Fractured (25 page)

Monday, 26 October 2009

Anna reclined on her hospital bed, reading a tattered old romance novel that she’d found in the ward bookshelf. Not so long
ago, she could barely concentrate on a column in a gossip magazine, but she was enjoying this book. Reading took her back
to life before this, when she used to spend hours with a book in the garden chair with Jessie asleep beside her. She missed
that.

Anna looked forward to this time of day, after lunch and group therapy, when she could rest. She had become used to the order
and routine. It meant that she didn’t have to think too hard, and that meant she could forget. Prison would be the same. The
fact that she liked being institutionalised scared her. But whatever happened, it wouldn’t last forever. At some stage she
would have to leave and rejoin the world.

There was a knock at her door. Rachel looked into the room. ‘Anna, Mr Hardy is here to see you.’

Anna nodded, and put her book facedown on the bed. She ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it.

Scott walked in, his shoes clicking on the floor. He wore a crisp white shirt with thin threads of blue and red woven through
it, and chunky silver cufflinks on the French cuffs. Tony had a shirt like that.

‘Hi, Anna. I’ve got some news.’

Her heart began to beat faster. She didn’t want news; she wanted to stay in this state of uncertainty. News meant change.
‘Yes?’

He sat down next to the bed, unzipped his leather document wallet, and took out a thick sheaf of papers held together with
a bulldog clip. He reached into an inside pocket of his suit jacket, flashing the blue silk lining, and took out a silver
pen. Anna held her breath.

He spoke softly, almost apologetically. ‘We’ve got a date.’

She breathed out. ‘A date? For the trial?’

‘It’s not a trial, it’s a hearing. We’re pleading guilty, remember? The infanticide charge fits your case exactly. There’s
no question that you were mentally ill, and no doubt it was a direct result of birth or breastfeeding, the way it’s defined
in the law.’ He stabbed his pen on the paper. ‘It’s our best chance of avoiding a custodial sentence. We enter your plea,
the judge will read the submissions from me and from the prosecution, then he’ll set a date for sentencing. It’s quite straightforward.’

Anna clenched her jaw as she nodded. She hated people talking to her as though she was a child. Of course she remembered;
it was all she had been able to think about. And
we’re
pleading guilty?
Our
best chance? Scott didn’t have to stand up and admit that he’d killed his child, he didn’t have to face going to jail or
returning to a life that was completely destroyed. But she didn’t bother pointing this out to him. It didn’t matter.

‘But there’s no guarantee, is there? I mean, anything could happen. I could still go to prison.’

Scott twirled the pen round with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Well, I’m really hopeful we’ll get a community order. You’re pleading
guilty, the prosecution have accepted the charge, you’ve never been in trouble before and we can easily prove you’re of good
character.’

She looked out of the window. ‘I don’t care anyway.’

‘Anna, please don’t worry —’

‘It’s OK.’

‘What’s OK?’

She turned and looked him in the eye. ‘Tell them I’ll go to prison.’

‘What?’ He stopped twirling his pen.

‘It’s the best place for me.’

Scott leaned forward. ‘Anna, I’m here to provide you with the best legal representation that I can, and I wouldn’t be doing
my job if I didn’t try to keep you
out
of prison.’

She shook her head and looked away. There was no point discussing it with him; she’d already made up her mind what she had
to do. ‘So when is it, then?’

He glanced down at the papers on his lap. ‘Nineteenth of November.’

‘November,’ she said. ‘Next month.’ Her hands began to shake.

Scott put his hand on hers. ‘We’ll be ready.’

She blinked back tears. ‘Thanks … Thanks for trying to help me …’

‘My pleasure.’ Scott shook her hand, gathered up his things and walked out.

The door opened again almost immediately. She quickly wiped her eyes, thinking he must have forgotten something.

‘Only me,’ said Dr Morgan as she walked in and closed the door. ‘I heard that your lawyer was here, and I wanted to see how
you were feeling.’

