Broken (5 page)

Mattie sat down and took the cover off the casserole dish, ladling some up for Courtney. As Jake spooned mashed potato next to the beef, Max came in and slid into the spare seat quietly. He looked at the meal, flashed an expressionless glance at his mother and then stared down at his plate.

‘Max said I can have the top bunk.' Courtney started mixing the beef and potato into a brown and cream swirl. ‘He said he didn't care.'

‘Well, I do,' said Mattie, loading her own plate. ‘And I'm afraid Max gets the top bunk anyway. He's two years older than you.'

‘That's not fair!' Courtney dropped her fork with a clatter and stared at her mother, instantly infuriated. ‘He
said
he didn't want it. And I do!'

‘That's not the point – '

‘The point is,' Jake interrupted smoothly, ‘the manufacturers recommend the bunks for eight years and over. And you, my love, are only six. Not – ' he lifted a hand as Courtney opened her mouth – ‘that you would be likely to have an accident, being particularly flexible for your age. But rules are rules. Besides, given that your mother was the one who put it all together – just think of me. I wouldn't be able to sleep at home knowing that you were risking your life each night over here.'

‘Daddy' giggled Courtney, mollified by this argument. ‘What's flexible mean?'

‘It means agile and cute. And in need of sustenance. Which means food. So eat up.'

‘Thanks.' Mattie smiled at Jake as she passed the ladle across. Then she leant back, taking a sip of champagne while she regarded her son with some concern.

‘Did you have a good weekend, Max?'

‘Yep.' Max nodded his head without looking up.

‘How did Auskick go on Saturday?'

‘Okay.'

‘Max!' Jake's sudden exclamation made everyone jump, including Mattie. ‘For god's sake, answer your mother properly! It's like trying to get blood out of a damn stone!'

‘It's all right.' Mattie shook her head at Jake. ‘It's just all new for him. He'll talk when he wants to. Won't you, honey?'

‘Yep.' Max was flushing. ‘I mean, sure. I will.'

‘
I
had a good weekend,' piped Courtney, flicking an overly bright glance from one parent to the other. ‘But I missed you, Mummy.'

‘We've already established that,' said Jake dryly.

As everybody else settled in to their meal, Mattie realised she had no appetite. Even the thought of trying to swallow mashed potato or the overdone beef made her feel ill. So instead she sat back, sipping her champagne and watching the others. Courtney, whose capacity for large meals was amazing for one so small, ate steadily, pausing every so often to glance around the table and reassure herself that her family seemed content. Max, on the other hand, kept his head down as he pushed his food around his plate, the set of his face a clear indication to Mattie that tears were just below the surface but being held rigidly in check. She sighed and glanced quickly at his father who, if he noticed the boy's distress, was not letting on. He looked up, caught Mattie's eye and grinned. A huge grin that was like an embrace, trapping her breath within her chest and making it ache.

By the time dinner was finished and the dishes were washed, it was already past the children's bedtime. Mattie tucked them into the bunk beds, with a promise to Courtney that the moment she turned eight, she'd be able to swap places with her brother if they were still in bunks, which Mattie fervently hoped wouldn't be the case anyway. For once she didn't stay to read them a story, using the excuse that it was late and they both had school tomorrow. But the truth was, she was too conscious of Jake, drying the dishes in the kitchen, and the chance that, once finished, he would simply call out a goodbye and leave. And she didn't want him to. So she kissed both children on the forehead, cheeks and chin, brushing Max's hair back and whispering that everything would be all right. Then she closed their door before walking (one, two, three) back through the lounge-room to the kitchen and picking up her champagne from the table.

‘Finished already?' Jake stacked the dried dishes on the bench. ‘What, no story?'

‘Not today. It's too late.'

‘Happy?'

‘Pardon?' Mattie knew what he meant but the suddenness of the question took her by surprise.

‘Are you happy?' Jake opened the cutlery drawer and slid knives and forks inside with a metallic clatter. ‘You know, here. Was it worth it?'

