Broken (3 page)

Two hours later, and after several false starts, she had the bunks assembled and positioned in a corner of the bedroom. The tallboy fitted fairly neatly into the alcove by the wardrobe and, after discovering that the Venetians were faulty, she had used drawing pins to position a set of spare royal blue sheets over the windows to act as curtains and keep out the light. The beds were made up with military tightness and a soft toy was placed neatly on each pillow. A fluffy loose-limbed dog with a red polka-dot bandanna on Max's and Harmony Bear, a smiling purple-blue Care Bear, on Courtney's.

But the soft toys were indicative of a problem that slowly emerged as Mattie unpacked the boxes. Neither was a new or even an old favourite, instead they were just two of a pile of cast-off and outgrown possessions that Max and Courtney had packed for their mother's new home.
There were no electronic games here, no treasured teddies, no Harry Potter books, no current fads, no collections. And the pattern continued within the boxes they'd packed with clothing. Outgrown tracksuits, stained t-shirts, hand-me-down jumpers. Despite being told to pack a box of clothing and a box of toys each, everything special and favoured had clearly remained behind. In fact, the boxes contained nothing more than if the children had been asked to clear out their rooms for a garage sale. There was not one item here that they would miss if they never saw it again – or if they never spent one night here, in their mother's new home.

Mattie picked up a book called
A Child's Garden of Verse
and ran her finger gently over the cartoon depiction of a blonde, tiara-topped princess on the cover. She tried to put herself in the children's shoes: being informed that your parents were separating, however amicably, and that you would now be spending four nights a week elsewhere. Neither child had displayed much emotion at the time, and neither had asked one question about the unit since they'd been told. Perhaps they, like their father, never thought she would go through with it.

Mattie tossed the book to one side and hefted herself to her feet with a sigh. She would just have to prove to them – all – that she was serious. That this was serious. She pushed the problem away and concentrated on placing the books neatly on the shelving, arranging them by size and ensuring the spines aligned. She livened up the arrangement with a few judiciously placed stuffed toys and a resin musical carousel that Courtney had been given by her grandmother the year before. Then she left the remainder of the toys in the boxes and put them inside the wardrobe as temporary toy-boxes.

When she had finished, Mattie stood in the centre of the room and looked around with pride. Certainly there was plenty more to be done – posters for the walls, doona covers for the beds, proper curtains for the windows, but the room looked comfortable and inviting and
used
. And she thought the children were going to like it. Especially with a puppy.

Before Mattie could move to the next room, the doorbell sounded shrilly, piercing the silence with an intensity that made her flinch.
Close on this, however, was the sudden realisation that only one person knew where she was living. A realisation that propelled her to the front door, flinging it open with a huge, welcoming smile. Which collapsed as she was confronted not by who she'd been expecting, but by her sister.

‘Mattie!' Hannah's eyes widened, then flicked down to Mattie's bare legs and back to her face. ‘Are you okay? What's going on?'

‘How'd you know where I was?'

‘I rang Jake. He said you'd
left
.' Hannah shook her head in disbelief. ‘Mattie, why? What's going on?'

Mattie looked at her sister expressionlessly and then opened the door wider, moving aside as she did so. ‘You'd better come in.'

Accepting this invitation hesitantly, Hannah stepped over the threshold and then paused to gaze around the lounge-room. She was a tall woman, more angular than her sister, but with the same dark colouring. Her hair, rather than being free to wave like Mattie's, was worn long and pulled back into one full-bodied plait that hung down the centre of her back almost to her waist. As always, she was dressed conservatively but well. A v-neck cream jumper with a swirling pattern of cable-knitted browns, and chestnut-brown tailored slacks with a matching pair of heeled boots. She looked exactly like what she was – a happily married, relatively affluent woman made unconsciously smug by her circumstances.

Hannah took a few moments to scrutinise the room, her silence clearly conveying her opinion. She finished by staring pointedly at the abandoned cask of wine by the burgundy beanbag and then turned back to her sister, her disapproval tempered by bewilderment. ‘I don't understand.'

