Chapter 52
CHAPTER 52
F riday morning, it was like the night before had never happened. Matthew scurried out of the house at daybreak to his other life, and I showered, fed the animals, acknowledged the psycho dogs next door, put on a load of washing and made a cup of tea. All before the clock struck seven.
When Lexi unexpectedly came down the stairs at seven thirty, I was full of love, sadness and hope for her. And Lexi? She was full of… well, Lexi was clearly full of cynical youthful anger.
‘How are you feeling, darling?’
‘Mum, I’m fine,’ she said in a bored, don’t mess with me voice. ‘Did you come into my room last night?’
‘After I got back from Robyn’s? Yes.’
‘I don’t remember. How is she?’
‘Still pregnant. Rampaging about men at antenatal class.’
Lexi held up her good hand and made a fist. ‘Girl power. Why do guys even exist? When we can clone ourselves, women will take over and men will survive solely to serve as our slaves.’
‘Maybe not in our lifetime, Lex.’
‘Maybe not in yours, but mine? It’s a given. ’
After Lexi had eaten some Vegemite toast, I tucked her up in bed with her iPad, a pile of magazines and chocolate biscuits.
‘What’s this?’ Lexi asked as she rummaged through the magazines. ‘You hate me reading these.’ Her wide eyes stared at Who and Girlfriend .
‘I know, so don’t ever say I don’t do anything nice for you. I stopped by the supermarket last night after Aunty Robyn’s class.’
‘You know I can read them all online, right?’
Lexi and I would be okay. I wasn’t so naive as to think there wouldn’t be many more times like this, some even more trying than the last few weeks had been – and I hadn’t entirely given up on the idea of fixing an AirTag to her neck – but generations of women before me had survived motherhood. I was in with a chance.
‘I’ll be home early, then if you feel like it, you can come to Christmas carols at Gus’s school tonight.’
‘Sure, whatever.’ She scowled at a House prawns and sausages on the barbecue; mango, avocado and lobster salad; pavlova, champagne and beer. Obviously, active beach-cricket snaps as well. Maybe a twenty-second video?’
‘Absolutely.’ She raised a brow. ‘If only all our Christmases could be that idyllic.’
For the next couple of hours, I fiddled with Christmas napery, Santa ornaments and other paraphernalia.
All done
I texted her when finished. She worked across several titles, so I was never sure which magazine meeting room she was in. Even the sporting magazines carried features such as What to eat when training for a half marathon . Dana was the go-to chef, especially when Mara was unavailable.
Her response was immediate.
Too easy. Please take them home with you.
What? No.
LOL! They’ll go to waste here. Also, don’t you have your son’s Christmas concert tonight? Hand them out. You’ll be adored forever more.
Doubt it. You sure you’re sure?
Get outta here.
Armed with a truckload of goodies, I arrived home at two. Lexi was asleep, Rupert and Cleo vying for prime position on her head. Not wanting to wake her, I did some house chores, watered the garden and then picked up Angus from school.
She was still asleep when Matthew arrived home. I gently nudged her. ‘Sweetheart, we’re about to leave for Angus’s concert. You up for it? Aunty Robyn’s coming. ’
She rubbed her eyes, momentarily confused. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘The better part of the afternoon.’ I handed her two pills. ‘You’re due for these.’
She swallowed them with water. ‘I’ll come.’
Gus, Lexi, Matthew and I arrived at school promptly at six. Gus looked adorable decked out in red shorts, a green Christmas tree printed on a white T-shirt and red sandals.
Matthew, as school security monitor, clutched his torch, brows furrowed. ‘Is this necessary? It won’t be dark until eight thirty, and by then, we’ll be heading home.’
Lexi sighed. ‘Dad, kids in bushes… they get up to all kinds of mischief.’
He gently elbowed her. ‘Speaking from experience, champ?’
I dropped off most of the Christmas-inspired treats to the sausage sizzle station (yes, I held a few back), much to the bemusement of the staff, and then tried to hand over twenty dollars for four sausage sandwiches.
‘Are you kidding?’ Mardi said, kindly. ‘Get out of here. You’ve contributed more than your share.’
Angus disappeared to find his tribe, and when Robyn arrived, we went to take our seats in the hall.
Matthew, suddenly relishing his role, halted. ‘I’ll stay outside. According to Lexi, I need to be vigilant.’
Robyn chortled. ‘Alert but not alarmed.’
‘Here’s a tip, Dad,’ Lexi said. ‘Look up. Vapers climb trees.’
‘Vapers?’
Robyn huffed. ‘Kids who vape.’
‘To avoid detection,’ Lexi added.
