but he knew it was just an adjustment. Soon, they’d have their life back: a different life, but a happy one. He picked Jack up from the bassinette, then ushered Anna out of the house.

  * * *

  He cradled Jack in one arm and sipped at his glass of pinot while they waited for their main course to arrive. He’d thought that Anna was OK but here, in the restaurant, he could see there was something not quite right about her: she was talking and smiling, but Tony wasn’t convinced. She tore small pieces off her garlic bread and rolled it into tiny balls while she listened to him. When her pasta arrived, she pushed it around her plate with her fork, but barely ate anything.

  ‘You’re not hungry? You usually love carbonara!’

  She twirled her spaghetti. ‘I had a big lunch.’

  He raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t seen Anna eat a proper meal in days. Why was she lying to him? Was she worried about her weight? Jack was asleep; Tony put him in the pram next to their table. ‘Don’t get upset with me, but there’s something I need to say.’ He paused. ‘I’m worried about you, babe.’

  She didn’t look up; she kept twisting her fork. ‘There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m just tired.’

  ‘Jack’s sleeping a bit better now, though. He was up, what, twice last night?’

  She dropped her fork and pushed her plate away. ‘You’re not the one who has to wake up, get out of bed, feed him, change his nappy, resettle him. You hear him twice and then you roll over and go back to sleep! I end up fully awake, then I have to try and wind down again.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t you dare tell me this is easy!’

  Tony reached for her hand across the table, shocked at her outburst. Anna rarely got angry; she tended to cry or worry, but she had never before looked at him with such contempt. He didn’t think he’d said anything to make her that agitated. ‘Sorry, babe. I’m just worried. I know you haven’t been sleeping well.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Why don’t you get your mum to come over and help out? You know she’s desperate to meet Jack. She’d love to come, I’m sure. Or my mum could come over during the day.’

  Anna glared at him. ‘I don’t want anyone! That will make it worse. It’ll be more work for me, someone to entertain and talk to. There’s nothing they can do – there’s nothing anyone can do.’

  ‘They could help with cooking and go to the shops for you …’

  ‘You can do that, Tony.’ Anna’s anger seemed to drain away and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Please, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’m fine. Please don’t tell them.’ Her voice shook.

  He sighed. ‘All right. Well, I want you to rest this weekend, yes? You need to let me help you. Promise me you’ll do nothing: no tidying, no cooking, no cleaning. Just sleep when you can and feed him when you need to. Don’t even get out of bed.’

  ‘But there are things that need to be done, Tony! We need clean clothes —’

  ‘Anna, stop! I’ll do it.’ Tony took another deep breath. He had to bring it up. ‘You don’t think you might be depressed, do you?’

  ‘No!’ she said, tears welling up again. ‘Don’t try to turn this into an illness, a problem with me. I’m not depressed, I’m just exhausted! You try surviving on one or two hours’ sleep for weeks on end!’

  ‘OK, OK …’ He raised his hands. He had expected Anna to react like that, but he’d needed to say it, to make her consider it. ‘I’m sorry, babe. I’m just worried. I have one condition then, and there’s no arguing: I want you to go to the doctor and get checked out. Just tell her how you’re feeling and see what she says. She’ll probably say everything’s normal, but I want to make sure. Will you do that?’

  Anna didn’t look at him; she dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, ‘Fine.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He smiled at her and took her hand again. ‘I just want you to be OK. Let’s get some gelato takeaway and go home, eh?’

  She nodded. Letting go of her hand, he poured himself the last of the wine and took a big gulp. He was relieved that she’d agreed to see her doctor, someone who would see new mums all the time and would know what was normal. And Anna was right; this probably was normal. She would be fine.

  * * *

  Anna had to drive home from the restaurant. Tony seemed to enjoy the fact that he was always the one who was allowed to drink. First it had been the pregnancy, now the breastfeeding. He assumed he could drink as much as he wanted and she would drive. And she did, of course. She opened the window, hoping the fresh air would wake her up a bit and blow away the smell of alcohol from Tony. Jack was fast asleep in his capsule in the back; if Tony had been sober, she’d have made him drive around the block all night with him and give her a break.

  Back at home, she tiptoed down the hallway carrying the baby capsule, then put it gently on the floor of Jack’s bedroom. It wasn’t worth risking waking him to transfer him into his bassinette. She left the door ajar and went into her bedroom to get undressed, then walked through to the bathroom in her underwear. For a moment she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked so bloated, and her breasts bulged out of the huge maternity bra. Her skin was terrible, and her eyes were circled by dark shadows. She turned away and started to brush her teeth; it was better not to look.

