Sticks and Stones (27 page)

‘I suppose.' Sam glanced at Maddie and then back towards his drink. ‘That Natalie did most of it. She came back from Seaworld early.'

‘I see.' Maddie blinked, erasing the image of Natalie playing house. She tried to clear her mind, to prioritise, but there was too much jockeying for position. She reverted to action. ‘How about those toasted sandwiches, hey?'

‘Excellent!'

Maddie pushed herself to her feet, feeling like an old lady, and then began assembling another set of sandwiches, putting them on to toast. Letting her mind settle on information for a moment or so and then glance off once more. Sam being here, the ICL, Jake being nearby, Natalie by his side. She turned and leant against the bench, watching her son scratch Guess's head while the dog pushed upward, into his hand. ‘What's she like? Natalie.'

Sam glanced across without expression. ‘She's all right, I suppose.'

‘Are they . . . happy?'

‘Dunno.' He looked down at the dog and then up again fleetingly. ‘They fight sometimes.'

Maddie stared at him. ‘In what way?'

‘Just yelling and stuff.'

‘Oh.' The word came out like a sigh, as if disappointed. ‘In front of you?'

‘Nah, not much. Mostly after we've gone to bed. And not all the time. Just sometimes.'

‘Oh,' Maddie searched for a tangent. ‘Why haven't you rung?'

‘I couldn't. Sorry about that. My phone ran out of charge at Seaworld.'

‘What about your sister's phone? The new one your father bought her?'

‘She's not getting that till the end of this week. To celebrate or something. And I don't like using Dad's phone because, well . . .' Sam ran a finger around the inside of his mug and stared down at the froth clinging to his skin. ‘He makes you feel sort of stupid. Like when I ask he goes “sure thing” but then always says something teasing about me being a baby who needs his mummy.' He used his finger to trace froth on the table. ‘And it's sort of embarrassing.'

‘I see.'

‘I did try to ring on Friday.' Sam glanced up, as if seeking praise. ‘Ash as well. Dad was outside with Natalie so we grabbed the phone. But you weren't home.'

‘It's okay,' Maddie smiled, rather flatly. ‘I know it's not easy.' She turned again and slid the finished sandwiches onto a plate, bringing them over to the table.

‘Thanks, Mum.'

The phone rang before Maddie could sit down and she considered, for a moment, letting the call go straight through to the answering machine. But couldn't quite bring herself to do so, not while she still had one child absent.

‘Hello?'

‘You have exactly five minutes to send him out here,' said Jake in a voice that clipped the words with rigid anger. As if each had a full stop to itself. ‘Otherwise I'm calling the police.'

‘Hang on, I –'

‘Five minutes.'

The dial tone sounded and Maddie put the phone down slowly. Her stomach hollowed again and she felt the hot chocolate bubbling into bile. She glanced over at the clock only to acknowledge what she already knew – six o'clock on the dot. Then, without even looking in Sam's direction, she went into the lounge room and up to the curtains, pulling them back slightly on one side. And there he was, by the kerb, the bronze Holden spot-lit by the setting sun. Maddie was suddenly conscious of Sam, standing right behind her.

‘Dad's here?'

She nodded, unable to speak.

‘Do I
have
to go?'

And for a moment he was little again, staring at her with those thick-lashed dark eyes that understood far too much and far too little. She swallowed.

‘I don't
want
to live with him.'

Maddie found her voice but it came out hoarse, as if overused. ‘This won't be for much longer. I promise. I'm working on it. Getting a new lawyer. I'll get you both back as soon as I can. I will, I really will. Trust me. Please.'

‘What'll happen if I don't go? They can't
make
me.'

Maddie closed her eyes, for just a second. ‘Actually yes, I think they can.'

‘That's not fair.'

‘I know.'

He stared at her for a few long minutes, as the deadline ticked closer, as if expecting that at any moment she would suddenly smile and say,
It's okay, Sam, I won't make you do anything you don't want to. You just stay here. I'll take care of everything.

