Fractured (9 page)

‘Maybe, I don’t know, someone stole Jack or something. People do that, you know, you hear about it all the time. She could
have been trying to save him. Or she was carjacked, and she’s in shock …’

‘Slow down.’ Sean handed Tony another beer and sat down beside him. ‘Of course Anna wouldn’t do this. They’ll work that out.
Jesus, I can’t think … Mate, I’m so sorry about Jack.’

Tony covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

Sean was quiet for a moment. ‘I just can’t believe it, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.’

Tony took his hands away from his face and wiped his nose with his arm. ‘She’s locked up. Like a criminal. God, what she must
have gone through.’

‘Where’s your folks, and her mum?’ Sean asked. ‘Do they know you’re here?’

‘Her mum flew in this morning, she’s gone to the hospital. I just couldn’t … face it, you know?’

‘Of course not, mate.’

Tony stood up again. ‘Look, do you mind if we don’t talk about this any more? I don’t want to think about it any more.’

Sean nodded. ‘Sure. Stay here, I’ll run down to the DVD shop and get us a movie or something.’

As Sean grabbed his wallet and keys, Tony slumped back on the couch. He closed his eyes; the room was spinning. He kept his
eyes closed, not sure if he could prevent himself from vomiting. Some time later, he heard the door open and close again as
Sean returned. He tried to sit up, then shook his head, lay back again and closed his eyes; it could all stay away for just
a few minutes longer.

Wednesday, 16 September 2009

Wendy rubbed her gritty eyes as the taxi approached the hospital grounds; she may as well have been grinding grains of sand
into them. Her eyes watered and she wiped them with the back of her hand. Seeing Anna for the first time yesterday, just lying
in the hospital bed, had been overwhelming. She understood why Tony had stayed away. By the time she had made it back to Emily’s
flat last night she was worn out, but she’d still barely slept. Her mind had churned everything over and over. She had even
found herself thinking back to the sight of Jim and Ursula squabbling over the ticket machine. She missed the intimacy of
having a partner, even the bickering. She wished she had someone to talk to right now, someone to share the pain with.

As she stepped out of the taxi, she smelled the damp, dusty odour of rain steaming from roads that had been dry for weeks.
It was just a drizzle now, but she pulled her jacket closed at the neck and folded the top of the plastic bag in her hand
to stop the magazines inside getting wet. She walked down the path towards the mental health building – less intimidating
in the daylight than it had been the night before – stepping over small puddles that shimmered in the sunlight that was breaking
through the clouds. Inside the reception area, she signed the visitors book then sat and waited. Seeing her reflection in
the glass door, she smoothed down the tendrils of her hair that had sprouted like shoots in the rain. She looked at her brown
leather boots, reached down and rubbed at the scuffed toes.

‘Mrs Shafer?’

Wendy jumped and looked up to see a young woman in a grey fitted dress with dark-framed glasses. ‘Yes, hi.’ She stood up,
snatching her handbag and the plastic bag from the floor.

‘I’m Dr Morgan. Thanks for coming. Come through, please.’

The doctor held the door open for her, and Wendy walked through, then paused in the corridor beyond. Dr Morgan closed the
door behind them; Wendy heard the clunk as the lock fell into place and her stomach lurched. She followed the psychiatrist
down a corridor to their left, past several closed doors and into a small room that was empty except for four chairs. She
hesitated, then chose the seat nearest the door. Dr Morgan pulled one of the other chairs from the corner of the room closer
to Wendy, sat down and crossed her legs. Wendy noticed her shiny black patent heels, and tucked her own feet under her chair.

‘Sorry about the decor,’ Dr Morgan said, smiling.

‘I’ve seen worse,’ Wendy said. ‘I tried to get hold of Tony, but his phone was off, and his mum couldn’t reach him either.’
She was painfully aware of his absence, terrified as to what it might mean.

‘That’s a shame. I’m sure he’ll be in touch soon. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling.’

‘No.’ Wendy shifted back in her seat slightly. ‘I saw him yesterday, before I came in last night, he was … Well, you know.’

Dr Morgan nodded. ‘The nurses told me that you came in to see Anna.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t think she even noticed. She barely opened her eyes, and when she did, she didn’t seem to know what was
going on at all.’ Wendy sniffed and reached into her handbag for a tissue. It had been the hardest moment in her life. Nothing
could compare to seeing your child in such anguish, being unable to reach her or do anything to make it better. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise – it’s fine.’ Dr Morgan looked away while she blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes, then continued, ‘I’ve
been to see her this morning, and there’s not much change. The nurses tell me she hasn’t said much, and she’s barely moved.
I’m also worried
that she hasn’t been eating or drinking since she got to hospital. We’ve been giving her fluids through the drip, but …’

Wendy shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen her like this.’

