Too Close to Home (19 page)

IN THE HOURS BEFORE Lisa arrives, they avoid each other.

In her workroom, Freya tries to read, but it's pointless. She calls Anna first, wanting to cry to someone, but there's no answer. She tries Mikhala next, and then hangs up, too distressed to go through the whole story from the beginning. She can see Matt in the lounge, watching the television, and she wonders what has happened with the leadership spill. She logs on to a news site, wanting to distract herself with a live feed from Parliament House.

It's all over. Kevin Rudd has lost. She doesn't know what she feels: any delight at Australia's first female prime minister is severely dampened by the way in which it has occurred and her anxiety that this will lead to an election loss. The press are waiting for the speeches, defeat and victory, and she logs off. She cannot bear to watch.

Each time she thinks about trying to talk, her anger rises again. How could he have made a decision to lend such a large amount of money without even asking her?

She remembers two years ago when he'd suggested they have another child, she'd told him they couldn't
afford it, knowing that this would dampen his enthusiasm. He was often anxious about finances, cranky when she spent without first telling him.

‘It'd be another year of me not earning. Childcare fees again. It's too much.'

But it wasn't just that. She didn't really want to give up writing once more while she fed and cared for a baby in a sleepless haze. She would have become pregnant again if he could have stayed home, letting her continue to work, but his income was too important. And even if they'd been richer and that option had been available, he would have been unhappy, full-time fatherhood taking him even further from whatever it was he wanted.

He was always unhappy, she thought. This constant gnawing dissatisfaction that ate away at her too if she allowed herself to alight on it. She's afraid he's looking for something, hoping it will be there with Lisa and Lucas. He's opening up their lives to trouble without care. It's all wrong. If Lucas is Ella's brother, this is not how the news should be broken to her.

She heads into the living room and turns off the television. Matt looks up at her.

‘Did you see Kevin Rudd?' he asks.

She shakes her head, amazed at his capacity to compartmentalise.

She sits next to him, her voice still tight. ‘We need to be careful with Ella.'

He knows.

‘This has all been your decision,' Freya says. ‘I've had no say. You need to pick her up from school and you need to have thought out how to tell her what's happening.'

He agrees.

A couple of hours later, he's back from the school. As soon as he shuts the front door behind him, he tells Ella they need to talk. Seeing the seriousness on his face, Ella is worried, her eyes round as she asks him what's happened. ‘Did you get the sack like Kevin Rudd?'

He laughs. ‘What makes you think that?'

‘You're never home this early,' she says.

He shakes his head, sitting her down in the lounge to tell her he's having a friend to come and stay, and maybe her son.

‘He's got into trouble and I'm just trying to help her out.'

Ella has questions. ‘What kind of trouble?'

Matt is vague, but the words ‘police' and ‘courts' only make her ask more.

‘He's a teenager,' Matt says. ‘He ran away from home and he was living on the streets. He might have stolen something.'

First lie, Freya thinks as she listens from the kitchen.

Ella wants to know if it's that boy. He talked to her mother on the phone before. Remember?

It is, Matt says. She's clever how she remembered.

Standing at the doorway, Freya looks at Matt, who doesn't meet her gaze.

‘I thought you could give them your room for a few days, and come and sleep with us.'

‘Sure.' Ella shrugs, and then she looks a little anxious. ‘But he won't steal anything of mine, will he?'

Matt tries to reassure her. Of course he won't. Besides, it really won't be for long.

Ella wants to know when they are coming and he tells her he's going to pick Lisa up from the airport that evening.

Ella just looks at him. She's lost interest. She wants to watch ABC Kids.

Matt shifts the rooms around while Freya makes dinner. He goes up the street to borrow a mattress from Shane, putting it in the corner of their bedroom for Ella.

He is about to make up the trundle bed in Ella's room when Freya tells him he should wait.

‘It might just be Lisa. You don't even know whether he'll get bail.'

He slides it back in.

