by Barker, Dawn
‘Tell you?’
‘About Jack! Everyone knew, but no one told me, for days and days. I thought he was okay, I just thought he couldn’t visit.’
Wendy’s face went pale. ‘You were too sick …’
‘You and Tony just left me here, locked up, in this place! And I couldn’t even go to his funeral. How could you, Mum?’
Wendy tried to take Anna’s hands. ‘Calm down. The doctors – I wanted you there, but —’
‘Don’t blame everyone else! You’re my mum. Imagine if I died and you weren’t allowed to come to my funeral!’
‘Anna, I’m sorry!’
Wendy tried to take her hands again, but she turned on her side, pulled her legs up to her chest, and wept. Her fury dissipated, replaced by shame. Shame at what she might have done. Shame at what she was putting her family through. She could hear Wendy crying behind her. Anna wanted to tell her to be quiet, to leave her alone. But she said nothing, and Wendy waited there, as Anna knew she would. Gradually, the heaving in her chest settled and she turned onto her back and looked at her mum.
‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘You’ve had postnatal psychosis, but Dr Morgan said —’
She shook her head. ‘No, no, no. I mean … what’s wrong with me? What kind of a mother … could do this?’
Wendy’s eyes widened. She could only shake her head as the tears rolled down her face.
Anna stared up at the ceiling. Wendy leaned over and pulled her into a tight hug. Anna clutched onto her like a child, as though her mother had come to save her, to wake her from a nightmare. But she knew her mother was powerless to make this better, that she couldn’t promise her that everything would be all right.
* * *
Tony saw the grey ball coming towards him; he had to move immediately to get out of its way. He clenched the racquet in his hand with his arm raised just above shoulder height, midway between response and surrender. Time sped up; he felt the sting as the ball hit him under his arm, hard, on his ribs. He dropped the racquet and clutched his chest, pain radiating across his torso.
‘That was uncalled for!’
‘Sorry, mate!’ Sean tried not to laugh. ‘You asked for that. You’ve got to be quick!’
He bent down and picked up his racquet. The pain was subsiding and in its place was the buzz of adrenalin; it felt good. He twirled the racquet around again in his hand then wiped his forehead with his wristband. ‘OK, I’ll get you this time …’
They lined up to face the peeling red tape on the wall. Sean lifted the ball in his left hand, preparing to serve, and Tony bounced from foot to foot, ready. Suddenly, his phone rang. Sean stopped. ‘Do you need to get that?’
‘Yeah. Sorry, hold on.’ He ran to his bag at the back of the court and rummaged around for his phone. ‘Yes, hello?’ He was panting.
‘Is that Tony?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Tony, it’s Dr Morgan, from the hospital.’
Tony felt a now-familiar burst of anxiety mixed with resentment. ‘Oh, hi, I’ve been meaning to call you …’ He turned to Sean and pointed to the phone. Sean nodded, put down his racquet and ball, and picked up his water bottle.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt your day. Is this a good time?’
‘Yes, it’s fine. What’s wrong?’
‘I wanted to give you a quick update. I’ve just spoken to the police. Wendy was just here, so I’ve let her know too, but I wanted to tell you myself …’
He closed his eyes. Every nerve in his body jumped to attention. His mouth was parched, filled with a taste of dry dust and stale sweat, so familiar from his memories of the school gym. It had been a few days since he’d heard from the police; he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, they would leave her alone. ‘Yes?’
‘Well, as you know, the police still need to interview Anna. I think she’s well enough now.’
‘Well enough? To be interviewed? You’ve got to be joking!’
‘She’s come a long way – I’m not saying she’s back to normal, but I can’t keep the police away from her any more. We’ve stopped the ECT, she’s eating and drinking, and there’s no sign she’s still paranoid or hearing voices.’
He crouched down on his haunches. ‘So what did the police say?’
‘They want to take her to the station tomorrow morning to interview her.’
