Broken (50 page)

Mattie put the empty cardboard box down on the carpet by her wardrobe and then started removing clothing from the hangers and folding them neatly. Her good hand automatically compensated for the limitations
of the other by performing anything that required dexterity and only needing occasional support. She worked methodically, without letting herself think too much or too deeply about what she was doing. When she had a stack folded on the bed, she moved it into the box and started again.

After only about fifteen minutes she had filled two boxes, with her shoes piled on top to weigh the clothing down. Mattie pushed the boxes against the wall by the doorway and went into the lounge-room to fetch another empty one from the stack by the couch. She carried it into the bathroom and opened the vanity, peering at the contents within. Most of it, she decided, could be dealt with later, so she just took her essential make-up and threw that into the box before straightening and catching sight of herself in the mirror. She lifted one hand slowly and touched a finger to the corner of her eye, where the swelling was still angry and the bruising began, widening as it traversed downwards over her cheek. She stared at herself evenly and then dropped her hand to grasp the nearempty box, taking it through to the children's room, where she stood in the centre and looked around for a moment, from the neatly made pine bunks to the tallboy, from the now cluttered desk to the navy-blue tabtop curtains. It was hard to believe that they had only been living here for a few months when it all seemed so settled, so familiar.

Mattie swallowed, and then slowly touched each of the walls as if that would bring her some much-needed luck. Her superstition made her smile, but she still ensured she finished the ritual before turning to the wardrobe. She looked critically at the row of clothing hanging within. Most of it, she surmised quickly, could just as easily go to the charity bin. She flicked through the coathangers, sending them rattling along the pole, and selected a couple of pieces that had come over from the house to fold neatly within the box. Then she turned to the tallboy and extracted some items, including Courtney's precious tutu. Couldn't leave that behind.

She plucked the Harmony Bear from Courtney's bed and the floppy, loose-limbed dog from Max's and tossed them into the box also. Then she collected a few toys from the floor, some matchbox cars, a Rubik's cube, and a family of Polly Pockets, and placed them in the box before
sitting down on the bottom bunk and sighing. Once the sigh had depleted her, she let herself flop backwards until she was lying down, staring up at the wooden slats that formed the base of the upper bunk. Her stomach rumbled lightly and she thought, briefly, about having lunch but dismissed the idea because she simply didn't feel hungry. Instead, she swung her legs idly, listening to the bed creak noisily beneath her, so that she didn't quite register the sound of the keys in the locks until it was too late, and the front door was already swinging open.

Mattie froze, unwilling to believe what she had just heard and so certain that she was incapable of movement. With her heart thudding painfully, she strained every nerve to listen for any follow-up noise, until the weight of the silence became unbearable in itself. Then she forced herself to sit up, slowly, and stare towards the doorway, absolutely positive that he would materialise there, blocking her only exit while he fed off her terror.

Minutes passed and the unit remained quiet so that Mattie was able to convince herself that she'd imagined the keys turning, and the door opening. That she was alone, and safe, with a job that needed to be done. Clasping her injured hand protectively, she stood up, still keeping her movements deliberately slow and quiet. And the sound of a floorboard creaking came like a rifle shot from the lounge-room, followed quickly by footsteps coming towards the children's room. Mattie's throat seized and, in the space of a second, she ran through her available options. But a second was all it took, as the footsteps continued to approach. She was still standing by the bed, staring, when Jake came through the doorway.

He stopped just inside the room and looked at her, an almost puzzled frown creasing his brow, and then he glanced at the half-filled cardboard box by the wardrobe. Mattie knew she had to speak, say
something
, but the blockage in her throat was preventing the words from forming. Instead she stood facing him, hugging her left hand against her chest so that she seemed to be adopting a boxer's pose, with one fist ready to attack and the other positioned to defend.

Jake stared at the bandaged hand and then his eyes flicked up to
her face, and travelled along the length of the bruise, stopping only to dwell on the swelling, and the partly closed eye. He closed his own eyes briefly and then opened them to hold her gaze as she watched his reaction. They stood in silence for a few moments until the obstruction within Mattie's throat began to melt, washed away by the urgency to explain.

