Mother Undone — Part Thirteen
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 where she revisits her marriage and her horrific discovery that her husband purposely murdered their children to get revenge on her.
Johanna tries to concentrate on the book she is writing with her friend, Kate, only to discover that Kate is not what she seems…
THE PRESENT
It was only by chance I heard it at all. At a café next door to my office.
A community radio program was interviewing writers about their books. I nearly upended my coffee when I heard Kate’s voice.
“- Hi everybody! Welcome to another episode of Literary Lovers Radio. Today I’m delighted to welcome emerging writer, Kate Lovering. Kate’s a history teacher by trade and she’s writing a book about an infamous female poisoner who lived right here in Melbourne in the 1890s. Hi Kate! How’s it going?
- It’s going great, Maggie! How about you?
- Thrilled to have you on our show, Kate. By way of background for our listeners, can you tell us what your book’s about and what inspired you to write it?
- I’d love to Maggie! My book’s a fictional story based on a real-life murderess, Martha Needle, executed in the Melbourne Gaol in 1894. She was nicknamed The Richmond Poisoner and she succeeded in murdering her husband, her three children and her fiancé’s brother using arsenic.
- Whew! That’s quite a body count!
Kate’s laughter.
- You’re right Maggie. Nowadays she’d be classified as a psychopathic serial killer.
- Tell our listeners what inspired you to write about this woman.
- Thanks for asking, Maggie. When I first heard Martha’s story, I was absolutely fascinated. I mean, what possesses a mother to kill her own children? At her trial, the Prosecutor used greed as Martha’s motive. They tried to prove she poisoned her victims for money. Martha’s lawyer on the other hand tried to use the defence of madness — both as her motivation and as a means for her to escape the hangman. Today, the general consensus is that Martha Needle was insane when she committed her crimes.
- Okay… I’m guessing there’s a But somewhere…?
More laughter from Kate.
- How perceptive you are Maggie! Maggie and Kate laugh together. You’re right though. I’ve always felt the explanations offered were too convenient… too easy. Essentially, my book asks: what if there was another reason entirely?
- And is there?
- Aha! You’ll have to read the book to find out! But I can say that when Martha’s crimes are analysed from a modern-day perspective, the results are quite intriguing.
- Wow. Your book’s a definite for my Must Read list. When your novel gets published to great acclaim, it’d be wonderful to have you back on the show and get some reader feedback…”
I tuned out after that. It felt like a sledgehammer had just hit me square in the chest.
What was Kate doing? Martha was our story, not just hers! Why hadn’t she mentioned anything to me about being interviewed on the radio? Was that why I’d only gotten Kate’s voicemail over the last few days and why the texts I’d sent had gone unanswered? Was Kate actually hiding from me?
I couldn’t believe Kate on the radio… glib, charming, self-aggrandising… taking full credit for the conclusions we’d reached together. Damn it Kate! I thought we were friends. I thought we were doing this project as a team. We hadn’t even got the full story yet. There was so much more to find out. I punched out Kate’s number. It went straight to voicemail.
I sipped my coffee. It was cold and tasted foul. I slammed it back onto the table. The lid flew off and coffee splashed all over the sleeve of my white shirt. Shit!
When I returned to the office, I tried to concentrate on a speech I was writing but all I could hear was Kate’s radio voice on a continuous loop inside my head. I tried Kate’s number again willing her to answer, wanting to hear her squirm as she stuttered and stammered her excuses, then wishing she was standing in front of me so I could shake her and yell in her face and ask Why?
My tears blurred the characters on the computer screen. I pleaded a headache and left early to go home.
Two days later, Kate still wasn’t answering my calls so I decided to visit her in person. She could hardly slam the door in my face if I appeared on her doorstep… could she? It was five-thirty on a Thursday, plenty of time for Kate to have finished her classes and arrived home.
“Hola,” A male voice with a strong Spanish accent greeted me when I pressed the buzzer at Kate’s front gate.
I hesitated. Was it Ramon, her long-lost ex? Maybe I should leave.
“I suppose you’ve forgotten your keys again?” The voice sounded irritated.
So Kate wasn’t home yet. I made a quick decision. “My name’s Johanna. I’m a friend of Kate’s.”
A sigh. “You’d better come in.” The gate clicked. I pushed it open and stepped onto the porch.
A man opened the front door. He was tall and thin with tousled dark hair and curved, sensuous lips wearing crumpled linen trousers and bare feet. He put out his hand. “Johanna.” It was a statement rather than a question. “I’m Ramon. Pleased to finally meet you.”
Ramon stared at me so hard I felt uncomfortable. Had Kate been talking about me to her ex-husband?
I took his hand. His grip was firm as he pumped my hand up and down. “Come through.” I stepped into Kate’s familiar living room. Ramon led me down the narrow passage to the kitchen.
“Have a seat while I make us a drink,” Ramon said, his head disappearing into the refrigerator. A half-empty glass stood on the kitchen bench, melted ice cubes swimming in a cloudy liquid.
