Broken (21 page)

‘She's a dear little girl,' commented Lorna, following Mattie's gaze.

‘Yes, she is,' agreed Mattie, nodding even while Courtney's face flashed into her mind, flushed with anger.
I hate you being here. You ruin everything
.

‘I know she's great with the twins,' said Sandy, reaching past Mark for some more beef. ‘A real little mum.'

‘Maybe she'll go into child care,' suggested Dana. ‘It's a booming industry now.'

‘So's paediatrics,' said Mattie, a little more sharply than she intended.

‘For god's sake, don't start,' hissed Jake as his mother and sisters looked at Mattie with some surprise.

‘Does Courtney
want
to be a doctor?' asked Lorna. Then, before Mattie could answer, she twisted around to face the children's table directly. ‘I hear you want to be a doctor, Courtney love?'

‘Christ, don't call her Courtney love,' called Lisa, with a laugh. ‘That's the name of that flaky American singer.'

‘Oh, yeah.' Frank, who had already finished his meal, clicked his fingers. ‘The blonde who was married to Kurt Cobain.'

‘They had a daughter called something Bean,' added Sandy.

‘Something bean what?' asked Lorna, looking confused.

‘Frances Bean,' said Dana. ‘That was it. Frances Bean.'

‘Damn fool woman.' Bill frowned, pausing with a laden fork halfway to his mouth. ‘Saddling the poor kid with a moniker like that. Oughta be a law against it.'

‘Mummy?' whispered Courtney, who was standing behind her mother's chair again. ‘Why'd Gran ask me if I want to be a doctor?'

‘She was just showing an interest, honey'

‘Hey Jake. Mattie.' Sandy put down her cutlery and leant forward. ‘I've been meaning to ask you if it's okay for us to stay with you guys for a night next month. Mark and I thought we'd take the girls to town for a day. See the Myer Christmas windows and do some shopping. Would that be okay?'

Mattie's mouth dropped open slightly as she stared at her sister-in-law, realising with a rush of panic that Sandy didn't know they'd separated. And if she didn't know, probably none of the others knew either. Jake hadn't told them.

‘Absolutely' said Jake smoothly. ‘You know you're always welcome. Mattie and I'd love to have you.'

Courtney, who was still leaning over the back of her mother's chair, frowned at her father. ‘But, Daddy, Mummy's still –'

‘Court –' Jake twisted around to face his daughter – ‘remember what we spoke about last night? Besides, have you finished your meal?'

‘Nearly But –'

‘Then finish it.' Jake used his no-nonsense voice and Courtney, pouting crossly, sidled over to the smaller table and slid into her seat. She folded her arms and glared at her father's back.

‘Mattie doesn't look that sure about having visitors,' commented Dana, staring at Mattie with amusement. ‘In fact, she looks like she's in shock.'

‘Mattie?' Sandy frowned at her. ‘If it's a problem, we can stay at a motel or something.'

‘No way' Jake grabbed Mattie's hand and squeezed it. ‘You'll stay with us. Just let us know the day and we'll order in some good steak. Have a barbecue. Actually, you should stay a couple of days. Get all your shopping done at once.'

Sandy was still focused on her sister-in-law. ‘Is that okay, Mattie?'

‘Sure it is.' Jake stretched and laid an arm along the back of Mattie's chair. ‘I think Mattie's just flummoxed by the talk of Christmas, aren't you, sweetheart?'

‘That's right.' Mattie nodded slowly and then stretched out a smile. ‘It feels like we've only just got through last Christmas, and here it is again.'

‘I know what you mean.' Lorna sighed. ‘This year's just flown past.'

The talk turned to Christmas and several conversations broke out around the table. Lorna and Sandy started discussing the merits of a family Kris Kringle while Bill, at the far end of the table, and Frank, up towards the other end, began working out several staffing issues for the Christmas period. As various people up and down the table called out contributions to both conversations, the talk flowed loudly. Mattie laid down her cutlery and let the noise surge around her as she faced the fact that Jake hadn't told his family yet. Not about anything. And while she now realised why she hadn't been inundated with searching questions and disapproving glances, she was more concerned with what this said about Jake's attitude than the Hamptons' probable reactions. She glanced at him automatically and met his eyes. He grinned at her, totally unconcerned, and suddenly she knew, with a flash of insight, that he didn't intend telling his family at all. Not now, not ever.