‘So I have to go?'

Maddie reached out, touched him on the shoulder. ‘Sam, how bad is it? I mean, you seemed to be enjoying yourself last time we spoke. So is it that you'd rather be here, or is he being . . .'

‘No, nothing like that,' Sam shrugged. ‘I just want to be here, that's all.'

‘Then . . . can you be patient for a little while? Let me try and sort this out?'

‘I suppose.'

Maddie glanced towards the window again, automatically. Nervously. More than anything else she dreaded seeing the car door open.

‘I'll get my phone charger.'

‘Good idea. Do you need anything else? School clothes? Anything?' She took a step forward but Sam was shaking his head as he left the room, Guess trotting along at his heels. He was back within seconds, the charger swinging from one hand like a pendulum. He paused just inside the doorway and looked at her levelly.

‘Sam, I really –' Maddie took another step.

‘No.' Sam held up one hand, stopping her. ‘Don't, Mum. Please. I'll see you soon. Okay?'

‘Okay.' She suddenly saw, quite clearly, the man he would become. But it was only a brief glimpse and as he turned to leave he was a boy once more. And she bled for him, and for herself. A raw, open wound that festered with guilt.

Jake honked, out by the kerb, and Sam quickened his step and was gone, the back door slamming in his wake. Maddie turned quickly to pull the curtain back again, this time not caring if she was seen or not, staring out the window as her son walked across the thick grass towards his father's car. He bent to open the passenger side door and then remained like that for a few moments, as if in conversation. Finally he slid into the car, without glancing towards the house or the window or her. From the other side of the car Jake suddenly extended his arm, with his hand clenched into a fist which unfolded to jab one finger up into the air. Remaining there, as a one-fingered salute, while he revved the car noisily. Waiting until Sam's door had barely closed before taking off, with his foot so hard down on the accelerator that the car actually screeched in protest, spewing smoke and leaving black rubber tracks on the road as it shot forward. A show of strength, not too far removed from a gorilla beating its chest.

Maddie stayed where she was for a while, listening to the engine as it faded into the distance, watching the smoke dissipate, unable to move. Gut-shot with guilt, but also with frustration. And it felt like that finger was actually stabbing at
her
, leaving a myriad of blotchy blue
angry
bruises in its wake. She knew she was crying, had been since the back door had slammed, and this just made her feel even more furious. With
everything
, especially herself. Yet gut-wrenchingly despondent also, at the same time.

If there had been any doubt remaining, the finger clearly demonstrated how little he had changed. Which meant that his parenting hadn't changed either. He would still be selfish, and volatile, lurching between permissiveness and strict authoritarianism depending on his mood. With a lack of empathy, or even interest, unless it suited. He loved his children, of that she was sure, because the alternative was unthinkable. But it was a deeply egocentric love that prioritised him, and his needs. And now they were teenagers, no longer as malleable as they had once been, and he had them legally, five days a week.

But she had given them a childhood. The moment this thought wafted into the quagmire, everything else stilled. It was like a sedative, soothing until gradually Maddie's fists unclenched. Lyn was right, because that childhood was something that could not be taken away. And something that would hopefully stand them in good stead over the coming months. She took a deep, even breath and then rubbed her arm, hard, using the pain to propel herself into movement. Walking slowly into the kitchen and staring at Guess, still standing by the back-door as if expecting Sam to suddenly re-enter. The dog's tail started sweeping the floor the moment he saw her and he glanced up at the door and back, tongue lolling.

‘He's gone, you know,' said Maddie conversationally as she opened the back door. Guess went shooting through, off the porch in a single leap, and around the side of the house. Maddie let the screen door close behind her as she turned. Facing the kitchen table, with Sam's abandoned mug and plate. Expecting another wave of heated anguish but instead suddenly, amazingly, breaking into a smile. Because the plate was empty.

