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She didn't know how to live her life without Gina. She was part of her daily routine. Gym. Coffee. Taking the kids to swimming lessons. Personal training. Minding each other's kids. Movie nights. Laughing at stupid things. Sure she knew lots and lots of other mums at the school, but not like Gina. She was her one true friend now that Nick was too busy with work.
All the joy had gone.
Everything seemed pointless. Each morning in the shower she cried, her forehead against the bathroom tiles, the shampoo sliding into her eyes.
She fought with Nick. Sometimes she deliberately picked fights because it was a good distraction from the grief. She had to stop herself from hitting him. She wanted to scratch and bite and hurt him.
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Nick said one day, I think I should move out. She said, I think you should, too. And she thought, As soon as he goes, I'll phone Gina. Gina will help me.
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The nastiness seemed to begin so quickly and easily, as if they'd always hated each other, and here at last was their opportunity to stop pretending and let each other know how they really felt. Nick wanted the children to be with him fifty percent of the time. It was a joke. How could he possibly take care of them on his own with the hours he worked? It would be so disruptive for them. He didn't even really want them. He just wanted to reduce the amount of maintenance he would have to pay. Luckily, she remembered that her old work friend Jane had become a family lawyer. Jane was going to take him on.
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Four months after Nick moved out, Dominick asked her out on a date. They went for a bushwalk in the National Park and got caught in the rain. He was easy and kind and unaffected. He didn't know the right restaurants. He liked unpretentious cafés. They talked a lot about the school. He respected her opinions. He seemed so much more real than Nick.
They had made love for the first time just the other night at his place. The children were with her mother.
(The night before she hit her head.)
It was beautiful.
Well, okay, it was awkward. (For example, he seemed to think he should lick her toes. Where had he got such an idea? It tickled unbearably, and she accidentally kicked him in the nose.)
But still, it had been so, so lovely to have a man appreciating her body again. Right down to her toes.
Dominick was the right sort of man for her. Nick had been a mistake. How can you pick the right man when you're in your twenties and stupid?
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The grief started to ease a little. It was still there, but it wasn't an impossible weight crushing her chest. She kept herself very busy.
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She stopped by at Dino's one afternoon for a coffee and found a small crowd of solemn-faced people surrounding a woman having some sort of attack on the footpath. Even Dino was out there. Alice went to avert her eyesâit seemed like the poor woman might be mentally illâwhen she saw to her horror that it was her sister. It was Elisabeth, and when Dino told her what had happened, her first feeling was shame. How could she not have seen that it had got so bad? As she was explaining to Dino what Elisabeth had been going through, she felt a growing anger at herself. It was like she'd just come to accept Elisabeth's miscarriages as part of life. She'd led Elisabeth to her car and left her sitting in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, and then she'd gone back and managed to soothe the mother of the child Elisabeth had apparently tried to kidnap. (It was Judy Clarke. Judy had a son in Madison's class.) On the way home Elisabeth said, “Thanks,” and nothing else.
Well, enough was enough. This endless cycle of miscarriages had to stop. They were just beating their heads against a brick wall, and Elisabeth was losing her mind. Alice had lost her best friend and her marriage had fallen apart but she was still getting on with things. Someone needed to talk sense to Elisabeth. As soon as she got home, Alice got on the Internet to research adoption. Last Thursday she made a fresh batch of banana muffins and then she rang up Ben and told him she was having trouble with her car. He said he'd be right over.
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“I wonder if we should call a doctor?”
“No,” said Alice out loud, her eyes shut. “I'm all right. Just give me a minute.”
Now she was remembering the past week. It was as if she'd been permanently drunk. She was mortified.
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She hadn't had time for breakfast the morning of the spin class with Jane, and actually, now she thought about it, she hadn't even had any water, which was stupid, no wonder she'd fainted. Her last memory was pedaling hard, sweat dripping, listing off in her head everything she had to do for Mega Meringue Day, only half listening to Narelle (the annoying instructor: Spin Crazy Girl) going on about “the finish line” and “the semi-trailer holding you up.” Instead, she was watching the television screen playing soundlessly above Narelle's head. There was a commercial on that always irked Alice, featuring a woman looking flirtatiously at the camera while licking a glob of cream cheese off the tip of her finger (she looked a bit like Jackie Holloway) and Alice was feeling sick at the very thought of eating cream cheese.
That's why her mixed-up brain had been thinking about cream cheese when she regained consciousness.
Being carried out of the spin class like that. How completely bizarre that she didn't recognize the gym, or Maggie's husband on the treadmill, or Kate Harper coming out of the lift.
The shock of finding she and Nick were divorcing.
Talking to Nick's PA on the phone. That awful woman had never liked her (Alice suspected a crush) and since the separation she'd become quite breathtakingly rude.
Dancing the salsa at the Family Talent Night. That “chemistry” she imagined she felt. Good Lord, she'd given back Granny Love's ring. She'd been determined to keep that ring for Madison. Now it might go to Nick's new wife if he ever remarried. It was part of Madison's heritage.
He'd bet her twenty dollars that she wouldn't want to get back together when she got her memory back. He must have been laughing at her the whole time.
She had kissed Nick. It made her sick to the stomach. He was using her memory loss to get her to agree to the fifty-percent care arrangement. Thank God she'd never signed anything.