Mattie's skin felt clammy as she faced this understanding head-on and realised that it fitted perfectly. Of
course
he wouldn't tell his family, not when he was so confident about her eventual return. It would be far easier, to Jake's way of thinking, for his family to simply never
know. Clearly he had even talked to the children about keeping this quiet –
Remember what we spoke about last night? –
so that when Mattie regained her senses and came slinking back, life could simply go on as normal, and none of his relatives would ever be aware of the temporary hiccup in their lives. In his life.

And, what's more, he would probably use Sandy's visit as leverage. Persuade Mattie to come back for a few days to present a smooth facade of happily married life. Mattie's stomach knotted at the thought. Because that was why she had left in the first place. She had been so tired, so
very
tired, of continually having to polish the veneer so that it would be presentable. Yet it didn't matter what she tried, however frantically she worked, the tarnish remained, slowly eroding the gloss so that her work was constant, and futile.

‘Penny for your thoughts?' Jake grinned down at her, daring her to speak and knowing that she wouldn't.

‘Christ, mate,
never
ask a woman what she's thinking!' Frank leant forward to look at Jake with mock disgust. ‘Haven't you learnt that yet?'

‘It's like opening up a beehive,' grinned Bill, jabbing towards his son with his fork. ‘You're bound to get stung.'

Lisa snorted and shook her head. ‘Whereas asking a
man
what he's thinking is like opening up the pantry after you've forgotten to do the grocery shopping. Lots of stuff in there, but nothing you can really use.'

‘Good one!' Sandy clapped gleefully and the table erupted into an affectionately bantering male versus female debate. Mattie stared down at her lap, twisting her serviette and trying to muster the energy to join in before someone noticed her silence, but she was unable to. She felt like she was weighted down with rocks.

‘It'll be okay' Jake spoke in a low voice, squeezing her shoulder and giving his crooked smile. ‘Trust me.'

Mattie looked at him, the grey eyes crinkling with his smile, the slim features that she knew as well as her own, the slight five o'clock shadow that coloured his jawline. And she knew that, as heart-wrenchingly tempting as the offer was, unfortunately it was the one thing she most certainly couldn't do.

 

B
ecause the violence was so infrequent and because, afterwards, Jake was just as devastated as she was, Mattie never actually thought of it as violence per se. Instead she viewed it as a bad temper that, the vast majority of the time, Jake kept under strict, even admirable, control. And although she did recognise it as a problem, she didn't see it as something that undermined their lives. While it was happening, of course, it was a hugely horrible experience, but this was so infrequent that it was easy to push to the back of her mind during the months where everything was fine. And to convince herself that it would never happen again
.

But then she fell pregnant with Courtney and it seemed that suddenly it raised its ugly head and forced itself, snarling and biting, into their lives as a regular entity. It was there, all the time, either just below the surface, biding its time, or in full attack, driving her backwards until there was nowhere to go. It was as if, with her pregnancy, she had brought something ugly into their house, something that would spend most of its time hiding just around the corner, only to emerge every now and again to run riot. And it didn't matter what she tried – bribery, placating, pleading, or just trying to stay out of its way – things would still come to a head and she would have to confront it. After which it would retreat for a while, but she always knew it was there – skulking, snarling, listening, waiting
. . .

In hindsight she could see that it had actually been a slower escalation, both in severity and frequency, than it seemed at the time. And that, whether she'd fallen pregnant or not, it was always going to become part of their lives. Because it was part of Jake. Maybe she had just been in denial. Maybe she still was
.

