Too Close to Home (23 page)

Freya faces Anna and it is her smallness that she sees in that moment. How slight she is. Because as Anna apologises, she seems to shrink, her limbs like a child's, her eyes too large for her face.

‘I wish you'd told me about the miscarriage –'

‘I thought you'd think I deserved it.'

Freya reaches for her, holding Anna's fine hand in her own.

‘It happened two days ago. I started bleeding and there it was. Gone.' Anna looks up at the sky, the slight ripple in her throat the only sign that she could cry. But she doesn't.

‘And you were right.' She utters the words softly now, as though no one is there to hear them.

Freya doesn't know what she means.

‘I did trick him. I stopped taking the pill and I didn't tell him. But I thought I should be able to have whatever I want.'

Freya moves towards her but Anna winces slightly, stepping back. ‘We're all guilty of that,' Freya says, her voice soft. ‘We all find it so hard to accept that maybe everything isn't going to go our way and that our lives will have crap we don't like.'

Anna puts her hand on her stomach. ‘And aren't I the living proof of that?'

THEY DRIVE HOME BEFORE it is dark, she and Matt silent in the front seat, Ella asleep in the back. Freya stares out the window at the late golden light, slanting honeyed and warm across the Sunday quiet, sparkling as it hits a window or softening with a rose glow on the tiled roofs of the bungalows that line the street. On the pavement a young girl rides a scooter in a tutu, the tulle dancing in the last of the sun. Further along, a buffed man walks a Pekingese, his muscles rippling in his too-tight T-shirt as he struts in the hope of being observed. An older couple sit on the low front wall of their garden. They are waving goodbye to relatives, one of the grandchildren jumping out of the car at the last minute to kiss the old man. He bends low and picks the boy up with a surprising display of strength.

Freya watches it all with her cheek pressed against the cool of the glass, while next to her, Matt has the radio on, and he hums softly, his voice warm and soothing.

‘It was a strange day,' he eventually says to her.

He has no knowledge of her argument with Anna and she isn't ready to talk about it.

‘Why?' she asks.

‘I don't know,' he says. And then he glances across at her. ‘I suppose getting caught in the crossfire between Marianne and Frank didn't help.'

Freya shifts in her seat.

‘He doesn't deserve her.' Matt's voice is low.

It's the first time she's heard Matt be critical of Frank and there's a vitriol in his tone that's unlike him.

She doesn't respond.

They are on the bridge over the canal now, and she looks at the slick of filthy water, coiled between the brick walls of the embankments, rows and rows of brightly coloured storage containers stacked up like giant Lego in the surrounding wasteland.

As they turn into the Princes Highway, Ella stirs, rubbing her eyes.

‘Are we almost home?'

Freya tells her they are.

‘Are you and Anna still friends?' Ella's voice is small, anxious, and Freya turns to face her.

‘Yes,' she says. ‘We both said sorry and made up.'

Matt glances in her direction, but she shakes her head.

Entering the first of the network of small side streets that lead to their house, she hears a police siren sputtering and then starting. Or perhaps it is an ambulance. The wail is high and thin, cutting through the quiet of the softening evening.

‘Hold a button,' Ella tells her.

It's a superstition from Freya's mother, supposedly a protection against the trouble being in your own home, and they all do as Ella instructs until the scream has faded. But for a moment Freya fears that there'll
be flashing red lights when they turn into their street, an emergency vehicle parked out the front, the brick facade lit with the eery intermittent slash of pink, marking them as a place to step back from, while neighbours surreptitiously peer in, hopeful of catching a glimpse of something ghoulish.

It is, of course, only in her head.

Trouble is rarely like that.

The front door is open, the light on in the hallway, and Freya steps in, unable to deny the dread she always feels on returning since Lisa and Lucas came to stay. It is only a few more days, she tells herself.

There are voices from the kitchen, and it takes her a moment before she recognises the soft low register of Shane's words, the wheeze in his chest as he speaks. He's sitting at the table with Lisa, his mobile next to him, a pouch of tobacco between them both.

