Broken (25 page)

‘No way'

Liz walked down the path towards her car, which Mattie could now see housed a cumbersome baby seat in the rear. As the engine fired, the window rolled down smoothly and Liz turned to blow a kiss before the car jerked forward and continued to the end of the driveway where it paused for a second before accelerating quickly down the road. Within moments, it crested a rise and was lost to sight.

Mattie stood on the porch long after it had gone, pleating the jagged hemline of her silky top between her fingers. Her eyes, which at first had filmed over so that the hatchback blurred slightly before it vanished, dried quickly and her vision returned.

‘No way indeed,' she whispered to herself with a wry, self-deprecating smile as she finally went back into the unit, closing the door firmly behind her.

 

M
any years ago, sitting in a beer garden with a group of girlfriends on a hot Saturday afternoon, the talk turned to good and bad attributes in a boyfriend. Mattie, sipping sugar-crested blue lagoons, made a comment that if any boyfriend/husband/partner of hers played around, she would end the relationship without a second thought. And one of the others, a small, freckle-faced girl called Jeanette, started to cry, slowly but miserably. It emerged that her fiancé had cheated on her about two years before, and although they decided to stay together and she didn't regret this decision, the hurt still remained
.

Years later, Mattie was reminded of this when, after a committee meeting at Max's kindergarten, one of the other mothers breathlessly told them of a mutual acquaintance who was beaten on a regular basis by her husband, a nasty bully of a man. The women collectively drew back, horrified, and then plunged into discussing the situation with an expertise that none of them, probably, actually possessed. And the favourite comment was: ‘If my husband hit me, why, he'd be out of there so quickly his head would still be spinning.'

Mattie sat, silently listening, and thinking of Jeanette. How she had lowered her head onto her arms and sobbed wretchedly. And how they had all disregarded their own ignorance in their eagerness to press advice and guidance on the poor girl, none of them really knowing what it was like to be in her shoes. Just like none of the kindergarten women knew what it was like to be that poor soul who was attacked each week, but that didn't stop them having all the answers
.

N
ot knowing what time Jake would arrive, Mattie and Courtney got ready early the following morning. Mattie finished cleaning the unit the night before, washing all the dishes and storing the leftovers in the fridge. She even sponged down the embroidered tablecloth, dried it off and then re-boxed it, putting it on the table for Jake to collect. So the unit now bore few visible reminders of the wonderful day they'd enjoyed. But the invisible reminders remained, permeating the walls and furniture with a sense of cosy complacency that put a smile on Mattie's face from the moment she woke, and stretched, staring at the ceiling as she happily relived the events of the previous day.

It had all gone so perfectly, so smoothly, that Mattie couldn't quite believe it. She'd never imagined that her mother would strike up a friendship with Hilda, or that Liz would come, or Courtney, or that Charlotte would enjoy entertaining the children, or that so many of the school mothers would turn up,
and
they would all stay so long and enjoy themselves so much. And it didn't really matter if Liz had misunderstood what was going on, or failed to appreciate the real Jake, because by the time they caught up again, no doubt everything would have sorted itself out. Life, at the moment, was damn good. And so Mattie spent much of the morning pausing in whatever she was doing to shake her head with pleasure and smile again.

But the smiles started to falter around eleven o'clock, when Jake still hadn't turned up to collect them for the ‘family day'. Finally, at twelve,
Mattie rang him, first on the home phone and then on the mobile. But there was no answer from either. She made Courtney a peanut butter sandwich and sat her in front of the television, where a movie matinee was beginning. Mattie herself just picked at a few leftover meatballs before getting changed, shedding her jeans and heels in favour of a pair of navy tracksuit pants and a white Adidas t-shirt. Then she clock-watched, her pleasure at yesterday doing battle with her growing concern about today.