For heaven's sake, they'd taken Madison for ice creams and whale watching after she'd cut off Chloe's hair. Talk about the right way to bring up a delinquent.
She'd told Mrs. Bergen that she'd switched sides on the development issue. Well, she'd just have to tell her that she'd switched right back. She didn't want to stay living in the house. Too many memories. The developers could knock it to the ground and put up the tackiest, most sterile high-rise apartment block for all she cared.
Tom was meant to have been one of the Elvis dancers today! She had his suit already. He'd deliberately not reminded her.
Nora hadn't mentioned the sponsors in her speech!
She needed to check all the paperwork for the Guinness Book of Records. Everything had to be done properly or it wouldn't be an official record. Maggie and Nora meant well but they didn't really know what they were doing.
The mum standing next to her with the birthmark was Anne Russell, mother of little Kerrie, in Tom's class. They helped together at the library on the same day. How could she have forgotten Anne Russell?
How could she have forgotten any of it?
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Alice opened her eyes.
She was sitting on the grass of the school oval.
Nick and Dominick were both squatting down uncomfortably in front of her.
“Are you all right?” said Nick.
Alice looked at him. He flinched, as if she'd hit him.
“You've got your memory back,” he said. It wasn't a question. He stood up. It was as if he were folding up his face, making it bland and cold. “I'll go let the kids know you're okay.” He started to turn away and then looked back at her and said, “You owe me twenty bucks.”
Alice turned to Dominick.
He smiled, hugged her to him, and said, “Everything is all right now, darling.”
Chapter 33
A
lice was running with her mobile in her hand, so she wouldn't miss the call when it came.
She was running the route that Luke used to take her and Gina on. She'd let Luke go. She couldn't justify spending one hundred and fifty dollars on a personal-training session. Not when she and Nick were still trying to work out the money settlement. She'd also dropped the gym membership. These days she just liked to run and remember.
Since she'd lost her memory and got it back again, she was obsessed with remembering her life. She kept a daily journal, and whenever she went running she let memories drift through her head. When she got home she would write them down. It was hard to know whether she'd fully recovered her memory of the ten years she'd lost, or if there were still gaps. She understood that even before the accident she wouldn't have had perfect recall of the previous decade, but she kept scouring her mind, searching for any missing pieces.
Today she was remembering a night when Tom was a baby. Everyone had told her that her second child would be a wonderful sleeper after her problems with Madison. Everyone was wrong. Tom was a “cluster feeder.” He didn't like having a proper feed every three to four hours, thanks anyway. He much preferred a snack every hour. Every
single hour
. That meant Alice slept for only forty minutes at a time before she was wrenched awake again by the sound of his cry through the baby monitor. And Madison was a toddler but she
still
had never slept through a single night in her life.
It was a time in her life when Alice was obsessed with sleep. She lusted for it. She saw television ads for sleeping pills or beds with people sleeping and they made her want to spit with envy. After feeding Tom, she would half stumble, half run back to the bedroom and dive into the bed. Her sleep would be full of dreams about the baby: she'd fallen asleep on the baby and suffocated him; she'd left him on the change table halfway through changing his nappy and he'd rolled onto the floor. And then, just at the moment she was sleeping the deepest, most exquisite sleep, the sound of the monitor would wake her again. It was like being desperately thirsty and having somebody hand you a tall glass of ice water and then tear it away from your mouth just as you took a sip. Better not to have any water at all.
On this particular night, Nick was leaving early the following morning for an important business trip. She'd just got back into bed after convincing Madison to go back to sleep (
Why
can't I play outside now?
Why
is it the middle of the night?) when Tom began wailing. Her head swam as she bent over the crib to pick him up. She felt a wave of pure rage at this person who refused to let her sleep.
Just what do you expect of me?
Her arms tightened around the baby.
You . . . need . . . to . . . be . . . quiet.
She laid him back down with elaborate care. Tom was enraged, and screamed as though she'd just put him down on a bed of knives. Alice went back to the bedroom, switched on the light, and said to Nick, “You need to lock me up. I wanted to hurt the baby.”
Nick sat up in bed, his eyes bleary and confused. “You hurt the baby?”
Alice was trembling all over. “No. I
wanted
to. I wanted to squeeze him until he stopped crying.”
“Right, then,” said Nick calmly, as if she'd just reported something perfectly normal. He got up and led her by the hand back to bed. “You need sleep.”
“But I need to feed him.”
“I'll give him the expressed milk you've got in the freezer. Just go to sleep. I'm canceling tomorrow. Sleep.”
“Butâ”
“Sleep. Just sleep.”
It was the most erotic thing he'd ever said to her. He pulled the covers up under her chin, unplugged the monitor, and left, switching off the light and closing the door behind him. The room became divinely silent and dark.
She slept.
When she woke, her breasts rock hard and leaking, the room was filled with sunlight, and the house was quiet. She looked at the clock and saw that it was nine o'clock. He'd done it. He actually canceled his trip. She'd slept for six straight glorious hours. Her vision was brighter, her brain sharper. She went downstairs and found Nick giving Madison her breakfast, while Tom cooed and kicked in his bouncer.
“Thank you,” said Alice, almost delirious with gratitude and relief.