Nadia hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. She looked around her living room: the vacuum hose snaking across the floor, the basket overflowing with unfolded washing, the unpacked grocery bags. It was as though she was in someone else’s house; she barely recognised it. None of this, the domestic drudgery, mattered. Finally, Zoe and Louise were coming back, and Nadia could move again, stop treading water.
She dialled Eddie’s number. He answered straight away.
‘They’re coming back,’ she said.
‘When?’
‘Later. Dad just called me – he got a message that they’ll be back this evening.’
‘Wow.’ She heard the scratch of his hand on his stubble. ‘Where’s she been?’
‘Rottnest, apparently.’
‘What’s she going to do about Lachlan?’
‘I don’t know. She didn’t say anything, just sent a bloody text message. This is typical of her, to disappear then just come back again with no explanation. What will I do, Eddie? Will I go over there?’
‘No, Nadia, not right now, give her a chance to settle back in.’
‘But I want to see Louise …’ Nadia began to cry. God, she’d missed her daughter. She’d tried to distract herself by focusing on what she could control: the court process. Instead of admitting to the despair she had felt at not knowing where Louise was, she had stayed up all night poring over legal documents, past cases, stories on the internet. But now, knowing that Louise would be back in only a few hours, she let herself feel it again, all the fear and grief.
‘Don’t – don’t cry,’ Eddie said.
‘Can you leave work early today and pick up the kids from school? I want to go over to Zoe’s place, wait there until they come back.’
‘No, don’t —’
‘I’ll ask Rosemary then!’ Nadia snapped. ‘If you can’t tear yourself away from work to help me.’
Eddie groaned. ‘You know that’s not what I mean. The kids have been upset enough, let’s just keep their routine for now. It’s going to be a tough time for them.’
‘What do you mean? They’re only upset because they miss Louise. And that’s exactly why I need to go to Zoe’s: I need to see Louise and check she’s OK so I can tell the kids their sister is all right!’
‘Nadia, please,’ he said quietly.
Her chin trembled. ‘What? Please what?’
‘Don’t bring the kids into this.’
‘I’m not bringing them into anything! They’re in it already, they always have been. Louise is their sister, they’re missing a sibling! Zoe can’t just do what she wants!’
Eddie sighed. ‘OK. Look, I’m behind you. I support whatever you want to do about Louise.’
Nadia’s face burned. ‘Whatever I want to do? So you don’t want to do this? You don’t think we should be trying to get our baby back, protecting her? Jesus, Eddie! We’re about to go through the courts and you don’t even think we should be doing it? Don’t you think the psychologists and psychiatrists and judge will pick up on that? You’re going to ruin it! You won’t even come home to help me when they’re on their way back – my daughter!’ Tears spilled out of her eyes.
‘Fine, I’ll pick up the kids.’ He sounded defeated.
She wanted to hurl the phone across the room. ‘Don’t worry about it. If you’re going to be like that, I’ll sort something else out. I’ll see you later.’
Before he could answer, Nadia ended the call, then threw the phone down on the couch next to her. She clenched her fists and screamed out loud, then grabbed her hair in her hands. Why was this so hard? All she asked for was some support from her husband instead of this passivity. He’d been like this from the beginning: patronising, humouring her as if they were talking about a pet, not a child. The truth was that he’d never supported her in this; he was always the one cautioning her, warning her. He was setting her up to fail, so he could say, I told you so. I told you that you wouldn’t be able to do this.
She wondered if he was right.
Nadia picked the children up from school as usual, gave them some fruit and popcorn for afternoon tea, then chopped up the vegetables for dinner while they watched some television. Then she sat down with the girls and helped them with their homework while Harry played with his games console. Afterwards, she folded the washing and put it in neat piles, then began cooking the kids’ risotto. Eddie was wrong: the kids weren’t suffering. She was still here for them, doing everything she had always done.
When she heard Eddie’s car pull into the driveway at six, she took the lamb chops – already marinated with rosemary, chilli and garlic – from the fridge. She’d made the salad too; it was in the fridge covered in cling wrap. The kids were bathed and only needed to brush their teeth after their story. As Eddie opened the front door, Nadia was gathering up her keys and phone. She passed him in the hallway.
‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ she said, without looking at him.
‘Where are you going?’
‘The kids just need a story. We can quickly barbecue the meat when I get back. It’s all ready, there’s nothing left to do.’
He put his hand on her arm, then spoke softly. ‘Nadia, I’m sorry about earlier, it’s just —’
She shook him off. ‘Don’t. I’ll be back soon.’
It took less than fifteen minutes to drive to Zoe and Lachlan’s house. Nadia parked the car on the street, a few houses away from theirs, and switched off the engine. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, then leaned over to rummage through her handbag on the passenger seat. She checked her phone, but there were no messages or missed calls. She hadn’t expected any, but she’d thought that maybe Eddie would have wished her luck, or at least let her know he was thinking of her. After taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Nadia unplugged her seatbelt and put her hand on the door handle.
