Claiming Noah (29 page)

Spencer opened a bottle of wine while she changed out of her work clothes and touched up her make-up. She tried not to think too much about why she was bothering with the make-up, except that she didn't want to look her worst in front of Spencer. She changed into jeans and a green top that James had told her brought out the colour of her eyes and when she was moderately satisfied with her appearance she went back downstairs to find Spencer settled on the couch with a glass of wine, looking remarkably at home and not out of place. Perhaps it was because although he and James looked so different they had similar mannerisms and even sat the same way, with one arm stretched out across the back of the couch and the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other. If she squinted she could even pretend it was James sitting there, although when her eyes came back into focus it wasn't her husband with his curly hair, glasses and the rugby top from his school days that he always wore around home. It was a man with a buzz cut, a deep tan and tattoos poking out below the arms of his T-shirt. No, not the same at all.

Spencer let her pick the movie and what they ordered from the Thai takeaway menu. She chose
High Fidelity
, green chicken curry and massaman beef, all the while wondering why he was being so nice to her. She wondered about Spencer's girlfriend, Jess, and what she would think about him spending the evening hanging out with another woman. Although she was hardly another woman. She was more like a charity case.

After their food arrived they started the movie and watched in silence, only speaking to ask if the other wanted more wine or food. After a while Catriona settled into the movie and let the wine relax her. The dark thoughts that had followed her home from work had receded but they were still there, asking her why she was acting as if it was a normal night with her husband on the couch when it wasn't James sitting there, and she would never have a night like that with him again.

‘How's work going?' Spencer asked after the movie finished.

‘They asked me to leave,' Catriona said, her shoulders tightening as she remembered the way Terry had barely been able to look at her.

‘How come?'

‘People either think I was part of it all and somehow escaped being arrested, or I'm a terrible mother for not realising my own son had died and been replaced. I can't decide which is worse. It's like having to decide if you want to be Hitler or Stalin.'

‘Stalin. He had the better moustache.'

‘That's not funny. No-one understands how difficult this is for me.'

‘I understand, Cat.' Spencer moved closer to Catriona on the couch. She didn't look at him. ‘Please don't feel that you have to go through this all by yourself. There are people who want to help you.'

‘And who are they?'

‘Me, for one.'

Catriona forced a laugh. ‘I tried to reach out to you, don't you remember? And you rejected me. So, don't come here pretending you're some saint, helping a woman in need.'

‘Don't be like that. Don't push me away. You need a friend.'

‘I have friends.'

‘Do you?'

Not really. The few friends who had been brave enough to call her after James's arrest had stopped calling now. But she wasn't about to admit that to Spencer.

‘Look, I appreciate you coming here and checking in on me but I'm fine, I don't need you to look after me.'

‘Why do you always do that?' Spencer asked. ‘Why do you have to act so tough all the time? There's nothing wrong with accepting help from people.'

‘I'm not some damsel in distress that you can play hero with. Maybe you should just leave and find some other woman to rescue. If you're lucky maybe you'll pass a young girl with a cat stuck up a tree on the way home.' Catriona couldn't stop herself; she was being horrible to Spencer when all he had done was check if she was okay and keep her company for the evening, but she needed to put as much space between them as possible.

‘Fine,' Spencer said. He finished the last mouthful of wine in his glass, collected his phone and wallet and headed towards the front door. ‘If you decide you need a friend . . .
when
you decide you need a friend . . . you have my number.'

Catriona remained seated on the couch while he let himself out. She poured herself another glass of wine while congratulating herself on her resolve. She didn't need him. She had managed to look after herself for most of her life before James came along and she could do it again.

But then, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about what she was going through. Someone who wouldn't judge her, or say one thing to her face and then another behind her back. She sorted through her list of friends in her mind, but she wasn't sure how any of them would react to a phone call from her. The ones she had spoken to since James's arrest had seemed nervous at best, terrified at worst. Then she thought of Lana, the girl she had met at the clinic. Lana wouldn't judge her. She would understand what Catriona was going through. She had gone through dark times too. They hadn't spoken in nearly two years, but Catriona had kept Lana's number in a pocket of her wallet. She retrieved the number and looked at it for a while. The digits were smudged but still legible. She had thought many times about calling Lana since she left the clinic, but every time she had taken the number out she had thought better of it and put it back in her wallet.

She dialled the number and a woman answered.

‘Is this Lana?' Catriona asked.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘No, this is her mother.'

‘Oh.' Catriona looked at her watch. It was eleven o'clock. Her mother sounded annoyed. But she had already called, so there was no point in hanging up.

‘Can I please speak to Lana?' Catriona asked.

‘Who is this?'

‘My name's Catriona Sinclair. I knew Lana from . . . a while ago. We were friends. Is she around?'

She thought she heard a sob. ‘Lana killed herself.'

Catriona felt a lump form in her throat. ‘How?' she asked before she could stop herself.

‘She slit her wrists,' the woman said. ‘She locked herself in the bathroom and by the time we got in there it was too late to save her. The funeral was last week.'

There was silence while Catriona tried to think of what to say. Her head swam and her vision blurred.

‘I'm so sorry for your loss,' she finally managed. ‘Lana was a special girl. I really liked her.'

‘Thank you, that's kind of you to say.'

After Catriona hung up the phone she walked into the kitchen and stared at the knife block sitting on the counter. She pulled out one of the bigger knives and laid it flat across her open palms, moving it back and forth so the metal glinted as it caught the light. How did Lana do it? You were supposed to cut down the veins instead of across, weren't you? She tested the tip of the knife with her fingertip and then rested the cool blade on the skin of her wrist while indecision formed a flurry of questions in her mind. Was this it? Was this how she was going to end it? What would James think when he heard the news in prison? Would Spencer tell him? How would Spencer react? Would he be relieved that he didn't have to worry about her any more? And what about her parents? Would they be the ones to find her here after a few days, lying dead in the kitchen, when they came to investigate after she didn't return their calls?

