Medea's Curse (17 page)

There was the usual rigmarole getting through security.

‘You’re not on our list.’ Fake smile from the big-boned one. ‘Sorry.’

‘Fuck you,’ she muttered.

‘What was that?’

‘I said you must be able to find it. I’m a psychiatrist.’

‘Really? Hear that Jen? We’ve got ourselves a
psychiatrist
here. Very impressive.’
From the other side of the glass the two women crossed their arms and smirked. Natalie
felt like strangling them. Might have even given it a go if the cowards hadn’t been
protected.

‘I need to get in. Ask Lucia.’

‘Lucia? Do you know a Lucia, Jen?’

‘Actress, isn’t there, called Lucia, or is that Lucy?’

Fuck.
Her mind was moving at such a pace now she felt she was watching four television
stations at once. It was starting to shoot coloured signals in the guards’ direction.
Like laser beams. Excellent, that should do it. She smiled and let them laugh, watching
all the while as their brains started to fragment into green and gold filaments.
Ten minutes later—silence from her and laughter that sounded like thunder from them—they
let her through. She didn’t suppose there was much hope for them. Still, they weren’t
her problem. Amber was. She shook her head, tried to block the barrage of thoughts.
Later, when there was time to consider the cosmos.

Amber had put on a little weight and it suited her, though her anguished look took
Natalie back to when they first met. They had the visiting area to themselves, sitting
on fixed plastic chairs in the corner furthest from the wardens.

‘Hi, fancy seeing you here. Mind if I drop in?’

‘You came!’ Amber smiled. ‘I was hoping the next time
I saw you it would be in your
office.’

‘Yes, soon.’ Natalie tried to focus on Amber.
Soon, tune, bloom.
Concentrate. ‘You’ll
be coming up for parole, there’s a hearing, you need to be careful, Lucia tells me
there isn’t any reason for you not to be approved. You don’t want to mess it up again,
got to think of yourself for once and of course your family and everything they’ve
been through.’

Was she talking too fast?

‘Did your mother tell you about Chloe?’ said Natalie, deliberately spacing out her
words.

Amber shook her head. ‘No, one of the other girls told me.’

One of the girls. Natalie nodded, Liam’s words about the paedophile ring were suddenly
in her ears and she forgot why she was there.

‘It’s tough being here. I guess you hear horrendous stories.’

Amber nodded, taking a breath. ‘Enough to…well I didn’t realise how sheltered I was.’

‘The women here tend to come from disturbed backgrounds.’

‘Yes.’

‘Have any of them ever talked to you about their abuse as children? Seems like there’s
some shithead men enticing girls with pink bunny rabbits. Pink of course. Little
girls like pink.’
Shit.
Where had that come from? Hadn’t she told Liam there was
no way she’d ask around for him? Still, she couldn’t see how it would hurt.

Amber looked a little startled, then shook her head. ‘I’m kept separate from them
most of the time. Except for other women with charges like mine. Tiphanie…she won’t
end up here will she?’

‘You need to focus on yourself.’
Focus, hocus pocus
. No, just focus, yes, she needed
to as well. ‘There isn’t anything you can do for her.’

Amber didn’t seem to have heard her. ‘Mum says that the papers only mentioned me
briefly, and not my name.’ Amber blushed. ‘Oh that was awful. I didn’t mean to be.
It’s far worse for poor Tiphanie.’

‘Do you know Tiphanie?’

‘Oh no, no…it’s just…’

‘You’ve been there.’

‘Thanks,’ said Amber. ‘My family…’ She looked down and twisted her tissue around
in her lap. ‘It’s awful. I will never forget Bella-Kaye.’ She looked up. There were
tears in her eyes. ‘I think of her all the time, on her birthday, Mothers’ Day, the
day—’ She took a breath and looked hard at Natalie. ‘I can’t
bear
the thought another
child died because—’ She started crying.

Natalie put her hand over Amber’s. ‘You couldn’t have prevented whatever happened
to Chloe. Do you really think Tiphanie would have listened to you? She would have
been defensive, never admitted she’d made a mistake. Believe me.’

Amber gave a faint smile.

‘People are responsible for their own decisions,’ said Natalie. ‘You suffered for
your mistakes. Maybe Tiphanie will have to for hers.’ Her mind was heading her in
another direction.
Focus.

