‘I’m sorry,’ said Elise. She was propped up in her hospital bed and she looked pale and fragile and … empty. I don’t know how else to describe it. Something had sucked the spirit out of my best friend.
‘You have nothing to be sorry about,’ I said. It wasn’t the best response but I couldn’t come up with anything else.
‘It was a crazy thing to do,’ she said, but she couldn’t meet my eyes. ‘A few tablets that wouldn’t have hurt me if I’d taken another hundred. I couldn’t even do that right. I just made myself look stupid.’
A number of replies crossed my mind.
No, you didn’t.
You’re never stupid.
If you think you look stupid, what about me? My best friend needed me and I was nowhere to be found.
I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say really. So I just held her hand until the nurse told me I had to leave. Then I went to the waiting room, where her parents were sitting, heads bowed.
Here’s what I wanted to say: Your daughter is in more pain than you can understand, mainly because you refuse to see beyond your own.
I didn’t say that, because it applied equally to me. How had I not seen the signs? Oh, they’d been there, now I thought back. The eyes brimming with tears, the twisted smiles. But I’d only paid attention to the jokes. It’s what El and I do. I knew how Dad felt. Sometimes you do or don’t do things that either put people in danger or simply fail to protect them. I’d been blind to what was going on with Elise and I would never forgive myself.
I told her parents what I intended to do. They didn’t argue, which was surprising in one way but not in another. I also told them that my father would take responsibility, if it all became too impractical as the divorce progressed. I hadn’t asked Dad, but I knew he wouldn’t let me down. And it would probably do him good, if push came to shove. Then I went home, hit the internet and struck gold almost immediately. I gave a sharp intake of breath at the price, but then again I hadn’t really known what to do with my winnings from the Premier’s award. They’d just sat there in my bank account, dozing quietly. Time to nudge them awake.
Of course, there was still Liam Cooper to deal with, but I didn’t think that was going to be a big problem. Money can’t buy happiness, apparently, but maybe it can rent some for a time.
Neither Mum nor Dad were forthcoming when I asked what was going on with the court case and what stage we had reached. I brought the subject up over a particularly dismal dinner but Mum absolutely refused to discuss it. At first. I had to admit that maybe she had a point.
‘In many ways, Cate,’ she said, ‘I am going to be up against you in court, rather than your father. My understanding is that he would probably not fight this, but that you are the driving force behind his opposition …’
I tried to interrupt, but she held up her hand.
‘He hasn’t said anything to me, by the way,’ she continued. ‘And my lawyer has advised me not to talk to either you or your father about this. Things … have a habit of turning nasty, apparently. I don’t want that to happen and I’m pretty sure your dad doesn’t either.’ She brushed hair away from her forehead. Was it my imagination or were there more lines there recently? ‘Please think carefully about all this, Cate. I think you will lose in court. I think you will be going to England with me. Do you really want all three of us to go through hell when it won’t change the outcome? How is your father going to feel when he loses and you could’ve avoided all that pain?’
It was then I got angry. I mean, stand up, throw things, smash plates kind of angry.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ I said. ‘I mean, huge thanks. I didn’t ask for all this. I didn’t ask for you guys to get divorced. I didn’t ask for you to start seeing Sam and I sure as hell didn’t ask that we move to England, taking me away from my father and my best friend … my best friend who needs me …’ I was starting to choke on my words and that just made me angrier. ‘And now I’m responsible? Is that it? I should just do whatever you think is good for me so I can spare people pain. Well, hello, Mum? Daughter in pain here and I will not feel guilty just because you don’t want things to get nasty. Hate to tell you, but they’re already nasty, Mum. My life is turning to shit and you don’t care.’
I didn’t smash anything, but I did go straight to my room. Mum left me to stew, which was good and probably wise. Stewing was exactly what I wanted.
The familiarity of my bedroom calmed me a little. When my heart stopped hammering, I tried to look at the whole thing logically. Did Mum have a point? Who was I to cause so much upset? I’d been critical of Elise’s parents for putting their daughter through unnecessary pain, but wasn’t I doing the same to everyone I cared about? Then I thought again. Good old logical Cate. Caring about everyone, being nice, protecting the feelings of other people and not paying attention to mine or Elise’s. I was done with it. Done with being walked over.
I tried to do some writing, where I had control over one world at least, the one in my head. But then I saw it as another stupid way of avoiding reality. It was just a game, a story like Dad and I would create, and it wouldn’t lead anywhere. I was done with that, too.
I had difficulty sleeping that night and when I did, I had restless and troubled dreams involving suffocating loss.
Dad tried to take the same approach as Mum, keeping me in the dark, which got me angry again. I pointed out that I was the one who wanted to fight and it therefore didn’t make any sense to pretend I wasn’t there. Eventually, Dad agreed. He said his lawyer had asked to meet me anyway.
