The Family Next Door

by Sally Hepworth

  “Actually everything isn’t all right.”

  Her mother sucked in a breath. Good girl, Fran, she thought. Spit it out. This was, after all, the reason for her call. She was sick of keeping things hidden. It might have preserved her dignity and her façade, but it stopped people from being able to support her. And now she needed support.

  “Oh no. Is it one of the kids?”

  Yes, Fran thought. It’s Ava. She might not be Nigel’s.

  “Do you have a moment to chat, Mum?”

  “Of course. I mean … I’m going out in a few minutes. I have a do at your father’s golf club. But if there’s something wrong—”

  “I cheated on Nigel. And Ava might not be his.”

  Fran held her breath. She had never said anything like this to her mother before. They’d never talked about anything shameful or negative. Never shared a laugh about the indignity of slipping down the stairs at work, or failing a math test, or missing out on a job that she really wanted. They saved their conversations for things that had gone well. The tests she had passed. The jobs she had gotten.

  “Is this … true?” she said finally.

  “Yes. I’m sorry to dump it on you. I know it must be a shock.”

  “It … certainly is.”

  Her mum had been caught off guard, clearly. High achievers didn’t have problems like this. Or if they did, they didn’t talk about them. Fran imagined her mother sinking into the blue-and-white gingham chair in the hallway off the kitchen, slipping her feet out of her kitten heels, and taking out her pearl earring on the phone side.

  But when she finally spoke again, she sounded like she’d recovered slightly. “Okay. You’ll need a paternity test. I don’t think they’re hard to organize. If Ava is Nigel’s, he’ll be far more inclined to forgive you. You’ll be able to move on and pretend this never happened.”

  Something about her tone got Fran’s back up. “And if she’s not Nigel’s? What then?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Francesca,” she snapped. “Let’s just hope that she is. You’re a silly, silly girl, you know that? Why would you go and have an affair?”

  But she wasn’t asking, not really. It was a shame because Fran wanted to tell her. He was depressed, Mum. It was horrible. Did Dad ever get depressed? How did you handle it? If you had shared your difficulties with me, instead of just your successes, I might have been in a better position to navigate them myself.

  “I’m not going to tell your father about this,” her mum said. “And you should keep it to yourself too. You don’t want people knowing your business or gossiping about you.”

  “Mummy?” Rosie said. “Ava’s hot.”

  Who isn’t? Fran thought. She’d left the air-conditioning off and instead had the fan going, as a nod to Nigel, even in his absence. But enough was enough. She grabbed the remote and switched on the unit.

  “I don’t care who knows my business,” Fran said. “Nigel knows, it’s not like it’s a secret.”

  “You need to protect yourself, Fran. Not to mention Nigel and the children. People talk.”

  “Support,” she said. “That’s what I need, Mum. That’s why I called. Clearly it was a waste of a phone call.”

  “How dare you? How dare you call me up and start acting like a teenager after you’ve gotten yourself into this mess? I expected better from you, Francesca. You’re a smart, capable young woman.”

  “Smart, capable women make mistakes.”

  “Not these kinds of mistakes.”

  But the biggest mistake she’d made was expecting her mum to be any different. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “She’s still hot, Mummy.”

  Fran glanced over at Ava, lying on a blanket. She didn’t look right. Fran walked closer.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” her mum was saying “You’re not a little girl anymore. I can’t swoop in and fix this…”

  Rosie was kneeling beside Ava, blowing on her face. Trying to cool her down. Fran dropped to her knees. Ava’s eyes were not closed and not open, just cracked open slightly. Fran picked her up. She was hot. Too hot.

  Something crawled over her heart.

  “Marriage is hard work,” her mother was saying, “but the harder it gets the harder you…”

  Fran hung up the phone and called the ambulance.

  53

  BARBARA

  Barbara stopped at a fuel station a few hours later. When she and Essie got out of the car, the heat hit them like a warm, wet cloth.

  “Gran,” Essie said. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

  She chuckled. “What did you call me?”

  “Gran.”

  “Gran?” Barbara repeated, incredulous. “I’m not that old, am I?”

  Essie’s face crumpled up, confused. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Barbara beat her to it.

  “We’ll be home soon,” Barbara told her. “Let’s go pee and then I’ll get you a candy bar.”

  This got her moving, of course. In the restroom, there was another mum with twin boys who were peeing into the second toilet, attempting a “sword fight.” The mother smiled at Barbara, a little embarrassed.

  “Boys!” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’d love a boy,” Barbara told her. “I’ve only got Essie so far. Maybe next time. It would be nice to have a pigeon pair.”

  The woman frowned at the same time as Essie shouted: “Finished, Gran.”

  Barbara opened the door and started plucking stiff sheets from the paper dispenser. “So it’s still Gran, is it?”

  “What?” Essie slid off the toilet, her underwear still around her ankles.

  Barbara glanced at the other mother and shrugged. “Could be worse, I guess. She could be calling me Grandpa.” She started wiping her. “My name isn’t Gran, Essie. It’s Mummy.”

