Page 101 of Darling Girls

‘I’ll go,’ Norah said, already walking in the direction of the nurses’ station. She’d just reached the desk when her phone began to ring. She lifted it to her ear. ‘What?’

The nurse at the desk looked up, startled. Norah shook her head, pointing at the phone and rolling her eyes.

‘Norah?’ the voice said.

‘Obviously.’

‘Uh . . . it’s Detective Hando. I know it’s early, but we’ve just heard from the coroner and wanted to give you an update. We’ve tried to get in touch with your sisters but haven’t been able to reach them.’

‘Alicia’s phone is dead and Jessica overdosed on Valium, so it’s just me.’

She couldn’t quite work out if she was trying to be shocking, or light-hearted or even amusing. Judging by the silence that followed, Hando wasn’t sure either.

‘Norah, I’m so sorry. Is Jessica all right?’

‘I don’t know. I’m at the nurses’ station now trying to get an update.’

She looked at the nurse, who nodded and picked up a phone. She didn’t need further details. It was a small country hospital; there was hardly an abundance of patients who’d overdosed. Norah heard her ask for an update on Jessica Lovat.

Alicia and Meera appeared at Norah’s side.

‘We were hoping you could come into the station,’ Hando said, ‘but under the circumstances . . .’ He trailed off uncertainly.

‘It’s Detective Hando,’ Norah said to Alicia, covering the phone. ‘They’ve heard from the coroner and want us to go in.’

‘We should check with Anna,’ Alicia said.

‘He said it’s important,’ Norah said.

‘I can go with you,’ Meera said. ‘Stand-in legal counsel.’

‘Jessica hasn’t woken up, but she remains stable,’ the nurse at the desk broke in.

‘The station isn’t far,’ Alicia said. ‘We could be back here in five minutes if we need to be.’

‘Fine,’ Norah said. ‘Meera can drive.’

THE OFFICE OF DR WARREN, PSYCHIATRIST

Ican’t wait to get to my next session with Dr Warren. The thing about sharing a story like mine is that it doesn’t just stop when you’re not telling it. It continues to play out in my mind continuously. It is a relief to be able to speak it out loud.

Dr Warren seems just as happy to see me. He has moved our seats a little closer together, and there is a box of tissues on the window ledge. I find these small gestures touching.

‘The plan was for me to breastfeed until John said I was allowed to leave,’ I begin. ‘Then I would go to the city and never return. But I didn’t see how I could do that. My daughter’s attention was like heroin. She had fair, wispy hair, blue eyes and a dimpled chin. She slept well and didn’t fuss. My mother was smitten with her too. When John wasn’t home, she and I would spend hours cooing at her. Mum knitted little stuffed animals for her. She even knitted a life-sized doll with blonde hair and blue eyes that looked exactly like Amy, with Amy’s name written across her chest. Amy loved her grandmother, but there was no competition when it came to who she loved most. Me. No one came before me.

‘With Mum visiting the basement so often to see Amy, I started looking forward to the sound of the door opening. But then, about six weeks after Amy was born, the door opened late one night. Usually my mother visited during the day, when John was at work. I shielded my eyes from the light as I watched the stairs for her legs. But they weren’t my mother’s legs descending. They were John’s.’

Satisfyingly, Dr Warren puts a hand to his mouth. It is hard to believe he is an actual psychiatrist. He looks like someone watching a scary movie.

‘John had been drinking,’ I continue. ‘It was always worse when he’d been drinking. The fact that I’d recently given birth didn’t help matters, nor the fact that it had been a while since he’d visited. Somehow, he’d become more depraved. More disgusting. And my pregnancy had provided the perfect justification for what he was doing. Because I was dirty. I was a whore.

‘While I could never say his drunkenness was a good thing, it was probably the reason he forgot to latch the door properly when he left that night. From where I lay downstairs on the mattress, I saw it creak open, allowing a thin strip of light through.

‘I moved quickly, wrapping Amy in a blanket and collecting our things into a sheet, tying the ends in a knot to create a makeshift bag. I crept up the stairs then dashed through the kitchen and let myself out the back door. I didn’t have any particular plan. I could go to Troy’s place, I figured, and hide out in his rumpus room until I worked out what to do next.

‘I was halfway down the porch steps when I heard a soft cough behind me. When I turned, my mother was standing on the porch in her nightie. “Take this,” she said.

‘In the moonlight, I saw she was holding the tin of money John kept hidden in the rice.