Mother Undone — Part Ten
A Psychological Thriller That Explores the Dark Side Of Motherhood
The story so far…
Johanna, a woman haunted by guilt, decides to make a fresh start in a new city in a house inherited from her grandmother.
Later, she discovers that one of Australia’s most famous poisoners, Martha Needle, used to live there.
While researching a book on Martha and her crimes, Johanna is taken back in time to her own troubled past and the disturbing memories of her marriage to the man responsible for the death of their children.
BEFORE
Our wedding took place in Byron Bay on the beach.
I wore a long, white dress with flowers in my hair; Stuart wore jeans. Two couples enjoying the last rays of evening sun were our witnesses, together with a pod of dolphins frolicking close to the shore. We spent the weekend in a beachside cottage because we both had to get back to Sydney for work.
Three months later, we travelled to Bali for a late honeymoon where I fell in love — not with Stuart this time — but with Bali, the island of silken breezes that brushed my skin like a lover, a paradise on earth of whispering palms, smiling faces with whiter than white teeth and the omnipresent scent of frangipani. Every day, I picked handfuls of the pale flowers from the tree next to our villa to strew in my bathwater and over my pillow.
Our days became a routine blessed by the Bali gods.
First, an early breakfast of tropical fruit, tiny eggs with golden yolks and fresh croissants. In the afternoons, we meandered along narrow streets smelling of incense and sewage and bargained with stallholders buying things we didn’t need: plaited placemats, batik tablecloths, embroidered cushion covers and woodcarvings of Vishnu, Garuda and Shiva. At dusk, we sipped cocktails sitting at a beach-side bar followed by dinner at a seafood restaurant with tables on the sand before returning to our bungalow where, carnally, blissfully sequestered, we made love until the early morning sun stabbed its way through the slatted wooden blinds.
“So when do you want to have kids?” Stuart asked over dinner on our last night in Bali.
He’d never mentioned having children before. We’d observed the pregnancies and children of our mutual friends and uttered the requisite ooohs and aaahs, but never discussed it as something we would actually do.
“When do you want to have them?”
Stuart shook his head. “Not fair. I asked first.”
“But you must have asked for a reason. I mean, we’re only on our honeymoon… surely we’ve got a couple of years before we ask ourselves that question.”
“I’m thirty-two and you’re about to turn twenty-nine, Johanna. In two years time, we’ll be — ”
I grinned. “Yeah. Two years older. Thanks for reminding me.”
Stuart didn’t smile back. “We’ve been together nearly four years. It’s not as if we only just met. My mum and dad had me in the first year of their marriage and they’d only met six months before.”
“But it was different back then. Everybody got married and had kids straight away. They had to. The Pill was still pretty new and — ”
“I don’t understand you, Johanna. I always thought you couldn’t wait to have kids.”
Why was he doing this? Couldn’t we just enjoy our honeymoon? Why the heavy talk about procreation? “Of course I want kids… just… not so soon. Can we talk about it next year maybe?”
Stuart picked up his menu, his face an unreadable mask.
My stomach lurched. He was mad at me. And probably for good reason. Why was I being so evasive? I knew I wanted children. It was natural, normal. It’s what you did when you got married. Everybody did it. Nevertheless, I wondered why I’d not yet felt any sort of biological urge to breed, ‘baby rabies’ as a vehemently anti-child colleague of mine used to call it.
“Stuart,” I reached for his hand but he pulled away. “What’s wrong? Why are you upset with me?”
“I’m not upset with you, I’m just… confused. I thought you couldn’t wait to get pregnant… I thought that’s why you agreed to get married.”
“I did… I mean I am looking forward to having your children Stuart. It’s just that I love you so much… I love the life we’re living right now… I love our freedom… the fact we just have ourselves to worry about. I love my job and you love yours. What if all that changes? What if we find out it’s not what we imagined? What if we turn out like Andrew and Laura? You always said you’d rather shoot yourself than turn out like them.”
“Forget Andrew and Laura. They’ve always been boring. Having children just made them worse. But it won’t happen to us unless we allow it. You can still write for the magazine in your spare time and money won’t be a problem if that’s what you’re worried about. They’re grooming me for a promotion. Besides — ”
I broke in. “Why do you want kids Stuart?”
Stuart slumped back into his chair looking genuinely bewildered. He threw his hands into the air. “For the obvious reasons I suppose.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Because I’m ready for a new phase of life… because I’ve had enough of living for myself and want to live for somebody else… to leave something of myself behind when I go — ”
He leaned forward, his voice earnest. “Johanna… having kids is really important to me. I thought you felt the same way. I can’t imagine a life without them. Remember that favourite auntie of yours you told me about? The one who never had children? What was her name again?”