Headlights from an oncoming car blazed through the twilight. She shielded her eyes with her left hand as the car slowed, then stopped on the opposite side of the road, and a light on top of it switched on. It was a taxi. Nadia froze, her heart racing. With her right hand still gripping the door handle, she slouched down in her seat.
Zoe stepped out of the cab with Louise on her hip. Nadia shook her head at her sister’s stupidity: there were no baby capsules in taxis. That was typical of Zoe, another example Nadia would document for the court. Why hadn’t Zoe organised someone to pick them up?
Nadia watched the taxi driver get out of the car, open the boot and lift out a bag. He slammed the boot closed. Zoe struggled across the road, carrying the bag in one hand and a handbag over her shoulder, while Louise squirmed in the other arm. Still Nadia didn’t move. She watched her sister put down the bag, open the gate and push the bag through with one foot. She couldn’t see any more from where she sat, but she could hear Louise’s cries, muffled from inside the car. Nadia closed her eyes and tried to mentally send a message to Louise, to tell her that she was coming to get her, she was trying. That sound, the cry that she had first heard in the delivery room, was her siren song, and she was helpless to resist. She opened the car door and stepped out, then pushed it closed quietly behind her.
She walked stealthily towards Zoe’s house. Was Lachlan in there? Their car was parked outside, but it looked cold, abandoned. At the next-door neighbours’ gate, Nadia stopped. She could see Zoe standing at the front door, her back to the street; Louise was still crying. Nadia put one hand out and held onto the fence to stop herself from running to Louise, snatching her away. Zoe was rummaging in her handbag, for her keys presumably. Without moving her feet, Nadia leaned forward, trying to close the space between her and her child.
Then Zoe drew out her keys, and hoisted Louise higher on her shoulder. She patted the baby’s back and swayed her body from side to side. Nadia could see that she was hushing or singing in Louise’s ears, softly, gently. Louise stopped crying. As Nadia watched, Zoe unlocked the door and stepped inside, then let it slam closed behind her. She heard Zoe call out, ‘Hello?’, and then nothing more. Nadia’s legs began to shake, and she let go of the fence and staggered back to her car.
Zoe had waited two more days before leaving the island. As he’d promised, Lachlan hadn’t contacted her, and while she was relieved, she was also disappointed. But she knew that he was showing her in his own way that he was decent, that she could trust him. So she had trusted that he’d also seen their lawyer. Now Zoe had to do her part and bring Louise home.
This morning, she had sent a text message to Lachlan and her parents to say that she would be home that evening; then she’d packed up and caught the last ferry off the island. When they arrived at the O’Connor Ferry Landing in Fremantle, she’d staggered off the boat with Louise and looked around, but there was no one waiting for her. She’d collected her bags, then she and Louise had caught a taxi home.
After paying the driver, Zoe struggled up the path with Louise and the luggage. At the door, she held out her hand and let it hover for a moment just in front of the door handle. She wondered if she should knock. A part of her hoped Lachlan would be there, but she knew he wouldn’t be. She began searching in her handbag for her keys, but Louise started to squirm, then to cry.
‘Hold on, Louise.’ She tried to lift the baby up on her hip, but Louise’s cries got louder. Zoe’s eyes filled with tears too – Louise had been dragged around so much. ‘Oh darling, Mummy’s sorry.’ She took out her keys, then put both arms around Louise, patting her back and swaying from side to side, murmuring into her ear. Louise rested her cheek on Zoe’s shoulder and her cries quietened, then stopped. Zoe waited until they were both calm, then unlocked the door and stepped into the house.
‘Hello?’
There was no answer, of course. She dropped her keys on the hall table near the door, put down the bags, and went down the hall with Louise still in her arms. The floorboards were streaked with swipes of soapy water, and she could smell furniture polish. In a vase on the kitchen table was a bunch of flowers, still wrapped in the florist’s foil. She opened the fridge: there was fresh milk, cheese, butter and eggs, a tub of her favourite pâté, and a foil tray of lasagne from the local butcher. She closed the door again and opened the cupboard: three new jars of baby food, formula, a bottle of red wine. Zoe closed her eyes, filled with tenderness for Lachlan, but then she reminded herself what he’d done, and what she stood to lose.
She busied herself with feeding, bathing and settling Louise. When the baby was snug and fast asleep in her own bed, Zoe finally sat down at the kitchen table. The house felt far emptier than it ever had when Lachlan was away working. Her chin quivered for a moment, but she’d had enough of crying. She got up again, put the oven on to heat the lasagne, and opened the bottle of wine. As she sipped a glass, she pulled the small envelope out of the bunch of flowers on the table; she looked at it for a few moments, then opened it quickly. It held a small card, with a picture of a heart on the front, and Lachlan’s handwriting inside.
I love you. Meet me tomorrow, 10 am, C.Y. O’Connor Beach. Please.