The Changing Room

by Christine Sykes

  She stopped, looked at her hand and at the red mark on Matthew’s face. He stood still for a few seconds in shock. Then he screamed out, ‘Ya hit me. Y’ old witch.’ The twins cried louder.

  ‘Don’t call me that. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit ya. Come here an’ let Mummy hug ya.’

  ‘Nah, I hate ya,’ he cried.

  Daniel sat at the table and ate his dinner. Matthew reached over and pushed his brother’s plate of food to the floor. Daniel screamed.

  ‘Matthew! What’s the matter with ya?’

  ‘I hate you. I hate youse all. I’m leaving,’ yelled Matthew and raced for the door.

  ‘Matthew, ya can’t leave. Y’re only three. Come back.’ Molly raced after Matthew and pulled him kicking and screaming back into the kitchen. She shut the door.

  ‘Ya not leavin’ an’ ya not watchin’ TV until ya settle down.’

  Matthew screamed and kicked the kitchen door. The twins rocked on their high chairs.

  ‘Stop it, all of youse, or I’ll, I’ll …’ Molly slapped Matthew again. He threw himself onto the floor and rolled in the food.

  Joe arrived home in the midst of Matthew’s tantrum.

  ‘What the fuck is goin’ on here?’

  ‘Mum hit me,’ screamed Matthew.

  ‘You what?’ Joe rose to his full height and held up his fist to punch Molly in the face.

  Molly heard banging at the front door and someone calling her name.

  ‘Now youse’ve done it. Just be quiet all of youse or the cops’ll come and they’ll get the welfare to take the kids away.’ Molly hated herself for blurting out the threat her mother had used.

  Joe shoved Molly aside, swung on his heels and wrenched the door open. He pushed past the neighbour. It was the neighbour who had complained about the noise at the anniversary party. Molly told him to mind his own business, and returned to the kitchen. She shook as she gave each of the boys a large scoop of ice cream that she’d been saving for a special treat, and sat them in front of the TV.

  On Christmas Day, Molly dragged the kids all the way on the train to Grandma’s house. She pretended everything was all right and lied about Joe’s whereabouts. She even managed to get the boys to help do some gardening for Grandma.

  When he returned on Boxing Day, Joe was full of remorse again. He brought a bag full of presents for the kids and a big box of Roses chocolates for Molly. Molly forgave him for the third time and Joe seemed happy. When he left home every morning, Molly assumed he had another job, one that suited him better. Maybe something to do with bikes – a mechanic or something. After two weeks, Joe called to say he was going out with the boys after work, and ignored Molly’s pleas to come home instead.

  Matthew threw another tantrum and refused to eat his dinner. Molly did everything she could think of to calm him down and when that didn’t work, she hit him and he screamed louder. The neighbour bashed on her door, but Molly wouldn’t open it. Joe didn’t come home that night.

  The following day, Molly went back to the supermarket where she had been caught, to get treats for the kids. As she put the items in her bag and went to leave the store she told herself this was the last time. The same security guard was on duty and he called the police.

  Joe came home and lost his temper when Molly showed him the charge sheet.

  ‘Ya stupid bitch cow,’ he yelled. ‘Whydja have to get the cops involved? Now we’ll all go down.’

  ‘It’s my first offence, Joe. They won’t be too hard on me.’

  ‘Y’ave no idea, do ya?’ screamed Joe. ‘No fuckin’ idea. Where d’ya think our money comes from. Off a tree?’

  Molly didn’t want to imagine what Joe’d been doing every day or how he’d made money if he hadn’t been at work.

  ‘I’ll have to do a runner now.’ He grabbed his clothes and packed his bags.

  ‘No, don’t leave me again,’ cried Molly. ‘Please, I’ll do anything.’

  ‘Y’ve done enough,’ he said through gritted teeth, and pushed her harder than ever before.

  Molly fell against the coffee table and felt a searing pain in her ribs. She screamed and heard Joe leaving.

  *

  Molly forced herself up in the hospital bed when Lindy came to visit carrying a bunch of wilting flowers.