Tony thought of his own interview, the way the detectives had tried to manipulate him into giving them the answers they wanted, and he knew that Anna couldn’t cope with that. She would never question authority; the way she was now, she would be so easily bullied into telling them what they wanted to hear. He felt dizzy; he ran his free hand across his forehead. ‘Shit. Does Anna know?’
‘Yes. I told her just before I called you. She asked me to contact you.’
‘OK.’ He didn’t know what else to say.
Dr Morgan continued, ‘Tony, it’s not my place to say this, and she’ll get someone from legal aid, but have you thought about getting her a lawyer?’
‘No, I …’ A lawyer? He rocked back and sat on the ground. Why hadn’t he organised a lawyer? Jesus, what had he been thinking? That was something he could do for her, something practical, something helpful. ‘I will, though, I will.’
‘As I said, it’s not my place, but I think that in the circumstances …’
‘Yes.’ He got to his feet. ‘Yes, thanks. I’ll get onto it now. Dr Morgan?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’
He put his phone back in his bag. It was too hot in here; he needed some fresh air. How could they be interviewing Anna already? Jesus, she’d be terrified. She wouldn’t even walk on the grass if there was a sign telling her not to; this would be a nightmare for her.
Sean walked up to him. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘It’s the police – they want to interview Anna. Shit.’ Tony scraped his fingers through his damp hair. ‘Look, sorry, I need to go, I’ve got to sort things out, a lawyer …’
‘Of course. Let’s get out of here.’
Tony zipped his racquet back into the plastic cover and picked up his bag, already thinking about who he could call. He hurried out of the sports centre to his car on the street outside, waved goodbye to Sean, and drove home. Why had he left it so late?
As he drove, his eyes were drawn again and again to the glove box. The letter was still in there. He didn’t know what to do with it: it might help Anna, but it could also make things far worse for her. He wished he’d never seen it.
He pulled into the car park of a fast food restaurant. Before he could stop himself he leaned over to the glove box and retrieved the envelope, then unfastened his seatbelt and jumped out of the car. Walking over to a large grey wheelie bin, he lifted the lid, holding the envelope in his trembling hand. He looked at the cardboard burger cartons and paper packets full of old chips, then back at his hand. He couldn’t do it. He let the lid of the bin fall closed again, went back to the car and put the letter back in the glove box.
* * *
The next morning, he and Wendy arrived at the hospital just after nine.
He was nervous. He told himself to trust Anna. As much as he had tried to disconnect himself from her, they were still inextricably bonded.
They walked in silence towards the car park exit, and out into the grounds of the hospital. Dry leaves swirled and crackled around their feet in the breeze. He could smell Wendy’s hairspray and perfume and it made him feel a little sick.
The receptionist at the front desk of the mental health unit stood up as soon as she saw them and unlocked the security door without saying a word. Tony went through first then held the door open for Wendy; as it closed behind them, he saw the broad backs of the detectives who had interviewed him, Hill and Kaminsky. They stood inside the nurses’ station, enclosed by glass and more security doors. Dr Morgan was there too, looking up at Detective Hill and nodding. He wished he could hear what they were saying.
Wendy put her hand on
his arm; she was trembling. He looked at her and smiled reassuringly, despite not feeling reassured himself. Anna didn’t need to see her mother looking so frightened; it would unnerve her even more. ‘It’s OK, Wendy. Come on.’
‘Where’s the lawyer?’
‘Don’t worry, he’ll be here. We won’t let them start without him.’ Even so, Tony glanced at his watch. He’d said nine o’clock; where was he?
‘Are you sure he knows where to come?’
‘Yes, he’ll be here. He’s a good bloke.’
‘It’s been a while since you were at uni though; what if —’
‘Wendy, stop worrying.’
‘Sorry.’
As they approached the door to the nurses’ station, Dr Morgan saw them and beckoned. Hill and Kaminsky turned around too, but didn’t smile. Tony nodded at the psychiatrist, took a deep breath and walked slowly forward, as if the few extra seconds might allow him just that bit longer to work out what to say. He hoped his voice wouldn’t shake when he spoke; he needed to appear confident. He had told the detectives what they needed to know, but was it enough to keep Anna safe? Did he even want to keep her safe? His face flushed; he had wondered all night if he’d done the right thing in organising a lawyer for her. Part of him wanted to leave her to work this situation out herself. But when the morning had arrived, he had realised that no matter how much he hated Anna at times, he couldn’t leave her defenceless. He had to believe with all his heart that she had been ill. The alternative was unbearable.