‘It must be very hard for you.’

‘Tony might know more. Anna hasn’t lived at home since she left for university.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘Did you know she’d
gone to university? Here, in Sydney? She’s always done so well.’ She realised how proud she was of Anna; she wondered if Anna
knew that. Had she ever told her?

Dr Morgan wrote something on her notepad, then tapped her pen on the paper. ‘I don’t know much about her at all. That’s why
I’m glad you’ve come today. I do need to ask you about her background, her childhood, the family history, things like that.’

Wendy nodded. ‘Anything.’ She was glad there was something she could do to help. Wendy had thought about Anna’s childhood
a lot over the years. Wendy was young when she’d become pregnant, only eighteen. She’d thought she was in love with Anna’s
father, that they’d raise their child together, but three years later he was gone. Those three years had been hard. Anna was
a delight, but he drank, and when he drank, he became belligerent. She’d told herself that Anna was too young to understand
the violence she witnessed, too young to be affected, but now, she wasn’t so sure. Or, maybe having a father in her life would
have prevented Anna from ending up here. Anyway, Anna had stopped asking about him years ago, and Wendy was happy to leave
it that way.

She turned her attention back to the psychiatrist.

‘One other thing we do need to discuss urgently today is Anna’s treatment.’ Dr Morgan leaned forward and Wendy held her breath.
‘I’m very worried about her mental health – and her physical health if she continues to refuse to eat. I’m going to start
her on some medications, but I’m worried they’ll take too long to work. That is, if she’ll even take them. What I want to
discuss with you – and Tony – is giving her electroconvulsive therapy: ECT.’

Wendy closed her eyes; suddenly she had a pounding headache in her temples. Lights flashed on her eyelids, and she could feel
her teeth grinding together and her limbs flailing. As soon as the sensation started, it stopped again. She opened her eyes
again and rubbed them. She wished that she was surprised, even horrified, at the suggestion, but she wasn’t. She looked up
at Dr Morgan, who was waiting for her to respond, and she nodded.

* * *

‘Shock treatment? Do they still do that?’

Tony held the phone away from his ear as his mum’s voice pierced through his aching head. The light from the window in Sean’s
flat was hot on the side of his face, so he lay back on the couch in the shade. He had woken at 10 a.m. and switched on his
phone to face four messages. Surprisingly, only one was from his mother. Wendy called a few minutes later. After talking to
her, he’d rung Ursula back.

‘Well, they must do, Mum, that’s what Wendy said. I don’t know the details – she had just finished with the doctor when she
called.’

‘Haven’t you spoken to the doctor? You’d be her next of kin, not Wendy.’

‘Not yet. I will, in a bit.’ He could almost hear his mum forcing herself to bite her tongue. ‘I don’t want to talk about
this on the phone. I’ll go and get Wendy, then we’ll come over. I just need to run home and get changed.’

‘Home? Where are you?’

‘I’m at Sean’s.’

Ursula sighed. ‘Anthony, I know this is difficult, but —’

‘Mum! Leave it, please.’ He threw the blanket back and sat up, running his fingers through his hair.

‘Wendy might not feel like coming over,’ she went on. ‘She must be exhausted. She probably doesn’t want to have to talk to
all of us.’

‘What do you mean? I’m sure she needs the company.’ He walked over to the kitchen and turned on the tap, holding his hand
under the water until it ran cold. Cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, he filled a glass. ‘What is it, Mum? I
can tell you’re dying to say something.’ He took a big gulp of water.

‘Sorry, Anthony. I don’t know if I’m up to talking to anyone today.’

‘What else am I supposed to do? She’s here on her own, I can’t just leave her.’

‘Anthony, it’s not your job to look after her, you’ve got enough on your plate. Just let her deal with Anna and the doctors
and shock treatment. You deal with … Jack.’

He put the glass in the sink, which was piled with dirty plates and mugs. ‘I
am
dealing with Jack, and that also means dealing with Anna. She’s my wife! I don’t understand —’

Ursula took a big breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all night, and talking to your dad. If she did do this, even if she
is depressed —’

‘What?’ Tony’s head pounded. Was his mum really about to say this? ‘Do what?’

‘Anthony …’

He closed his eyes. He could see that envelope falling out of his bag in slow motion, floating down like a feather, swaying
from side to side. In his mind, he saw himself catching it before it hit the ground. How long had it been in there? If his
mum hadn’t called him at work to say Anna was missing, would he have noticed it when he took his papers out of his bag for
the presentation? He would still have been too late. If the traffic had been faster would it have made any difference? He
opened his eyes again. He felt nauseous; a cold sweat trickled over him. The letter proved nothing. And he didn’t need his
own mother making judgements when no one knew what had happened that day yet.