T
he morning of Mattie's Whimsicalities party came with a dawn shower that quickly cleared to herald a beautiful day Near enough to summer to be brushed with a touch of humidity, but still retaining enough spring to balance it out with a fresh, brisk breeze that filled the unit with a lovely airy smell. The sky was a perfect cobalt blue with scattered cotton-ball clouds that, if they'd been faithfully reproduced in a painting, would not have looked ‘real'.

The past week had flown. Although she'd been concerned that problems might arise on Sunday evening after the Yea visit, it passed without incident. Helped, no doubt, by her decision to stay quiet on the matter of Jake not telling his family she'd moved out. Mattie knew it would have to be discussed sooner or later, but she pushed it to the back of her mind where it lay, only partially buried, amongst everything else. For now, she just wanted to get the party over and done with.

The first few days of the week Mattie had spent fixing up the unit. She enlarged two small photographs of the children, bought matching frames and put them up in the lounge-room where they immediately injected a more homely, settled look. In addition, she bought a large framed print from the local bargain shop, a striking abstract with overlapping squares of burgundy, forest green and bright, shimmery gold, and put it up on the long blank wall by the lounge-suite. It might not have been a Margaret Olley but it made a huge difference. Even Max commented on the effect.

Thursday night was difficult, as Jake was extraordinarily touchy and critical. Several times Mattie had to bite her tongue for fear of starting something, and negotiating the evening was like walking on eggshells, the strain leaving her headachey and depleted. The situation was made worse, or perhaps even started, by Courtney's campaign to attend the Whimsicalities party on Saturday, which involved wrapping herself around her father's legs for the first half of the evening and then, for the second half, sitting in the lounge-room angrily staring at the wall with her arms folded. Mattie, trying to placate her, offered to swap with Jake – two nights for the one day, but this just seemed to make the mood more tense. In the end Mattie pleaded stomach cramps and escaped. And the incredible relief she felt as she drove home was scary in itself.

Friday was spent shopping, cleaning and baking, so that on Saturday morning she woke to a sparkling clean home and a fridge full of assorted delicacies – meatballs, vol-au-vents filled with mustardy cheese and tiny slivers of bacon, toothpicks stabbed through curls of ham and vintage cheese, platters of kabana, celery, carrots and French onion dip, Philadelphia cheesecake, meringues, miniature pikelets with jam and cream, and the piece de resistance – a double-layered chocolate sponge cake with lashings of rum and chocolate cream.

Mattie had a lovely morning. All she needed to do was add some crackers to the dip platter, put it out in the lounge-room and cover the kitchen table with the lovely embroidered tablecloth that she'd borrowed. And the knowledge that in the afternoon the unit would be full of the warmth of friends and family filled her with a sense of relaxed, contented anticipation – so much so that she willed the time to go more slowly, because the anticipation might well be more enjoyable than the experience. To heighten her sense of indulgence, she ran herself a frothy bubble-bath and luxuriated in there for nearly an hour. Finally, at about one o'clock, she started getting ready, blow-drying her hair so that it fluffed out and became even more feathery than usual, and dressing in low-heeled sandals, jeans and a spaghetti-strapped nut-brown silky top that fitted snugly over her breasts and then flowed out and down, finishing with a jagged hemline around her hips. Lastly she carried the
burgundy beanbag through to the children's room, because she felt it lowered the tone, and curled up on the couch to wait.

Sharon, the party-plan consultant, arrived at a quarter to two. She was a slim, breathless woman with very pale skin and long, flat black hair worn loose, so that it continually flopped forward and she would scoop it up with one hand and toss it back again in one deft movement. She was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a lilac polo top that was emblazoned with silver stars and the word
Whimsicalities
across the chest.

After introducing herself, Sharon took over a corner of the lounge-room, setting up two card tables, one of which had about ten inches of its legs sawn off. By placing the shorter table in front of the other, and covering them both with a large purple cloth, she was able to quickly construct a very effective layered display unit. Next, with Mattie's help, Sharon brought in three huge striped canvas bags from the boot of her car and started removing the Whimsicalities wares, arranging them neatly on the tables. To enhance the display, she threaded lengths of artificial ivy up and amongst the goods and scattered around a few large pieces of autumn-coloured pot pourri.