Fractured Read online

  Fractured

  DAWN BARKER

  To Will – for never doubting

  Fractured has been written with the encouragement of Queensland Writers Centre (QWC).

  Dawn Barker participated in the 2010 QWC/Hachette Australia Manuscript Development

  Program, which received funding from the Queensland Government through Arts

  Queensland

  Published in Australia and New Zealand in 2013

  by Hachette Australia

  (an imprint of Hachette Australia Pty Limited)

  Level 17, 207 Kent Street, Sydney NSW 2000

  www.hachette.com.au

  Copyright © Dawn Barker 2013

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher

  A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the National Library of Australia.

  978 0 7336 2985 3

  978 0 7336 2926 6 (ebook edition)

  Cover design by Christabella Designs

  Cover image reproduced with permission from Getty Images

  Author photographs copyright © David Phillips

  PROLOGUE

  The room is bare except for a metal-framed bed and a mustard-coloured plastic chair. She lies still. Her skin itches under the stiff sheets and the coarse blue blanket. Her pillow is too high, too firm, and she can feel the holes picked out of the foam by the others who have lain here before her. The mattress groans as she turns to ease the ache in her hip. Through the grimy window to her right she sees the concrete courtyard, empty except for a cracked terracotta pot holding a thin, twiggy plant mulched in cigarette butts.

  It’s getting dark. She glances at her left wrist. Her gold watch, an anniversary present, is missing. She looks at her wedding ring, loose on her finger, and instinctively makes a fist, her uncut nails digging into her palm. No one has told her why she is here in this lonely room.

  She is too afraid to ask.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One That day

  Chapter Two That day

  Chapter Three That day

  Chapter Four That day

  Chapter Five That day

  Chapter Six Six Weeks Before

  Chapter Seven That day

  Chapter Eight Six Weeks Before

  Chapter Nine The Day After

  Chapter Ten The Day After

  Chapter Eleven The Day After

  Chapter Twelve Two Days After

  Chapter Thirteen Six Weeks Before

  Chapter Fourteen Four Days After

  Chapter Fifteen Four Days After

  Chapter Sixteen Five Weeks Before

  Chapter Seventeen Four Days After

  Chapter Eighteen Four Days After

  Chapter Nineteen Four Weeks Before

  Chapter Twenty Nine Days After

  Chapter Twenty-One Two Weeks Before

  Chapter Twenty-Two Two Weeks After

  Chapter Twenty-Three Two Weeks After

  Chapter Twenty-Four Twelve Days Before

  Chapter Twenty-Five Three Weeks After

  Chapter Twenty-Six Three Weeks After

  Chapter Twenty-Seven Four Weeks After

  Chapter Twenty-Eight Four Weeks After

  Chapter Twenty-Nine One Week Before

  Chapter Thirty Six Weeks After

  Chapter Thirty-One Six Weeks After

  Chapter Thirty-Two Six Weeks After

  Chapter Thirty-Three Six Weeks After

  Chapter Thirty-Four Eleven Weeks After

  Chapter Thirty-Five Three Months After

  Chapter Thirty-Six Four Months After

  Chapter Thirty-Seven That Day

  Chapter Thirty-Eight Four Months After

  Chapter Thirty-Nine That Day

  Chapter Forty Four Months After

  Chapter Forty-One Four Months After

  Chapter Forty-Two Four Months After

  Chapter Forty-Three Four Months After

  Chapter Forty-Four Four Months After

  Acknowledgements

  Fractured

  A Reader’s Introduction to the Book

  About the Author

  The Background to Fractured

  Questions and Answers with Dawn Barker

  Suggested Points for Discussion

  Suggested Further Reading

  CHAPTER ONE

  That day

  Monday, 14 September 2009

  8.40 A.M.

  Tony’s footsteps echoed as he hurried across the underground car park and into the lift. Inside, he repeatedly pressed the button for the top floor of the building until the doors slid closed, then looked at his watch. He hated being late, but today there was nothing he could do about it. His stomach lurched as the lift started to move. As soon as the doors began to open, he squeezed though the gap, ran out onto the landing and through the glass doors of the office.

  ‘Morning, Tony,’ said Julie from behind the reception desk.

  ‘Morning. Have they started yet?’

  ‘Not yet. They’re waiting for you.’

  ‘Great, thanks,’ he said over his shoulder. He was already halfway down the carpeted corridor, and could see through the glass walls of the conference room that his team and the clients were already inside, chatting and eating pastries and croissants from a platter on the table. He took a deep breath then pushed open the door.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling. ‘Traffic was terrible.’

  There was a general murmur of understanding as he took off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of the black leather chair at the head of the table. As he sat down he noticed the crumpled creases between the buttons on his shirt that he had forgotten to iron that morning. He smoothed down the material with his hand and tucked it tighter into his waistband, then leaned over to pour himself some coffee from the plunger on the table. Everyone seemed happy to keep chatting as he took a few more deep breaths to settle his nerves. He tried to tell himself it was just the presentation that was making him anxious, but he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

  Danielle, one of the copywriters, pushed the milk and sugar closer to him and smiled. ‘You getting any sleep yet?’