‘It's not what it seems.'

‘You're packing.' Jake glanced down at the box once more. ‘And there're more boxes in the lounge-room. What's going on?'

‘I'm coming home.'

Jake's eyes widened. ‘You're what?'

‘I'm coming home.' Mattie sat back down on the bed without taking her eyes off him. ‘You win. Okay?'

‘I win,' repeated Jake expressionlessly. He ran a hand through his hair, an unconscious action that emphasised his receding hairline, and then walked over to the cardboard box and picked out Courtney's tutu, rubbing his fingers on the tulle. He turned back to Mattie. ‘Actually
we
win. All of us. When did you decide this?'

‘Yesterday.'

‘Have you told the kids?'

‘Yes.'

‘Are they pleased?'

Mattie suddenly pictured Max, fists clenched and eyes flashing as he kicked her in the shin. And she glanced across at Jake with something close to pity. ‘What do you think?'

‘Yeah, I guess so.' Jake dropped the tutu and picked up the Rubik's cube. He started to manipulate the squares idly as he glanced into the wardrobe. ‘Still got a lot to go, haven't you? Want a hand?'

‘No, that's fine. Most of it can go straight to the charity bin. It was only old stuff, anyway.'

‘I remember – in fact I even helped them pack for this move.' Jake grinned down at the box and then glanced across at her, keeping the grin in place and testing its reception. The Rubik's cube continued to click.

‘I thought you might have,' said Mattie lightly, his grin relaxing her even while she maintained her guard.

‘Well, we'll have a clear-out. Get rid of all this and go on a shopping spree. The kids'll love that. Get them some new clothes.'

‘Yes.'

‘And you too, if you like. Get some new outfits, hey?'

‘Okay.' Mattie smiled again, because she knew she wasn't speaking enough, knew she had to make much more of an effort if this was ever going to work, but it was quite difficult. The
click, click
of the Rubik's cube seemed even louder in the stillness, almost as if it were a timer, counting down the seconds. She glanced at it and wondered, for a moment, if he was nervous.

‘And you're sure you don't need a hand? With the packing?'

‘Positive.'

‘What about the furniture?'

‘I'm just going to get a second-hand dealer in. He can make an offer on the lot.' Mattie glanced at the bed-head of the lower bunk and remembered how proud she had been when she had managed to assemble it. She looked back towards Jake, then dropped her eyes quickly to watch the coloured squares on the Rubik's cube again as they moved around rhythmically.
Click, click
. ‘I hate those,' she said suddenly.

Jake glanced up, surprised, and then realised she was staring at the toy. ‘Do you? I quite like them, myself.'

‘I'm going to take off all the little sections and then just rearrange them.' Mattie kept her eyes on the cube, but Jake had stopped playing with it.

‘That'd be cheating.'

‘Tough,' she replied lightly, glancing up at him. ‘At least that way, I'd win.'

Jake threw the Rubik's cube into the cardboard box, then crossed over to the bed and sat down beside her. After a few moments, he reached over and picked up her injured hand, tracing his fingers softly over the bandage. Mattie watched him, feeling the fingertips echo through the protective dressing and touch something deep within. When he stopped, her skin immediately felt cold. He gently put the hand down again and picked up her other, uninjured one, which he took over to his lap and held tightly. Mattie tried to think of something to say but couldn't.

‘We'll make this work, you know,' he said confidently. ‘Trust me.'

‘You said you'd get counselling.'

‘And I will. If we're still having problems in a few months, I promise. But, do you know what, I don't think we're going to need it.'

Mattie looked up at him, at the crinkling eyes and self-assured smile. ‘Though you'll go ahead with it if necessary?'

‘I said I would, didn't I?'

‘Yes. Yes, you did.' Mattie smiled back.