Anna raised her eyebrows. She wanted to find out the gossip, more like. Dr Morgan looked tired today and there was a run in
her stockings. Anna knew that sometimes she worked all night in the hospital. Looking after crazy people like her must be
tiring. How many other patients did she have? Anna had realised that she’d been naive to think Dr Morgan really cared about
her; she was just another patient to her, just more work before she headed home to her undoubtedly perfect family. She turned
her head away from the psychiatrist.

‘Anna?’

She spun around and spat the words out. ‘It’s on the nineteenth of November. The hearing.’ But her voice broke as she said
it. She laid her head back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink away her tears.

Dr Morgan sat down. ‘Are you OK?’

She shrugged.

‘I suppose it’s good in a way to have a date, to know what’s happening, but on the other hand, it makes it all very real,
doesn’t it?’

Anna didn’t want to talk about her feelings right now; she had no idea how she felt. ‘It’s fine, I’m fine,’ she said impatiently.
‘Had to happen.’

‘Do you want me to call your mum?’

She shook her head. She was a grown woman, not a child. ‘I’ll do it.’

Dr Morgan leaned back and clasped her hands around one knee. ‘I’ve been waiting to find out when the hearing is before we
make plans about your treatment from here on.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, we need to decide when you’ll leave hospital – whether you stay until the hearing, or the sentencing, or whether you
go home before that.’

She sat up, her eyes wide. What did she mean? Go home before the hearing? ‘But the police said … My bail … I have to stay
here!’

‘No, no, you just have to comply with your treatment; that doesn’t mean you have to stay in hospital.’

She couldn’t do this; it wasn’t in Anna’s plan. She’d thought she had more time. ‘I’m not ready!’

Dr Morgan held a hand out towards her. ‘Anna, calm down. I’m not discharging you today, I’m just saying that it may happen
before you go to court, but you’d still have all the support you need from us. There’s a long way to go before we get to that
point. I’m sorry for bringing it up, I thought you understood that …’

Anna grabbed the box of tissues from her bedside table, whipped out a few, then wiped her eyes. She looked away from Dr Morgan.
No one was ever honest with her. No one trusted her any more, and that was how it would always be from now on: people tiptoeing
around her, worried about how she’d react, worried that she’d become insane if they upset her. She couldn’t live like that.
Her breath came in shallow gasps. It felt as though she’d been dumped by a wave at the beach, and now she was flailing around
trying to work out which way was up. She wasn’t strong enough to right herself.

The time had come; she needed to act soon.

* * *

It was dark. Anna had spent the rest of the afternoon tidying up her room and thinking about tonight. She was calm, content
even. She had called her mum, thanked her and told her she loved her. Wendy would be all right, she knew. She had thought
about contacting Emily, but worried that she would know something was wrong. There was no one else to call; Tony wouldn’t
answer anyway.

The nurse had switched the ward lights out over an hour ago, but a dim light crept in under her door. She heard the faint
tinny sounds of a television coming from the nurses’ station. There were three night nurses on, as usual. They had just done
their rounds, checking everyone was where they should be. They wouldn’t be back for another four hours; she had plenty of
time.

Anna rolled over and sighed loudly, listening for a reaction from outside her room. She coughed. Nothing.

Slipping her hand into her pillowcase she found the little paper parcel of tablets in the corner. She moved her hand as if
fluffing up her pillow. Still no one came. Some of the pills had stuck to the paper; she peeled them off. She slowly raised
her hand and slipped about half of the tablets into her mouth, then reached for the glass of water by her bed. She gulped
down the water then did the same with the rest of the tablets. She hoped it would be enough.

Turning onto her side she pulled the blankets up to her chin. She pictured the tablets being washed down by the cool water,
hissing and fizzing as they dissolved into her bloodstream. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and willed sleep to take
her.