Instead of answering, Mattie walked into the kitchen and lit the gas under the kettle. Then, still wordlessly, she started to assemble the coffee plunger for herself and a mug of tea for her sister. It wasn't that she disliked Hannah, or normally avoided her company, but she'd anticipated at least a few days to settle in before having to explain to family. And besides, they had never been girlfriend-like close, never whispered secrets or giggled together, or joined forces against their parents. Eight
years older, Hannah had married before Mattie reached her teens, and then even the maternal interest she'd shown in her younger sister was displaced by the birth of her own daughter the following year. So now Hannah was forty to Mattie's thirty-two, with an adult child, whilst Mattie's two were still in primary school.

They always remembered each other's birthdays, and those of their respective families, and even met occasionally, with their mother, for lunch. And when Mattie first married, Hannah had made a concerted effort to establish regular get-togethers between the two couples but, as these things often do, they petered off over time.

‘Does Mum know?' Mattie asked, placing the mug of tea in front of her sister, who was now seated at the kitchen table, still looking around with critical incomprehension.

‘No. Not yet.'

‘Well, could you hold off telling her?' Mattie sat down opposite Hannah and laced her fingers around her mug. ‘Just for a week or so. Till I settle in.'

‘But
why?
' Hannah almost whined the words and then, as if hearing herself, took a deep breath and continued in a more measured tone: ‘I just don't understand. Why would you give up all
that
for all –' she waved one hand around the kitchen rather disparagingly – ‘
this
.'

‘It's not as simple as that.'

‘Then explain it to me.' Hannah looked at Mattie imploringly. ‘I
want
to understand. Just like I wanted to last year when you went to stay at Mum's for that week. But I can't understand if you won't tell me, can I? I mean
something
must have made you do this. Is it Jake? Did he have an affair?'

‘Of course not.' Mattie drew back, affronted.

‘Then what
is
it? Does he treat you badly? Or abuse you? Or mistreat the kids?'

Mattie shook her head at each of the suggestions, frowning.
‘Nothing
like that.'

‘For god's sake then, Mattie! Look, this is what I see, and it's up to you to tell me if I'm wrong. I see a woman with a nice husband, nice house, nice kids. But somehow that's not enough.'

‘It's not like that.' Mattie tried to find the right words but they hovered just out of reach and she fell quiet in frustration.

‘Yes, it
is
like that. And you're going to lose everything because of what? A whim?'

‘You talk like I'm throwing them all away I'm
not
.' Mattie leant forward in her eagerness to make Hannah at least understand that. ‘Jake and I will still be seeing each other. It's just a . . . well, a scaling back. To give us a chance to work some things out. And hopefully after a year, everything will be back on track.'

‘That makes even
less
sense. Why even shift out if you're still together?'

‘Because, see . . . don't you ever feel that you're too
close
to something to work it out? That you need to take a few steps backwards to get perspective?'

‘Sure.' Hannah looked at her derisively ‘With new curtains maybe. Not with my marriage, for god's sake.'

‘I suppose not.' Mattie sat back again and sighed. Because it was impossible to put into words what she barely understood herself. And impossible, anyway, to expose the belly of her pride. After a few moments of silence, she muttered: ‘I just need space, that's all.'

‘Then why can't you get space
inside
your marriage?' asked Hannah sharply.

‘Because . . .' Mattie paused, staring down into the tan-coloured liquid within her mug as if an answer lay there. ‘Maybe because Jake smothers me.'

‘Smothers you?' Hannah threw up her hands in frustration. ‘He
loves
you! God, I wish Stuart would pay me the attention you get from Jake! You don't know how
lucky
you are. Really, Mattie, you don't.'

‘Probably not.'

Hannah sighed and shook her head as she gazed around the kitchen again. Then she glanced back at her sister. ‘Look, I know Jake can be a bit domineering. I've seen that. But if that's the problem, Mattie, then I've got to tell you that from where I'm sitting it's largely your fault.'

