Chapter Nine #2
The dog next door started to bark. From inside the house, she heard Milo’s answering bark. Poor little guy. He probably needed a walk. Vanessa stood up. Lachy stood up too. He tried to look her in the eye. Tried to hold her there.
‘Mum?’
There were a thousand questions in that word, and she couldn’t answer any of them. She took the coward’s way out and avoided eye contact.
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, after a long moment, and he sounded uncertain.
She reached out and hugged him, and experienced for the thousandth time that sense of oddness, of discombobulation.
How was he taller than her? How was it that he had the wide shoulders of a man, when really, he was just a kid? She kissed him on the cheek.
‘Where’s practice?’ she asked.
‘It’s just tennis,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting Peter.’
‘At Grace Park?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay. See you later.’
* * *
Inside the house, she could hear the commentary from an AFL game playing from the living room television. Vanessa walked silently past the open door and upstairs. She went to their dressing room and packed a suitcase quietly. Pen’s advice had been very clear.
‘If you’re going to go, you need to go quickly.
There’s no point in dragging it out. You need to be living under a different roof when this thing breaks.
Don’t try to get him out of the house. He won’t want to go and you’ll end up in a back and forth.
The place will be sold eventually, and if you want it you can try to buy him out.
For now, distance is the most important thing. ’
In their bedroom, Vanessa felt a storm of emotion swirling just beneath the surface.
She forced it down. She packed her clothes, her underwear, her jewellery and her skincare.
Enough clothes for a week. Her workout clothes.
Her runners. Which shoes did she need? She ended up packing two suitcases.
She would send someone for everything else in a few days.
Someone discreet. Probably she’d have to pay a security agency or something, just to ensure that whoever did the work didn’t turn around and sell the story the next day.
Oh god.
At the back of her mind, the words from the Instagram comment section ran through her mind, again and again, in a nauseating loop. Could they be true? Please. Please god. Let them not be true.
She lugged the suitcases down the stairs. Put them by the front door.
She went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge for some reason.
Closed it again. Her charger was there, plugged into the wall.
She unplugged it and wrapped the cable into a neat circle.
The fruit bowl was half full. Her iPad was on the kitchen table.
She picked that up too. Lachy’s football boots were on the floor in the corner.
Oh god. God. Her heart was breaking.
Enough. Enough or she wouldn’t be able to do it.
She went into the living room. Robert was sitting on the couch, blindly staring at the television. The match was over. He was staring at an ad for life insurance. There were six empty beer cans on the table in front of him, and he held a seventh in his hand.
‘Robert.’
He looked up. ‘You’re home.’
He looked almost pleased. There was something vulnerable about his expression. Something terribly human.
‘I tried to call you,’ he said. ‘Three times.’
‘Sorry. It was a crazy day.’
‘The clinic told me not to come in. Paul Sawyer called. Said it would be better for everyone, including me, if I took some leave. That bastard. He was all apologies and understanding but he was delighted. I’m going to sue them.
I can’t fucking wait. I talked to the lawyer.
He’s filed a formal complaint with Victoria Police.
That woman was a complete fantasist. She’s not even a student at the university.
It’s insane that a detective even interviewed me without confirming the basic details.
Even more insane that the clinic isn’t standing by me. ’
His eyes were too bright, his face too flushed. The more he spoke, the more self-righteous his tone became. He was convincing himself. Vanessa could see it happening.
Had he done this too, every time he’d touched a girl who came to him for help? Convinced himself that he was helping them? That they wanted that from him? Her skin felt clammy. Sweat broke out on her lower back.
‘I’m leaving,’ she said.
His brow creased. ‘But you just got in.’
‘No. I mean I’m leaving you.’
It took a moment, then everything came crashing down. She saw understanding bloom slowly in his face, followed by distress, followed so quickly by anger that she wondered later if she’d imagined the hurt she’d seen so briefly.
‘You’re throwing me to the wolves.’
She couldn’t argue with him. Couldn’t claim to be doing anything else. Maybe their relationship was over. Maybe the love was long dead. But there was no doubt that she was leaving him when he was at his lowest.
‘I can’t do it, Robert. I can’t play the role of the dutiful wife.
Not in the face of what’s coming. It would be different if we still loved each other.
’ It wouldn’t be different, if he had done these things.
She needed to know for sure. He was either an innocent man under attack, or a horror who was getting what he deserved.
If he was that kind of man, a predator, how could she possibly have been married to him all of these years, and not have seen it?
If he was guilty, wouldn’t she too bear some of the blame?
She’d propped him up, been his wife, his financial support, contributed to his position in society, his appearance of respectability and reliability.
Oh god. She couldn’t live with the uncertainty. She needed to know the truth.
He shook his head, laughing cynically. ‘So now you don’t love me? How convenient for you, Vanessa. What excellent timing on your part.’
‘Robert, you haven’t loved me for years.’
He was going to argue the point. She saw him think about it, and decide not to bother trying. She closed her eyes. Whatever was left of the bond between them broke in that moment. And the break was raw, jagged and painful.
‘Did you do it?’ she said.
Outrage and fury bloomed in his eyes. ‘I told you. That girl—’
‘I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the others.’
‘What others?’
Vanessa’s mouth was dry. She wanted a cool glass of water.
A cool glass of wine, and a quiet apartment where she could sit by herself.
She felt panicky. She wanted to run away from this conversation, for all of it to be over, for it to be part of her distant past. ‘Have you ever touched a patient? Massaged their shoulders? Made a . . . made a move?’
She saw the answer in his eyes. A tiny, almost hidden hint of fear, before he began to bluster.
‘Of course not. Jesus Christ, Vanessa. That’s an appalling thing to suggest. Is this what you’re going to do?
Try to destroy my reputation so you can walk away squeaky clean?
It’s not going to be that easy. Two can play at that game.
’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Your audience wouldn’t be very impressed if they knew about your little pill problem, would they? ’
She’d had a knee injury, five years earlier.
There’d been a prescription for oxycodone, then another.
Work had been challenging, her anxiety had been intense.
There’d been another prescription, little blue pills that made everything a little bit easier.
For a few months, she’d spiralled, heading in the wrong direction.
Then she’d changed doctors. She’d tapered the pills down, then got rid of them completely.
But of course, in the wrong hands, that story could be made to look like something ugly.
Was this how things were going to be? Mudslinging of all kinds until her career was well and truly in the toilet?
‘I’ll call Henry and let him know. Lachy’s at the tennis club. I’ll go there now. Pick him up. I’ll tell him, if you’re okay with that. That I’ve decided to leave. I’ll take responsibility. Leaving . . . that’s on me. Lachy can decide who he wants to live with.’
‘I’m not leaving this house,’ Robert said. ‘I’ll fight you tooth and nail for this place.’
Vanessa took in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘You can have it, for now. Eventually, like everything else, it will have to go.’
There was more she could have said, but there were no words that would make anything better, or easier, or kinder.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I wish it could be different.’ She turned and walked away, and the sound of her heels on the marble floor echoed in her wake.