  Essie looked perplexed. “I’m not Essie. I’m Mia!”

  Barbara pulled up Essie’s underwear. The little boys from the next cubicle were washing their hands and getting pink soapsuds everywhere.

  “All right, all right,” Barbara said, defeated. “I’m Gran. And you’re Mia.”

  Essie washed her hands and Barbara shot the other mum a look that she hoped said “we’re in this motherhood thing together.” But the other mother looked as puzzled as Essie.

  Barbara sighed—I give up!—and left the restroom with Essie to pay for the fuel.

  “Would you like to choose a candy bar, Ess?”

  Barbara was surprised when Essie narrowed her eyes, instead of squealing in delight. “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” she cried. “I. Am. Not. Essie. And you are GRAN!” She stamped her feet, quite worked up now. She must have been exhausted from the long drive. But Barbara was exhausted too. And she’d had enough of these games.

  “Fine. If you’re going to be silly, no candy bar.”

  Barbara paid for the fuel as Essie went boneless on the floor, wailing that she wanted a candy bar.

  “Where are you headed?” the cashier asked.

  Barbara watched Essie rolling about on the floor. “Sydney.”

  “Not today you’re not,” he said. “The Hume Highway’s closed. Bushfires.”

  Barbara groaned. Essie continued to cry that she wanted to go home, she wanted her mummy. It was too hot and Barbara was at the end of her tether.

  “Well,” she said. “I guess we’re going back to Melbourne for tonight.”

  She picked up Essie—an almost impossible act with a flailing toddler—and struggled to the car. She expected a sympathetic look from the mother of the two boys, but she didn’t get it. All very well for her to be judgmental now that her boys had covered the bathroom in pink detergent!

  Barbara had made it halfway to the car when she lost her grip and Essie wriggled from her arms. She ran back toward the shop, probably to claim her candy bar, and Barbara reached for her, catching the back of her T-shirt and pulling tight. She’d had enough of this. Essie let out a high-pitched wail.

  The w
oman with the two boys and a man who looked like a truck driver came toward them.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?” the woman asked Essie.

  Barbara couldn’t believe it. Another mother taking the side of a tantrumming toddler? Where was the solidarity? The woman squatted down in front of Essie and asked. “Do you know this lady?”

  Before Barbara could respond that of course she knows me, I am her mother, the truck driver said to Barbara: “Please let the little girl go, ma’am. You’re hurting her.”

  Barbara was absolutely indignant. She was being shamed for trying to teach her daughter some manners. She was about to let go of the T-shirt, because what else could she do, but in the face of these strangers, Essie had backed toward Barbara anyway. Clearly the mother who deprived her of candy was the lesser of the evils when compared to strangers.

  “Do you know her?” the woman asked Essie again.

  Now Essie nodded. “She’s my Gran.”

  Barbara sighed.

  “She’s your grandma?” the man repeated, at the same time as the woman said to Barbara: “Are you feeling all right, ma’am? You seem a little confused.”

  Barbara was done. She grabbed Essie and shoved her into the backseat of the car, holding her down with one hand and buckling her in with the other.

  “Ma’am,” the man said again. The woman, Barbara noticed now, was pointing her phone at them. Barbara ignored them both and put the car into gear, heading back to Melbourne.

  54

  ISABELLE

  Talking to the police proved to be a difficult affair. Apparently they weren’t inclined to issue a red or amber alert for a child who had gone missing for just a few hours and was under the care of her loving grandmother. Isabelle scoffed at that. Explaining that Mia’s grandmother was a baby snatcher wasn’t straightforward, given that Isabelle’s proof wasn’t legally binding, and even if it was, Barbara hadn’t been convicted of anything. If Isabelle’s story was true, they said (with heavy inference that it wasn’t), it was far more likely to have been a case of the switched-at-birth type of situation.

  They were speaking with Ben and Essie now, but in the meantime, they said, they’d be keeping an eye out for Barbara’s car, and checking for car accidents.

  “In most cases like this,” a jolly, slightly overweight copper with a handlebar moustache told them, “we find the people involved, unharmed, having taken a spontaneous outing and then had their cell phone run out of batteries.”

  Essie and Ben hung on that. “Yes,” Ben said. “Of course that’s what’s happened. Mia probably begged Barbara to take her to the zoo, and we all know Barbara is powerless against Mia. They probably headed out on the excursion and lost track of time. And Barb isn’t one to keep her phone fully charged, is she?”

  “Never,” Essie agreed. “They may have even run out of fuel somewhere. We’ll hear from them soon.”

  Isabelle understood why they needed to believe this, but she didn’t share their confidence. They hadn’t seen Barbara’s face cloud over when she’d confronted her about Essie, as though she’d suddenly awoken from a dream.

  Then again, perhaps they were right. No one would be happier than Isabelle if Barbara walked in that door right now with Mia. After all, Isabelle had come to Melbourne to try and get her sister back—not to start this nightmare all over again for another family. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to Mia. Worse, Essie would never forgive her.

  “Isabelle.”