Monday, 26 October 2009

‘Anna, can you hear me? Wake up! Call Dr Morgan, quick!’

Her head was pounding with pain. She was tired, so heavy, sinking down into the deep, into the dark. She heard a groan, and
knew it was her own.

‘Anna, can you hear me? Open your eyes.’

Someone was shaking her. She wanted to tell them to stop, to leave her alone, but no words came out. Suddenly, her limbs jerked
involuntarily as her sternum burned in agony. Someone was grinding the bone with their knuckles. She heard herself cry out.

‘Get the trolley, let’s get her over to Emergency.’

And then she was rattling along, her shoulder blades, her heels, the back of her head banging and bumping on cold metal. She
was sure she was going to fall off, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her left arm bounced to the edge of the trolley
then hung off with her elbow locked out straight. Her hand whacked into something hard, and the pain shot up her arm.

She was still alive.

She had failed again.

* * *

Tony watched Anna sleeping. He had been just about to get into bed for another night of fitful sleep when the hospital called.
He had driven to the Emergency department again, shaking and crying. He knew it was partly his fault: he’d broken his word.
He hadn’t
been to see her. When he’d reached the hospital, they’d led him straight to Anna. She was even in the same small room she’d
been in that day. The nurse told him that they kept it free for the
psych patients
. The doctors told him that she would be fine. Apparently it was difficult to kill yourself with the tablets she had taken.
But Anna hadn’t known that. She was lucky, according to the doctor. It was as if they were talking about putting the wrong
petrol in the car.

Tony didn’t think she was lucky at all.

It was after midnight now. There were leads on her chest monitoring her heart, plastic tubes in her nostrils blowing oxygen
into her lungs and a clip on her finger to make sure it was getting into her blood. The beep of the heart monitor was hypnotic.
Tony rested two fingers on his own pulse and compared it to Anna’s. His was faster.

He stroked the back of her hand, avoiding the tape that secured the plastic cannula. Asleep, she looked like his wife again.
His eyes filled with tears. When would this end? He bit his lip as he allowed himself to think about what it would be like
if she had succeeded. Back then, at the cliffs, or now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought it before, but that had been in anger.
Now it was out of compassion. Or was it selfishness?

Anna’s eyes fluttered open and she licked her lips. She took a while to focus on him, then gasped.

‘Tony?’ Her voice was a croak.

He nodded, smiled. ‘I’m here.’

Anna looked away, but he could see her bottom lip quivering. He put his fingers on her forehead and brushed the hair out of
her eyes. She turned back towards him with a hint of a sad smile.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.

Tony stiffened, took his hand away. Was that why she had done this? Did she think it would make him come back? That because
he was here, everything would return to normal?

‘Is that all you’ve got to say? You missed me?’ He felt a wave of anger go through him again.

She reached her arm out towards him. ‘Tony —’

‘How could you? Haven’t we been through enough? How could you do this to me? To your mum?’

‘I —’

He clenched his fists, shook his head. All his worry now turned to fury. ‘I can’t believe you’d be so … so selfish!’ he shouted.
‘You must know what I’ve been through, and now you’d leave me to deal with this too? Did you even think about me? Jesus, your
mum is frantic, she’s given up her life to be here with you, to help you, the doctors have done everything they can, you’ve
got a brilliant lawyer, and still you’d leave me to pick up the pieces?’

She shook her head, crying, ‘I’m sorry!’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t care? You’re my wife: what did you think this would do to me?’ He thumped his fist down on the arm
of the chair. His face burned.

‘But you haven’t been to see me. I thought —’

‘And that’s why? That’s your reason? It’s my fault?’ He couldn’t believe what she’d just said. She was blaming him? As if
he hadn’t already tortured himself with what he could have done differently. He knew he wasn’t faultless, but he wasn’t solely
responsible either. And he certainly wasn’t responsible for Anna deciding she’d be better off dead. That was her choice.