‘Worth what?' Mattie stalled for time, trying to play it safe.

‘Worth the effort. Worth the money. Worth fucking up our family'

‘I haven't – '

‘Yes you have. At least have the guts to admit it. Have you even
noticed
your son's face since we got here? Does he look like a happy kid to you? And what about Courtney? She tries to act all frigging bubbly but really she's just worried sick that her family's falling apart. So I'm asking you if it was worth it.'

Her muscles suddenly turning to liquid, Mattie flopped down onto a chair and stared at Jake. How could she explain that it wasn't about worth, or about trading her happiness for the misery of others? Especially when the guilt she felt was razor-sharp. And, at the same time, her despair was framed by anger. Anger that she should feel so bad for trying to survive, anger that the children's welfare was such a potent weapon, anger that she could feel her eyes filming with tears and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

Jake turned his head away and shook it. ‘This is hopeless. I'd better go.'

‘No!' Mattie's voice came out in a strangled squeak.

‘Look, Mat –' Jake slid into the seat opposite her and, wrapping his hand around one of hers, looked at her earnestly – ‘I don't want to upset you, and I don't want to have another fight. I'm bloody
sick
of them. But I can't help the way I feel. And watching what you're doing to the kids is tearing me up. It really is.'

‘I know' Mattie stared at her hand, so small within Jake's long fingers. He had piano-player hands. Rugged with muscle and elongated bones. Capable of extremes.

‘But I promised that I'd shut up about it, didn't I?' Jake traced a line
across the back of her wrist with one of his fingers. ‘Give you the time you needed. Yet here I am going off at you first thing.'

‘Doesn't matter.'

‘Yes, it does. I'll shut up, okay?'

‘Okay' Mattie watched his finger start to draw little circles around each of her knuckles. They tingled, imprisoned by a sensory loop.

‘But you have to understand my frustration too.'

‘I
do.'
Mattie dragged her eyes up to his face. ‘I
know
how hard this is for you.'

‘Do you?' Jake grinned at her lopsidedly and then sighed.

‘Well, I try to.'

Jake lifted up her trapped hand and kissed it lightly. ‘I suppose that'll have to do then, hey? So I'll leave you to your little hovel, and I'll head off home to my mansion.'

‘Don't rub it in.' Mattie smiled, her relief at his light-heartedness bringing with it a new sheen of tears.

‘Just say the word.' Jake kissed her hand again before releasing it and stood up, stretching. ‘Okay, so I pick up the kids from school Thursday, is that how it works?'

‘Have another drink before you go.' Mattie held the champagne bottle aloft. ‘You can't bring someone a present and then make them drink it alone.'

‘Can't I?'

‘No, it's terribly bad manners.'

‘Why do I get the feeling you want me to stay?'

‘Maybe because I do.'

‘Let me see . . .' Jake sat back down and watched as she refilled their glasses. ‘You spend a fortune renting a poky little flat to get away from me, but then you don't want me to leave? You're going to drive me crazy, Mattie.'

‘Sorry.'

‘So when you say you want me to stay – ' Jake picked up his glass and took a sip – ‘do you mean just for another drink, or do you mean . . . longer?'

‘I mean longer,' replied Mattie without hesitation. And it was nice to
know something for certain when everything else was confusion. She didn't know where she was going or even what she wanted if she got there, but she did know that she wanted Jake to stay tonight. To finish off the champagne and then go to bed and hold her tight. Make love. Fill her with security, and leave no room for doubts. Injecting something familiar into a life that was suddenly anything but.

 

T
hey had already put a deposit on their own home before the wedding, and two months afterwards were able to move into a brand new clinker brick in Mont Gully, a relatively new suburb in Melbourne's eastern suburbs nestled between Wantirna and Boronia. Mattie's preference had been for nearby Box Hill, where she had grown up, which boasted numerous beautiful old-world Californian bungalows with deep verandahs and stained-glass windows. But, as Jake pointed out, for the same price as one of those they were able, with the help of their bank, to buy a twenty-five square, four bedroom, two bathroom house on a new estate. A house that nobody had lived in before them, a house that they could decorate to their own taste, with a garden they could start from scratch
.