And the image of her son, sodden with misery, being forced into the role of sacrificial lamb, was instantly replaced, or at least enlarged, by him taking the time to collect his uneaten toasted sandwiches on the way out. The adolescent single-mindedness of this act somehow lessened her guilt, her culpability. She thought of what she had just said to Sam, by the window. To trust her, give her some time to work things out. That she
would
get them back. And then, like the next frame in a slideshow with a singular theme, she saw herself, quite clearly, lying in the pathway outside the Mont Gully house, staring up towards Jake with that fatalistic calmness.
I'll get them back you know. It might take me a while but I'll get them back.

Maddie realised that she was muttering the words underneath her breath. ‘I'll get them back.' It sounded like a litany and then a vow; and her smile widened with the ridiculous
Gone With The Wind
style melodrama of the moment. But at the same time she was flooded with a vigorous certainty that seemed to mushroom warmly from within. She would get them back
because
he hadn't changed.
Couldn't
change. He would be his own downfall, it was inevitable. And the fact that it
was
all about him had a delicious irony that kept her smile in place. All she had to do was be patient and vigilant. Because that finger was just a precursor, a portent; sooner or later his true colours would burst through and she would be vindicated.

Maddie folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes, standing perfectly still so that she could
feel
the fragile optimism pulse through her body and heat her from the inside out. Washing away the nausea born of too little food and too much alcohol and a sense of defeatism that would have brought her nothing else.

SEVENTEEN

M
addie woke in the morning with her resolve still in place. She had the insight to recognise that it had not been born of some sort of epiphany after Sam's departure, but rather had been gathering stock for a few days and had then been
cemented
by the events. Like pottery that had slowly taken shape, and then been fired into solidity.

She lay in bed for a while, loving her analogy, admiring its form. And realising that it was also fitting in that her newfound resolve had a fragility that made it vulnerable, and there was every chance it would come under attack many times over the coming months. But she also decided that it didn't really matter too much, not to her resolve as an
entity
, because every time it was glued back together it would have added strength, and all those chips and cracks and fractures would just give it character. Depth.

In one sense Maddie would have liked to take yet another day off work, but this time to start moving forward. Making phone calls, finding options. But she also knew that might be pushing her luck, especially as Monday was their busiest day, and she couldn't afford to jeopardise her job. She arrived to find that the centre was already short-staffed with Lisbeth having rather abruptly taken two weeks' leave. This topic of conversation occupied Maddie's fellow workers so thoroughly that, after some brief queries as to her own recent absence, she was very much left to her own devices. As soon as she arrived, and before the centre doors opened, she took the time to visit Carol and apologise for her no-show last week. Carol knew more about Maddie's circumstances than anyone else there, always presenting a supportive non-invasiveness that was much appreciated even if never built on. Because if Maddie had wanted to talk, ever, it would not have been to someone at work. Where she wanted,
needed
, a clear division between herself and those they served. For her own sense of self.

The steady stream of clients throughout the morning was both irritating and rewarding in equal measures. Irritating because Maddie wanted to concentrate on her own issues and do some research, but rewarding in that it distracted her from everything as well. And finding short-term solutions for others, even if it was only a food parcel to take home that day, made her feel useful, valued. She lunched with Olive and another worker from the main building, sitting outside in the light spring sunshine. Discussing Lisbeth and the upcoming Christmas roster and whether Carol was pregnant or had just put on a great deal of weight. They returned to find the waiting room almost empty so Maddie volunteered to spend the afternoon entering client records into the computer. She positioned herself up towards the back where she could access the database in relative privacy and then got started.

First she located and then rang the legal centre Jenny had mentioned. Being offered an appointment in three weeks' time and trying to explain her urgency. That three weeks might as well be three months. Something in her voice must have convinced the receptionist, who put her on hold for a while and then slotted her in for this Wednesday. Which in itself seemed fitting as it meant Maddie now had to make a choice
before
she could make a comparison.