Zoe woke with a jolt, and lay in bed with her heart hammering. She tried to settle her breathing, frantically rewinding her memory to work out what had woken her. Had it just been a dream? It wasn’t Louise who’d disturbed her, she was certain. She lay still, but her eyes flickered towards the clock on her bedside table: one am. She was sure she’d locked up the house before going to bed: she visualised herself locking the security screens, the front door, then latching the front door with the chain and bolting the patio doors. All the windows were locked. The only way someone could get in would be to smash a window, and that wasn’t what she’d heard. She lay, her muscles tense, but all she could hear was her heart.
Then a car drove off outside, and she released the breath she’d been holding. That was all it had been, a car door opening and closing, one of the neighbours coming home from a night out. If Lachlan had been home, or even before Louise, she wouldn’t have stirred, but when she was home alone with the baby, she always had one ear twitching. Though she craved being alone with Louise, when she didn’t have to worry about anyone other than the two of them, the responsibility was huge. As she locked up each evening, she was plagued by anxious thoughts. What if something happened to her in the night? What if she fell and knocked herself out when she got up to go to the toilet, or what if she died in her sleep? What would happen to Louise?
The front gate creaked. Zoe jumped as uneven footsteps thudded onto the verandah. She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her phone was charging in the kitchen. The handle of the screen door rattled. She froze, even though every muscle in her body was tense and ready to run. He can’t get in, he can’t get in, she repeated to herself.
The door rattled again.
This time, animal instinct took over. Zoe threw back the blanket, scrabbled across to Lachlan’s side of the bed and felt underneath it for the cricket bat he kept there in case of a situation like this. She jumped out of bed and held the bat in two hands, shaking. It was heavier than she remembered; she doubted she had the strength to swing it. Was it more dangerous to be holding a weapon? she wondered. What if the intruder wrenched it from her and used it against her, or Louise? But what if he had a knife, or a gun? Zoe blinked back her tears; she needed something to protect them both. She’d always thought that in such a situation she’d lie still, pretend to be asleep, and let the burglar take what he wanted. But that was before Louise. Hearing a scraping sound at the front door, she tightened her grip on the bat.
She switched on all the lights in the hallway and on the front porch, then walked backwards into the kitchen, keeping an eye on the front door. The scraping continued outside. ‘My husband’s calling the police!’ she shouted, trying to deepen her voice. ‘They’re on their way!’ She quickly put the bat down on the kitchen bench, grabbed her phone and dialled triple zero, then moved her finger over the button to connect the call.
‘It’s me!’ a male voice shouted from outside.
Zoe stopped, her eyes wide, finger still trembling above the phone. ‘Go away! The police are coming!’
‘Zoe, it’s me, sorry …’
‘Lachlan?’ She moved towards the front door.
‘Yeah, the door’s locked. Let me in.’ His voice was slurred but unmistakable.
She lowered her voice so she didn’t wake Louise. ‘Of course the door’s locked, it’s one in the morning! What are you doing? You’re meant to be at work.’ Acid spilled into Zoe’s throat and burned the back of her tongue. He wasn’t due home until next week. What had happened?
‘Open the door, Zoe …’
‘Where’s your key?’ Although she knew it must be Lachlan, for some superstitious reason she felt she needed to test him, to be completely sure before she opened the door.
‘I don’t have a key to the screen door.’ He sounded weary now.
‘Yes you do, I put it on your key ring.’
Her adrenalin began to ebb away; of course it was him. She didn’t know whether to cry with relief or anger. She rested the bat against the wall, and slid open the security chain, then turned the latch on the door handle and opened the door. Through the security screen, she saw that it was no spectre. It was Lachlan. He swayed slightly, like someone finding his land legs. His checked red shirt was stained with sweat under the arms and he reeked of smoke and stale alcohol.
Zoe opened the screen. Lachlan stumbled back as it swung outwards. Zoe shook her head, cold fear instantly replaced with the heat of anger. ‘Get inside, now!’ she hissed. ‘Shit, Lachlan. What the hell’s going on? I was about to call the police.’