  Jules appeared in the doorway. She’d called him half an hour earlier to tell him what had happened, and his response had simply been: “What is the address?” Now he was here. She walked into his arms.

  “What can I do?” he said at the same time as Essie gasped.

  The policeman with the handlebar moustache was holding out his phone and Essie was looking at it. Isabelle went to her side. It was a low-quality video at what looked to be a gas station. Barbara held Mia by the neck of her T-shirt. There was something about her face—a blankness. Her jaw was hard and tight. She muttered something irritably to whoever was holding the camera then grabbed Mia uncharacteristically roughly, then shoved her into her car seat, buckling her in without care or concern.

  “This is your mother and daughter?” the policeman asked Essie. It was Ben, finally, who confirmed that it was. Essie was too stunned to say anything at all.

  “Where are they?” Isabelle asked him.

  “The video was taken at a fuel station near Albury, headed for Sydney.”

  “Albury?” Ben cried.

  Essie slumped back against the bed. Ben reached for her but she pushed him away. She glanced around the room and finally her eyes landed on Isabelle. Isabelle opened her arms, and, without hesitation, Essie fell into them.

  55

  FRAN

  The emergency room was full, but Ava was seen straight away. Fran couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. She wanted Ava to be seen quickly, of course. But if it was just a minor temperature, surely she wouldn’t have been rushed through like this? Wasn’t she always hearing stories about people waiting hours in emergency to be seen by a doctor?

  Fran stood in a hospital room with Rosie by her side, while a bunch of people in hospital scrubs stripped Ava naked and examined her. Fran presumed they were doctors, but who knew? The doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff all seemed to dress the same. Be doctors, she willed them. Be the best doctors around.

  She remembered the feeling of her skin when she picked her up. So so hot. Burning hot. She’d had to follow the ambulance in her car because she couldn’t find anyone to watch Rosie, and they weren’t both allowed to travel in the back of the ambulance. It was a five-minute drive to the nearest hospital, and as she drove, questions swirled in her mind. How had she not noticed Ava was so ill? Hadn’t she been fine an hour earlier? She’d been a little irritable maybe, but who wasn’t in this heat?

  It was her fault. She’d missed something, clearly. She was the mother, it was her job to stay on top of things. As she stood in the corner of the hospital room, she peppered hospital staff with questions.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Will she be all right?”

  “What can I do?”

  “Is this my fault?”

  Rosie had her own stream of questions.

  “What are they doing to Ava?”

  “Will they give her medicine?”

  “What kind of medicine does she need?”

  Nigel had bought Rosie a book a few months back, The Human Body. She’d been obsessed with it, before she’d started her puzzle phase, and had taken to reciting little facts from it, like “The human body has two hundred and six bones.” She probably understood the human body better than any other three-year-old. Perhaps she understood it too well. Clearly the hospital staff thought so, because after a minute or so, one of the people in scrubs came over and squatted down in front of her. “Do you like secrets?”

  Fran looked down at her. It occurred to her that she didn’t really know whether Rosie liked secrets. She may have thought they were silly. That information was for sharing. Which, when Fran thought about it, was a good philosophy.

  But Rosie nodded.

  “I can only tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else.”

  Rosie promised.

  “Okay. There’s a secret stash of Popsicles in the freezer in the maternity section. Some of the women like to have one while they’re in labor. Would you like me to find someone to take you there?”

  Rosie broke into a grin. Fran felt appreciative and at the same time suspicious. Why was this person getting rid of them? Were they annoying the staff with all their questions? Or was it that they were going to do something terrible to Ava, and didn’t want them to see? Ava looked so tiny, lying there on the hospital bed. The last thing Fran wanted was to leave her in this room all alone. But what could she do? Fran supposed she couldn’t send Rosie to the maternity section alone.

  This was why yo
u needed two parents, she realized.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  A few minutes later they were following a hospital administrator to the maternity section. “You can use your cell phone if you have any family or friends to call,” she said to Fran as they walked. Fran tried not to read too deeply into that, but how could she not? If everything was fine, would they be sending her for Popsicles and suggesting she make phone calls?

  As they walked, Fran fiddled with her phone. Who could she call? The list of potential people in was worryingly short. She quickly ruled out her mother. She’d probably be at her golf function now, cracks forming in her wide smile as she insisted that everything in her life was perfect. She might have tried to call Essie, but obviously she wasn’t going to be able to help her today. She could call Ange, she supposed. But there was only one person she wanted to call, and it was the one person she wasn’t sure she should call. Still, before she knew it, she was dialing the number.

  Nigel answered on the second ring.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m just heading into a—”

  “I’m in the hospital,” she said. “It’s Ava.”

  Her stomach clenched. If it were Rosie, she knew, he’d already be on his way. With Ava, she wasn’t so sure.

  “What happened?” he said urgently.

  She filled him in on the details, which were sparse. She was hot. Listless. Her lips were dry. Nigel took it all in with comforting urgency. She felt more reassured than when she was with the doctors. He asked which hospital they were in. He asked if she was all right, if Rosie was. And then he said the words she’d been longing to hear.

  “Sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”