‘So when's the big day?' Jake grinned. ‘I'm going to have to make sure the house's clean, otherwise you'll accuse me of letting the side down.'

‘I thought – Thursday. By then, I should have this place all packed up.'

‘What about the lease?'

‘I've already arranged to advertise it. And I only need to pay the rent until someone takes it. Shouldn't be too long.'

‘You've been busy, haven't you?' Jake looked at her admiringly. ‘My little Miss Organisation.'

‘That's me.'

‘You'll need the keys.' Jake let go of her hand and dug deep in his pocket, pulling out a small beeper to which several keys were attached. He started extracting the front door and the security door keys.

‘I don't know that I really need them yet,' replied Mattie, watching the keys as they were freed. ‘Unless I take some stuff over tomorrow. I suppose that'd be a good idea.'

‘That's what I thought.' Jake passed the keys to her and then pushed the others back into his pocket.

Mattie held the two keys and stared at them for a moment. They both felt cold in the palm of her hand. Foreign. She put them down on the bed beside her and turned back to Jake, who was smiling at her. He took her hand again and wrapped it within both of his, making it immediately feel warmer.

‘And I tell you what else. Don't you do anything for tea Thursday night. When I get home from work, we're going out for dinner. A celebration.'

‘That sounds lovely'. Mattie made the smile travel up to her eyes, and it wasn't as difficult as she'd thought.

‘Maybe we could even get a babysitter after tea, and you and I could go out. Dancing or something.'Jake removed one hand from hers so that he could use his fingers to stroke across the area just under her knuckles. ‘You could be my Waltzing Matilda again. What do you say?'

Mattie watched the fingers move up and down, leaving a sensuous tingling in their wake. Then she glanced back up at him. ‘Let's play it by ear. One thing at a time.'

‘Okay. Fair enough.'

‘It's just that –'

‘I know. It's okay.' Jake grinned at her and then, perhaps reading something in her face, the grin faded and he sighed. ‘I really do understand. One thing at a time, hey?'

‘Yes.'

‘So no sealing the deal?'

‘No. Not this time.'

Jake fell silent and stared down at her hand as he continued his gentle stroking. He turned it over so that the palm was uppermost and began making circles with his fingertips. Mattie was reminded of a game they used to play with the children when they were small.
Round and round the garden goes the teddy-bear. One step, two step
. . . She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them again to find Jake gazing at her, his expression candid and sincere. And terribly vulnerable.

‘You won't regret this, Mat. Trust me. You've made the right choice.'

Mattie reclaimed her hand and used it to gently touch him on the cheek, on the same spot as the bruise bloomed across hers. Then she smiled as she replied, ‘I know.'

 

S
he'd worn white to her wedding. Huge clouds of frosted white that billowed around her in the wind like fairytale snow. Against her waist she held a bouquet of milky roses that dripped with clusters of tiny white gypsophilia. And the limousine was white too, inside as well as out. So that when the door opened and she looked out at the guests milling around the church steps, she merged perfectly into the background but for her red-lipped smile. An elaborate concoction of alabaster and lace
.

Just before she entered the church, the photographer darted forward and took a shot when a gust of wind wrapped the white satin around her body like a sheath, picking up the veil and spreading it across the cloudy sky behind
.

In the photograph, now living in an embossed gold frame, she has one hand up trying to harness the flyaway veil, and the other holding her bouquet down by her side so that the blooms brush against the cobblestoned portal. And she is still smiling, a broad open-mouthed smile that shows all her teeth and beams a message of delight so uninhibited that, even trapped in time, it remains infectious. So infectious that she hoped it would act as a balance against the other flashbacks and enable her to remember the good as well as the bad. So she folded it amongst some clothing and packed it with her ceramic frogs, a set of studio portraits of her children and some paperwork. Like their passports, birth certificates and a small typed note that read: The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings
.

J
ean Eltham pulled at the heavy glass door with some effort, and then her husband grabbed it by the handle and wrenched it towards him, making it easier for her to pass through.