The three of them eat dinner in strained politeness, Ella doing most of the talking. She pushes her pasta around with her fork, and then lets it drop to the floor with a clatter.

‘I hate it when you're like this,' she says.

‘Like what?' Matt asks.

‘Fighting.'

Freya is surprised at how transparent their pretence is. She's about to deny that there's any disagreement and then she changes her mind. ‘Don't worry too much about it,' she tells Ella. ‘People argue and then they get over it.'

‘Are you arguing about her?' Ella wants to know.

Both Matt and Freya are quick to shake their heads, saying that it's not that at all, it's something quite different.

‘What?' she wants to know.

‘Money,' Freya lies, although it's not entirely untrue.

Ella rolls her eyes at the tediousness of it.

She's in bed when Matt leaves for the airport, and Freya sits out alone in the lounge room, the heater on and the blinds closed to the cold of the night. She shifts the pile of books from the low-lying teak coffee table that had belonged to her father, and puts her feet up, the television volume soft as she dials.

Frank answers on the first ring. He's told her he gets lonely working in Sydney, spending too much time in his small bedsit after a day in the theatre, wishing he had someone to go out with.

‘I presume you've called to talk leadership spills?'

She smiles slightly, as she tells him that no, she hasn't. ‘I know this wasn't really part of what was on offer today, but I need a friend.'

He's silent for a moment, and then he speaks, his voice kind. ‘The other child stuff?'

She bites back the tears. ‘I haven't really told anyone about it apart from you and Anna. She's not answering, so you're getting the debrief call.'

‘I'm renowned for my listening skills,' he tells her. ‘Spit it out. Be as nasty and uncharitable as you need and I'll never repeat a word.'

But she actually doesn't want to talk about it. She's worn out from the day, and she stops after only a few words on the subject. ‘You know what? I'd much rather talk politics.'

‘Then let's do that,' he says. He is silent for a moment. ‘I guess I have to start. Kevin Rudd brought about his own downfall. He was arrogant, apparently disliked, and he dug his own grave when he called climate change the
greatest moral challenge of our time. It's really got the makings of a Shakespearean tragedy.'

‘Can we go a bit lighter?' she asks.

He thinks, pausing as he does so. ‘This country will never be ready for a red-headed, unmarried, female atheist as prime minister.'

‘If that's the case, I don't have a hope in hell of ever getting the job.'

‘I didn't think you wanted it.'

She smiles again, settling back on the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her, glad that she called, and that he is there, separate from all this, and hers alone, just for now.

LISA IS OUT THE back. She sits at the wooden trestle table, hunched forward as she stares across the garden, a cigarette burning in the ashtray next to her. She wears black trousers that have a slight shine on them from the heat of the iron, a white blouse, and a jacket Freya has lent her, the sleeves too long, the fit too loose around the slightness of her frame. Her blonde hair is brushed into a single clip, pale wisps escaping from its hold, and framing her face with a ghostly halo. Her make-up has been hastily applied, the foundation too light, the lipstick too bright. She looks like a child trying to dress as an adult.

Matt had brought her home the previous evening, straining to carry her suitcase up the front stairs, while Freya waited, there at the top, with the door open.

‘I brought everything.' Lisa looked embarrassed. ‘I just didn't know how long it was all going to be. And I couldn't make decisions.'

Her eyes were red, the lids swollen from crying, and the dark circles showed she'd had no sleep.

Freya introduced herself, and Lisa held out a limp hand, her skin dry and cold.

‘Can I get you anything?' Freya asked. ‘Tea? A stiff drink?'

Blowing her nose on a clutch of sodden tissues, Lisa just nodded.

Which? Freya wanted to know. The tea or the drink?

In the kitchen, she poured herself a scotch, and then two others.

‘She's a recovering alcoholic,' Matt told her, his voice a hiss as he tipped Lisa's back into the bottle.

‘How was I to know?'

