Paper Chains (16 page)

‘You’re coming to the party?’ Dee asked, looking positively delighted. ‘That’s great. We’ll drive together, shall we?’

‘Ahh, no – car seats,’ said Liam quickly. ‘You don’t have a seat for Ethan and I don’t have one for Cody.’

‘Oh,’ said Dee, her face falling for a moment, but then she rallied. ‘Never mind, we’ll meet you there. Need a hand getting out the door?’

‘No, no, you go. We’ll be right behind you.’ Liam reached across to take Ethan back and began herding Dee and her son towards the front door. At the last second he remembered the call Dee had picked up for him. ‘Oh, who was on the phone?’ he asked.

‘No one there, they just hung up. Wrong number maybe?’

Hannah wondered now as she headed down the wharf where the ferry was going to take her next and what she would do when she arrived at her destination. Hop straight back on another ferry? And then another and another? Could you live like that? Constantly in transit? Did the ferries even run through the night? Would someone kick her off eventually?

When she was little her dad had made fun of her once for the way she pronounced ferry.

‘Dad! Me and Mum took a fairy to Manly today!’

‘You took a
what
to Manly?’

‘A fairy!’

‘Oh-ho! Rode on a
fairy
, did you? Flew you there with her pretty pink butterfly wings, did she?’

‘Stop teasing her, Jack, you know what she means.’

Now as she stepped on board the ferry she imagined responding to her father, ‘Fuck off, Dad.’ Wow. Where had that thought come from? She loved her dad. Even with that small sliver of blame over her mother’s death. But truthfully, no one made her mum step in front of that train. People got divorced – that was life. Sure she had felt jealous at times, had worried that her dad had replaced her with his three new step-children, his ready-made family, but she had got over that, hadn’t she? It was her mum who made her angry the most. Hannah had been pregnant with her mother’s first grandchild when Anne had decided to take her own life. How could she have done that? The hypocrisy of this wasn’t lost on her.

Hannah took a seat outside on the ferry and rested her head in her hands. Her mind felt too full, too confusing, all these thoughts and feelings clamouring to be heard. She just wanted to clear it all out, but when she closed her eyes she saw faces. Mum. Dad. Liam. Gracie. Ethan. India. All glaring at her, asking her, ‘What’s next, Hannah? What the fuck are you going to do now?’

Hard drops of rain began to fall and Hannah stayed outside, allowing herself to get drenched as the storm got into full swing, soaking her clothes through, plastering her hair to her face. The ferry took her to Cremorne Point, South Mosman and Old Cremorne before finally arriving at Mosman Bay, the last stop before it would swing around and return across the harbour to Circular Quay. She was just wondering what she should do, stay on or hop off, when a voice exclaimed, ‘Hannah! Is that you?’

She looked up to see a woman staring at her, one foot hovering above the plank that stretched across to the wharf. She was holding a newspaper over her head to protect her hair from the rain and her eyes were widened in amazement.

Hannah squinted through the rain at her. ‘Amy?’ she asked.

‘Oh my God, it is you! Come on, quick, the ferry’s about to move off again.’ Amy dashed over to where Hannah sat and grabbed her by the arm. Hannah was too stunned to resist; she allowed Amy to drag her and her backpack off the ferry and onto the wharf. They stopped once they were under cover and sat down together on a bench seat.

‘Jesus, Hannah, what are you doing here? Do you have any idea how worried everyone has been? I thought Liam said you’d run off overseas somewhere? Are you back? I mean, are you back at home, with your family?’

Hannah stared at her step-sister, unable to form an answer. She felt as though she had just been caught doing something dirty in public, like picking her nose and then licking her finger. She had forgotten that being back in Sydney meant there was a very real possibility of running into someone she knew. She had thought that she would be invisible still, like she had been in London. And did it have to be Amy? The girl who Hannah had aspired to be for such a long time. The girl with the perfect life –
her
perfect life. And look at her. She was wearing a stylish black pencil skirt and a cream blouse along with stiletto heels. Her hair was tied back in a sleek blonde ponytail and her make-up was flawless. The humiliation of what she had done, of how she must have looked, of the awful person that she had become, set in and she started to cry.

Amy placed a tentative arm around her shoulder. She let her cry for several minutes before standing and pulling her to her feet. ‘Right, you’ll catch pneumonia if you stay in those wet clothes any longer. I’ll take you back to my place and you can have a hot shower and change.
Then
you can tell me what’s going on.’

Amy lived in a gorgeous townhouse, a five-minute walk from the ferry wharf in Mosman. Her husband was the art director for a massive advertising agency and she had one perfect, angelic baby, who was looked after by a nanny when she went to work two and a half days a week as a graphic designer for a firm which was in constant competition with her husband’s company. Hannah could just imagine the spritely, intelligent arguments they would have during the evenings after work, over who stole whose client or who came up with a concept for a particular campaign first.

Hannah took her shower in the most modern bathroom she had ever set foot in. A giant showerhead cascaded scalding hot water over her and the bathroom filled up with plumes of perfumed steam from Amy’s frangipani scented shower gel. When she stepped out of the shower, she wrapped herself up in the luxurious bath-sheet and stood in front of the large mirror. She couldn’t see her reflection; the mirror was steamed up and she was too afraid to wipe it clear for fear of leaving streaks in an otherwise pristine room.