Amber continued to pull at the tissue. It was soon in shreds in her hands.

‘I know…’

‘What living with Travis was like.’

Amber nodded. ‘There were things I could never bring myself to tell you.’

Natalie felt tiny icicles sprouting from her skin. She rubbed her arms, bemused that
her skin didn’t look any different. She forced a smile and nodded. Amber’s mind was
still closed to her. No green and gold filaments for her; must be just prison wardens’
day for brain disintegration.

‘I was so ashamed,’ said Amber.

‘You were also very confused.’

‘Yes.’

Natalie looked at her critically and tried to define what was different but couldn’t
put her finger on it. More self-assured perhaps, even in the current circumstances?
Her fingernails cut into her palm as she tried to listen and make sense of what Amber
was saying.

‘I think back and remember…how it felt and things he said.’

‘And…?’

Amber bit her lip, looking down. ‘He…he wanted me to do it.’

For a moment this meant nothing to Natalie other than a confirmation of what she
had come to realise a year earlier; Travis was a controlling bastard. Then, as the
silence reached out and encompassed her, Natalie knew for certain that this was something
she had known, that it was part of the couple’s dynamic but not something she had
ever interpreted to her patient.

‘How did you know that?’

‘He told me,’ said Amber, her voice strangely robotic. ‘He said to me that one of
us had to die.’

In the back of Natalie’s mind a thought seemed to form words without her even knowing
what was coming. ‘Tell your mother that?’

Amber stiffened. ‘No, I never told her anything.’

Thoughts seemed to ricochet inside her head. ‘I heard about your father. I’m so sorry.’
Natalie closed her eyes, fingernails carving out deeper furrows in her palm.

Amber sniffed. Natalie opened her eyes to see Amber was crying, large tears rolling
down one cheek. ‘I never got to see him.’

‘I guess it all happened too fast for your lawyer to get you to the hospital.’

Amber nodded, took a breath. ‘Wouldn’t have mattered. He never woke up.’

‘After the second attack.’

‘There was only one. Massive. They were in town and the ambulance got there real
quick but he never came out of the coma.’

Amber’s words were reverberating in her head like ice cubes in a blender. Natalie
felt she was drowning in the mix; so much so she almost forgot that she had intended
to make the most of the visit and see Jessie’s partner, Hannah. Older than Jessie,
probably in her late twenties or early thirties, Hannah looked unexpectedly wholesome
with only a hint of mascara and hair in plaits. She even had a sense of humour; shrugging
good-naturedly when Natalie told her that no, she was not going to prescribe her
anything.

‘Had to give it a try. Look after Jessie won’t you? She isn’t as tough as she makes
out.’

‘I figured that.’

‘Doubt she’s got anywhere close to telling it all to you. Do you know about her family?’

‘Some.’ There were lights shimmering on the edge of the building. What did they signify?

‘She has shocking nightmares she can’t make sense of,’
said Hannah. ‘But I can tell
you, they happened. Something like them anyway.’

‘How do you know?’ Natalie was distracted. What were those lights? There was a subtle
blue hue to them. What did blue mean?

‘Too weird for a kid to think up; she’s been having the same dreams for years.’

There was an awkward pause before Natalie realised Hannah was expecting another question.
‘Um. Can you tell me about her stepmother and stepbrother?’

‘She’s got no time for the wicked witch, but Jay’s always looked out for her I guess.
I’ve only met him once. He was cool about her being gay. More than I can say for
my family. I don’t think he was big on me using. But he was there supporting Jessie
straight after I got nicked.’

Natalie watched Hannah’s eyes. They were trying to tell her something. About the
cosmos or was about Jessie? Hannah was right; Jessie didn’t trust her enough to share
the really scary stuff with her. ‘Other women in here have that sort of background?’

Hannah looked at her suspiciously. Liam owed her big time.

‘Not asking you to rat,’ said Natalie. ‘Just wondering if anyone here talks about
being abused. Seems like there’s been a paedophile network targeting girls in Melbourne
for years. They use pink bunny rabbits.’

Hannah dropped her cigarette butt and ground it on the cement. One of the wardens
banged the window. Why didn’t this one look like her head was going to explode? Was
she a plant? Natalie felt on edge, unable to sit still. Hannah picked the butt up
and flicked it onto the nearby bin. ‘Last stuffed toy I heard about was for one of
the kids here with
their mum. Had dope in it. Screws found it and didn’t even give
the teddy back.’