‘My
fault?' Mattie stared at her sister, visibly wounded, but Hannah continued regardless.

‘Yes. Look, I'm not saying that he isn't one of those assertive-type guys, but to a large extent he's
had
to take charge because, well, it's like you've stepped back from everything,
especially
over the past few years. I mean, even Mum's noticed.'

‘Nice to know you both discuss me behind my back,' snapped Mattie.

‘I'm not going to deny that.' Hannah reached forward and folded one of Mattie's resistant hands within her own. ‘But we only do it because we're worried, you know.
Truly
worried. To be honest, I think you need help.'

Mattie flinched. Hannah wasn't the only person to have said that. In fact she'd heard it so often that it was beginning to echo through her life, undermining her choices and making her question any certainty She drew her hand back and laid it on her lap.

‘And what about the kids? Have you thought about them?'

‘I've thought about little else,' replied Mattie slowly ‘They'll be staying from Sunday night till Thursdays with me, and then the rest of the time with their father. I'm going to get them a puppy'

‘What about money? What will you
live
on?'

‘If you must know, I've got an appointment at Centrelink on Monday'

‘Centrelink!'

‘Yes. Just until Courtney's finished preps, then I'll get a job.'

‘Do you know how much you'll get from Centrelink?' Hannah looked aghast. ‘It's a
pittance
. You'll never live on that!'

‘Well, I'll have to, won't I?'

‘Not if you just went back!'

‘No!'

Hannah glared at her sister in frustration and then, as Mattie simply stared back stubbornly, she shook her head again and sighed. After a few minutes during which neither spoke, Hannah undid her plait and, after running her fingers through her thick hair, redid it deftly. It was a ploy she had used for years to give herself time to think. As soon as she finished, she flicked her plait back and stood up, taking her handbag from the table.

‘I'm going to do as you asked and not tell Mum for a week. But –' she shook her head as Mattie went to speak – ‘I'm not doing it to give you a chance to settle, I'm doing it in the hope that, after a week, there won't be anything
to
tell her. That you'll have come to your senses by then.'

‘Not going to happen.'

‘You never know' Hannah looked at her and sighed again, this time ostentatiously. Then she walked across the room towards the doorway, pausing at the fridge to stare at the motivational sayings plastered across it. She raised her eyebrows and glanced at Mattie, who simply rose and led the way to the front door, opening it and standing to one side.

‘Thanks for dropping in.'

‘Look after yourself, Mattie.' Hannah suddenly leant forward to kiss her sister on the cheek but Mattie flinched instinctively and Hannah's lips just brushed her skin like the dry, feathery wing of a butterfly.

Mattie flushed, embarrassed by her reaction. ‘Sorry.'

‘That's fine.' Hannah gazed at her for a moment. ‘Do me a favour, Mattie. If you won't talk to me, talk to
someone
. Please. Even if it's just a friend.'

Mattie nodded, knowing it wasn't going to happen. ‘Okay'

The late spring breeze came rushing up behind Hannah and rustled against her back, separating tendrils of hair from around her face and fluffing them out. For an instant she looked very much like her younger sister, an impression that was heightened by her evident uncertainty about what to do next. The moment passed without either sister recognising it, and Hannah started down the path towards her bronze late-model Volvo before turning back one last time.

‘You act like I'm against you but I'm not. I'm only worried for
you
. That you'll end up losing everything.'

‘I know.' Mattie nodded and then looked at her sister searchingly. ‘But what you have to understand is that the other way, I was losing
me
. And that means that I would have ended up losing everything anyway.'

Hannah stared at her for a moment and then shook her head, puzzled. ‘I'll just have to hope, for your sake, that you know what you're doing, because I really don't understand. At all.'

‘No, I don't suppose you do.' Mattie watched as her sister unlocked the car and got in. Then she spoke under her breath. ‘And you ought to be
glad
you don't. Because I wouldn't wish that on anyone.'