He pointed his index finger at her. ‘Don’t you dare put this on me. It’s not my fault, OK? I did … I’ve been doing the best
I can!’

He had run out of energy. He leaned back in the chair, out of breath, and stared into the corner of the room, not trusting
himself to look at her.

‘I didn’t mean …’ Anna began, in a timid voice. ‘Of course it’s not your fault. It’s all mine. I just mean … what’s the point?
How can I live after this? Everything is gone now …’

Tony heard her sob quietly, and he sighed. He wished he could stay angry and just walk away, but time after time he was pulled
back towards her. ‘The point, Anna, is that it’s not all about you. There’s more than just you to think about. I have to live
with this too.’

Her voice was clearer now. ‘But you didn’t do it, did you? It was me.’

The room was silent except for the beeping of the monitors.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still quivered as he spoke. ‘Just promise me something. Promise me you won’t try to hurt
yourself again.’ He couldn’t look at her.

‘Do you hate me?’

‘Hate you? God, of course I don’t hate you.’

Anna hugged herself with her arms. ‘I would if I was you. I hate myself.’

He looked at her. She looked so small. ‘I hate what you’ve done, I hate that this has happened to you, to us. It’s not you
I hate.’

‘OK. I promise …’

Tony leaned towards the bed and wrapped his arms around her; it felt so natural to have his wife in his arms, and suddenly
he missed her so much and realised how lonely he’d been. They both sobbed. He forced himself to pull away and hold her at
arm’s length.

‘I love you, Tony.’

He nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to say it back to her; he no longer knew if it was true. And he couldn’t let her think
she could get what she wanted by trying to end her life. He wasn’t convinced yet that he wasn’t still being lied to; he hated
to think that she might be manipulating him, but his sense of love and loyalty and family was completely shattered.

He looked into her eyes. ‘We’ll get through this, all right?’ he said.

That was the best he could do.

* * *

Ursula walked along the pavement to Lisa’s shop clutching a paper bag from the French patisserie at the end of the street.
She didn’t come to this area very often; there was little else here to interest her. There were a couple of cafes, full of
university students, a second hand bookshop, and a few other clothes shops run by young designers like Lisa. She needed to
talk to her daughter in person. Tony had called that morning and told her what Anna had done. He’d been at the hospital for
hours with Wendy, waiting to see if she’d recover. Ursula hated the thought of Tony having to deal with
this; he’d been through enough. It’s not that she couldn’t understand how distraught Anna was, but this was a selfish act,
unforgiveable.

She walked in through the open door of Lisa’s shop. Long racks stuffed with clothes stretched down either wall, and in the
middle of the room was an old, faded wooden table stacked with belts and jewellery.

Lisa was standing behind another wooden table at the back of the shop. Beside the cash register was a jumbled pile of clothes
that she was putting back on hangers. She looked up, smiled, then tilted her head and frowned. ‘Mum, hi … What are you doing
here?’

‘Oh, I was just passing by. I thought you might want a treat.’ She held out the white paper bag.

Lisa raised her eyebrows. ‘Long way to come to bring me a snack … Not that I’ll say no, of course.’

Ursula knew that Lisa was suspicious and understood why. It had been a long time since she had visited the shop. Ursula felt
a twinge of shame, but she shouldn’t need a reason to visit her daughter. She missed Lisa; they used to be so close. As she
walked towards the back of the room, she looked at the clothes all around her. She was proud of her daughter for building
up this business. She and Jim had promised to help her do this if she made the right choices in life. Lisa hadn’t let them
down.

She put the bag down on the counter, and began to rip it open. Her stomach started churning. ‘I suppose I did have something
I wanted to talk to you about. Have you heard about Anna?’

Lisa slid out the cardboard tray and picked up a purple macaron; she paused and looked at her mum. ‘No. What’s happened?’

‘Tony hasn’t called you? Maybe I shouldn’t …’

‘Mum! What is it?’