After a while she picked up the phone and dialled another number.

‘Yes?' Spencer said.

‘I do need a friend,' Catriona said, her voice breaking as her resolve crumbled. ‘I don't know what I'll do if I'm left alone.'

‘I'm turning the car around.'

Catriona put the knife back in the block and sat on the couch with her hands underneath her legs while she waited for Spencer to arrive.

Sunday, 9 March 2014

D
iana scrunched the warm sand beneath her feet, picking up small piles between her toes and luxuriating in the sensation as the grains sifted across her skin. She watched as Noah chased seagulls up and down the beach. Every time he came close to one it would take to the air only to fly a few metres further up the beach before it landed again, much to Noah's delight. He would let out a squeal and then take chase again, running as fast as his chubby legs would allow until he caught up with the bird again. A few times she had to call to him to come back when he started to get too far away from her, but he was having so much fun that she didn't want to reprimand him too often. He had been confined indoors for the past month since being returned to her, so she was happy to let him run around until he tired himself out.

Diana and Noah were the only ones on the beach that March afternoon. School holidays had long ended, so there were no families with their abundance of belongings littering the sand. The expanse of unblemished sand and perpetually rolling waves were there just for Diana, Noah and the seagulls to enjoy.

The house they were staying in was right on Copacabana beach, a ninety-minute drive but a world away from Sydney. It was an idyllic two-storey beach house with a wide veranda, white plantation shutters and large windows looking out to the ocean. The ceiling was pitched, the floorboards whitewashed. From the kitchen window the curve of the beach was visible right around to the heads. It would have cost Tom a fortune to rent it, but he refused to share the cost with them. They each had their own bedroom with a view of the ocean, even Noah who was excited about sleeping in a single bed instead of a cot for the first time. Or was it his first time? Diana didn't know. Seeing him in a proper bed reminded her that he wasn't a baby any more, even though his body stretched only a third of the way down. Tom was right; this holiday was exactly what she and Noah needed. As soon as they had turned the car on to the freeway and left the city behind Diana felt the tension she had been holding on to for weeks, months, probably even years, start to drain from her body. She felt like they were escapees on the run, and the sense of freedom that provided was exhilarating.

Liam hadn't come with them, of course. Diana had invited him, albeit with little enthusiasm and a silent hope that he would say no, but he declined the invitation with the meagre excuse that he couldn't take any time off work. Diana didn't mind personally – she doubted she would have been able to relax to the same extent if he was there and she had to endure his moods and the tension between them – but she wished he had made an effort to come for Noah's sake. They had nearly forgotten amid the drama of the committal hearing and the media encirclement of their house, but tomorrow was Noah's second birthday. Diana wanted to celebrate the occasion like any other normal family: with a cake, presents and an absence of tragedy. She wanted it to be in no way similar to his first birthday, which she had spent in a state of abject misery as she mourned the loss of her son. No, not this time. This birthday was going to be a happy occasion. She had asked Tom and Eleanor to pick up some balloons and streamers from the local shops so they could decorate the house after Noah went to sleep. It would be a great surprise for him in the morning. She also ordered a birthday cake for Noah in the shape of a fire engine, because he loved the toy one Tom had given him.

When Tom returned from the shops he came to find them at the beach, with Ninja walking on a leash beside him. He sat down beside Diana and stretched his long, white legs on to the sand.

‘Looks like he's enjoying himself,' he said with a nod in Noah's direction.

Diana laughed. ‘He's relentless. I almost feel sorry for those seagulls.'

Tom smiled at her. ‘It's good to see you laugh, Di. You seemed so miserable back at your house.'

He leaned back on his elbows, his face raised to the sun to catch the afternoon rays. In the scrutiny of the bright sunlight Diana noticed for the first time the darkness under his eyes and the grey hairs speckled through his beard.

‘You look like you needed this holiday as much as we did.'

‘You can say that again.' In response to Diana's questioning look he added, ‘Jerry and I have been having problems.'

‘Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear that. For how long?'

‘Quite a while now, actually,' he said, as if only just admitting it to himself. ‘Probably longer than we'd like to acknowledge.'

‘Was it . . .'

‘No, not another guy. Neither of us would do that. We've just grown apart, I guess. We don't seem to have anything to talk about any more.'

Diana leaned back to join Tom on the red-and-blue checked blanket. Noah turned around to make sure she was still there and on seeing her wave at him he happily continued his tireless race up and down the beach after the seagulls.

‘That's such a shame,' she said to Tom. ‘I've always thought you two were a great couple.'

‘You just like that we're called Tom and Jerry.'

Diana chuckled. ‘That's true.' She wiggled her toes in the sand, absently thinking that she should book herself a pedicure while they were up here. It seemed an appropriate thing to do while she was on holidays and she couldn't remember the last time she had treated herself to one. She then silently chastised herself for thinking of such trivial things when her brother was obviously upset about his relationship. She turned her attention back to him. ‘Are you sure it's not just a phase you're going through? Has he been busy at work?'

‘Yeah, but he's always been busy at work. Nothing has really changed.'

‘Is he still practising family law?'

‘Yep, he's saving the world one family at a time.' He sighed and lay down flat on his back on the blanket, his arms crossed across his chest. Ninja took that as an invitation to jump on to Tom's stomach and settle down for a nap. His squat body curled into a circle while his tail flapped against Tom's side like a dying fish. ‘Maybe I'm not being fair on him. He does deal with a lot at work. I just wish he wouldn't bring it home with him; I can't stand how melancholy he is all the time.'