  ‘Got ’em cheap at the supermarket,’ she said. ‘You look like crap.’

  ‘I feel like crap,’ mumbled Molly through her sore lips. ‘D’ya know where Joe is?’

  ‘Gone north,’ said Lindy, putting the flowers in a vase. ‘They reckon he’s at a mate’s place in Forster.’

  ‘Help me find him,’ pleaded Molly. ‘I know everything will be all right if I can just talk ta him an’ explain.’

  ‘Have you tried callin’ him?’

  ‘He never answers his phone. I have to speak to him in person.’

  Lindy made a phone call, scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and handed it to Molly.

  ‘Not sure you should be doing this, Moll. What about the kids?’

  ‘They’ll be all right with Grandma for a few more days. They’ll understand when I bring their dad home. Now help me get outta here.’

  Lindy helped Molly get out of bed and put her clothes on. Molly searched in the bedside locker.

  ‘Oh shit, musta left me purse at home with all me cards an’ stuff. Can you lend me your Opal Card an’ some dough?’

  ‘You’re hopeless,’ said Lindy. ‘And you owe me big time.’

  5

  ANNA

  The day after Anna received the news of her dismissal, she stayed in bed crying. The only previous time she’d cried as much was when her father died twenty years ago, leaving her alone. Her beloved father had made her laugh and called her ‘Princess’.

  She blew her nose, the nose her mother had said was too long and close to her eyes, but which William had kissed when he told her he loved her. She ran her hands through her limp black hair, recalling her mother’s lustrous chestnut curls.

  Anna pulled the bedcovers over her head as unhappy thoughts bombarded her.

  ‘Since you’re not pretty, Anna, you should be elegant,’ was what her mother had said for as long as Anna could remember. She encouraged Anna to get an education and a good job. ‘You can’t expect to be married or to rely on a man to support you. Not with your plain looks.’

  Anna had lived with her parents in Merrylands, an outer suburb of Sydney, until she was in her forties. She’d expected her life would go on with its daily routine of catching the train to work, coming home to a meal cooked by her mother and doing the crosswords with her father. On weekends, she helped with the housework and met friends for coffee and walks.

  When her mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Anna took a long stretch of time off work to help care for her. That’s when her colleagues realised how much she did at work. As well as contending with her mother’s demands at home, Anna responded to a stream of requests for assistance from work and sorted out problems they never knew existed until she was absent. Anna had learnt by email there was a new managing director, William Randall-Jones.

  Some of Anna’s colleagues attended her mother’s funeral. They brought bunches of flowers and office gossip.

  ‘We had a staff meeting,’ said Elsie. ‘William Randall-Jones said he’s a “new broom” and he wants to sweep away the old inefficient ways of doing business and introduce new systems and procedures. You’ll need to be careful. You know what they say, “out of sight, out of mind”. They reckon he’s going to replace his secretary, Moira Drummond, with a new “executive assistant”.’

  The rumour turned out to be true and, to her surprise, Anna was appointed.

  About four months later, Anna’s father arrived home from work earlier than usual, poured himself a cold beer and sat on the front veranda. Anna found him there, with his half-empty glass on the arm of the chair. Dead from a massive heart attack. There had been no warning or chance to say goodbye.

  Anna’s new boss was a grea
t help in sorting out the estate. He convinced her to sell the house in the western suburbs and move into a townhouse near the city, closer to the office. He even gave up his Saturday morning golf game to show her around properties and celebrated with her when the settlement came through.

  William helped her move into the townhouse in Leichhardt one weekend when his wife and children were away. She’d bought the furniture that had been used to display the townhouse. There wasn’t much to move, only her clothes, some linen and her mother’s prized pots, pans and knives. She also took the antique French Aubusson carpet that had been the only item Anna’s mother had brought to Australia from France. William loved it and she hung it on the wall in the dining area.

  That was the weekend he’d told her his first name: Rufus. She promised not to use the name in the office, and she never did. She also never told a soul what happened later that night or on one night a week and Saturday mornings for the next twenty years.