  He smiled back and pointed at his eyes. ‘Not much … Can’t you tell?’

  She wrinkled up her face and put her hands on her pregnant belly. ‘I’ve got all that to look forward to.’

  ‘It’s all worth it – or so they keep telling me.’ He unzipped his laptop bag. As he started to take out his computer, his phone rang. He sighed, wishing he’d switched it off. He put his bag back on the table then took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. It was his mum. He groaned. Why was she calling? She should be at the house by now. He hesitated for a moment, then stood up and walked towards the door. ‘Sorry, I need to get this. I’ll be right back.’

  He stepped outside and let the door swing closed behind him, then answered the call. ‘Mum? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Hi. Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong. Sorry to call you at work, but I’ve just arrived and Anna’s not home. The door’s locked. Was she going out?’

  His heart began to beat faster. ‘Out? No. She was still in bed when I left. She knew you were coming round.’

  ‘That’s OK. I’m a bit late. She probably waited then went to the shops.’

  ‘Is her car there?’

  ‘Hold on … No, I can’t see it. Maybe she forgot I was coming.’

  ‘Have you called her mobile?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s ringing out. She’ll hav
e gone to get milk or something. She won’t be long, I’m sure. Don’t worry, I’ll wait for a bit.’

  He paused. What his mum said made perfect sense, and on any other day he’d agree with her, but something told him that he should be worried. He was standing only a few metres away from the small office kitchen where three people were talking while the kettle boiled. He walked back along the corridor, past the reception desk and out of the office. He paced around the landing near the lifts and started to talk again, quieter this time. ‘They should be there. Something’s not right …’

  ‘What do you mean? Is it Jack?’

  Tony was hot, and his chest felt tight. He pulled at the neck of his shirt. ‘I don’t know.’ He cleared his throat; he needed some water. ‘I just don’t understand why they’re not there, that’s all. Jack was sleeping when I left, and Anna was still in bed.’

  He ran his left hand through his thick, dark hair then rubbed the back of his neck. He looked towards the conference room. Everyone was waiting for him. They’d been preparing for this meeting for weeks; he needed to get back in there. He felt a surge of irritation. Anna hadn’t left the house all weekend. Why would she go out now?

  ‘Anthony?’

  He realised the phone was trembling in his hand. He looked down at the polished black leather of his shoes. He could hear the muffled laughter and chatter coming from behind the glass doors, and the faint buzz on the end of the phone as his mum waited for him to explain.

  ‘Sorry, it’s just that Anna hasn’t been getting much sleep, she’s been really tired. And Jack – he’s been difficult.’

  He closed his eyes and pictured Anna lying in bed this morning, exhausted. She had asked him to stay with her, but he couldn’t. Was that why she’d gone out, to show him that she’d been serious about not wanting his mum to come over? He took a step back towards the meeting, then stopped and shook his head. Anna wasn’t like that. There was something else going on; he had to go home.

  ‘Mum, stay there. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘No, don’t be silly, there’s no need —’

  ‘I’m leaving now. I won’t be long.’ He ended the call before she could argue and hurried back to the conference room.

  Danielle’s eyes widened as he grabbed his bag and jacket. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, leaning towards him.

  ‘I have to go – something’s come up. I’m sorry.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘You can handle it. The presentation’s all ready to go.’ He looked up: everyone was watching him. He knew his workmates were alarmed; he rarely missed a day of work and would never walk out without a good reason. The clients deserved an explanation but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really understand it himself; something just told him that he had to find Anna. He cleared his throat, looked around the room again, then turned and quickly walked out.

  The lift wasn’t waiting when he reached the lobby, so he wrenched open the heavy fire door and clattered down endless flights of concrete stairs to the car park. He ran towards his silver four-wheel drive, opened the door and climbed in. When he turned the key in the ignition the CD he had been listening to on the way to work roared around him. He hit the volume button to turn it off; he had to concentrate. His mind was flitting around, thinking of all the possibilities, but he told himself to take it one step at a time.

  Put your seatbelt on, put the car into gear, release the handbrake, press the pedal, drive. Slowly.

  * * *

  When Tony pulled up at his house, its familiarity reassured him. The semi-detached bungalow stood where it always had, pressing against its neighbour for support. He and Anna had bought it a few years ago, just after their engagement. Their half was painted creamy white; the neighbour’s half was beige. Birds of paradise flowers nodded their heads at him over the fence. The lemon tree they had planted in the front garden when they moved in was covered in waxy white flowers, and the passionfruit vine clung to the green trellis around the front door with thin, curly fingers. A few months ago Anna had ceremoniously picked the only passionfruit that had ever grown on it and served it with vanilla bean ice-cream; they had agreed that it was the best dessert they had ever eaten.

  He stepped out of the car and looked up and down the street. Cars still drove past, builders still hammered at the house opposite, and the neighbour’s retriever still barked at the birds pecking the patchy grass verge. He shook his head and his heart rate began to settle. He was being silly: there was no doubt a simple explanation for Anna and Jack not being here.