Dr Morgan led them all to a small interview room. It was bare except for six grey plastic chairs arranged around the perimeter. There was no window, just a fluoro tube on the ceiling that gave off a sallow light. They all sat down: Tony and Wendy on one side of the room, the police on the other, and Dr Morgan along the wall between them, an empty chair beside her.
After some polite, pointless greetings, Tony cleared his throat and said, ‘Detective Hill, I wanted to catch you before you interviewed Anna. I just want to ask, what is this leading to? I mean, what are you going to do?’
The detective leaned back in his chair. ‘At this point, Tony, we will interview her at the station, and once we’ve done that we’ll decide what to do next.’
‘What do you mean? What are your options?’
‘I’m sure you understand that we need to decide if there’s enough evidence to charge her —’
‘Charge her?’ Wendy gasped at his words. ‘I thought this was an interview – you know, just a talk. That’s what I told her.’
Tony felt a surge of adrenalin go through him as he spoke. ‘No, no, no, you can’t … Surely the doctors have told you how ill she’s been. You’ve seen her – she couldn’t even talk, she didn’t know what was going on! I know they say she’s better, but obviously she’s been ill, really ill, and she didn’t know what she was doing. Dr Morgan, you’ve told them, haven’t you?’
Dr Morgan nodded. ‘Of course, and that will all be taken into account, but we still have to go through this process.’
Detective Hill puffed out his chest like a cane toad and sat with his legs open as if he were relaxing at home. Tony couldn’t bear to look at him.
The detective spoke unhurriedly. ‘Tony, our job is to gather evidence to see if we believe a crime has been committed. Then it’s up to the courts to determine guilt or innocence.’
Tony turned to look at Wendy. Her chin was twitching, but she looked down at the floor, defeated. Had she given up on Anna already? Was he the only one still fighting for her? Yes, it had crossed his mind, how easy it would be for them to just take her, for her to just disappear out of his life so he never had to see her again. But now that could be a possibility, his body burned with guilt.
He looked at both the detectives: they watched him blankly. To them, this was just another case, a normal day’s work. But this was his family, Anna’s life. Jack’s memory.
There was a knock at the door and someone entered. Tony stood and smiled in relief.
‘Scotty!’
Scott Hardy had been in the year above him at university; they had both played in the rugby team and Scott’s nose was still a bit crooked after breaking it in the final against Melbourne Uni. He had put on a few kilos, but Tony was relieved to see that otherwise, he was unchanged. Scott was a link to his life before this, to something familiar in the chaos around him.
Scott shook Tony’s hand and smiled, but then his expression became serious. He nodded to the others in the room, and Tony let himself breathe out.
‘Scott Hardy.’ He shook everyone’s hands. ‘Sorry I’m a few minutes late.’ He sat in the empty chair next to Dr Morgan, unzipped his leather satchel, then took out a black notebook and a shiny silver pen. He stretched out his right arm, exposing a gold cufflink from under the sleeve of his navy blue suit, then settled back into his chair, pen poised. Tony saw Wendy gazing at the lawyer with a smile on her face, and he could understand her awe. He had definitely done the right thing. Maybe now someone would be on Anna’s side.
‘I take it you haven’t interviewed Anna yet?’ Scott said to the detectives.
‘Of course not,’ Hill replied.
Scott nodded. ‘Right. I met with her briefly this morning …’
That was why Scott was late: he’d been with Anna. Tony should have known he could trust him. Last night, when Tony had rung him, Scott hadn’t hesitated to take on the case. He had said he’d be here, and he was. Tony suddenly felt lighter knowing that someone else would share the burden of protecting Anna; someone objective, free of internal conflict.