There's something different about the room. It's an emptiness, a lack of clutter that Freya notices first. The open shelves that hold their plates and bowls, the row of glasses, are all almost bare. She looks behind her into the lounge room. The Danish vase from her father has gone, and the standard lamp in the corner is missing its shade; the slender wooden base stands with a bare globe on top.

Lisa is looking up at them and she is shaking her head, tears streaking the freckles on her face, the tip of her nose red, and then she reaches up for Matt who holds her, and Freya doesn't know what on earth is happening, but she clutches Ella's hand tight and tells her it's okay, everything is all right.

It's Shane who eventually speaks.

‘Tried to call, to warn you.'

Matt just looks at him.

‘The young bloke. Lucas. Went off.' Shane shakes his head, and turns to Lisa.

She cannot speak.

Matt rubs her arm and tells her it's okay, to sit back down, there's no need to try and talk now if she can't.

She takes a deep breath, the intake audible, and then she smooths her hair back with the flat of her hands. ‘I'm sorry,' she tells Freya. ‘He broke a lot of stuff.' She waves her hand in the direction of the bare shelves, her arm trembling as she does so.

Freya tells her it doesn't matter, because what else can she say? She knows it's just stuff, but there are things from her parents … She breathes in, her fingers white on the chair as she looks around her, unable to take in the full extent of the damage. She sits, pulling Ella onto her lap. ‘Do you want to go and watch a DVD?' she whispers in her ear. ‘It's all fine. I'll tell you later.'

Ella slides off.

In the soft light of the kitchen, Lisa tries to explain. It had been getting worse, she says. His agitation. He didn't sleep.

Freya has heard him pace, and she has noticed the light from the hall under the crack of her door. She has also smelt the stale cigarette smoke in the morning and picked up the butts littered around the back garden.

‘Happens,' Shane says. ‘Seen this before when they get in trouble.'

Shortly after they had left for the baby shower, Lisa and Lucas had fought. She hesitates for a moment,
eventually finding the words. ‘He wanted to know –' she looks at Matt – ‘about you.'

Freya also looks at Matt, and then out to where Ella is. ‘Not now.' Her voice is urgent, and she nods in the direction of the lounge room.

‘I know.' Lisa shakes her head.

‘Anyway, it sent him off. He got worse and worse. He was rocking back and forth on the floor and not listening to me. I got scared. It was like he was out of it. I don't know whether he was or not.'

It wasn't until Lisa tried to still him that she realised he wasn't even aware of her presence.

‘And I didn't know what to do.' She looks at the ceiling. ‘I didn't want to call the police. Not the way things are. I got Shane.'

Shane stands, wheezing even more now. ‘Poor bloody bastard. He was smashing it all up when we got here. Couldn't stop him. Not straightaway.' He's shaking his head. ‘Not as strong as I used to be. Took all my strength to hold him down, get him still, you know?'

But it wasn't enough.

When Shane loosened his grip, Lucas was muttering to himself, the low words increasing in volume, too rapid to understand. ‘Like gibberish,' Shane says.

Freya looks around the room once again, trying to remain calm. There are only a couple of plates left, and she sees that two of the pictures that were on the wall are stacked at the side of the fridge, the glass gone. She wants to cry in frustration. To shout out that she's had enough, but she looks from Lisa to Matt, who sits hollowed out, emptied, and she breathes in. Stuff, she tells herself. Just stuff.

Ella is calling to her from the lounge room. Excusing herself, Freya pushes back her chair and goes to where her daughter sits in front of the TV. She cannot find the remote control.

‘What happened?' Ella asks.

Freya doesn't know what to say. ‘Lucas got upset.'

Ella just looks at her. ‘Why?'

‘I don't know. Lots of reasons. And so he broke things.' Her head hurts and she rubs at her temples.

‘Where is he?'

‘I'm not sure. But he's not here.'

‘Did he break stuff in my room?'

‘I don't know.'

Ella wants to look, and Freya is not quick enough to stop her, or perhaps she doesn't want to stop her because she should be able to look. It's her room in her house.

There doesn't seem to be any damage.

Freya next thinks of her workroom, at the other end of the garden. She can't go through the kitchen and check it now. She'll leave it. She squats down on the floor and holds Ella close. ‘You'll have your room again in three days,' she promises.