  His mum, Ursula, waved from the driver’s seat of her blue station wagon, where she sat reading the paper with the door open to let in the early spring breeze. She took off her reading glasses and let them dangle from the cord around her neck, folded the paper and placed it on the passenger seat, then picked up her black handbag.

  ‘I couldn’t find a key,’ she said, as she stepped out and locked the car door.

  ‘Sorry, it’s round the back.’

  ‘I’m sure everything’s fine, Anthony. One thing I learned from raising you and your sister is that there’s always a simple explanation for things – it’s never as bad as you think.’

  ‘You’re right, I know …’

  ‘Well, come on then.’

  He took a deep breath and walked up the path to the front door. Turning his key in the lock, he pushed open the door, jumping at the jingle of the string of bells hanging on the back of it. Anna’s best friend Emily had bought them for her as a present from some yoga retreat in India. The heels of Tony’s work shoes made the same hollow noise they always did on the blackbutt floorboards, before being muffled by the runner that stretched down the length of the narrow hallway. The bedrooms were off to the left, but he headed straight for the kitchen and living area at the back of the house.

  ‘Anna?’ He stood in the kitchen and looked across the living room and through the French doors to the small back garden. Their Staffordshire terrier, Jessie, gazed hopefully through the glass, her tongue lolling and tail wagging.

  ‘She must have gone out, Anthony,’ Ursula said, walking up behind him. ‘I’ve checked the bedrooms – she’s not here.’

  ‘But she knew you were coming round.’ He rubbed his face, trying to think clearly. It didn’t add up.

  ‘Well, maybe she’s gone to the shops to get something. Is this hers?’ Ursula picked up a mobile phone from the kitchen counter.

  He nodded, staring at it. ‘She never goes out without her phone.’ He looked at his mum, silently pleading with her to keep reassuring him.

  ‘It’s only a phone, it doesn’t mean anything. Has she taken her bag?’

  Tony glanced around the kitchen, then went into the living area, lifted up the sofa cushions and bent down to check under the coffee table, even though he could see that it wasn’t there. ‘Looks like it.’ If she had her bag, then she had her purse; his mum was right, she must have gone to the shops.

  ‘We’ll just wait a bit. I’ll put the kettle on.’ Ursula filled the kettle, then opened the cupboard. She rummaged around for a moment before looking at the dishwasher. ‘Did you put this on before you went to work?’

  He tried to remember, but there were so many other memories from that morning crowding his thoughts. ‘Um … I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, she hasn’t been gone long then – it’s still running.’ Ursula opened the door. The rush of water paused as she reached through the steam and took out two mugs.

  He stood still as he watched her take them to the sink to rinse. Where the hell was Anna? She definitely hadn’t said she was going out; she hadn’t said much at all. That didn’t mean anything though, did it? She was an adult, she didn’t have to tell him insignificant details. She must have gone to the shops but forgotten her phone and so couldn’t tell Ursula. But she wouldn’t go far; Jack must be due for another feed soon and Anna didn’t like breastfeeding in public.

  While Ursula made the tea, he walked back down the hal
l to Jack’s room. It looked the same as it had this morning, except that Jack was no longer lying asleep in his cot. The blinds were still drawn and his blankets were ruffled. He left and went into his and Anna’s bedroom. Anna had tidied up before she left: the bed was made and the dirty laundry was gone from the floor. That was a good sign. But then he noticed the cup of tea he’d made her this morning sitting untouched on the bedside table, the slick sheen of congealed milk floating on top. It was still full; she hadn’t even taken a sip. His eyes filled with tears. Why hadn’t she drunk the tea?

  He glanced down at the bedside table to the silver photo frame that held their wedding picture. They looked so young: was it really only two years ago? He remembered Anna’s smile when she walked down the aisle towards him, her knuckles white as she gripped her bouquet of pink lilies. She had looked like a princess. He had tried to hide his own tears as they exchanged vows, but later, when they sneaked away from the dancing for some time together, she had teased him for crying. They had been happy.

  Tony admonished himself for thinking in the past tense. They were still happy.

  He picked up the frame. In the corner, Anna had wedged a photo taken on the day they brought Jack home from the hospital, less than six weeks ago. Tony had his arm around her and, between them, she held Jack, wrapped up in a white cotton blanket, fast asleep. They were smiling, but it was different from the grins of excitement and anticipation of the newlyweds in the main photo. These were the smiles of brand-new parents, full of pride but tinged with uncertainty. He blinked several times, put the frame back down. There was nothing in here to tell him where she was. He walked quickly back to the front door and opened it again; the pram was gone from the porch.

  Closing the door, he stood inside with his hands in his pockets. He thought back to that morning. He had lifted Jack out of bed, given him a bottle of breast milk, then put him down again. He’d made Anna some tea and left it on the bedside table next to her. He had told Anna that his mum was coming over; she hadn’t been happy about it but she definitely knew. And she also knew that Tony would be back in a few hours. So where had she gone?