Broken (24 page)

‘Hello,' interrupted Mattie, as she dried her hands on the tea-towel. ‘Having fun?'

‘Absolutely.' Mattie's mother smiled contentedly. ‘Did you know that Hilda here and your father used to belong to the same bowls club?'

‘Small world, yes?' said Hilda. ‘I remember him well. Lovely man.'

Mattie's mother nodded in agreement as she poured some more tea into the teacups in front of each of them. Mattie grinned happily Everything was going so well, so much better than she'd even hoped. She watched them continue their conversation for a while and then left, returning to the lounge-room where the conversations were still flowing and Sharon was just taking her last bag to the door, negotiating her way awkwardly through the scattered chairs. Mattie smiled again and continued on up the short passage to the children's bedroom, where the door was closed with no light showing beneath it.

Mattie opened it slowly, peering through into the semi-darkness. The light from the passage illuminated a broad strip down the centre of the room and the three girls could be seen sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the corner.

‘Mum!' Courtney's voice was shrill. ‘Close the door! Quick!'

‘What on earth are you doing?' Mattie still held the door open, so that she could see.

Charlotte's voice came from the corner of the room which was bathed in shadows. ‘I'm telling them a scary story. We're pretending that we're at a campfire, aren't we?'

‘Yes,' replied Courtney, frowning crossly. ‘And now you've let the light in and ruined it.'

‘Well, why don't you just pretend that it was the moon coming out for a few minutes, and now it's gone back behind the thundery clouds.'

‘Okay!' Courtney's frown vanished as she nodded enthusiastically, turning to her friends. ‘That was the moon there.'

‘And you know what?' Mattie used her scary voice, drawing out the words. ‘It's a
full
moon too. You know what
that
means.'

The three little girls all shivered happily as Mattie slowly closed the door. She leant against the wall, taking a deep breath and trying to wipe the smile off her face before taking the three small steps to the lounge-room. But it was a stubborn smile and, try as she might, all she succeeded in doing was flattening it out so that it looked like she was hugging a private joke to herself. And in a way, Mattie supposed she was.

Rachel left first, rather reluctantly, and only because she had to collect her other two children from her mother-in-law's house. But her departure acted as a trigger for the others to cast startled glances at their watches (
Are you kidding? It
can't
be five-thirty already! My god! I'm supposed to be doing a roast!
) and start gathering cups and mugs and plates together. Mattie cut short the tidal wave of movement towards the kitchen by insisting that everything be left where it was, so instead her guests fished handbags out from under chairs and behind cushions, and children from the bedroom, before, almost as a single mass, departing. Declarations of how much they had enjoyed themselves, and let's do this again sometime, hung cheerfully in the air behind them so that the warmth they brought into the unit was still there even when they no longer were.

Mattie's mother, Hannah and Charlotte were almost the last to depart, leaving only Hilda and Liz still there. Then it was just a matter of stacking Hilda's plastic chairs on the porch for Ernest to collect later and waving goodbye to Hilda, who left with her empty strudel plate hugged against her chest.

‘I'm going to ring Alan and tell him I'll be home in about an hour and a half,' said Liz, removing a small silver mobile phone from her bag and flipping it open. ‘That'll give us a chance for one more coffee before I go. And a chat.'

‘Won't he be annoyed?' asked Mattie, worriedly.

‘Annoyed?' Liz paused in the midst of pressing numbers and looked at Mattie, surprised. ‘No, why would he be? I'll just explain we're catching up. He'll understand.'

Mattie left Liz to make her phone-call and went into the kitchen, where Courtney was eating another slice of cake in lieu of dinner. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?'

‘Did I
ever,'
Courtney said with sincerity, separating the icing carefully from the top of her cake with a sticky finger. Then she glanced up at her mother accusingly ‘You didn't tell me Katie and Georgia were coming.'

‘I didn't know' Mattie slid Courtney's plate over to the other side of the table. ‘And you can have that later. Now I want you to have a bath. You get your ‘jamas ready while I run it.'

Courtney opened her mouth to argue but her mother was already leaving the room, so she quickly reached over to grab the icing layer before following. Mattie held up two fingers to Liz, who was still talking on her phone in the lounge-room and mouthed
two minutes
as she passed. She hurried into the bathroom, shortening her steps automatically, and turned the taps on full, sitting on the side of the bath while it filled.

By the time Courtney was organised in the bath, with several Polly dolls and their blue plastic waterslide, Liz had refilled the plunger and made them both a fresh cup of coffee. Mattie cleared a space at the kitchen table, stacking the dirty dishes in the sink, and sat down opposite her friend. She grinned at her.

‘I can't believe you came.'

‘I tried to ring you to RSVP,' said Liz, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug and blowing at the steam. ‘Twice. But you weren't home, and you obviously don't have an answering machine.'

‘No. Not yet.'

‘You should have seen my face when I got the invite. I couldn't believe it. And then when I looked at the address –'

‘Yes, you said.'

‘So what's the story? I know you said before that you're having a break, but that must mean you've been having problems?'

Mattie remembered Liz well enough to know that the concern on her face, although genuine, also masked a fervent desire to discover the details of Mattie's marital problems. And she would not hesitate to pass them on to others, not so much in a malicious way, but as a trump card in an exchange of information. Knowledge is power.

‘Well, 'fess up. Maybe I can help.'

‘There's nothing
to
help,' Mattie replied confidently. ‘Just a temporary separation. Breathing space.'

Liz looked doubtful. ‘Your idea or his idea?'

‘Both.'

‘So let me get this straight. You've separated but you're still together?'

