Let Her Go Read online

  She felt a tap on her shoulder and slowly turned round. She knew exactly who it was by the scent of her perfume. ‘Nadia. How are you?’

  Her stepsister wore a navy-blue dress, silk or something, tied at the waist. Her face looked smooth, with perfectly straight eyeliner and shiny lip gloss. Her light brown hair was sharply cut in a bob, with fair streaks framing her face. Zoe shifted her shoulders back and brushed at a grease spot she suddenly noticed on her top. People used to say that she and Nadia looked alike – although that was unlikely given that they didn’t share any genes. But no one would think they were related any more. Yes, Zoe’s medication had made her gain weight, drained the colour from her skin and darkened her eyes with shadows, but she knew the cause of her worn appearance was more than physical. Grief had spilled out into her bloodstream and left its mark on the outside. She drank some of her wine and stood up straighter.

  ‘I’m great,’ said Nadia. ‘How are you? Is Lachlan here?’

  ‘Yes, he flew in last night. He’s out the back having a drink with your dad.’

  ‘Is he back for long?’

  Zoe shrugged. ‘The usual. Two weeks on, two weeks off.’

  Nadia wrinkled her nose in sympathy.

  ‘Where’s Eddie?’

  Nadia gestured around her in a vague way. ‘Don’t know, he’s here somewhere. Probably on the phone; he came straight from work. Sometimes I think of Lachlan’s job and wish Eddie did fly in, fly out, too. It must be hard when he’s away, but at least when he’s back he’s at home all the time, you know? Eddie seems to work constantly, every day, then he’s out to dinners or on the phone all night, or emailing …’

  ‘Must be hard,’ Zoe said curtly.

  Nadia frowned.

  Zoe shook her head a little, then sighed. ‘Sorry. I’ve just had a shit day. Do you want a drink?’

  ‘I’d love one, but I’ll have to drive so I better not. I don’t know how long the kids will last, and we’ve got a birthday party tomorrow morning, one of Violet’s little friends …’

  Zoe let her go on a bit longer about how busy she was. There had been a time when she had loved to listen to Nadia talk about everything to do with being a mother, a time when she’d dreamed of experiencing it too. But now, she didn’t want to hear about how exhausted Nadia was. God, what Zoe wouldn’t give to experience that, to be part of that world. But what could she say?

  She knew she was going to cry. She put her hand on Nadia’s arm, interrupting her mid-sentence. ‘Sorry, I need to go to the loo. I’ll see you later.’ Before her stepsister could say anything more, Zoe spun around and walked away.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Zoe watched her mum rummaging in the kitchen drawer. The cake was iced in white, and sat on a chopping board covered with aluminium foil. There was a blue plastic 6 and 0 on the top, with a miniature decoration of a golf bag. Thin blue candles were arranged evenly around the outside, though Zoe could see one that leaned slightly towards the edge of the cake. A bit of heat from the flames, just enough to soften the icing, and it would fall off. She realised she had laughed aloud; her mother looked up at her and frowned, then beckoned her over.

  ‘I can’t find the matches, God knows what Martin’s done with them. Does Lachlan have his lighter?’

  ‘Thought you didn’t approve?’ Zoe didn’t approve either, not when they’d had so many problems. But now, what did it matter?

  ‘Zoe! I’m not approving of him smoking, I’m just trying to light these damn candles!’ Rosemary’s cheeks were red, her lips tight.

  ‘It’s in my bag. Hold on.’

  Zoe came back with a lighter and handed it to her mum. Rosemary flicked her thumb against the metal wheel, did it again, then rubbed her thumb with her forefinger and shook her head. Zoe leaned against the fridge, waiting for her to ask. Rosemary tried again, then glared at Zoe.

  ‘Do you want me to help you, Mum?’

  ‘Of course I do! Don’t just stand there and watch!’

  Zoe took the lighter; in one movement, the flame appeared. ‘Would you like me to light them too?’

  Rosemary narrowed her eyes. ‘Yes. Please. How much have you had to drink?’