Moments later we were seated, and twenty-five minutes after that, Angus’s class performed a stilted but amusing four-minute skit about Rudolph saving Christmas, ending with a rousing rendition of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’. Intermission was called.
Lexi rolled her eyes. ‘I’m starting a petition about that song.’
‘Please, not tonight,’ I implored as we all stood and clapped.
‘I want an Insta post with all those little munchkins,’ Robyn squealed. ‘Angus in front with me. Hashtag love the festive season. Hashtag kids. Hashtag my handsome nephew. Hashtag thirty-six weeks and glowing. Hashtag never felt better.’
‘Yes, yes.’ We walked outside and found Angus. Matthew was a no-show, presumably in the bushes or perhaps up a tree.
‘Gus, come,’ Robyn yelled. He dutifully walked over. ‘I love your costume. Let’s do an Insta post!’ She high-fived him. ‘Hashtag Christmas.’
He grinned and a few mates joined in.
‘Okay, let’s do this quickly.’ I stood Robyn, Angus and his friends in front of the school Christmas tree. The sun was still beating down, but I’d adjust the light later to simulate evening. All the boys were dressed similarly to Angus. A couple wore antlers. ‘Ready?’ I positioned my camera.
‘Hey! What’s going on? You can’t take photos of kids.’
I looked around. Several other parents were taking pictures, presumably to post on Facebook.
A woman stepped forward, her face flushed angry and red. ‘I know who you are.’ She strode into Robyn’s personal space. ‘You’re that disgusting woman hashtagging about your wonderfully perfect pregnant life and posting impossible images of flawlessness.’
Robyn faltered. ‘I-I’m only doing my job.’
‘You’re setting a very bad example for teenage girls with all your airbrushing and pretence.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—’
‘Didn’t mean, didn’t mean. You’re a babbling filthy whore.’
Onlookers gasped. I turned to Lexi. ‘What the? ’
‘She’s Susie’s mum, Cissy,’ Lexi explained.
I glared at her. ‘Cissy? Really?’
‘Mum, I don’t choose the names. Go defend Robbie.’
‘Excuse me.’ I stepped between the women. ‘My sister is heavily pregnant and doesn’t need this stress.’
‘What she needs is to be taken down,’ Cissy barked.
‘Cissy, is it?’ I started.
‘Cilla!’
‘Sorry, Cilla, but bullying is a crime, and as a parent, you should know better.’
‘I’m not bullying and who are you, anyway?’
‘Kate, Lexi’s mother.’
She stared at me blankly.
‘I’m the mother of the teenager your daughter has been attacking online. Lexi, fell out of a tree yesterday while watching Susie and Hunter canoodling outside school grounds.’
Cilla laughed. ‘I hardly think that’s my problem. Your daughter should’ve been taught how to climb.’
‘And perhaps your daughter should’ve been taught not to bully others online.’ I looked more closely at Cilla, eyes squinting. ‘Wait, are you Chill86?’
I retrieved my phone from my bag and started furiously scrolling.
She gasped. ‘What?’
‘Chill86?’ I said, holding up my phone. ‘I knew there was something familiar about your posts. When not trolling, you sometimes post happy snaps like this.’ My screen filled with a sunny beach portrait of Cilla and Susie.
Robyn inhaled. ‘Why?’
Matthew, torch in hand, joined the group. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Cilla,’ I replied, pointing to the woman, ‘Or rather Chill86, has been trolling Robyn online, and her daughter, Susie, has been doing the same to Lexi. ’
‘This isn’t the place for domestics,’ Angus’s principal, Mrs Jordan, butted in, trying to shush the growing cluster.
Meanwhile several dogs had broken free from their restraints and had gone rogue; stealing whatever sausages they could find, defecating in rose bushes, and generally making nuisances of themselves.
‘Hang on.’ Arnaud appeared out of the throng. ‘Aren’t you and Cilla sisters, Mrs Jordan? I’ve met you and her at numerous sporting events. That would make you Susie’s aunt, wouldn’t it?’
Matthew piped up. ‘It just so happens, I found Susie and Hunter in a tree.’ He stepped aside to reveal two ashen-faced teens, then nodded towards Lexi.
She shrieked, then covered her mouth with her good hand. ‘Mum!’ Lexi pulled me aside and whispered, ‘I think they were having sex.’
‘Pardon?’
‘In trees. The grass in parks is too itchy.’
Way too much information. I’d never take Angus to the local park again for fear of being hit on the head by some naked teenager falling. Surely, this wasn’t normal. Thirteen-year-olds weren’t romping around in parks having sex, were they? I refused to believe it. But then again, why wouldn’t they? I was at school with several girls who weren’t virgins at thirteen. But now, it seemed so young. Far too young.