  The bathroom door opened; Tony came in and put his arms around her from behind. She froze. He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort as he kissed the back of her neck. She could feel his rough stubble and
smell the stale red wine and garlic on his hot breath. She spat the toothpaste in the sink, then wriggled out of his embrace and turned to face him. ‘Tony …’

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her.

  She moved her head to the side, ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘You do. I love your new figure.’ His hand wandered towards her breasts.

  ‘Tony!’ She pushed him away as he bent down to kiss her chest. ‘Please, the doctor said six weeks.’

  ‘We can just —’

  ‘No, Tony, no. Please …’ She saw the hurt in his eyes. Couldn’t he understand that all she wanted was some peace? Some time alone? ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so tired.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ he said. He grabbed his toothbrush, squeezed paste onto it and started brushing his teeth.

  Anna watched him until he was finished, then put her hand on his arm. ‘I’ll just be a few minutes. You get into bed.’

  He walked out, and she closed the bathroom door behind him. She listened to his footsteps moving down the hall towards their bedroom, turned the shower on full and sat down on the cold floor tiles, letting herself sob. It felt as if Tony was just one more person putting demands on her. Her body was no longer her own: her breasts were for feeding, and her skin and hair and nails were all weakened by her hormones. Everyone seemed to want something from her, and she gave everything she had. Where was her time? All she did was wait: wait for Jack to wake up, wait for Tony to come home, wait for the weekend. There was nothing to look forward to, no end in sight.

  This was her life now.

  She let her nose run; the tears streamed until her face hurt. Would Tony be asleep yet? She stood up and turned off the shower, then splashed her face with cold water from the sink. She brushed her hair, put on her pyjamas, and walked along the hall.

  To her relief, Tony was snoring softly. She switched off the light and got into bed. Maybe he was right about her being depressed. Was it normal to feel like this? She was sure it would pass; it had to get easier. The first six weeks were the hardest, that’s what she had read. A part of her didn’t want to go to the doctor and give Tony the satisfaction of being right; she didn’t want this to be her problem. It was like when they were trying to get pregnant: Tony was so happy to know that it wasn’t his fault. If she was depressed, it let him off the hook. The truth was that if he was at home more, if he helped her, then she wouldn’t be in this situation. Other dads took weeks off work, but not Tony: work was too busy. Anna wanted to let him know just how hard it was, that he couldn’t expect to go to work drinks and out to dinner and still have the same life as he did before. Everything had changed.

  Tony was snoring louder now. She picked up her pillow and the baby monitor and went to sleep in the spare room.

  * * *

  The rest of the weekend passed in the same mindless fatigue and Anna felt her energy continue to drain away. On Monday morning, Tony brought her breakfast in bed while she fed Jack. She thanked him, then forced herself to eat, aware that he was pretending not to watch. She washed each mouthful of stodgy cold toast down with tea, trying not to gag. When Tony was out of the room, she fed the crusts to Jessie, who sat on the floor next to the bed looking up at her hopefully.

  If she didn’t do it now, she never would. She reached for her mobile on the bedside table and called the general practice. Dr Fraser was very busy, the receptionist said. There were no appointments until Wednesday. Was it urgent?

  ‘No,’ Anna replied. ‘It’s not urgent.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Two weeks after

  Monday, 28 September 2009

  Anna fumbled for the white cord next to her bed, and followed it with her fingers until she found the panel of buttons. Her eyes were too heavy to open. Anyway, the light would give her a headache, and she didn’t want to see the yellowing bruises on her arms and legs again. From a distance, it looked like a child had touched her with mustard-coloured finger paint. She didn’t know why she’d bothered fighting as they jabbed the needle into her thigh; if she’d known how the medication would make her feel, she’d have gladly consented. The medication let her sleep; sleep let her forget. This sensation, when the sedation wore off, was far more painful.

  Her fingers found the large circular button and pressed it hard. She heard the click as it engaged, but nothing else. She tried again, and again. Finally, she heard footsteps outside her room, and she slumped back in the bed.

  ‘Good morning, Anna.’ It was Rachel’s voice.

  She swore under her breath; she’d hoped it would be someone she didn’t know. Then she had more chance of getting what she wanted.

  Rachel walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. ‘I think it’s about time we got you up and out of bed, don’t you?’

