The Practice Baby

by LM Ardor

  ’No one will know who I am. They won’t even notice me.’

  ‘Okay, but you have to wear the clothes from Target; you know the ones we bought in Orange.’

  ‘But I threw them out. I didn’t even bring them back to Sydney. Who’d look like that voluntarily?’

  Sometimes he made her want to tear her hair out. She held her breath and counted to ten.

  ‘Okay, well go and get some more. The same: navy T-shirt, synthetic pants in brown and sneakers that cost less than forty dollars. You can get a jumper in navy too but only if it’s acrylic. And don’t look at me when we’re there, not even outside the court. I’ll ring when I’ve finished with Leah and meet you.’

  Her last words to him were ‘I really wish you would stay away’. She knew he wouldn’t and was glad. It was rooms—plural.

  71.

  Five months from the incident, Dee slowed the car and pulled off the expressway into the car park at Bulli Pass lookout. The steep drive from the Sydney plateau down the escarpment to Wollongong was notorious for fog on these cold winter mornings but there was a crisp clear blue sky. From inside the car it looked like summer.

  Adam’s sentencing hearing was in the District Court in Wollongong. She had allowed an extra hour and a half for the hundred-kilometre drive so she could miss the Sydney peak-hour traffic, and in case of fog.

  The realisation that she would be in the same room as Adam in a couple of hours chilled her. She almost wished she’d let Raj come with her. She thought about coffee but her stomach said that wasn’t a good idea.

  It was a gorgeous day. After a few minutes she got out of the car and walked to the fence at the top of the cliff. The air was crisp but still. The cliffs and ocean stretched far away to the south. Tom would never again experience the ocean’s deep blue fading to transparent green near the shore. To be alive was the most wondrous good fortune. It seemed her duty to the dead to take advantage of it.

  *

  At the court Dee sat on a wooden bench outside the doors to the hearing room. Leah got out of the lift and walked jerkily along the corridor towards her. Her dreads were gone and her hair was a close-cropped cap of gentle sandy brown curls. Five months on from the injury she still needed crutches. They were most effective for someone with only one injured leg but Leah had two. Her muscles were crushed so badly at the mid-thigh level on both sides when Adam slammed the car doors on them that Leah had been at risk of kidney failure from the breakdown products of the dead tissue. That part of the danger was over.

  She walked slowly, her facial muscles fixed in concentration, and her complexion grey. For Dee, the combination said pain filtered through relentless determination.

  Unaided, Leah could only stand for a few moments. Intellectually, she had no lasting impairment.

  Dee hadn’t seen as much of the girl as she wanted to but Leah was independent and determined. Perhaps Dee’s instinct to protect her was too much. Dee had visited her several times on weekends at the rehab facility outside Wollongong. They had met at the committal hearing where Adam had appeared only by video link from the remand centre in Sydney. Today he would be present in person. It was good to be with someone who knew his true evil.

  As she came close, Leah gave Dee a nervous smile and propped against the wall next to her.

  ‘Hello, Doc. How’s it going?’

  Doc was Tom’s name for Dee. It jolted her back to the times she saw his black curls in the waiting room. He was always first up, a happy start to the day. The intensity of the pain shocked her. The gnawing ache was worse than when she had first seen his body. She tried to turn the memories into ones of the living Tom: the happiness she felt when she saw his name on the appointments list, his foal-like limbs as he arranged them in the chair opposite, how he pushed his fingers through his hair to get it off his forehead, the shy pride he’d shown the day he brought Leah in to talk about having a baby. The sadness of missed pleasure was easier to bear than the unresolved circumstances of his death.

  It was complete nonsense to think she had any control over how the grief took hold of her. Now and forever the great gaping hole of Tom’s absence was a permanent feature of her psyche. The pain was always there ready to grab her if she went near it. How much useless comfort had she offered the bereaved in the past? She shook herself away from it. Leah was here, now.

  ‘I’m the one who should be asking how you’re going. How’s rehab?’