I sat on one of the stools lining the bench and stared out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Kate’s compact back yard. Outside, the shadows were lengthening, the stretch of sky along the horizon now a deep, burnt orange. Chill music sounded from a pair of speakers and a cluster of votive candles flickered enticingly at the end of the bench. It looked like Ramon had a romantic evening planned.
I felt a sting of envy. “Are you expecting Kate home soon?” I asked.
Ramon shrugged but didn’t turn around. “Do you like Margaritas?”
“It’s after five o’clock… why not?”
“They’re Kate’s favourite. But I’m sure you know that already.” Ramon’s voice sounded bitter.
This was getting weird. The penetrating stare… the way Ramon said my name when I arrived… as if he already knew who I was. Where was Kate? And why was Ramon acting like he didn’t care?
I cleared my throat. “Sorry to land on your doorstep unannounced. I wanted to talk to Kate. When do you expect her home?”
Ramon ignored me. He dipped two glasses into a saucer of salt then poured the Margarita over crushed ice, garnishing it with a slice of lemon. “Here’s to the perfect Margarita,” he said, handing me a glass.
I hadn’t eaten since breakfast… the tequila would go straight to my head. I took a large sip and then another, the metallic, citrusy tang of the cocktail combined with the salt tasting surprisingly good. A delicious warmth spread through my body.
Ramon’s eyes never left my face. “What do you think?”
“It’s good.”
Ramon opened a drawer and pulled out a half-empty packet of cigarettes. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I used to smoke myself many years ago.”
“I gave it up for nearly ten years,” Ramon said, taking a deep drag and blowing a perfect smoke circle into the air above his head. “Funny how I only took it up after seeing Kate again.”
Ramon turned to the speaker behind him. Seconds later, Morrissey’s smooth, mahogany baritone burst into the kitchen. He pulled out a stool and sat next to me, so close our knees almost touched. Then he turned his face to mine and peered at me through narrowed eyes and a cloud of smoke. “Johanna,” he said softly. His breath smelt of alcohol. “So how did you and Kate actually meet?”
“At a therapy group.” I took another sip of my Margarita. “For suicide survivors.”
“Ah. Is that what Kate told you? That she tried to commit suicide?”
What was he implying? “She said when you threw her out, she took too many sleeping pills and that you found her and took her to hospital.”
Ramon smirked. “That’s her story?”
“Isn’t it the truth?”
“Kate took an overdose… that’s true. But it wasn’t from sleeping pills. It was Ecstasy from the nightclub where she went to drown her sorrows. Her friends rang me from the hospital.”
My face suddenly felt hot. “Are you sure?”
Ramon pulled out his mobile telephone and scrolled through his voicemail log. “You can listen to her friend Anthony if you don’t believe me.”
Why did Kate lead me to believe she’d attempted suicide if she hadn’t? And why did she attend that stupid Suicide Survivors’ Group when she hated it so much? “I believe you,” I said slowly.
“You’re wondering why Kate lied, aren’t you?” Ramon gave a long exhale. “Because Kate’s a fucking liar, that’s why. She’s a narcissist who wants attention and when she doesn’t get it, she goes crazy and acts like a dick.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look… Johanna. You seem like a nice woman. A nice, naïve woman who believes what people tell her and takes everyone she meets at face value.” Ramon stubbed out his cigarette in a pottery ashtray. “Do you want to know what really happened to Kate and me and why we broke up?”
“Kate told me she had an affair.”
Ramon sighed. “Well, she got that bit right.” He stared at his hands folded on the bench. “Kate probably mentioned we started seeing each other while I was still married. I was her Spanish tutor.”
“She mentioned that, yes.”
“We had an affair — I’m not proud of it. I behaved abominably towards my wife and, when she found out, I deserved everything I got. I went back to Spain — I’m from Barcelona — and Kate turned up on my doorstep. She followed me there. We lived in Barcelona for a year then Kate begged me to come back to Australia with her. She promised we’d get married… I wanted kids. My wife and I couldn’t have them. Kate promised we’d get married and have the family I always wanted.” Ramon paused and stared at the wall.
“Go on,” I said gently.
“Another fucking lie. She had no intention of having a child and giving up her freedom.”
I stared at my drink, not knowing what to say. Ramon’s misery was real.
“We came back to Australia and got married,” Ramon continued. “After a year I asked when Kate was going to give up the Pill. She promised she would. Then I found her birth control pills at the bottom of her underwear drawer. She was still taking them. I confronted her. She went off at me and accused me of trying to trap her… tie her down. I couldn’t believe it. But you promised, I said. Kate denied it. We talked. I thought I’d finally gotten through to her. She agreed to finish the month and then we’d start trying for a baby. I was so happy…” Ramon’s voice drifted off.
“But it never happened?”
Ramon emptied his glass and banged it back onto the counter. “It gets worse. She’d been having an affair. I never found out who it was. I think she met him on Tinder… some married asshole who wanted to screw around on his wife.”
My belly quivered.
