Other People’s Diaries (25 page)

I pretend like everything is normal. I pretend (although weakly, I suspect) that I still care what Bianca wears, that her music is too aggressive, that her latest report card has her slipping to Cs and Ds
.

Whereas actually all I want is for her to stop hurting
.

We do outings now that seem like a macabre game of charades. Pick the happy family. All of us piling into the car to drive to Wellington Point for fish and chips on a Saturday afternoon. Hell, we even went ten-pin bowling. Bianca was so mortified that she wouldn't join in, just sat there, glaring at the pins
.

And every night when I know Bianca is in her deepest sleep I sneak into her bedroom. I stand over her bed and look at her stomach, desperately hoping not to see fresh wounds that will show my little girl has hurt herself again
.

Alice, you say you don't know what task to set me when these things are going on. That anything you think of seems too trivial. As you say, you're not a counsellor. But to be honest, I don't think the counsellor has any simple answers either. Find something you used to like doing together and do it again, you say … Easier said than done …

R
ebecca turned back to the start of the company profile she was attempting to read. After a few minutes she realised she was still taking in nothing and pushed the file away. The chrome hands of the clock above the kitchen bench showed it to be just before 6 am.

The first rumbles of morning traffic had always woken her. Normally she'd be able to fall back asleep for another hour or so, but that was impossible these days. So she'd push herself out of bed, make a coffee and do an hour's work before anyone else stirred.

Bizarrely, while the rest of her life was falling apart, she seemed to be able to do no wrong at work. After the loss of the candidate she'd met with the day she'd snuck out early, she'd found someone even better and the client was ecstatic. And an industry publication had named her as the best financial executive recruiter in Brisbane. Her boss Simon was all smiles and dropped into her office several times a day to chat.

She should have been delighted. This was the pinnacle of a steep, boulder-strewn mountain which she'd stepped onto the day she'd discovered she was pregnant with Bianca.

For as long as she could remember, Rebecca had wanted to be a doctor. She wasn't a genius but had studied much more than her friends to try to make it happen. The day she received her university entrance score had been a vindication of all her hard work. She'd accepted a place to study medicine two days before she realised her period wasn't just very late.

Rebecca had always done everything right. She'd been one of the best swimmers in the state and had been dux of the school each year. And she was going to become a surgeon.

Getting pregnant at seventeen wasn't something that happened to girls like her.

Her normally unflappable parents were horrified. As Rebecca watched them try to come to grips with the new reality she'd created with two words, she felt all of her achievements crumbling. Her father looked up from the table and the disappointment in his eyes cut deeper than any angry words.

At one stage Rebecca's mother had gently raised the
possibility of an abortion. Rebecca had thought about it when she first found out she was having a baby. It would have fixed everything and put her back in the position she should have been in. But somehow she couldn't. She had created a new life and she would have to deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

They had eventually worked out a plan. Rebecca would take a year out from study. A gap year. Lots of people did it.

She worked as a receptionist in a doctor's surgery until Bianca was born. The next year she started at university, leaving Bianca at home with her mother. But it didn't work out. She was totally different from the other students, whose biggest dilemma was whether to go to the recreation club or a local pub after classes on Friday. Studying with a six month old baby who woke twice a night was extremely difficult and she didn't see the first semester out.

So she found a part-time job in the mail room at an advertising agency. It didn't pay a lot, but enough to make her feel like she wasn't a total burden on her parents. She'd lost contact with her school friends and, despite her mother's urging, rarely went out without Bianca. Those early years were a blur, the only thing Rebecca remembered was her surprise at the love she felt for her daughter.

By the time Bianca began school, Rebecca had started as a secretary at a recruitment company. Someone left suddenly and Rebecca was given some files to handle. She did the job well and was given some more. Finally she earned enough to enable her to move the two of them into a little flat in an inner-city suburb. Two years later she was promoted, which meant a nicer flat and a bit more confidence that money would actually come out when she put her key card into the automatic teller.

Then someone from Hartman Consultants had called and asked her if she'd be interested in moving. She was. Within two years, she had taken her boss's job. Now she was the head of a team and, if the magazine sitting on her desk was to be believed, the best in Brisbane at what she did.