And as the afternoon slid by, it was like watching a pair of scales slowly but surely tilt, more and more heavily, in one direction. The overwhelming ascendancy of the morning's contentment gradually faded until it was matched by trepidation. Then, in the face of the shifting scales, the contentment began to capitulate, to surrender, until, by early evening, it had leached from the walls and retreated, shrinking, into the background. Earlier, Mattie thought that this shift was within her, a personal battle, until Courtney asked haltingly if his absence meant that her father was angry. And when she saw her own fears reflected in her daughter's face, Mattie realised that it wasn't just her. It was everywhere. And the more time that went by without word, the more readily the apprehension, and sense of dull foreboding, mounted within the unit, radiating outwards like a malignant cancer.

They finally arrived at eight o'clock that evening, and from the moment Mattie opened the front door she knew there was going to be trouble. For starters, Jake's flushed face and glittering eyes indicated that he had been drinking. And then there was Max's silent wariness, and the long look he exchanged with his sister. And, if these clues weren't enough, confirmation came from Jake's face which, although politely smiling, also wore the closed, impenetrable look that she feared more than any other. And Mattie knew she would respond as she always did, because even though it seldom worked, it was automatic. She'd become overly bright, bubbly and conciliatory as she desperately tried – by refusing to take offence and glossing up and over each barbed comment – to defuse the situation before it escalated. Like a mechanical Barbie doll. While behind the stupidly upbeat smile, she would be a bundle of panicky nerves.

Jake, dressed very casually in a pair of old jeans and a cut-off grey windcheater, came in, slowly. He looked around the lounge-room, almost as if he thought it would bear evidence of yesterday's party, and paused at the abstract print, staring at it for so long that Mattie felt compelled to fill the silence.

‘Do you like it? I bought it last week. At a bargain store.'

‘Nice.' Jake nodded. ‘Looks good there.'

‘Yes it does, doesn't it?' Mattie knew she was babbling but couldn't stop. ‘I'm really happy with it.'

‘Thought you were struggling for money?'

‘It was cheap. Hardly anything. Have you eaten?'

‘We had Subway earlier.' Jake turned to Max and grinned, at last. ‘Didn't we, mate?'

‘Yes.' Max's eyes flicked from his father to his mother and then back again.

‘But I wouldn't say no to a glass of wine.'

‘Coming right up!'

Mattie escaped into the kitchen where she took a slim cask of riesling out of the fridge and half-filled a fluted glass. She hesitated, unsure whether she should join him, and then decided that it would be more companionable to do so. Maybe it would slow the drinking down. She pushed the cask back into the fridge, taking the two glasses into the lounge-room. Jake was sitting on the couch, watching television, and both children had vanished.

‘Where are the kids?' Mattie asked as she put the wine down on the side table.

‘In their room, I suppose.' Jake picked up his glass and examined the level. ‘Tide's out, is it? Thanks anyway.'

‘Pleasure. Um, I'll just go and see if they want anything.' Mattie left the lounge-room and took the three short steps into the children's bedroom. Both were sitting on Courtney's bed talking but they stopped as soon as their mother came in and looked at her expectantly.

‘Hey, Mum,' said Max, picking at the sole of one of his runners.

‘Everything okay?'

‘Sure.'

‘Would you like a hot chocolate or anything?'

‘Nah. Thanks.'

‘Courtney?'

‘No thanks, Mum.' Courtney paused, looking at her mother questioningly. ‘Is Daddy all right?'

‘Of course he is,' replied Mattie brightly. ‘Just a bit tired probably. Now, you two can get changed into your pyjamas and come out and say goodnight, okay?'

‘But it's only quarter past eight!' Max looked at his mother with surprise.

‘Yes, but you both need an early night.' Mattie held up her hand as Courtney opened her mouth. ‘No arguments for once, Court. Just do it.'

‘Not fair,' mumbled Courtney crossly.

Mattie left the room without bothering to answer. One step into the passage she paused to rake her hands through her hair and take a deep breath before going the other two and entering the lounge-room, a smile plastered on her face. Jake didn't even glance across from a travel program on the television, which showed a man hiking through a redwood forest, dwarfed by towering firs. Mattie went over to the couch and sat down next to him, slipping her runners off and tucking her legs underneath her to appear relaxed, at least.

After about five minutes of silence, long minutes that hung awkwardly between them, Mattie glanced at Jake. ‘Did you have a good weekend?'

‘Fine, thanks.'