He stepped inside, his work boots clomping on the wooden floor. ‘Sorry.’
‘Shh, the baby’s asleep! It’s one o’clock in the morning! Why didn’t you call?’
‘Can I see her?’
‘What? No, you’ll wake her!’
‘I miss her …’ His voice quavered.
Zoe pushed him out of her way, dragged his bag inside, then closed and locked the door. When she turned around, he was stumbling down the hallway, his arms hanging by his sides. His head lolled onto his chest. He veered to the left, steadied himself on the wall, then managed to pull out a chair from under the kitchen table and sat heavily on it. He put his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands.
Zoe bit her lip. She wanted to shout at him, but something about the way he looked frightened her. His moods had been getting worse in the past month. She’d wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Nadia had moved back to Perth now. Nadia had been around a lot more, spending lots of time with Louise, but whenever Zoe had tried to bring it up with Lachlan, he’d either been completely uninterested, or incredibly agitated. Louise was four months old now, she was developing a beautiful little personality, and she needed her dad. Zoe had watched, helplessly, as Lachlan continued to withdraw from them both. In some ways, she wasn’t surprised to see him home; she had no idea how he could cope with the pressures of work, the way he was. She walked quietly down the hallway. In the kitchen, she took the jug of cold water out of the fridge, and poured him a glass. She put it in front of him and touched his arm. He jumped and looked up at her, then back down at the table.
‘Drink this,’ she said softly.
Lachlan nodded. He reached for the glass and gulped down the water.
‘What’s going on?’ she said, sitting down next to him.
‘I’m sorry.’
Zoe’s heart thumped. ‘Why? What for?’
He shook his head.
Zoe gritted her teeth and spoke in a loud whisper. ‘Lachlan! For God’s sake! You’re meant to be hundreds of kilometres away, and you turn up in the middle of the night, pissed, without telling me, and scare the shit out of me! What the hell is going on?’ Her fists were clenched. ‘You tell me right now.’
His palms were flat on the table, and he stared at the back of his hands. ‘I quit.’
‘You quit? Quit what? What do you mean?’ While she knew exactly what he meant, she refused to accept what she was hearing.
‘Work. I quit.’
‘How can you have quit? Why?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it now.’ His eyelids drooped.
Zoe stared at him. ‘Lachlan, you can’t just tell me you’ve quit and not tell me why!’
‘It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re always complaining that I’m away too much, that I don’t spend enough time with you and Louise. Well, now I can!’ He stood up, scraping the legs of the wooden chair on the floor.
‘Keep your voice down! Where are you going?’
‘Bed …’ He looked around as if he wasn’t sure he could find the bedroom.
Zoe paused, then shook her head. ‘Fine. If that’s all you’ve got to say, why don’t you just go to bed. No, actually, the state you’re in, sleep on the couch.’
She braced herself for an angry response, but instead Lachlan’s eyes filled with tears. He walked to the linen cupboard in the hallway, got a blanket, then went into the living room.
Part of Zoe wanted to go to him, but her anger was stronger than her concern. She bit her bottom lip and tried not to cry, knowing that if she did, she wouldn’t stop. She heard the thud of his boots dropping on the floor, one after the other. How could he have quit? How could they survive without his job? They’d used all their savings on the lawyers and doctors for the surrogacy; they had nothing left. How were they going to pay the mortgage? The car repayments? Food? She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Surely it was all a mistake. It must be the drink talking. They would sort it out in the morning, when he was sober. She got up and poured herself a glass of water.
There was no sound now from the living room. She peered in. Lachlan was lying on his back along the couch with his feet on the floor, fully dressed, mouth agape. She turned and walked away. Let him wake up with a stiff neck, stinking clothes and a raging hangover; let him realise how pissed he’d been. Let him come to her and apologise.
She turned out the light, checked the front door was locked and went back into her bedroom, certain that she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.