Standing at the doorway, Lisa said tea would be fine. ‘Something herbal if you have it. I'm not sleeping.' Her voice was soft, uncertain, and she bit on her lip. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?'

Matt passed her an ashtray, telling her not to worry, it was too cold to go outside, she could stay in the kitchen.

Her hands shook as she lit a cigarette, and told them both she was sorry about this. ‘Turning up on your doorstep.' She blew out the match and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I'll organise a place of our own once bail's set, even see if we can go back to Queensland until the trial, though the lawyer says it's unlikely.' She looked at Freya. ‘I know you don't even know me. I really appreciate it.'

The tremor in her voice cut Freya to the quick.

As Matt found her a towel, Lisa searched in her handbag, her tea going cold next to her. ‘I've been taking valerian,' she said, producing a couple of pills. ‘Not that it helps.'

Freya offered to see if they had anything pharmaceutical.

Lisa shook her head. ‘I don't think anything much would work,' she confessed. She looked at the pictures on the fridge, one of Ella in her school uniform on her first day, there in the centre. ‘She looks lovely.'

‘She is.'

Lisa's smile was wistful. ‘They're good at that age. Nice, easy, want to do the right thing.' She rested her cigarette in the ashtray, biting on her lip again. ‘They still love you.' Her teeth were small and white against the chewed skin. ‘I'm so sorry about how messed up all this is.'

Freya told her she didn't need to apologise.

Lisa looked out the back door to the darkness of the night. ‘It's so hard to think of him being in a cell.' She breathed in deeply. ‘And to think that he could have done that.' There was a crack in her voice. ‘I don't know which is worse.'

‘Have you spoken to him?' Freya asked.

Lisa shook her head. ‘He didn't call when he was arrested.' She stared up at the ceiling. ‘I don't know why. I wish he'd called.'

Matt stood in the doorway, with a bundle of towels and an extra blanket. He put them down on the couch as Lisa started to cry, and then he stepped towards her, opening his arms as he did so. He held her, soothing her for a moment, her white blonde hair startling against the dark wool of his jumper. Awkward in the face of their intimacy, Freya just looked down at the table, not wanting to meet Matt's eye as Lisa pulled back, wiping away the last of her tears.

‘I'm okay,' she lied. ‘I'd better just sleep.'

Now, in the pale morning light, Freya can see how worn Lisa is. The shadows under her eyes are like bruises and her lips are cracked beneath the lipstick. Freya had heard her during the night, getting up and turning on the kitchen light. And then she had heard the sob, a moment of deep, guttural anguish followed by quiet.

Next to her, Matt hadn't stirred, but Freya had sat up, uncertain as to whether she should go to her. On the floor Ella was sprawled across the mattress, her small fists curled up tight. She groaned in her sleep. The silence from the kitchen continued. Freya didn't even know Lisa. She had no idea whether she would want comfort from a stranger, and so, sliding back down into the warmth of the bed, she had stayed where she was, awake to the sound of Lisa eventually returning to Ella's room.

Somewhere in the house Matt is on the phone, checking the court schedule for the day. Freya knows he has already looked at their bank account, wanting to find out how much is in there if Lucas is given bail. She also knows that a large proportion of what they have is her advance payment for the play and her university scholarship for the next six months.

She butters toast, her whole being focused on the task at hand, as Ella eats, silent, reaching hesitantly to pour herself a juice, knocking over the carton of milk as she does so.

‘Oh, for fuck's sake,' Freya tells her.

‘I'll clean it,' Ella promises, her eyes wide.

There's a knock on the door as Freya wipes the table, and Ella jumps up, eager for an escape. Archie and Darlene are here. Can they come in? She's only asking
because she's scared of her mother's mood. Freya knows this, and although she would like to say no, it's not a good time, she doesn't.

Darlene has had her ears pierced.

‘See.' She shows Freya, lifting up her soft curly brown hair to reveal two tiny silver studs in her lobes.

‘Can I get it done too?' Ella asks.

‘It hurts,' Freya tells her and Darlene nods solemnly.