‘You’re as bad as the police! Number one, we don’t know what happened. And number two, she’s not just a bit depressed, she’s
really sick. Jesus, Mum.’

‘OK, OK, I’m sorry.’

His voice broke. ‘Wendy feels the same as you, the same as all of us. He’s her grandson too. This isn’t her fault. I’m going
to get her from Emily’s and we’ll come over.’

‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just …’

‘I know. Look, I’ll see you soon.’

Before his mum had a chance to say anything else, he hung up. He didn’t need accusations and assumptions flying around from
his own family. That wasn’t going to help. If the police even suspected that Ursula had her doubts – or, worse still, that
he had a tiny sliver of uncertainty – they would pounce on Anna. He put both hands on the kitchen bench and tried to breathe
deeply, but he retched at the smell of alcohol evaporating from his pores. He straightened slowly, found his car keys, then
headed outside.

* * *

Tony usually loved driving over the bridge, but today the view of the harbour made his stomach churn. He looked straight ahead,
concentrating on spotting the turn-off towards Emily’s apartment. A few minutes later, he drove into the car park of a towering
white building and looked up. The sight of the wavy edges of the balconies interlaced above him made his head reel, so he
looked away again towards the glass doors of the apartment block. He got out of the car, pressed the buzzer, and stared at
the small video camera. Wendy answered and said she’d be right down.

He waited in the car with the door closed and the air conditioning on full. It wasn’t hot outside, but he still felt clammy.

A couple of minutes later, Wendy opened the passenger door and leaned in. ‘Hi, you haven’t been waiting long, have you? I
just thought I’d sit down for a second and —’

He clenched the steering wheel. ‘No, only the two minutes since I buzzed your apartment.’ He heard the sarcasm in his voice
and regretted it instantly. It wasn’t her fault; why had he let his mother rattle him so much? ‘Sorry, Wendy. How are you?’

She hoisted herself up into the passenger seat of Tony’s four-wheel drive and closed the door. ‘OK, thanks … How are you?’

He glanced at her. In the bright midday light she looked so much older than he remembered. Her eyes were bruised with fatigue.
Her lips were thin, dry. Just like Anna’s were in the hospital. The chemical smell of her perfume filled the car; Tony turned
his head
towards the air vent to stop himself from gagging. ‘It was good of you to see her this morning … I —’

‘You don’t need to explain.’

He clicked on his seat belt and began to drive out of the car park.

‘I had a call from the police just then,’ Wendy said quietly. ‘They want to talk to me.’

Tony looked straight ahead. ‘Me too. I had a message on my phone. What do they want from you, though? You haven’t been here,
I don’t know what you can tell them. I wish they’d give us some space.’

Wendy shrugged. ‘I don’t know …’ He could just see her in his peripheral vision; she was biting her lip. Anna did that too
when she was worried. ‘I suppose they just need to find out everything they can. Tony, was there anything that made you think
… Well, you know, anything that made you worry about her?’

‘No, of course not.’ He knew he’d answered too quickly.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean that, that came out all wrong …’ She leaned her head back on the headrest. They were driving back over
the bridge now, and she turned away from Tony to look out of the window.

Tony realised he was in the wrong lane. Without checking in his mirror, he pulled hard to the right and crossed two lanes.
A car horn blared behind him. He clenched his hand into a fist and hit the horn, then uncurled his middle finger and held
it up in front of the rear-view mirror. Wendy grabbed onto the handle above the passenger door; Tony pretended he hadn’t noticed.

‘I know it looks bad, the way she is, and what’s happened,’ he said. ‘But the police need to do their investigations properly.
They should be out there doing something, not harassing you and me. Everyone just assumes they know what happened, that she
—’

‘No, they don’t.’

‘Yes, they do. The police didn’t take me seriously when I called them to say Anna was missing, or that they needed to find
the car. After they found Anna, the car was in the car park the whole time and they didn’t even tell me! They didn’t want
to listen to me then,
and now they want to talk so they expect me to drop everything. Why aren’t they out there looking for whoever did this?’

‘Tony —’

‘There’s no doubt she was struggling.’ He turned to Wendy. ‘But you know Anna as well as I do: there’s no way she’d do this,
no way! Something must have happened, something that made her like this.’

He realised he was out of breath. They were approaching the tunnel to the eastern suburbs now, stuck in the middle of a knot
of traffic lanes. He looked to his left, then sped up to get in front of a car that was trying to merge into his lane. He
carried on talking, louder and faster, to make sure that his words got through to her. ‘You hear of people being in shock,
don’t you, when something horrible happens to them? Someone’s done this to them —’