‘You’ve got a lawyer, Dad?’ I said.
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘Who did you think I’d be employing, Cate? A plumber? Mind you, there probably wouldn’t be much difference in cost. They both charge like a wounded bull.’
‘How much?’ This was something I hadn’t thought about. Maybe I should’ve put my own savings into the pot. But there was only a hundred or so left, after I’d seen Liam Cooper, and that wasn’t going to get us very far.
‘Enough,’ said Dad.
‘Can you afford it?’
‘I’ve already paid. Well, a large whack of it. There’ll be a final bill, I dare say.’
‘If we pull out, will you get a refund?’
Dad laughed.
‘You’re only thirteen, Cate, so I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t know how lawyers work. No. I won’t get a refund. Why? Are you having second thoughts?’
‘No. Of course not.’ That wasn’t strictly true (the old reasonable Cate kept trying to make an appearance and sometimes – most times, to be honest – I listened to her), but I couldn’t tell Dad he’d wasted whatever money he’d already spent. Then again, shouldn’t I protect him from spending even more money on something we probably wouldn’t win?
I wished I hated my parents. I wished I was sixteen, could leave home and live with a boyfriend they’d both hate. Someone with tattoos and no source of income.
I had difficulty sleeping that night and when I did, I had restless and troubled dreams involving suffocating feelings of emotional and financial loss.
Mr Lee was very nice and friendly. He wheeled himself from behind his desk and shook me by the hand. Right from the start he didn’t treat me like I was some kind of naive kid, even though I felt like a naive kid.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Caitlyn,’ he said. ‘Your father has told me a lot about you.’
‘Mostly lies, I expect,’ I said.
He laughed dutifully.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ said Dad.
‘I would like a glass of water, please,’ I said. I thought I might as well get something other than legal advice for Dad’s money. Assuming the water was free, of course. Mr Lee pressed something on his desk phone and asked for water to be brought in. Then he inched his wheelchair a little closer and looked straight into my eyes.
‘I believe you would like to know the state of play, Caitlyn,’ he said.
I nodded.
‘At present,’ he said, ‘we are in the stage where we are trying to avoid court.’
‘I thought that was impossible,’ I said. Then I felt bad for interrupting.
‘It probably is,’ he said. ‘Unless your mother changes her mind about going to England or you and your father change your minds about fighting it. From everything I understand, both of these outcomes are unlikely.’
I nodded again.
‘But there are still good reasons why we have to go through certain processes before going straight into a courtroom. The judge in the Federal Circuit Court who hears your case will want to be assured that all parties have tried to settle their disputes before enforcing a legal judgement. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. This means that in the next week or so you will be visited by a mediator from a Family Dispute Resolution organisation. This will almost certainly be Anglicare, who have a contract with the family court. They have considerable experience in these matters. By the way, Caitlyn, jump in with questions whenever you like.’
There was a pause while a young man brought in a jug of water and three glasses. I poured myself a glass as he closed the door softly behind him.
‘Mum isn’t going to change her mind,’ I said. ‘And neither will we. So isn’t that just a waste of time?’
Mr Lee smiled.
‘If you were to refuse mediation on the grounds it was a waste of time, then almost certainly your father would be liable for the legal costs incurred by your mother. I imagine that would be something you’d want to avoid.’ I was beginning to realise just how little I knew about the consequences of what I had set in motion.
‘The court will also want to know about your living arrangements with both parties – the kind of care each can provide – as well as their respective financial situations. Remember, Caitlyn, it is your interest and your interest only that the court will be concerned about. Who can look after you best, both financially and emotionally.’
I glanced at Dad. He was examining his fingernails and seemed calm. These were factors he was obviously familiar with.
‘Will our car accident be brought up in court?’ I asked.
‘Absolutely,’ said Mr Lee. ‘And your mother’s lawyer will argue that this is one reason why your father shouldn’t have permanent custody, that he cannot be trusted with your welfare.’
‘What arguments would we give?’
‘That one mistake shouldn’t condemn a parent absolutely. Everyone makes mistakes.’
I sipped my water. I was beginning to think things through for the first time. Before, it had seemed like some kind of game – a simple game where there was going to be a winner and a loser and where my wishes would be paramount. I hadn’t fully realised that this was a fight where the rules were totally outside my experience.
‘Tell me what my mother’s lawyer will say,’ I asked.
Mr Lee poured himself a glass of water and took a sip. He interlocked his fingers and gazed at a point just above my head.