‘Everything’s OK.’ She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to upset Lisa, but she needed to know. And Ursula admitted to a
strange sense of vindication in sharing the news; it confirmed that Anna was unstable, and made Ursula more convinced that
she was right to distance herself from her. ‘Look, she’s all right now, but she tried to kill herself last night.’

Lisa dropped the macaron and clasped her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God! What happened?’

Ursula put her hand on Lisa’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, she’s fine. Apparently she took an overdose. She saved up her tablets and
took them all at once, so she must have been planning it for a while.’ She thought about her own visit to Anna, a couple of
weeks ago, but pushed away the guilt. She had no way of knowing how long Anna had been thinking of this. She looked back at
Lisa, who was pale. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you, sweetheart.’

Lisa shook her head. ‘It’s OK. I’m OK. It’s all just so … so horrible. Poor Tony.’

‘I know. He got the call late last night and spent most of the night at the hospital. Wendy’s there now, and he’s gone home
to try to sleep. It’s just one thing after another.’

‘Maybe it would help if I go and see her. I suppose we’ve just gone back to normal, you know, while she’s still waiting in
hospital.’ Lisa shook her head. ‘I’ve been a bit torn, Mum. Sometimes I just don’t know what I’d say to her. I don’t want
to take sides, but I feel so sorry for Tony. This is all so … so unbelievable, and I don’t know whether to hug her or scream
at her. Then I wonder if I’m being selfish —’

‘Lisa, don’t you go feeling guilty! We’re all doing our best. Let’s wait and see what Tony says.’

‘How is he?’ Lisa leaned against the counter. ‘And Wendy?’

‘Wendy’s all right, she’ll be OK. She’s still at the hospital. And Tony, well, he’s as good as can be expected, given what
he’s been through.’

‘Excuse me a minute. I’ll go and make us a coffee.’ Lisa disappeared into the back of the shop.

Lisa had always been like that, never one to let anyone see her upset, and Ursula had always respected that. But all this
business had made her think that maybe some things did need to be out in the open. She chewed slowly on a macaron until Lisa
came back carrying two mugs of coffee; her eyes were red and her mascara was smudged.

‘Lisa, while I’m here, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.’ She picked up her mug, took a big gulp of coffee,
then put it down. She told herself that her hand shook from the caffeine, not nerves.

Lisa didn’t look up; she picked at a macaron.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot, you know, with all this …’

Lisa shook her head. ‘Don’t. Don’t Mum, it’s all in the past.’

‘Love, we’ve never talked about it, it’s important …’

‘No, it’s not. I don’t even think about it. I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave it alone.’ Lisa scrunched up the paper
bag and wiped the crumbs off the counter with her hand, then walked out to the back room again.

Ursula thought back to those months: the tears, the screaming, the silences. Lisa walking off, just like now. She felt sick.
The macarons hadn’t been a good idea, all that sugar was bound to make her nauseous.

A few moments later Lisa came back, her face redder than before. Ursula held her arms open and took a step towards her. ‘I’m
sorry, love, I shouldn’t have …’

‘It’s fine, Mum.’ Lisa picked up a dress from a cardboard box on the floor, ignoring her mother’s invitation for a hug. ‘Sorry,
but I have to get back to work now.’

Ursula looked around the shop, which was empty except for the two of them, then sighed and nodded. She picked up her bag and
walked back out onto the street, towards her car. As she approached, she saw a white piece of paper curled around her windscreen
wiper. Her heart began to race. She leaned over the bonnet and snatched it. She had to use both hands to flatten it out. Of
course. A bloody ticket.

She screwed it up in one hand and threw it in the gutter, then fumbled in her bag for the keys. She managed to clamber into
the car just before she began to cry. Her breath came in gasps; she rested her head on the steering wheel and sobbed. All
she had wanted to do was take her daughter a treat, make her happy.

Was nothing ever going to go right for her?