‘Like how?'

Darlene takes Ella's earlobe between finger and thumb and pinches deftly. Ella doesn't flinch.

‘That's okay,' she says.

‘It's a bit more than that,' Darlene says. ‘You might need to be older.'

Archie is bouncing a tennis ball up and down, up and down, and Freya is about to tell him to take it outside, when Lisa comes in. Archie and Darlene stop and stare at her.

‘Is Matt off the phone yet?' she asks.

Freya doesn't know. She introduces the kids, telling her they're Shane's, but Lisa just looks at them blankly.

‘I think I'll go and wait out the front.' She searches for her handbag on each of the red wooden chairs around the long kitchen table. ‘I must have left it in the bedroom,' she says, glancing around the room.

Ella watches, eyes wide, as she takes in this stranger in her house, seemingly distressed and also the cause of friction. And then, noticing that Archie and Darlene are already in the garden, she turns and follows, pausing for an instant to pick up the missing bag from the outside table.

‘Is this it?' she asks, shyly.

‘Thank you.' Lisa takes it from her, tucking Ella's hair behind her ears as she does so, looking at her in that moment as though seeing her for the first time.

‘I always thought I'd have a girl,' she tells Freya. ‘It was such a shock when they told me Lucas was a boy …' Her voice trails off. ‘I'd better get going.'

‘Good luck,' Freya tells her, knowing she should hug her or, at the least, squeeze her hand.

Lisa breathes in deeply. ‘Oh God.'

And then Freya does reach for her, Lisa's skin cold against her own, as she tells her it will be okay. Their eyes meet, and then Lisa looks back down at the ground.

The kids are on the trampoline, the springs squeaking as they bounce high into the clear winter sky. Ella is explaining that Lisa is an old friend of Matt's and that her kid (‘a teenager,' she adds breathlessly) is in trouble. ‘I think he's in jail,' she says. ‘I don't know what he did. But it's bad.'

Archie tells her that his dad has been in jail. ‘He got into a fight with the cops.'

From the lounge room, Freya hears Matt hang up, calling out to Lisa that he's on his way. Lucas' bail application has been scheduled for just after lunch.

She sits at the table, Ella's uneaten cereal in the bowl in front of her, the honey jar open, the milk carton almost empty, all of it left for her to put away.

‘I'll call you,' Matt promises, ‘as soon as we get any word.' He leans down to kiss her, and she doesn't move, her face only half turned towards his as he brushes his lips against the cool of her cheek, her eyes still fixed on the table.

Later, near the school gates, Ella wants to know if Lisa's son will be there when she gets home.

‘I don't want him at our house,' she adds, holding Freya's hand tight.

They are at the top of the lane, waiting for Archie and Darlene to meet them with their school bags.

Freya tries to reassure her. ‘If he does come, it will only be for a little while, I promise.'

She bends down, holding Ella tight as she kisses her, her fingers knotted in her daughter's pale hair, fine strands tangled in her grasp.

‘And what about her? Lisa? Is she going to stay for long?'

Freya shakes her head. ‘She has a job and a house in Queensland. She has to get home to them.'

Parents and children are walking around them, and Freya steps back, telling Ella that she'd better get to school, Archie and Darlene are probably running late. There's a chill in the breeze and she zips up Ella's jacket; Ella unzips it immediately.

‘No one wears them like that,' she says, rolling her eyes.

‘But it's freezing,' Freya protests, aware that this is an argument they've had more than once and one she's never won.

‘I don't feel the cold,' Ella tells her.

The bell rings, harsh across the playground and out onto the street, and Ella lets go of her hand, waving goodbye as she runs to the zebra crossing, her ponytail swinging, a swish of pale gold down her back. Standing perfectly still, Freya watches until she's gone from
sight. This is what keeps me, Freya thinks, brushing at her eyes angrily. And although she knows Ella is not her only hold, this morning she feels perilously close to seeing her daughter in this way.