  Zoe raised her eyebrows, then lit each of the candles, trying to keep her hands steady.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Rosemary. ‘Now, could you turn out the lights?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Zoe walked to the light switches in the hallway and turned them all off. Someone turned the music off. There were a few squeals and shouts, then the chatter died down as Rosemary began to sing: ‘Happy birthday to you …’

  The room filled with singing: booming male voices, simpering old lady voices, tuneless, high-pitched kids’ voices. Zoe just listened, and her eyes filled with tears. She blinked and watched the blur of the candlelight as her mother carried the cake from the kitchen towards the back of the house, then outside, where Martin was still manning the barbecue. An image popped into her head of her mum tripping, of the cake falling, the icing and sponge splattering all over the floor, the flames teasing and licking their way across the floor to the fringes of the beige rug and climbing up the skirt of the sofa. She shook her head and focused her vision again. Martin was blowing out the candles. The singing had stopped; the hip-hip-hoorays had started. Someone put the lights back on, and Martin started to speak. Zoe wished she could run over to him, and that he’d pick her up like he used to when she was a little girl, and make it all better. She was drawn towards the patio.

  Nadia was there, beaming up at her dad with three-year-old Harry in her arms, his blond head resting on her shoulder and his tiny arm around the back of her neck. His dark eyes were wide open, though rimmed with red. Zoe swallowed and turned her attention back to Martin. Seeing her, he gestured with a flick of his head for her to come over, then kept on talking. ‘… and my beautiful daughters …’

  As Zoe reached him, he put one arm around her, and the other around Nadia, still holding Harry. Rosemary stood just to the side of them, with one hand on the head of each of Nadia’s little girls. What a perfect picture, Zoe thought, as a flash went off in her eyes. But of course it wasn’t perfect. Zoe saw, as if it was a solid mass, the vast, gaping space where her own children should be. Her arms ached and her neck muscles strained with the weight of emptiness. If she saw the photo that had just been taken, she was sure there would be a ghostly white outline in the shape of a child below her knees, like an old Victorian daguerreotype, or perhaps three tiny dark shadows over her heart. The babies she’d lost. Lost. As if she’d misplaced them, been careless. If she could have clutched onto them any more tightly, held them inside until they were strong enough to survive, she would have given up anything.

  She turned her attention back to Martin, who was finishing his speech. The crowd clapped and whistled, then returned to their drinks and conversations as the music came back on. Zoe slipped away.

  Her feet ached; she sat on the limestone wall of the raised garden beds around the perimeter of the garden. The lawn was littered with the crimson petals of the flame tree in the corner of the garden, in full flower. A plant tickled the back of her neck, and the spicy tang of basil wafted around her. She let her head loll back and looked up at the sky, at the stars of the Milky Way pulsating behind the high, smoky clouds. She felt a wave of nausea and tasted sour champagne in the back of her throat. Her eyes went out of focus. Covering her face with her hands, she bent forward, putting her head on her knees, wishing the dizziness would stop.

  ‘You OK?’

  Zoe slowly sat up. She cleared her throat and peered to her right: Nadia again.

  ‘Yeah.’ Zoe looked back down at her knees, pursed her lips and exhaled slowly.

  ‘A bit too much to drink?’ Nadia asked, sitting down beside her.

  ‘No. I’m just hot.’

  Nadia nodded as she stretched her legs out straight. ‘Dad seems to be having a good time.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘So, how’ve you been?’

 
; ‘You know, the same.’ How could she tell her sister? It would break her heart too. They’d always talked about how their children would be close, imagined long afternoons drinking tea in the garden while the cousins played together at their feet. Now, it would never happen. ‘How are you, Nadia?’

  ‘Yeah, you know, I’m OK.’ Nadia sighed. ‘I’m tired. Really, I feel a bit stuck. Eddie’s so busy with work, it’s like I’m running an army camp, getting everyone ready and out the door in the mornings …’

  Zoe gripped the stem of her wine glass. Nadia put out a hand and touched Zoe’s arm. ‘Sorry, that was insensitive of me.’

  Yes, it bloody was insensitive. But Zoe reminded herself that Nadia didn’t know what Dr Patel had said this morning. No one did, except Lachlan. Zoe’s mouth was dry; she needed some water. ‘It’s OK.’

  Nadia tilted her head to the side and spoke softly. ‘Any more luck on that front?’