When she'd met Jeremy and become pregnant with Sam, she'd believed that she could have it all. Career, family, happy marriage … But since she'd found out about Bianca hurting herself all that had seemed like a farce.

When she wasn't worrying about Bianca, all Rebecca could think about was how tired she was. Tired of trying to manage a desperately unhappy teenager and a three year old, a nanny, a house cleaner and an ironing lady. Tired of trying to be a good wife, to keep a house stocked with food, the family clothed and all utilities connected. Tired of trying to convince a boss and colleagues that she was as focused and committed as them.

Lately she'd not been able to stop herself thinking about what would happen if she stopped and just let the balls drop where they may. The idea was seductive and Rebecca felt like an ancient sailor lured onto rocks by a mermaid's song. Right now, though, she didn't care. If she could sleep on the rocks that would be enough. If someone would bring her a cup of coffee when she woke up, she would sell her eternal soul.

Sam's sandy head appeared around the doorway. He was grasping his teddy bear and looked like he'd only just woken up.

‘Hello sweetheart,' Rebecca smiled. The mornings always brought with them a sense of expectation that maybe today everything would be okay. Except that it never was.

Sam smiled and ran over to her, burying his face in her legs. She spread her fingers through his hair and held him close to her. Having him there made her remember suddenly why she needed to keep going, why it was all unquestioningly worthwhile.

‘Did you have a good sleep?'

Sam nodded solemnly, although she doubted he had any idea what a bad sleep was. He fell asleep at seven each night and didn't stir for the next eleven hours.

‘Come up here.'

Rebecca reached down and pulled him onto her lap. He curled into her shoulder and she held him close. After a nasty spate of two year old tantrums, Sam had returned to the even-tempered toddler he'd always been. Definitely Jeremy's chromosomal input Rebecca had decided long ago.

‘Where's Anka?' Sam asked.

Bianca was unquestionably Sam's favourite. The attachment was mutual. Bianca had been besotted with him since the first time Rebecca had put him in her arms. She'd play with him for
hours, building towers and mounting complex dinosaur battles to keep him entertained.

‘She's asleep, sweetheart,' Rebecca replied.

Bianca had always been an early riser. The time before breakfast had been a lovely slice of time for the two of them. Like everything else, that had changed recently, and Rebecca often wondered whether Bianca was really asleep or just didn't want to be around her.

Maybe that needed to change. Rebecca turned Sam around and stood him up on her knees.

‘Hey Sam, I've got an idea. Do you want to go and wake Bianca?'

The little boy's eyes lit up with delight. He wasn't normally allowed into Bianca's room uninvited and he wasn't going to wait to be asked twice.

Rebecca lowered him to the floor and he took off for the stairs, small arms pumping like a sprinter.

It had taken all of Rebecca's willpower not to cry when she'd met with the principal of Bianca's school and explained what she had seen.

Far from being shocked, the principal had just nodded and touched Rebecca on the arm. ‘We've seen this before, in other students,' she had said quietly.

Rebecca hadn't known whether to be relieved that this wasn't an isolated occurrence, or terrified by that fact.

In the end she'd settled on gratitude and had sat with the principal for more than an hour working out a strategy. Bianca had always liked her music teacher and the principal called her in to talk with Rebecca. Eventually they had all agreed that the teacher would try to spend time with Bianca where the opportunities arose and keep an eye on her generally. It wasn't much, but it was all they could do for now.

Now, Rebecca pulled on a set of crumpled clothes from the washing basket which was threatening to take over the entire laundry.

She braced herself as she heard heavy footsteps on the staircase and plastered a wide smile on her face.

Annie loved the cake – as well she should have. Thank you Rebecca, a thousand times, for your help. I will return your container filled with gold sovereigns (or perhaps Lindt chocolates?)
.

I have now achieved legendary status amongst the mothers present. One of them even asked whether I had considered making cakes to sell. I assured her that the only thing I would be worse at than plant selling was cake making
.

The fact that I have set myself up to repeat this experience every year fills me with great apprehension. Alice, I suspect I will be cursing your ‘traditions' for years to come. Still, people have worse problems …

‘A
beer?'

Kerry turned to his companion as they entered the bar.