Scott continued, ‘She knows that she’s going to be interviewed today, and I assume you’ll be doing that at the station?’
Kaminsky nodded.
‘Is she allowed? To leave, I mean? To leave the hospital?’ Wendy said to Dr Morgan, her eyes pleading.
‘Yes, I’m happy for her to do that.’
‘But —’
‘Wendy, I’m not saying she’s well, or ready for discharge, nowhere near it. But she is well enough to be interviewed.’ Dr Morgan leaned towards Wendy and her voice softened. ‘I wouldn’t agree to release her if I didn’t think she’d be safe, OK?’
Wendy nodded.
Tony looked around the room realising that the meeting was about to end and the police were about to get their hands on Anna. This wasn’t OK at all. It was going too fast. He heard shoes scuffling on the ground as everyone shifted in their chairs to stand up.
‘Wait!’ he said, trying to slow everything down. He’d tried to convince the police already that someone else was to blame, but they hadn’t listened. He had to turn their attention away from her. He thought of the letter, still in the glove box of his car, and felt the panic creep up into his throat. He had to convince them that she was sick, too sick to know what she was doing. That’s what Dr Morgan and Wendy believed. Did he?
‘Listen, I’ve been thinking, and there are some things I’ve remembered, that might help, you know.’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘There are a few things that make me even more sure that she’s been really ill … confused, that she didn’t know what was happening.’
‘Tony …’ Scott held his hand up in the air to try to stop Tony from saying any more.
Hill leaned forward. ‘We’ve got your statements, Tony. Of course, if there’s anything else you’d like to tell us, we can do that down at the station.’
But that would be later, wouldn’t it? That would be after they interviewed Anna; that might be too late. ‘If anyone’s guilty here, it’s me. I am – was – Jack’s dad so I am just as responsible for anything that’s happened. More so, even, because I wasn’t sick. So I’ll tell you everything, but only if you make sure that if anyone is charged or arrested or whatever, it’s me, not her …’ Tony talked quickly now, turning from one detective to the other, trying to read their faces, to find the point of weakness. There was always a good cop, wasn’t there, always one who had some compassion? But as Tony looked back and forth be
tween them, their faces didn’t change.
‘Tony,’ Hill said. ‘We do need you to tell us everything, but we can’t make a deal with you. I understand —’
‘You don’t understand anything!’ Tony clenched his hand into a fist and looked for something to hit, finding only his knee. He saw Kaminsky stiffen and shift forward in his chair, so he took a deep breath and lowered his voice. ‘Listen. Take me. Hold me responsible. I’ll do anything you want me to. But don’t … don’t blame Anna.’ His head dropped and his voice wavered. He needed to convince them; they needed to listen to him. ‘I don’t know if Anna will survive this. It’ll kill her if you charge her with … with this. It will just kill her. Please, please …’ He looked up and held his hands out. ‘It’s my fault, all my fault. Arrest me.’ He hated to beg, but what else could he do? He sniffed, then wiped angrily at his face.
‘Tony.’ Wendy dragged her chair closer to his and put her arm around him. ‘We don’t know what’s going to happen – it’s just an interview.’ She was crying too.
Scott cleared his throat and leaned forward. ‘Tony, listen to me. I’ll look after her, I promise.’
He looked at Scott’s face. The past weeks had seemed unreal, like a terrible dream, like someone else’s life, but the enormity of what was about to happen hit him hard, right in the guts.
Jack was gone forever, and Tony was about to lose his wife too.
* * *
Anna heard footsteps approaching her door, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. Everything was still so confusing. Her head was clearing, but every so often she began to think of terrible things, so terrible that she shut them out immediately. She looked back down at the tattered magazine she’d been flicking through, not sure who she was trying to fool. She could hear murmurs outside the door. Actual voices, she knew that now. Not those others; they had faded away, although in some ways it had been easier when she wasn’t certain that what she heard was real or imagined.
The door opened and Dr Morgan came into her room.
‘Anna, the police are ready for you now,’ Dr Morgan said quietly. She sounded almost apologetic.