‘And Lucas won't come back?'

She tells her that no he won't, this is it, it's over. ‘They are moving into their own place.' She holds her close. ‘Why don't I run you a bath?'

Ella nods.

‘And then we'll have some dinner.'

Back in the kitchen, Shane is getting ready to head home. He ruffles the top of Ella's head. ‘Gonna miss your stinky old Uncle Shane?'

They are packing and going first thing tomorrow.

It's a surprise to all of them.

‘I mean I knew it was happening,' Matt says. ‘But not this soon.'

‘You know us.' Shane shrugs. ‘Don't carry much with us. Job came up near home and we're gonna go.'

Ella starts crying, and then embarrassed, she stops herself. She wants to say goodbye to Archie and Darlene. ‘Please.' She tugs at Freya's hand until Freya eventually agrees that yes, she'll walk up there with them, but Ella has to come straight back with her after she's said her farewells.

Matt hugs him at the door, tells him to stay in touch.

‘Call us when you come to Queensland,' Shane says. ‘You've always got a place there.'

It's dark outside and she and Shane walk more slowly than Ella, who runs ahead, her thin legs barely visible, the flash of her hair a pale light in the evening.

‘Been a hard day for that one, and it's not gonna be over for a while.' For a moment Freya thinks he's referring to Ella, and she doesn't understand. But then she realises it's Lisa. ‘Called the mental health team in the end. He's gone to hospital for an assessment. Don't know if he's sick or angry or just shit scared.'

Freya looks at him. ‘Probably all three.'

‘She's had it tough. Been good you took 'em in.'

Standing under the streetlight, Freya turns to him. They are both silent. She wants to tell him that she hasn't been good at all, she never wanted to take Lisa in, and she can't do it anymore. The words are there, ready for her to speak, but it's Shane who talks.

‘She's looked after herself a long time. Already pretty good at it when I knew her up in Brisbane. And she can look after him too.'

He finishes rolling the cigarette he's been holding, lighting it with his head cocked forwards. The smell of tobacco in the chill evening air is sweet, the glow of the lit tip a deep orange.

‘How did it happen?' It's all she can say, and it's a question so broad you could answer it in any way at all.

‘Young, silly, next thing you know yer a parent.'

She can see the gap in his teeth as he grins ruefully.

She sits for a moment, resting on the edge of the wall around the house that Darlene liked, and she lets herself cry, blowing her nose as she tells him she'll be all right. ‘It's just change and I've got to get used to it.'

‘Things'll settle down. You'll see.'

As they round the corner, Freya sees the light is on at Shane's house. The three children are standing, silhouettes in the doorway. Darlene is about to pull Ella in, but Shane calls out. ‘She's not staying. And you're finishing your packing. It's just goodbyes. That's all it is.'

Archie is the one who sticks his finger up at Shane, Ella's giggle audible from a few metres away, while Darlene blows a raspberry.

The gate is loose on its hinges, the stairs crumbling.

Standing at the entrance to Shane's house, Freya can see down the long, empty hallway, the bare light globe hanging overhead. It probably won't look all that different when they go. He was right, they never had much with them.

She hugs Archie first, surprised at the ferocity with which he returns her affection. But it's Darlene she will
miss the most. She smiles as she remembers her story about the stolen car, and as she bends down to kiss her, Darlene throws her arms around her neck.

She and Shane are more awkward with each other, their embrace a little clumsy, and she would like to tell him that it's been good getting to know him, but the truth is she doesn't really know him that well. They were only just starting to find a way towards each other, and that is what is sad.

‘See you.'

‘See you.'

‘See you.'

The children call out the words, until they round the corner and are out of sight, and she and Ella walk home, hand in hand, back to where Lisa still sits in the kitchen, while Matt makes something to eat. And Freya will join them, taking the chair next to Lisa, as Matt tells her what she has already guessed, Lucas is his, and Freya will not ask Lisa why she lied, she is too worn out, and this is not the time for such talk. Instead she will tell her to have a bath and get an early night, and in the morning Freya will drive her to the hospital to see her son.