‘So how about you? Another five years isn’t it?’ Natalie snuck a look at the wardens.
No green filaments. That must mean something. She’d have to wait for the cosmos to
disclose.

Hannah shrugged. ‘Less now. I’ll manage. No choice really.’

‘Do you think Jessie will be there for you?’

‘I’d like her to be but I don’t expect it. No one else ever has been. Do you think
we could be parents, me and Jessie?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Stranger things have happened,’ said Natalie. She giggled. Like green and gold brain
fragmentation. Maybe she should write it up. It could make her famous. ‘So long as
you can find a donor.’

‘That’s the easy bit,’ said Hannah, shrugging.

‘So is there a hard bit?’ More giggles.

‘Not having the kid turn out like us,’ said Hannah. ‘I mean not fucked up.’

‘I’d refer you to a good parenting program.’ Natalie had to leave. ‘Take it easy
Hannah,’ she said, and by way of farewell, added, ‘I’ll do my best with Jessie; she’s
trying hard.’

As she was dressing for Shaun’s wedding band gig—not in fact a wedding but some corporate
function—she knew that this was meant to be. Of course it was. The cosmos had a reason
for everything. She’d agreed to have Tom pick her up because drinking didn’t go well
with a motorbike. Nor did a dress. She refused to do conservative, but she felt she
owed it to Shaun to wear a dress. More goth than
business world—black and red leather
corset, with a tulle and lace skirt and fingerless gloves—but still. She’d probably
overdone the makeup. She didn’t normally drink much when she was working but tonight
the alcohol was going to be essential to cope with some of the awful songs Shaun
would expect her to sing.

When they arrived at the Grand Hyatt, rather than following Tom to where the band
was setting up, she intercepted the drink waiter who was holding a tray of champagne
in long-stemmed glasses for the first of the guests. It was a twenties theme. Men
were in standard dinner suits with the odd cravat or scarf channelling Scott Fitzgerald.
The women were shimmering in jewelled and feathered flapper outfits with headbands
and unlit cocktail cigarettes in holders.

‘I don’t think we’ve met.’ A woman smiled tightly at Natalie as she took a glass.

‘No, we haven’t.’

The woman, in her late fifties, looked a little startled. ‘I’m Maureen Hoffman.’

Natalie tried not to giggle. This was clearly supposed to mean something to her.
‘Really?’

‘And you would be?’ Maureen was fixated on Natalie’s corset motif but in the dim
light it was almost impossible to make out that it said ‘Bite Me’.

Before Natalie could answer, Tom grabbed her elbow and steered her away. ‘We’re the
band, Natalie, remember?’

‘Just chatting.’ Natalie waved her hands, forgetting that she had champagne in one.
A suited man ducked.

Tom dragged her over to the band.

‘Please tell me I don’t have to do “I Will Survive”.’

‘They always like it.’

Natalie grimaced, her concentration wandering. There was a lot of glitter in the
air. It was congregating around a group of people in their forties. While Tom was
busy with his drums, she wandered over to the table. There was a spare seat and she
sat down.

‘I’m Natalie,’ she said to a man with a scarlet scarf.

‘Boris,’ he said, introducing his partner, a woman with a black bob whose name Natalie
didn’t catch. ‘I don’t know anyone here.’

‘Me neither,’ said Natalie. Boris’s work involved something to do with spark plugs.

‘Don’t you find it boring?’

‘No,’ said Boris.

‘Bet your wife does. She’s probably on the lookout for someone more prestigious.
Women are like that; they want to trade up.’

A waiter placed an entrée on the mat in front of her. It was something strangely
stacked to look artistic and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was all edible. The other
women at the table seemed impressed. Getting excited about food stacks was not normally
Natalie’s thing but this one captured her imagination. She started building it higher
with the bread and butter container, wondering if the flowers in the table decoration
might work too. No one would mind, surely.

‘Ah,’ said Boris, ‘I think you’re meant to eat it.’

Tom appeared from nowhere and whispered in her ear, ‘Natalie, up. And I mean
now
.’

Natalie started to protest but Tom put his bulk to good use, smiling at Boris as
he hoisted her up and over to the stage.