  ‘Getting better. They reckon I’ll eventually get off the crutches. Another few months and a couple of operations and I can toss these sticks.’ Leah balanced on her own legs to wave the grey aluminium poles.

  ‘That’s great. You’ve done well.’ Seeing Leah made Dee feel more apprehensive about what was to come. She tried not to show it. This was the first time either of them had seen Adam since the attack. Leah must be feeling it too.

  ‘How are you feeling about seeing him?’

  ‘Pleased.’ Leah gave a defiant toss of her head. ‘He’s in jail, and we’re alive. We won.’

  Dee was surprised by Leah’s vehemence. What she said was true. Since she’d found out about the plea bargain, Dee had been furious that the justice system would not, could not, reopen Tom’s case or investigate the deaths that hovered around Adam like flies around a rotting carcass.

  The evidence about the other deaths was all circumstantial. An extraordinary series of deaths clustering around one person but none of them provable as murder. Marlena told Dee that since the Department of Public Prosecutions had come to a deal with Adam’s legal team the sentencing hearing today would mostly be a formality. The sentence was a foregone conclusion, hammered out in negotiations in private.

  The prosecution accepted Adam’s plea of ‘recklessly inflict grievous bodily harm’ on Leah. ‘Recklessly’ meant the injury was not deliberate; a chance consequence of a heat-of-the-moment action. The same injury without the intent had a lesser sentence and could be heard in the District Court where sentences were generally less. A further discount to the sentence came because of the guilty plea.

  The state saved time and money by accepting a plea to a lesser charge. It also meant Leah and Dee didn’t have to endure a cross-examination questioning their veracity, their motivations or, in Dee’s case, their sanity. She was grateful the assault did not have to be raked over in minutest detail. And no one had to sit through the violence being recounted in court.

  The charge should have been ‘attempted murder’ and ‘kidnapping’ at a minimum, but the prosecution feared Dee’s video of the attack might be excluded by a clever defence barrister. Dee’s phone wasn’t readable due to water damage so the evidence came via Raj’s phone. The defence could argue that the video was fabricated or edited to leave out parts that showed Adam’s actions were rational attempts to save Leah.

  The barrister for the prosecution told Dee, ‘If we put you on the stand the defence will be able to question you about your past with Adam and the medical board enquiry. Nothing about the death of Tom will be admissible. Your enquiries about the professor would be made to sound like a rejected lover seeking revenge—a divorced and menopausal woman with a grudge. If the video is rejected, which it could be, that might be enough to convince a jury Adam is innocent.’

  It was nature’s small mercy that Leah did not to have to relive the terror. She had forgotten most of it, although snatches of the dreadful day had returned gradually. There was still a hole though, from the time Adam had tied her to the fence, until she woke up in hospital a week later. That could explain how she was so strong while Dee was sitting at her side trembling with fury and fear at what they had to face inside.

  The problem with the amnesia from the head injury was that Leah’s evidence would not stand up to cross-examination either. A plea bargain had been the only option.

  72.

  The prosecution legal team arrived, a phalanx of dark suits with trolleys of documents. The barrister spoke to Leah. She and Dee walked inside with them to sit behind their table, sepa
rate from the public gallery. Dee stole a glance around. The courtroom was full. At the back, in the public gallery with a scrum of press, a black head bobbed above all the others. Raj had arrived early enough to score a seat.

  As instructed, he was dressed unobtrusively. Relief and comfort welled up as soon as she saw him. His deep brown trustworthy eyes studiously avoided her. She was glad he’d ignored her instructions to stay away.

  Adam was brought up stairs directly into the dock from the cells below. The two guards by his side appeared first, then the top of his head. His hair was less brown, less styled, and flecked with grey. He must have dyed it in the past. Dee felt a frisson of satisfaction. It wasn’t the grey, it was that it bothered him enough to dye it. His perfectly confident facade was flawed.

  There was something different about his face. A pink scar peeped out from under his chin. It must be from when Leah had rammed her head up into his jaw. It had been his blood Dee had seen. Good. But there was something else wrong with his face that she could not place.