  *

  When the landline phone rang, Anna was sure it was William calling to tell her it had all been a mistake, he had left his wife and Anna could resume work.

  ‘Oh, you’re there,’ said Valda. ‘We’ve all been wondering why you didn’t show up for book club last night. Are you all right?’

  ‘Hi Valda – only a migraine, sorry.’

  ‘I’ll drop in some chicken soup for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Valda, that’s kind but I just need rest. Promise you I’ll call when I feel better.’

  After hanging up, Anna reached for the letter of dismissal on the hall table beside Poum and Alexandre, the Catherine de Saint Phalle memoir she was reading for book club. She reread the letter and burst into tears. How would William cope without her? What was happening to all the work she was supposed to do?

  She wondered what she’d done wrong and how she could have been so careless. She needed answers to her questions but couldn’t think of anyone she could talk to. None of her colleagues had called her and she was too embarrassed to call them.

  The previous month’s book club novel had been about a wife who threatened to commit suicide every time her husband tried to leave. Of course, that was it: William was so kind and caring, he’d make sure Rachel was stable before leaving her. William knew how level-headed and stoic Anna was. She’d be patient and quiet and everything would turn out all right.

  Anna dragged herself out of bed and padded into the lounge room. She refreshed the flowers William had brought her and picked up Poum and Alexandre. The words swam in front of her eyes. She put it down, closed the blinds and played DVDs that William had brought back from one of his trips to Asia.

  *

  Valda called again a week later and insisted on visiting Anna. They’d first met at Miss Piggett’s Secretarial College in 1972, but Valda had married soon after entering the workforce, and had given up her job to have children. She was now a grandmother of six and prided herself on her ability to juggle child care, or granny care as she called it, and voluntary work.

  When Anna was promoted to executive assistant, Valda took her to a stylist to update her wardrobe with clothes that suited her new position. During one of their many coffee catch ups, Anna had almost told Valda about her affair with William, but her loyalty to him and her promise to keep it a secret stopped her. Now, Anna couldn’t face telling Valda what had happened.

  Anna picked up the wilting red roses William had given her. She was tempted to save them, to hang them upside down to dry like her mother had done. Instead she took them into the courtyard and threw them in the compost bin. Afterwards she tidied her modern kitchen with its matching metallic appliances and neutral wall colours. It was different from her mother’s cluttered kitchen, which had been full of hanging baskets and utensils on display. She adjusted the antique French Aubusson carpet, making sure it sat perfectly straight.

  Valda arrived at Anna’s doorstep with summer chicken vegetable soup and a bunch of scarlet zinnias. Valda was slim, had short, silver hair and wore a striped skirt and crisp red blouse.

  ‘I’ve never pried into your private life,’ she said when they were seated for lunch in Anna’s shady courtyard. ‘But clearly something is wrong. Either you are very ill or something has happened.’

  ‘I’m not ill. It’s, it’s something else.’ Anna broke her bread into small pieces. ‘I’ve been relieved of my duties.’

  ‘What does that mean? Have you been sacked?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’ve been let go.’

  ‘Retrenched?’

  ‘Yes, sort of.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Anna, what are you trying to tell me?’

  Anna showed Valda the letter.

  ‘I don’t understand. You won the Executive Assistant of the Year award. What flimsy reason did they have to get rid of you?’ Valda reread the letter. ‘Your services are no longer required. That doesn’t mean anything. How did this happen?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘So, start from the beginning.’

  Anna recounted the events of the past twenty years and watched the reaction in Valda’s eyes. They widened when Anna revealed her affair with her boss, a married man.

  ‘He promised me he would leave his wife,’ said Anna.

  ‘Uh huh,’ said Valda.

  When Anna described the morning of the dismissal, Valda paced up and down the courtyard in anger.

  ‘This is outrageous,’ she burst out when Anna had finished. ‘It reeks of unfair dismissal and you should do something about it, not hide away hoping it didn’t happen.’