They did the long workday commute to the city for the first year. Driving in together, parking in the basement car-park beneath Jake's accountancy firm, and Mattie catching a tram up to her secretarial job in the Defence Department near Spencer Street. Then Jake joined a firm in Ringwood and for a while Mattie caught the train into town by herself. That was when they started planning for a baby
.

And by then the brand-new, character-less house had been transformed into a fine residence. A beautifully manicured garden nestled all the way around the brickwork, edging the cobble-stoned driveway and forming a mounded figure of eight around the wrought iron letterbox. Inside, tasteful furnishings were enhanced, here and there, with a nice antique piece, and gold-framed prints complemented the colours of the walls and curtains and carefully chosen knick-knacks. While wall-to-wall thick cream carpet muffled sound and aided the illusion that, when that front door closed, they were all alone
.

M
onday morning they all slept in, a circumstance made worse by unfamiliar surroundings. School clothes had to be found, bags packed, lunches made. Nevertheless Mattie felt warmed by the prior evening, and fuelled by a sense of certainty that everything was going to fall into place. The twelve months of separation would be spent without losing Jake, and the distance it created would heal rather than destroy And he seemed to feel the same way, enveloping her in a snug embrace the moment she opened her eyes so that she woke into the warmth of security and optimism.

Jake departed first, leaving behind two children made even more confused by his presence. Mattie tried to explain as they sat down for a quick breakfast of orange juice and cereal, but the incomprehension remained. And they avoided her gaze, instead concentrating fiercely on drowning cornflakes by holding them under with their spoons. Then all explanations had to be put on hold as they piled into the car for a dash to school before the 9 am bell.

Of course, children being children, what on any other morning was a fairly straightforward exercise became, that morning, a major undertaking. First it was Max, who clutched at his belly and mumbled about stomach cramps and possible appendicitis. Then, while Mattie was dealing with this, Courtney, who had exited the car quite happily, paused by the school gates to watch the car suspiciously. When her brother still hadn't emerged after a few minutes, she came running back
and, upon being told to get moving, promptly burst into tears.

The end result was that neither child was ready until well after the school bell had rung. Which meant that Mattie needed to take them in via the office, where she filled out late notes and, while there, quickly changed her emergency contact number. Then she took the children to their classrooms. Max, his olive skin flushed, hung his bag on a spare hook and took his seat without even glancing at his mother again, while Courtney clung to her hand until forcibly removed by the prep teacher. It didn't matter that Mattie, peering through the window after leaving the classroom, saw the child recover quickly enough to start chatting cheerfully with the others. She still felt gut-shot with guilt.

And this morning was the worst possible time for delays because she had an appointment at 9.30 am at the district Centrelink, where she had to prove her eligibility for a parenting payment, otherwise she was going to be in serious financial trouble. The last time Mattie had visited one of these places, they hadn't even been called Centrelink, but Social Security offices. Which made a lot more sense because that was exactly what they were, a government department that supported those who needed social security, either permanently, such as the disabled, or temporarily, like the unemployed.

It had even moved since her last visit, and was now situated in a hugely busy hub attached to a shopping complex in Wantirna, as if to taunt those on restricted finances with everything that they could not afford. Pubs, billiard halls, expensive specialty shops, boutiques, restaurants, they all surrounded the Centrelink office, greedily awaiting their share of a limited bounty.

Mattie walked up the steps and past a group of male teenagers whose jeans were worn so low on their skinny hips that the crotch almost linked their knees. They ignored her as she passed, concentrating instead on gazing into the middle distance with a studied casualness. The automatic doors slid open and she entered a glass atrium with rockpool fountains and copious marbled tubs of luxurious foliage. The Centrelink door was to her left so she pushed it open and entered a world so divorced from the cool serenity of the atrium that it was almost a physical shock.