  ‘No.’ Zoe’s cheeks burned. Not now, Nadia, she wanted to say. Leave it alone.

  ‘Well, there’s plenty of time – you’re young, you’ve been pregnant before, there’s no reason why it can’t happen again. And I guess with Lachlan away it might be hard to get the timing right, if you know what I mean.’ Nadia smiled and raised her eyebrows.

  Zoe glared at her sister. This wasn’t the time for jokes, innuendo. The pressure of the day, of the weeks and months that had built up to this moment, to nothing, grew and grew until she was sure she would scream. ‘Do you know what, Nadia? Not everyone wants to be like you! You’re so boring, so fucking boring, all you talk about are your perfect kids and your wonderful husband and how damn busy you are running around after them all. What happened to you? What do you actually do? Is this what you wanted for yourself, what you dreamed of when you went to university?’

  ‘Jesus, Zoe! I was trying to help!’

  ‘Oh, here we go, that’s your excuse for everything, you were just trying to help!’

  ‘I was just asking how you were, I didn’t mean anything! Forget I asked.’ Nadia stood up, looking hurt and confused.

  Zoe stood too, but she had jumped up too quickly; her head reeled. As she took a step to steady herself, she stumbled over a handbag on the ground. Her wine glass dropped onto the wall and smashed into jagged shards around her as she fell to her knees. She looked around: eyes glinted through the dim light, as though there was a pack of nocturnal animals, watching her, waiting. The world was still spinning; her lip began to quiver. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just … Sorry …’

  The music still played. Nadia’s face was red; Zoe knew that her sister was about to cry. She saw Eddie striding towards them in his work pants and shirt, holding Harry, who was reaching for his mother. Zoe squeezed her eyes shut and opened them, letting her own tears spill out, then stood up. The tops of her feet were sticky with drops of wine. What was she doing here? She should never have come out tonight. She let her arms hang, her body drained, then sat heavily on the wall again. Rosemary had appeared with a dustpan and brush and was crouched over the broken glass on the ground.

  Zoe looked up at Nadia and spoke quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. But … we’ve tried. We’ve done everything we can. We can’t – well, I can’t – ever have kids.’

  Nadia’s mouth opened. Eddie was hovering by her side; she waved him away. ‘What do you mean?’

  Zoe laughed, ignoring her runny nose and the tears dripping down her cheeks. She hadn’t planned to talk about this, not tonight, but now she wanted to tell Nadia everything. They used to share so much, but Zoe had pulled away from her over the past few years and the distance between them had grown. But now, she needed someone to know how she felt, so she could stop pretending; someone to prop her up. ‘I’ve lost three babies. Pregnancies. Two more after the one you know about. The last one almost a year ago. We’ve had all the tests. We went to see the obstetrician today, but there’s nothing else we can do.’

  Nadia sat down next to her, and clasped Zoe’s hands in hers. ‘Why? What did he say?’

  ‘They can’t do anything. It doesn’t even matter why I kept miscarrying, because the investigations show now that I’m in early menopause, so there’s no way I can get pregnant again. He said it’s probably because of one of the medications I took when I was younger for the lupus, but it might just be a coincidence and I have the worst luck in the world. Anyway, my rheumatologist said my kidney function is worsening, so even if I could get pregnant, it would be too risky for my health to carry a child. So it’s over. That’s it.’

  ‘Oh, Zoe. I’m so sorry.’

  Zoe couldn’t look at Nadia. She knew Nadia would be crying too; when they were children, they were always so sensitive to each other’s feelings. Zoe hated to think that she had upset Nadia, but she was glad she’d said it out loud. She took a few deep breaths while Nadia held her hand. She was calmer now. She wanted to go home.

  ‘You OK?’ said a male voice.

  Zoe looked up: Lachlan was in front of her. He smiled sadly at Nadia, then crouched down and spoke quietly, tenderly to Zoe. ‘Let’s go, yeah? Why don’t we go home? I’ll run you a bath, and we can have an early night.’

  Zoe could only nod. He gently helped her to her feet. Then he put his arm around her waist, and led her through the crowd to the front door, supporting her all the way.