‘That's right. He even stays here one night a week and I stay there,
and we all spend Sundays together, going on a picnic or whatever. And that was
his
idea.'

‘Hmm . . .' Liz chewed her lip pensively. ‘How come he got to stay in the house then?'

Mattie paused, brushing some crumbs off the tablecloth. ‘Look, I know you never really liked him –'

‘It's not that I didn't
like
him,' corrected Liz, ‘just that he always seemed so, well, high maintenance.'

‘High maintenance?'

‘Yes.' Liz paused as she searched for the right words. ‘You know, hard work.'

‘The thing is, you've never seen the Jake
I
see,' protested Mattie defensively ‘The private one. Who
is
easygoing. And gives me massages, or plays with his kids, or brings me breakfast in bed.'

‘True. But I did see the Jake who dragged you out of a party by the arm just because you kissed a couple of other guys, on the bloody
cheek
, for New Year's Eve.'

A shaft of remembrance twisted in Mattie's gut but she ploughed on regardless. ‘See? It's easy to look at
that
Jake and think the worst. But it's not the
real
Jake.'

‘How do you know?' Liz leant forward and looked at Mattie intently ‘Maybe the Jake who gives you massages and breakfast in bed isn't the real Jake. Have you ever thought of that?'

‘No, because it's not true.'

‘But, Mats, listen. It's not so much a choice of which is the
real
Jake and which isn't. They're
all
Jake. The one who does the nice things and the one who's just plain bad-tempered. You act like there's two different people, like a Jekyll and Hyde type set-up, but it's still all him. That's Jake – the good
and
the bad.'

Mattie looked at her friend wordlessly. She knew what Liz was saying made sense, but she also knew that it was a reality that did not,
could
not, be reconciled with her ability to look at Jake as a fundamentally good man. How could she explain that, if she allowed herself to accept this, she would have to question everything that held her marriage together? And how could she have hope for the future if she believed
that the
bad
side of Jake had as much permanence as the good side? It was too depressing to even contemplate.

‘Can I ask you something?' Liz dropped her gaze, a sure sign that she was about to ask something quite personal.

‘It depends,' replied Mattie, her voice coming out hoarsely.

‘You remember that New Year's Eve when he dragged you out?' Liz paused and then continued again, even though Mattie just looked at her without nodding. ‘Well, afterwards Paula and I were talking and we thought, well . . . does he hit you?'

‘Hit me?' repeated Mattie, her eyes widening.

‘Yes. Hit you. Only . . . because the way he dragged you out was so –
vicious
. I'll never forget the look on his face.'

Mattie took a sip of her coffee and then looked across at Liz. ‘So you thought he hit me?'

‘Well, yes . . . does he?'

‘Do you really think I'd have stayed as long as I did if he hit me?'

‘I suppose not,' said Liz doubtfully.

‘And that I'd still be trying to make a go of it now?'

‘No . . .' Liz grimaced again. ‘Sorry, Mats. It was just we talked and . . . forget it.'

‘You'd have to be nuts, wouldn't you?' asked Mattie, shaking her head.

‘Absolutely crackers,' agreed Liz, breaking a piece of shell off an abandoned meringue and putting it in her mouth, not looking at Mattie.

‘See, that's what I mean,' said Mattie grimly. ‘You make assumptions about the Jake you think you know, or knew, but you don't see –'

‘The real Jake,' finished Liz, with a derisive edge to her voice. Then she looked back across at Mattie expressionlessly. ‘Yeah, I know. So you said. But the thing is, when you two got together, I stopped seeing the real Mattie too.'

Mattie stared at her, trying to digest this, not wanting it to make sense. Wanting the conversation to change, or Liz to leave – anything rather than this dance along the precipice.

‘But it's none of my business.' Liz wiped her fingers, flecks of meringue falling onto the tablecloth. ‘It's your choice.'

‘Yes, it is.'

Liz nodded, dropping her gaze to the tablecloth as she started brushing the crumbs off it. Several remained stuck within the ridged needlework of the embroidered roses so she began to pluck them loose one by one and flick them onto the floor.

Mattie broke the silence first. ‘What about you, anyway? You've hardly told me anything. Like, are you still working? How's Alan?'

‘He's good.' Liz looked up again, a smile transforming her face. ‘And I'm working part-time, as a special ed teacher. I job-share with this other woman and it works really well. Means Thomas only goes to creche two days a week and Alan's Mum has him the other day. Which she loves.'

‘That sounds perfect.'

‘It is.' Liz took another sip of coffee and then stood up, grabbing her handbag off the spare seat. ‘Look, I'd better get going. Long drive home.'

‘Absolutely.' Mattie stood also. ‘And thanks so much for coming. It's been great.'

They walked to the front door, the gurgling sound of draining bathwater coming from the bathroom. Mattie opened the door and preceded Liz onto the porch. She noticed that the chairs were gone and absently made a mental note to thank Ernest tomorrow.

‘Nice neighbourhood,' commented Liz, standing on the porch and looking around.

‘Yes.' Mattie nodded, following her gaze. ‘It is.'

‘And I've really enjoyed myself.' Liz looked back at Mattie and hesitated, then took one of her hands and held it. Mattie dropped her gaze to her hand, now nestled within Liz's, and for a second saw her mother's juxtaposed over the top, with its age spots and raised blue veins amongst the loose folds of skin. Then it was gone and there was just hers again, with a gold wedding band as smooth as the skin beneath it.

Mattie shook her head to clear it before smiling up at Liz. ‘Me too. And we must do it again sometime. So I can meet your Thomas.'

‘Definitely.' Liz squeezed Mattie's hand and then let it go. ‘And we won't wait so long before the next time either.'