“I never guessed. We still slept together. I thought things were fine.” Ramon gave a short laugh. “Every time we fucked, I imagined a little sperm cell swimming up to meet one of Kate’s eggs…” He lit another cigarette. “I found the pregnancy test kit at the bottom of the outside rubbish bin. Odd, I thought at the time, but decided Kate wanted to keep it a secret so she could surprise me later. I waited for her to tell me… and waited. Finally I confronted her. When were you going to tell me? I asked. What? she said, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. The baby, I said. What baby? Then it all came out.”
“What came out?”
“The truth. She had been pregnant… but she’d had an abortion. I was fucking devastated. How could you? I asked her.” Ramon ran a hand through his hair. “She fucking killed our child like it was nothing… that’s when Kate told me it wasn’t our child. It was his. The man she’d been having an affair with. That’s why she had the termination and that’s why I threw her out.” He rose from his seat. “Do you want another drink?”
I gripped the edge of the bench with both hands feeling disorientated, dizzy. My skin felt hot. Not only had Kate had an affair, she’d become pregnant to her lover then aborted the child when her husband found out. What else hadn’t she told me?
“Drink?” Ramon repeated.
“Just water please. I have to drive.”
He opened the refrigerator and poured me some water from a jug then splashed some straight tequila into his empty glass and raised it. “I suppose you’re wondering why, after everything Kate’s done to me, I chased her to Melbourne?”
“Why did you?”
He shrugged. “I love her… she’s like a drug I’m addicted to. Even after everything that’s happened, I have to believe we’ve got something worth saving.” Ramon eyed me over his glass. “Kate’s bloody lucky to have you for a friend, you know.”
Ramon was starting to slur his words. What could I say? Sorry for your pain? He’d just described how Kate ripped off his skin and flayed him alive and now he was back for more.
“That’s why I’m here Ramon. Kate and I haven’t spoken for weeks. We’re working on a project together — she might have told you about the book — but she went on radio without telling me and I haven’t been able to get hold of her on the phone. Has she said anything to you about — ” I broke off. Ramon was staring at me and frowning. “What’s the matter?”
“Jesus Christ!” Ramon slumped forward and dropped his head into his hands. Groaning, he grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled. He thumped his fists on the bench.
“Ramon! What have I said? Please, tell me what’s wrong!”
Ramon gazed at me, his eyes bright and feverish. Sweat beaded his forehead. “I’ve just realised… it’s you. You’re the one.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ramon groaned again and curled his arms around his head. “My fucking, fucking wife,” he moaned. “She’s gone too far this time. I’ll never forgive her for this! Never!”
“Forgive her for what? What else has Kate done that’s so terrible?”
“Wait here.” Ramon disappeared into another room. I heard the sound of drawers being yanked open and items flung to the floor. He reappeared a few minutes later holding a scrapbook. “I found it when I first arrived… at the bottom of Kate’s wardrobe. I looked through it and wondered why she had such a depressing collection. When I asked her, she went pale then got angry and accused me of snooping. She said it was research for a book… I’ve always known Kate wanted to write so I just shrugged it off. When you arrived, I thought you looked familiar but I couldn’t place where I’d seen you before — ”
Ramon handed me the scrapbook abruptly then dropped into a chair and rubbed his face.
I opened the scrapbook. It was all about me.
I turned the pages. A black and white photograph of Stuart stared out. Next came photographs and stories about the children. One section was devoted to Stuart’s trial. Kate must have trawled through all the local and interstate newspapers and collected everything she could possibly find. There was even a colour spread from Who Magazine about fathers who killed their children. I remember Marion taking a call from the journalist requesting an interview. I’d declined.
I closed the scrapbook, shaken. “I-I don’t understand… why would Kate have done this? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Ramon pulled out another cigarette and jammed it into his mouth. “I always wondered why Kate chose to run away to Melbourne. Now I know… she found out you were living here!”
“But why would she follow me to Melbourne? Because of the news articles? Is she some sort of ghoul that gets off on victims of crime?”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what, for God’s sake?”
Ramon waved his hand over the scrapbook. “Kate collected all this information about you, then runs away to Melbourne and just happens to run into you at a suicide therapy group and you just happen to become her new best friend — ” He pressed his fist against his mouth and shook his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No, but — ”
Suddenly it was. I knew what Ramon was trying to say. My chest tightened. Nausea rose in my throat.
Kate’s lover and the father of her child was my husband, Stuart Fletcher.
Ramon’s eyes searched my face. “You’ve guessed, haven’t you?”
I nodded tightly. Kate’s perfume. I had smelt it before. On my husband.
“Jesus, Johanna. I’m really sorry you had to find out this way.” Ramon’s jaw clenched. “Looks like we’ve both been taken for a ride,” he said bitterly.
I jumped to my feet, upsetting my glass. It rolled off the bench and smashed onto the tiles below. Ramon moved towards me. I pushed his hand away, ignoring his cry of dismay. I didn’t care.
I just knew I had to get out.
To be continued…