  ‘I can’t, it would ruin William, and I know he still loves me. He’ll find a way to make it up to me, I know he will.’

  ‘Are you blind? You’ve been given the sack and he’s walked away scot-free. He was never going to leave his wife. He hasn’t even called you and, from what you tell me, she’s not letting him go. He had a cosy set up with you, but he’s not going to throw away his marriage for an over-the-hill former secretary.’

  ‘Executive assistant,’ corrected Anna. But she was shocked at Valda’s portrayal.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry to be so blunt,’ said Valda, ‘but I’ve seen this happen before. You were the ideal mistress for him. You were discrete, compliant and efficient. So discrete you didn’t even tell your supposed best friend. You were a work wife, there to prop him up. What else could a man want?’

  Anna felt faint.

  That night she couldn’t sleep, wondering if Valda was right. What if Anna had become dispensable, an old dishrag that needed to be disposed of? What if William had deliberately let Rachel find out about them? No, it wasn’t true; it couldn’t be.

  Over the next month, Valda insisted Anna talk to a solicitor, and set up an appointment for her. The solicitor helped her write a letter to Delaine Newtone, which resulted in Anna receiving a retrenchment payout, which Valda called her ‘keep quiet’ money.

  With the funds from the package and her own savings, Anna had enough money to live on, but she desperately wanted to find another job.

  The rejections were polite. Since the changes in technology in the early 2000s, most firms were looking for ambitious young people with degrees to fill the executive assistant roles.

  ‘It’s ageism and something should be done about it,’ said Valda. ‘I’ve a good mind to talk to my friend Genevieve. She’s set up an organisation for women seeking work. It’s called Suitability. I’m seriously thinking of volunteering there. You should come with me.’

  Anna groaned. ‘But I’m not ready for the retirement heap yet.’

  ‘All right. It’s just an option.’ Valda left Anna to ponder.

  Anna had loved being an executive assistant, and had made the role her own, with a desk outside the manager’s office and a neat pile of prioritised work. She kept the award for Executive Assistant of the Year on her sideboard. She’d been the gate-keeper who was skilled at managing competing priorities, ensuring projects were kept on track and the boss was always prepared for the next
thing. No surprises.

  She was proud to think she had done her job so well they didn’t see the fierce paddling she did, like a duck gliding on water, its feet furiously working beneath the surface. They’d told her many times how easily she did things. Perhaps it was her downfall.

  Now she felt she had nothing: no title, no identity and no reason for getting up each morning. What was she supposed to do? To curl up all day and watch television or surf the internet? No one would care if she shut her door and never went out. Well, except Valda, who continued to visit and ply Anna with good advice.

  The next time Valda called on Anna she brought an Australian terrier with her.

  ‘I’m fostering this abandoned dog until we find a home for him. Poor thing doesn’t even have a name yet,’ she said. ‘Isn’t he cute?’

  Anna found a bowl and filled it with water.

  ‘He likes you,’ said Valda, ‘and you have the perfect house for him. Here, see the advertisement for him.’

  Anne read the caption: A gentle dog which adjusts to different living conditions, is trainable, and has low exercise needs. As a bonus, it doesn’t shed hair. Suitable for older owners with small yards.

  ‘See, that’s you. He’d make a great companion for you,’ Valda continued. ‘You could take him for a trial period. It would be for a good cause and it’d really help me out. I have to go interstate to look after the grandchildren for a few weeks and I’d hate to have to take him back.’

  Anna felt ambushed. On one side of her sat Valda with the dog rescue newsletter open, and on the other sat the terrier looking at Anna with pleading brown eyes.

  Anna couldn’t refuse and named the dog Rufus.

  6

  MOLLY

  Molly used Lindy’s Opal Card to catch the suburban train from Strathfield, where Lindy had dropped her off, to Broadmeadow Station. Lindy had made a reservation and paid for the bus from Broadmeadow to Forster. She really did owe Lindy big time.

  ‘I’ll be back tomorrow with Joe, promise.’ Molly hugged Lindy. ‘And I’ll pay ya back. With bells on.’