“Aggie.” I looked away. It still hurt when I said her name.
Aggie was my father’s youngest sister and I’d loved her more than my own mother. Unlike the rest of her clan, she and her husband, David, decided against having children, adopting instead a menagerie of animals: a wombat called Harold rescued from the pouch of his dead mother, Burt, a cantankerous cockatoo as well as three cats and an old border collie from the animal rescue home.
“There’s far too many people in the world as it is,” Aggie explained during one of our chats. “We’re doing the world a favour by not breeding.”
As a naive eleven-year-old, I’d hugged her and agreed. She and David had the perfect life. Why spoil it?
One day after school, the telephone rang. Groaning over my maths homework and pleased for the distraction, I answered the telephone, delighted when I heard Aggie’s voice on the other end.
David was in hospital, she informed me. He’d cut his leg while chopping wood and needed fifteen stitches… clumsy sod, she’d added affectionately.
None of us thought anything of it until Aggie rang again two days later. David had picked up a staph infection from the hospital and was fighting for his life. By Sunday, he was dead.
My parents didn’t let me come to the hospital but they told me Aggie collapsed next to David’s bedside and had been sedated ever since. At the funeral, Aggie remained slumped against my father who supported her slow procession up the aisle towards David’s coffin.
She’d reminded me of a fragile, hollow, china figurine. I couldn’t believe the grey-faced, dull-eyed woman walking next to my father was my beautiful, vibrant, sparkling Aggie.
“I want to go and live with Auntie Aggie and help her now David’s gone,” I announced after the funeral.
“Don’t be silly,” my mother said briskly. Then she took me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Look, Johanna, I know that Aggie’s always been your favourite person but… Aggie’s life wasn’t real. It was a fantasy. Real life is about responsibilities — going to school and getting good grades, going to university, finding a job, getting married and having a family. That’s what’s real and that’s what lasts. Look at your father and me. When we’re gone, you’ll still be here. But Aggie? She has nothing left now David’s gone — no children, no part of David to carry on his legacy. And when she’s old, she’ll be in a nursing home with nobody to visit her.”
One year later, Aggie had crashed her car into a tree on the anniversary of David’s death. The police said she was speeding and lost control but I’d guessed Aggie had nothing left to live for.
What if Aggie and David had had children? They’d have been there to comfort her. She’d look at them every day and see David in their eyes, their smiles, their gestures.
I’d hated to admit it, but what if my mother was right?
“Earth to Johanna… are you with me?” Stuart was staring at me.
“Of course I am.” I sighed and smiled and took his hand. This time he didn’t pull away. “I must still be drunk on Honeymoon-Koolaid, my Darling. I love it so much here… it’s like I’m on a different planet. I haven’t thought about real life, being married and having babies. Forgive me?”
“Only if you do that crazy thing with your tongue later.”
We laughed and rose to pay the bill. I tucked my arm in Stuart’s. “Let’s walk home via the beach for the sunset extravaganza.”
The setting sun had become an orange ball sitting low in the sky. Golden, sun-speckled waves hurled themselves onto the sand, drenching a group of paddling children, causing them to squeal in delight.
At the sound of their laughter I was suddenly seized with an overwhelming desire to find out what exquisite creatures Stuart and I might create.
Stuart was right. My mother was right. The time was right. I was ready, I just hadn’t admitted it to myself. All of a sudden, our previous existence felt shallow and selfish. I leaned back against Stuart’s chest and tucked my head beneath his chin, pulling his arms around my waist.
“Stuart… you know what we were talking about earlier? Well, I’ve just decided — Stuart?”
I tilted my head sideways to look at his face. Stuart was staring at a parade of teenaged girls slithering past, chattering and giggling, bikini-clad with tanned, flat bellies and high breasts.
I punched his arm. “Hey! You’re not supposed to be ogling jailbait! You’re a newly married man!”
Stuart smiled, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Don’t worry,” he said hugging me closer. “I’m just comparing them to perfection… and they don’t even come close.”
I laughed in delight… loving him, believing him.
And imbued as I was with the foolish smugness of a newly-wed, I also ignored the ‘ping’ in my head when I saw my husband’s lip curl in distaste when a large woman emerged from the swimming pool with voluptuous thighs and wobbling breasts.
What did I have to worry about after all? I was Stuart’s goddess, his Venus. I would always be enough for him.
Almost one month to the day after our return from Bali, I discovered I was pregnant.
To be continued…