  Chapter Two

  Nadia woke to the sound of Harry calling from his bedroom. ‘Mummy,’ he wailed. ‘Mummy!’ She sighed and picked up her phone from her bedside table: it wasn’t even six yet. She propped herself up on one elbow and lifted the blind above the headboard. The sun was already up and the summer heat was beginning to build. She let the blind clatter down and lay on her back in her knickers and an old, soft singlet. She had kicked off the sheet during the night. Turning her head to the right, she looked at Eddie, his puffy jowls, his doughy belly, the thick dark hair creeping down his neck towards his shoulders. He was lying on his back, head turned away from her, pretending he hadn’t heard Harry. God, she used to think he was so sexy. But he had thought the same of her once, and look at her now. She tried: she went to the gym, had her hair cut at nice salons, dressed well, but Nadia knew she looked like a mother of three, not the young woman she was when they had met. She saw the mothers of the kids’ schoolmates at the gym, the hair salon, the shopping centre, and was always shocked to see how middle-aged they looked, as she knew she looked just like them. In a way, she cared more about impressing them than Eddie.

  She closed her eyes, hoping Harry would drop off to sleep, but he called out again. She sighed loudly. Eddie rolled away from her, onto his side; clearly he had no intention of getting up. At least he wasn’t hungover; they hadn’t stayed at the party much longer after Zoe and Lachlan had left. Nadia had tried to pretend that everything was OK, for her dad’s sake, but she couldn’t just switch off after being told such awful news. She’d told her parents what Zoe had said, of course; they’d seen all the commotion. Nadia’s eyes filled with tears. Poor Zoe. It wasn’t fair: she’d been through enough. But the world didn’t work like that, did it? There was no one up there distributing good and bad luck, deciding when one person had had enough to bear. Zoe would have made a great mother. And Lachlan would have been a brilliant dad.

  Zoe had been right last night: Nadia had been insensitive to carry on about her own problems when she didn’t have any, not really. Perhaps her life was getting stale, boring even, but she wasn’t unhappy. Life couldn’t be everything you dreamed of, could it? She glanced at Eddie again. He was just a man, a person – like her – with his own faults, but so many wonderful qualities too. He loved the kids, and her, and he provided for them. What more did she expect?

  ‘Eddie?’ She touched him lightly on the shoulder.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Are you awake?’

  ‘Yes,’ he mumbled, without moving.

  ‘What would you have done, if it had been me?’

  He sighed and rolled towards her. ‘What
? If what had been you?’

  ‘If it had been me who couldn’t have children. What would you have done?’

  He reluctantly opened his eyes and blinked hard. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.’

  Nadia’s voice wavered. ‘Would you have stayed with me?’

  He draped his arm over her. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course I would have.’

  Nadia nodded, then inched closer to Eddie until her head was touching his shoulder. What if he had been infertile? She couldn’t imagine her life without the children. She remembered how it had felt when the desire to be pregnant flooded her, when she envied every expectant woman she saw, when she thought about nothing else but having a baby. Would she have made an excuse to leave Eddie, acted terribly so she could pretend that it was the relationship that was flawed rather than him? Or secretly found another man who could give her children? She and Eddie had been married for ten years now, and all they seemed to talk about was Charlotte, Violet and Harry. What happened when the edges of a relationship frayed and there were no children to stitch it back together? What would her life be like now if it was just her and Eddie?

  Empty.

  Harry cried out again from his bedroom. Feeling a flush of guilt, Nadia forced back her irritation and sat up. At least he could call for her. Yes, she was sleep-deprived, but she was also incredibly lucky. She jumped out of bed and hurried towards Harry’s room.

  * * *

  Zoe woke to the screeching of rainbow lorikeets from the grevillea tree in the front yard. The noise scraped through her head as if the birds themselves were clawing at her brain and pecking the back of her eyes. It was too hot; her skin was clammy, her heart was beating too fast, and each pulse brought with it a wave of pressure. Her stomach churned and her mouth filled with saliva. Beneath the nausea, her abdomen was painfully empty. She considered getting up for some paracetamol and fresh water, but the thought of standing and walking to the bathroom was unfathomable. She hated her body for failing her, for being so frail. Trying not to move her head too quickly, she reached slowly for the glass on her bedside table. She brought it towards her lips: it was empty. She could have wept.