‘She will say that at thirteen years of age you need a mother to navigate all the problems associated with puberty and adolescence. She will point out that your father doesn’t have a woman in his life, whereas your mother has a partner, Sam Ellis, who can provide you with a father figure. She will say that Mr Ellis has an excellent, well-paying job and that your mother stands a very good chance of finding employment as a teacher in the UK. Your father, on the other hand, isn’t financially … stable. Although he may well have insurance from the car accident, given it wasn’t his fault, and this might cover loss of earnings while he recovers, he will still struggle to provide for himself, let alone you. She will argue that the games you play when you stay over with him are evidence of a psychological problem, that he is adolescent in his attitude. She may well suggest that your mother pays for psychiatric experts to give opinions on your father’s suitability as a lone parent and that these opinions be entered into evidence.’
There was a long silence. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.
‘Thanks for your honesty,’ I said.
‘You wanted to know,’ he said. ‘And your father, and I, for what it’s worth, think you’re entitled to know.’
‘Is it completely hopeless?’
‘Not at all.’ Mr Lee unlocked his fingers and leaned forward. Once again, he looked me straight in the eyes. ‘If staying in Australia with your father is what you want then we will fight for that. Court cases are not foregone conclusions. Your father is a good parent and we can prove that.’
‘Can I give evidence?’
‘I think that would be an excellent idea. I suggest you prepare a statement to be read out in court, assuming we get that far. But you should understand that this will mean you can be cross-examined by your mother’s lawyer.’
He must have seen a hint of panic in my eyes.
‘It’s not like the TV,’ he said. ‘No lawyer is going to think it’s a good idea to rip into a thirteen-year-old in court. But she will almost certainly ask you questions.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Now, I do have an appointment in five minutes. But is there anything you’d like to ask?’
I knew that as soon as we were outside, all kinds of questions would occur to me. But right now, I couldn’t think of anything. Next time, I thought, I’d be better prepared. I’d come with a whole list of questions.
Dad and I walked down the street to a bus stop, both lost in our own thoughts. While we sat on a bench and waited I told him about Elise and what I intended to do. He whistled when I told him the part involving him.
‘You didn’t think it was a good idea to talk this over with me first, Cate?’
‘I thought you might say no.’
‘You thought right.’
‘And that’s why it wasn’t a good idea to talk it over with you. Come on, Dad. It almost certainly won’t happen and even if it does, it will help with your physiotherapy.’
Dad laughed. That was a good sign. We needed laughter and it had been in short supply recently.
Elise and I sat at our normal bench at lunch and watched schoolkids as they went past. She’d only been off school for a week and I was surprised to see her back so soon, but she’d told me that staying at home was not an option.
‘Don’t get me wrong, CC,’ she said. ‘They haven’t argued, even when I was in my room. They’re trying hard and not just when I’m around. I think.’
‘Any chance they might stay together?’
Elise tucked one leg up under her and played with her hair. I’d always wished I could tuck a leg under my bum the way she can but when I tried I got the worst case of cramps ever. She’s just flexible, is El.
‘Nah,’ she said. ‘Not going to happen and it would be shit if it did. They’d only be together for me and that’s no reason. No. All I’m hoping is they stay civilised until it’s all over.’
‘Civilised is good,’ I said.
‘I did some checking on the internet about divorces gone bad,’ said El. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the shit parents pull. The lies that are told, including bogus accusations of sexual abuse against their own children.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I wish. Seems that sometimes love can turn to a kind of crazy hate. You’ve read about this, CC. People who kill their own kids just to stop the other person having them.’
I knew she was right. But those were people whose stories were in newspapers or on television reports. They didn’t live next door to you. You didn’t know them. And therefore they weren’t really real, they were just characters in a drama. Then I remembered that someone once said psychopaths had to live next door to someone. A shiver ran down my spine.
I asked how she was doing. Well, I didn’t use those words. In fact, I skirted around the subject in what I hoped was a discreet enquiry into her mental health. But one of the good things about being best friends is that you can see straight through that stuff. I suppose it’s one of the bad things as well.
‘I’m not going to try it again, CC,’ she said. ‘If that’s what you’re asking.’
‘No, I wasn’t asking that.’ I stopped myself and thought for a moment. ‘Actually, that’s exactly what I’m asking. So you’re good?’
‘“Good” might be too strong a word,’ she replied. ‘But I’ll survive.’
‘Survival is definitely good,’ I said.
Then she asked how my custody battle was going and I filled her in on the meeting with Dad’s lawyer. El frowned when I told her what Mum’s lawyer was going to be saying about Dad.
‘Here’s hoping both sets of ’rents stay civilised,’ she said.
‘Civilised is definitely good,’ I replied.
‘Excuse me?’
El and I glanced up.
Liam Cooper stood next to our bench. He looked very nervous and he was switching weight between one foot and another. His face was flushed.
‘Elise Carmichael,’ he said. ‘You should know that I am not fit to kiss the dirt beneath your feet.’