I hugged her tight.
Arnaud dipped his head. ‘So, Principal Jordan, you condone online bullying?’
And rampant tree-climbing sex , I thought to myself.
‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘If everyone could please calm down and take your seats to watch the second half of the concert. The children have been practising all term. And through the generosity of one of our favourite parents, Mardi Downes, you’ll all find a delicious Christmas treat in a decorative paper patty, on your chair. Be careful not to sit on it.’ She held up a square of White Christmas. ‘My favourite.’
‘When you go at her for Mardi stealing Dana’s baking glory,’ Lexi whispered to me, ‘you might want to mention that Rudolph forgives bullying.’
I nodded. ‘The irony isn’t lost on me.’
‘You should also mention Frosty the Snowman . Unacceptable patriarchal behaviour.’
After the concert, while Lexi, Gus and Matthew searched the grounds for vapers, Robyn, Cilla and I found a quiet bench, ate White Christmas, and Cilla told us her devastating story.
‘I’m sorry you lost your bub at thirty-four weeks, Cilla. I couldn’t imagine,’ Robyn said, eyes misty.
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘I’m sorry, Cilla. It would have been heartbreaking for you and your family believing they were weeks away from welcoming a newborn.’
She hung her head. ‘Susie was only three. She was so excited about being big sister to a baby brother. We’d already named him.’ She bit her lip. ‘But then as I thought we were on the home stretch, my baby passed away. No reason. My husband and I never recovered. He left two years later. Said he couldn’t deal with the sadness. What about my sadness and the fact that my body had failed me and couldn’t nurture my baby to term?’
She started to cry.
I wrapped Cilla in my arms. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the trauma you’ve endured.’
‘It’s been Susie and me ever since,’ she sobbed. ‘We have no other family.’
Robyn stiffened. ‘I’d like to get to know you, Cilla. I have a great family, obviously excluding Kate, but I don’t have a partner either.’ She gulped. ‘I’m really scared about being a single mum. Scared of fucking up.’
‘Well, if you want to know about fucking up’ – Cilla chortled – ‘I’m your gal. It’s been ten years, and I still haven’t dealt with my grief.’
‘Would it help to see someone?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m so embarrassed and ashamed. Saying outrageous things online. Taking out my anger and sadness on strangers.’ Cilla took a deep breath. ‘Poor Susie. Mimicking my behaviour. I honestly had no idea she was trolling Lexi, Kate. I’m so sorry. I really dropped the parenting ball there.’
I rubbed Cilla’s shoulder. ‘You’re not the only one guilty of that.’ I was thinking about how our collective behaviours had led to rampant mental health issues, not only affecting adults, but our children too. Okay, Robyn was a social influencer, projecting unattainable perfect lifestyles, but I was the photographer airbrushing those lifestyles. I wasn’t squeaky clean. Far from it.
‘If we’re taking honesty pills,’ Robyn said, ‘I’ll accept that I’m part of the problem. Hell! I am the problem! My Instagram posts give me social anxiety. Of course I can’t live up to the flawless image of myself.’
I laughed. ‘Excuse me?’
Robyn nodded. ‘I’m owning up.’
I took her hand. ‘So could we stop the madness, at least for Christmas?’
‘But I still haven’t got the perfect family Christmas photo.’
I shook my head. ‘That’s what we’ve been saying, Robbie; there is no perfect photo.’
Just then, Matthew, Lexi and Angus appeared.
Standing, Cilla said, ‘I could try and take a half decent one of you all. ’
Robyn and I stood, and I handed Cilla my phone. ‘Thank you.’
‘No airbrushing?’ Cilla asked.
‘None,’ Robyn agreed, then paused. ‘And you’ll get your troll army to lay off?’
Cheeks flushed, Cilla nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’
Minutes later, given our combined exhaustion and Cilla’s limited photographic skills, Robyn settled on a snap taken in front of the school Christmas tree. Angus appeared cross-eyed, Lexi poked out her tongue and held up her broken arm, I looked beyond worn out, Robyn screamed fat. As for Matthew wielding his torch? Plain demented.
All of us looked awful. I was very happy.
Before letting Robyn post it to social media, I showed Lexi the photo.
‘Ha… good choice,’ she said, examining it. ‘Robyn reminds me of times when I’m cramping so much I want to kill myself, but then the Panadol kicks in and I pull myself back from the brink.’ She sighed. ‘Like I don’t ever want to be a woman but then, do I want to be a child and cuddle my dog every day for the rest of my life?’
‘I absolutely know how you feel. But I’m your mum. I can take the weight off your shoulders if you’ll let me.’
‘Not when I’m in a tree, Mum.’