‘Good. That's good.' Mattie turned back to the television, where the trekker, fully laden with knapsack and sleeping bag strapped beneath, was now perched on the edge of a ravine. With a wry smile, Mattie decided that their situation was very similar, but did not share this insight with Jake.

Max came into the lounge-room dressed in a pair of last season's summer pyjamas that were now too small for him. He crossed the room and stood before his father, waiting till Jake looked at him before ducking forward and giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘G'night, Dad.'

‘Night, Max. Sleep well.'

Max came over to his mother and repeated the performance. ‘G'night, Mum.'

‘Goodnight, honey' Mattie reached forward and hugged him. ‘Look at you. You're getting so tall. We'll have to get you a whole new wardrobe at this rate.'

‘Well, stop spending money on art and you'll be able to afford it,' commented Jake, without looking at her.

Courtney bounced into the room, wearing silky pink boxers and a matching cotton t-shirt. She came straight over to her father and threw herself at him. ‘Night, Daddy. Love you.'

‘Love you too, pumpkin.' Jake grinned at her affectionately.

‘Are you coming in, Mummy?'

‘Okay.' Mattie got back up heavily and followed the two children to the bedroom, waiting while they clambered into their beds. She kissed Courtney first and then stood on tiptoes to reach Max, on the top bunk.

‘Story?' asked Courtney questioningly.

‘Not tonight. How about I read you two stories tomorrow night to make up, hey?' Mattie kissed Max, wanting to say something reassuring but unable to think of what. So instead she left the room, closing the door behind her, and returned to the lounge-room. Jake hadn't moved.

‘Anything on tonight?' asked Mattie conversationally as she settled back on the couch, tucking her legs up again.

‘Dunno.' Jake shrugged.

Mattie stared at his profile, so familiar yet so alien. And so close. She wondered what would happen if she just reached out and trailed her fingers, ever so gently, from the point where his hair had started to recede, all the way down the side of his face. The urge to do so was so strong that Mattie even raised her hand slightly, letting it hover between the two of them, and then she dropped it again. On the television, the hiker had left the ravine behind and was now abseiling down a cliff, swinging in towards the face and then bouncing out again as he lowered himself down. All the while a voice-over gave a running commentary but Mattie couldn't concentrate on the details, being far too aware of Jake's stiff silence to relax. Maybe he
was
just tired, and she was simply reading too much into his attitude. Maybe everything would be fine.

‘How did your shindig go yesterday?'

Mattie jerked, instantly alert. ‘Good! It went really good!'

‘Many turn up?'

‘A few. Just mothers from school, you know. Oh, and thank you very much for letting Courtney come. She had a ball. Two of her friends came as well so they played together all afternoon. I really appreciate you dropping her off.'

‘Like I had a choice.' Jake shifted slightly on the couch, but continued to stare at the television. ‘So did Liz come?'

Mattie's first instinct was to prevaricate, but then she quickly realised that things would get a whole lot worse if he questioned Courtney as well. And she couldn't ask the girl to lie – how could she explain the necessity? In the few seconds it took her to reason this through, Jake turned to look at her, at last, so she replied rapidly, ‘Yes, yes she did. She said to say hello. And guess what? She and Alan have finally managed to have a baby! A little boy called Thomas.'

‘Good for them.' Jake continued to stare at her. ‘So – what'd you two talk about?'

‘Oh, nothing much. Stuff. The baby.'

‘What did you tell her about us? About you living here?'

‘Jake, you've got to realise it was so busy we hardly had a chance to talk at all. There were people – women – everywhere. And I bought the most gorgeous little frog! Wait till you see it. And I got some wind-chimes for Dana, and something for Sandy too. I just can't remember what it was. Let me think . . .'

‘Who the fuck cares?'

Mattie tensed, every nerve on alert. Staring at him watchfully.

‘Tell me what you talked about.'

Mattie decided to face the issue head-on, as perhaps then there would still be a chance to avoid the collision. ‘Jake, you obviously think we talked about you, but we
didn't
. You've got to understand that it was so crowded, and then the consultant woman talked for nearly an hour, then everyone looked at the stuff, and then I served afternoon tea. It never stopped.'