  Everyone stood as the judge entered from a door to the left of the bench.

  Adam had on an expensive grey suit with an impeccable white shirt and navy silk tie. The tie had some sort of crest, probably from the same private school as the judge, or from some exclusive club where they were both members. Adam presented as sober, respectful, patrician, an officer of the court rather than a criminal, but there was something out of sync with the image.

  The facts of the offence had been agreed. Adam wasn’t allowed to dispute them or claim innocence. Senior medical figures were called as witnesses to Professor Fairborn’s excellent character and his achievements; his service to medicine and to genetics were heard. Adam chose to make a statement to the court to express remorse for his actions.

  As he was about to stand to speak, Adam put his right hand to his face. His thumb and forefinger palpated the middle of his nose. He glanced at Dee, saw she had observed him and put his hand back down. Dee realised her fear of him was gone.

  Adam faced Leah during his claim to be remorseful. From that angle, Dee could see an irregular bump in the previously perfect smooth line from the bridge of his nose to its tip. The evidence of her kick, of his defeat and of her victory, were written there plain as the nose on his face.

  Leah held his gaze defiantly. He lowered his head as if ashamed. Clever. Had the defence employed an acting coach?

  The judge summed up in the afternoon. Leah and Dee didn’t know yet what the sentence was and the judge was painfully slow in getting to the point.

  ‘As you know I can’t go behind the facts as agreed by the prosecution and the defence and so cannot sentence him for the more serious offence. The court is not entirely happy with this agreement. In another court, the same injuries could merit a much more serious charge.

  ‘On the balance however, the considerations of a long and expensive trial, the loss to the defendant of his career, business and reputation and the prevention of retraumatising the victims, the court has accepted a guilty plea to the lesser charge of recklessly causing grievous bodily harm. Taking into account the accused’s previous impeccable character as well as the seriousness of the wounds inflicted and noting that the penalty for intentionally committing that offence are much greater, the court imposes a sentence of six years imprisonment with a non-parole period of four and a half years.’

  It wasn’t nearly enough. It left Tom unavenged. Dee looked at Leah. The girl hadn’t changed her expression of defiance. Her eyes were on Adam as he was led down the stairs to the cells below the court.

  He was out of the way for now. His medical career was over. Now that he had a record of violent crime any future suspicious deaths would be investigated.

  She and Leah were alive.

  73.

  Leah sat near the entrance to the court with the prosecution lawyers to shield her from the press while Dee brought her car to the bottom of the disabled ramp at the entrance. Leah’s sticks occupied the full width of the ramp to block anyone trying to get her attention. Once they were both safely in the car, Dee drove till she was sure no press were on their trail and parked in the railway station car park.

  She moved the gear stick to park, turned off the engine and pulled on the handbrake. In the close confines of the car there was a connection that didn’t need words. They both sat still, not ready for the next step.

  To say goodbye to Leah felt like a goodbye to Tom. Dee didn’t want to let her go.

  After a minute, Dee undid her seatbelt and said, ‘I’ll walk you to the platform.’

  Leah looked pleased.

  ‘Thanks. My train’s not for half an hour. Maybe we can sit together for a while.’

  Dee thought she was about to say more. So much was unresolved. She waited but Leah opened her door and got out. She hobbled to the platform.

  The sky had clouded over and a sharp wind from the south pierced their clothes. They retreated to the Railway Refreshment Rooms, a remnant of the nineteenth-century grand days of rail travel.

  Leah said she wasn’t hungry but Dee bought them hot chocolate and pastries. She wanted to nourish Tom’s girlfriend, to see her eat, to see her partake of the pleasures of the world.

  They sat in a wooden booth in the once grand space. Leah was quiet, eyes down as she sipped the hot chocolate. After a while she broke off a piece of the sultana snail and nibbled it. They talked about rehab and what Leah planned to do when she was more mobile. As she spoke, Leah was restrained, her answers about the future lacked detail.

  ‘This is good, thanks.’ Leah broke off more of the pastry.