When she was dry and dressed in some of Amy’s clothes – her backpack had been soaked through as well – Hannah walked downstairs to the living room, wondering what her step-sister was going to say to her. Amy had changed her clothes too. She was now wearing skinny Levi jeans and a deep red top, her hair was down and she was holding her plump, rosy-cheeked baby boy on her hip. Even the baby was wearing designer clothes – Pumpkin Patch overalls and a smart chequered shirt.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ said Amy. ‘I made you a peppermint tea, I hope that’s okay?’

‘Of course,’ Hannah replied, her voice quivering nervously. She sat down on the white leather lounge, tucking her wet hair behind her ears before placing her hands awkwardly on her lap.

‘I can’t believe how lucky it is that I ran into you. I mean, I wouldn’t normally be in at work on a Saturday, it’s only because Luke’s away for the weekend that I decided to do a half day at the office. Otherwise I would never have been on that ferry.

‘So,’ continued Amy, ‘how about I start, tell you what I know and then you can fill me in on the rest.’ She popped her son into a baby swing and switched it on. He began to rock gently back and forth, serenaded by instrumental lullabies. ‘This is Harrison by the way,’ Amy added as she took a seat on the couch next to Hannah. ‘He’s six months,’ she added without being asked. ‘Not sure if Dad would have told you about him?’

Hannah nodded, ‘Yeah, I heard.’

‘Ah. Right, so this is what I know about you. Liam called Dad when you first vanished. He was frantic, didn’t know where you’d gone. Why you’d left. Said you left a note, saying that you’d run away overseas somewhere. None of us could understand it at first. But I had an idea. I know I’ve never known you well, but it seemed pretty clear to me. You’ve been suffering from postnatal depression, right? Maybe even post-partum psychosis. I know because my mum went through it with all of us. Wasn’t called PND back then though; Mum was just told she was having a mental breakdown. Luckily she got through it on her own, left my dad (my first dad) when I was ten and later she met Jack. But when I was pregnant with Harrison she told me all about it. Wanted to warn me in case I suffered from it too – it’s supposed to be genetic. She explained how there were times when she just wanted to run away from it all.

‘Anyway, when I heard about you and started to think that maybe this is what you were going through too, I went to see Liam. I spoke to Mum first, asked her what she thought and she agreed. She wished that she had chatted with you about her PND too, wished she had been closer to you, that maybe if she had she might have picked up on the signs. But she’s always known the part she played in splitting up your parents and has expected you to hate her for it, especially after what happened with your mother . . . later.’

Hannah was keeping her eyes down as Amy spoke, her mouth clamped shut. She flicked her eyes up momentarily though, to take another look at Harrison. He was grinning across at them from his swing, leaning forward slightly, as though eager to hear the story as well. Amy continued with her retelling of the recent events.

‘Obviously I didn’t know Liam well either; in fact, the only time I’ve even met him was at your wedding. But I wanted to see if I could help in some way.’ Amy paused here, and Hannah got the feeling that she was nervous about what she wanted to say next.

‘Hannah, he was devastated. He blames himself, you know. For not picking up on the signs. You’ve got to call him. He’s missing you like crazy.’

Hannah nodded. ‘I know. I know that he was at first anyway. But he’s moved on now, right? Met someone else. And that’s for the best anyway. That’s what my plan was; those kids deserve more, much more . . . than me.’

Amy stared at her in surprise. ‘What are you talking about? Are you insane? Of course he hasn’t met anyone. Jesus, Hannah, it’s only been a couple of months. What makes you think that anyway?’

‘It doesn’t matter, I just know what I heard, okay? Listen, thank you for everything, the clothes, the tea . . . but I think I should go, get out of your way.’

Amy looked startled by Hannah’s sudden decision to leave. Her composed demeanour became flustered as she jumped up from the couch. ‘Uh, wait, no – you can’t go yet,’ she said, flapping her arms at Hannah.

‘No, really, you’ve done enough. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do next, where I’m going to go. I just need to think. Please, Amy, don’t tell anyone you saw me, okay?’ Hannah was already reaching for her backpack, which was still sodden from the rain.

‘Hannah, WAIT!’

Hannah stared back at Amy, taken aback by her yelp.

‘You can’t leave yet because . . . because I’ve already called Liam. I’m sorry. It was while you were in the shower. He didn’t pick up though, must be out . . . and I don’t have his mobile number. But I left him a message, told him you were here.’ Amy began to chew on her fingernails nervously as she waited for Hannah’s reaction. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said again. ‘I felt like I had to,’ she added.

Hannah hesitated, unsure of what to say. Her head was clamouring with thoughts fighting to be heard.
Stay, Hannah. Stay, you could see him again.
If she stayed, he might come straight here when he received the message. Maybe there was a way, maybe there was a chance to sort it all out. But at the same time doubt was tugging at her fingertips.
What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he doesn’t come rushing around here? Because remember, he hates you now.
And he has every right to. After all, there was that text message. His final words to her, washing his hands of her, giving up. Seeing those words in her mind again was like having cut glass slicing at her bones.

No. Hannah was too afraid to stay and find out.

Liam finally had both the nappy bag and Gracie’s backpack organised. He gathered up Ethan, took Gracie by the hand and led her out the front door. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he heard the phone inside begin to ring again. They were already running at least half an hour late for the party and it might just be a wrong number again.
Too bad, machine’ll have to get it. If they really need me, they’ll try my mobile.
And then he strapped the kids in, hopped in the front seat, and reversed out of the driveway.