  Anna opened her eyes slightly and squinted. ‘I need another tablet.’ Her voice was croaky.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Sleep. I can’t sleep …’

  ‘You’ve been doing nothing but sleeping, Anna. Anyway, it’s after nine, it’s not time for sleeping now.’ Rachel picked up the blanket that was crumpled at the bottom of the bed and began folding it. ‘And those tablets are only to be used if you’re anxious and agitated.’ She draped the blanket over the chair, then walked to the end of the bed and picked up Anna’s medication chart. She frowned.

  ‘You’ve had the maximum dose anyway. The night nurses gave you plenty of medication. I want you to get up and have a shower and something to eat. It’s no wonder you can’t sleep at night if you sleep all day.’

  ‘I am anxious and agitated. I feel horrible – please?’ She began to cry.

  ‘I know that it’s tempting to keep yourself knocked out, but this is real life, and it’ll still be here whenever you wake up, it’s not going to go away.’

  ‘I know!’ Why did she keep stating the obvious? She wasn’t in charge. Anna opened her eyes fully and yellow flashes bounced around her field of vision. The light made her head pound. ‘I don’t feel well.’

  Rachel cupped her elbow in one hand and rested her chin in the other. ‘You’ll feel better if you get some food and fluids into you, and some fresh air.’

  ‘I don’t want to! Call Dr Morgan. You don’t understand. Please, call her.’ He chest tightened; she couldn’t get enough air. She tried to sit up and breathe more deeply, but it felt as though someone was crushing her.

  ‘Anna, calm down. Slow your breathing – Anna, breathe with me.’ The nurse began counting in a monotonous, calm voice. Anna tried to concentrate, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling, and her mouth was getting drier. The room began to spin.

  She felt as though she was drifting, spiralling up, but Rachel put her hand on her arm, anchoring her, like someone grabbing the string of a balloon before it floated away. She didn’t want anyone to pull her back.

  She tried again. ‘Please, can you call Dr Morgan? She’ll give me something else.’

  There was a timid tap at the door. Anna looked over and saw her mother peering round the doorframe. She was holding a plastic bag that Anna knew would be full of magazines, chocolates and energy drinks for her.

  ‘Mum!’ she started crying again. Her mum cared about her; she cared so much that Anna felt terrible and undeserving.

  Wendy dropped the bag at the door and ran over. She sat next to Anna on the bed and hugged her. Anna breathed deeply, smelling the cheap perfume that Wendy had worn since Anna was a little girl. It was the most comforting smell she knew.

  ‘Mum,’ she sobbed. ‘I feel horrible.’

  ‘Shh.’ Wendy stroked her hair. ‘I know, I know darling …’

  Rachel got up and muttered something to Wendy, who nodded, and then the nurse left them alone.

  Anna waited until she could talk without gasping. ‘I saw them.’

  Wendy stroked the hair from Anna’s forehead. ‘Who, darling?’

  ‘The police. They were outside, talking to Dr Morgan.’

  ‘I’m sure they weren�
�t —’

  ‘They were!’ Even though they weren’t in uniform, Anna was certain they were policemen.

  Wendy bit her lip and looked down.

  ‘Mum, see, you know!’

  ‘Oh Anna, I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Well, why were they here?’

  ‘They still need to talk to you.’

  ‘Why? I don’t know anything, I don’t remember anything.’ Anna’s voice was getting higher and higher. She didn’t want to talk to the police; she thought that as long as she was in here, in a crazy ward, they’d leave her alone. Jack was gone; what good would it do to talk to her? What could she tell them that would bring him back?

  Wendy pulled Anna towards her and hugged her. ‘It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember anything. You’ll just need to tell them what you can, just be honest.’

  She pulled away. ‘Honest? Not you too. I know what everyone else thinks, you know. Even Tony … He can’t bear to see me.’ She looked away from her mum, towards the picture of Jack.

  ‘Tony’s just upset, darling. Just give him some time.’

  ‘Have they spoken to you?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The police!’

  ‘Yes. Of course they have, and I told them that you could never do this, that it would never cross your mind —’

  She swallowed, forcing herself to voice her worst fear. ‘But what if it did, Mum? What if it did cross my mind and I can’t remember? I must have done something. I’m locked up in here with all these crazy people, they’re giving me electric shocks …’ She suddenly felt the weight returning to her chest as the reality of it all set in. This was no dream, no story. This was her life, and her family. Jack was dead.

  The room started to spin as an overwhelming wave of uncertainty swept over her. She would never hurt her boy. Her Jack. The police thought she’d killed her son.

  Had she?

  ‘Darling, you’ve been sick, so sick …’

  She looked Wendy in the eye, then spoke quietly, trying to make sense of it all. ‘How could you not tell me?’