  Bit by bit she ate the whole thing. A brown flake of the pastry was caught on her pale pink lower lip. Dee’s eyes were captured by the brown and pink set against her perfect olive skin. It was as if she saw through Tom’s eyes—all the beauty and the unmovable determination that Tom fell in love with. He would be happy to see her take pleasure in the world. Dee was glad she had tempted her to eat.

  It was harder to tempt her to speak. Dee’s conversational advances got short answers. It seemed the girl was holding something back.

  The train was due in ten minutes. Dee addressed the problem head on.

  ‘Are you okay, Leah? You seem quiet.’

  Leah looked up over the rim of her mug and grinned. It wasn’t the reaction Dee expected.

  ‘Yes, I’m good. It’s just … I’ve got some news and I don’t know how to say it.’

  Dee wanted to reach across to hold her hand but knew that was likely to push the tentative foray into communication back into hiding.

  ‘Just tell me. After what we’ve been through nothing can be too bad.’

  ‘It’s not bad, it’s good. I’m pregnant.’ Leah smiled as she dropped her bombshell.

  ‘Wow, that is big news,’ Dee said to cover her instant thoughts of—that was quick, and while you’re in rehab too. I hope it’s not Joe’s!

  Leah must have read her face, ‘No, you don’t understand. It’s Tom’s. From the sperm at GenSafe.’

  At first Dee didn’t comprehend. She forced herself to go over Leah’s words.

  ‘You’re going to have a baby from Tom’s sperm?’

  Leah nodded, wide eyes examining Dee’s face for a reaction.

  Dee smiled. ‘You’re going to have Tom’s baby—oh Leah, that’s lovely.’

  74.

  A picture of her potential lover waiting for her at the hotel sprang fully formed into Dee’s mind as she drove north along the coast towards Austinmer—a drone’s-eye view of Raj’s two-metre frame sprawled diagonally across a bed, arms akimbo, knees together and twisted over to the left. The bedclothes were acid bright, lime green and yellow, twisted and tousled as though he had been rolling in them like a dog after a swim. The floor was white ceramic tiles. The only colours were the greens of the bedding with the dense blacks and browns of a naked Raj slashed across the picture like Japanese calligraphy. The tantalising mirage stayed just out of reach as she drove towards him. />
  It was perfect—could have been a fashion spread in Vogue. Where did she fit in the picture? Where did messy things like children, his and hers, fit into the arty image?

  They didn’t.

  A sign indicated ‘Sydney via Bulli Pass left lane, 1 km.’ She could ring Raj, claim to be exhausted after the trial. Go home to the children. But the kids had planned their first weekend on their own. Mum would cramp their style. It wasn’t fair to them or Raj. He had saved her life and Leah’s. And who knew if he even wanted more than a weekend by the sea with a friend?

  She moved to the left lane to keep the options open. Fashion shoots weren’t reality; even the terminally beautiful were carefully staged and air brushed, only pictures in magazines, or in this case, in her head. The world was more complex and incorporated all sorts of messiness. To confront the complexity was almost the point of a relationship—one of its major pleasures.

  The next sign was a 500 metre warning. Quickly she was at ‘Sydney via Bulli left lanes’. The arrows in her lane gave left or straight ahead options. She stayed straight. The turnoff passed by on her left.

  Along the coast road the sun was gone. It disappeared early behind the escarpment that extended from Wollongong to the Sydney plateau. The sky to the east was pale pink fading to just barely blue. The higher clouds were still in sunlight and reflected bruised pinks from the western sky. Down near the edge of the ocean were clouds in thousands of shades of bright white to silver.

  Their suite overlooked the beach. It was seaside modern from ten years ago. Cream walls with hard ceramic tiles in imitation terracotta. Bulky cane furniture with cushions in sand and blues. There were small prints of the beach by local artists on the walls—nothing like her fantasy.

  Raj was still in his let’s-not-be-noticeable outfit. The pants were synthetic brown as Dee ordered but had stovepipe legs that clung to his long slim legs. The plain navy T-shirt skimmed his nipples in a way that took Dee back to him naked.