His question was rhetorical. This wasn't the type of establishment where you ordered a mineral water – or a mojito.

Craig nodded and Kerry headed for the counter.

Kerry and Craig had seen a lot of each other before Sandra and Kerry's break-up. But Craig's wife Jenny was one of Sandra's good friends and, despite assurances that no one was taking sides, Kerry had slid off their dinner-party list pretty quickly.

Craig was an accountant and had helped Sandra to set up the salon, another thing which had strained his friendship with Kerry.

Kerry had been meaning to catch up with Craig for a while. But it was the letter he'd seen in the kitchen drawer at Sandra's house the previous weekend that had made him do it now.

‘So Sandra's doing okay in the salon then?' Kerry asked casually as he put the two beers down on the table.

‘Not too bad,' Craig answered vaguely.

‘She managing to pay down that big loan at all?'

‘Not yet, no.'

Kerry tried again. ‘How's she managing with the interest rate rises?'

Craig licked the foam off his top lip and carefully put his beer down on the paper coaster. ‘What's going on Kerry? You know I can't answer those questions. Client confidentiality and all that.'

‘Yeah, yeah, I know,' Kerry looked across at the other side of the room. ‘I was just wondering, that's all.'

Silence settled for a moment.

Kerry went to speak again.

‘Kerry,' Craig said firmly. ‘You are about as subtle as a sledgehammer. You invited me here to find out about Sandra's business, didn't you?'

Kerry looked over at Craig. ‘Sorry mate,' he shrugged slightly. ‘I … well I was at Sandra's last week and saw a letter from the landlord. I wasn't snooping or anything – I just came across it by accident. It was a final notice, telling her to pay the outstanding balance within thirty days or be evicted.'

Kerry let a silence fall, hoping that Craig would correct him and tell him everything was sorted out.

Craig looked over at him thoughtfully. ‘All I can tell you are some general things, okay?'

Kerry nodded eagerly, not risking speaking.

‘The rental market is very hot at the moment. Some commercial landlords are pushing rents up regardless of the fact that their tenants can't afford it. In the case of new businesses still getting on top of a cash flow, it can prove disastrous.'

Craig stopped.

‘Right,' Kerry said. ‘Shit.'

‘Yes,' Craig replied. ‘Shit indeed.'

‘And before you move on to a different tack. No, she still doesn't have a boyfriend. Although why not, I have no idea. She's a gorgeous girl and it's time she was involved with someone else.'

He looked hard at Kerry.

‘Okay then. Well yes, that does about cover it. Thanks,' Kerry said awkwardly.

‘So now can we have a peaceful beer?'

‘Yeah, no worries,' Kerry answered. His mind swirled with thoughts of what Sandra was facing.

‘Ah, so how's Jenny?' he managed.

‘She's good. Our youngest started school this year, so things have eased up a bit for her. She was sorry not to be able to catch up with you tonight. She always liked you. Asked me to find out how you were actually.'

‘I'm okay,' Kerry answered slowly. ‘Not a lot's changed, but I'm doing okay.'

God, what a sad effort. It was eighteen months since he'd seen Craig and he couldn't come up with anything more interesting than that to report.

‘I've met a good woman though,' he blurted, regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

‘Yeah?' Craig was interested.

Kerry berated himself silently. His email flirtation with Alice was not anything worth reporting – particularly to friends of Sandra's.

Ah well, in for a penny …

‘She's a few years older than me, but nice looking still. She's an author actually.'

‘Is that right?'

Craig raised his eyebrows, clearly interested.

Kerry rushed on, trying to stop Craig asking where they'd met. He'd think Kerry was certifiable if he knew about the Red Folder Project.

‘It's early days, though.'

What an understatement, thought Kerry, given he had hardly even touched Alice.

Craig looked at him for a moment, but allowed the topic to be changed.

Kerry moved gratefully onto the subject of cricket scores. But his mind was only half with the conversation.

What had made him think of Alice? He found her attractive and she was fun, he enjoyed their emails. But something had stopped him taking it any further, despite the fact that the possibility of sleeping with her was one of the things which had motivated him to join the Red Folder Project. She felt something too – that was obvious from the other day at the market and from her emails. With a conscious effort, he turned his attention back to Craig.