The rip, p.12
The Rip, page 12
I don’t want Penny’s accusing eyes on me. I don’t need anyone accusing me of anything.
Penny, 8.05 p.m.
The island police are now involved and these are not your big-city police. They live here, so they’re used to drunken idiots falling off boats and cyclists without helmets. They’ve never dealt with a missing child. They’re novices. One looks only as old as Rosie. The other looks like an old horse put out to pasture.
Georgia and William have joined the search in their matching tracksuits. We’ve alerted the whole street, asking residents to help search for my baby boy. I’m demanding the police alert the whole island, but Kav keeps reminding me, it’s only been half an hour, and Edmund’s a wanderer. He can’t have gone far in that time. But they don’t know the whole story: who Edmund used to be connected to and how I’ve watched him like a hawk for years. And Kav doesn’t know about Pearl, or my social media likes from an unknown person. She’s out of jail and he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know I often check her social media profile to scrutinise her life. Not that she gives much of it away in her random, erratic photos. A plastic bowl of orange crisps with the word: dinner. A tattoo of a pouting mouth, etched above her nipple. Lick my kisses. An empty flask of wine that’s floating in a lit-up pool. Lit. A picture of a salivating bulldog with a chain around its neck. Pup.
I know I can’t jump to conclusions, but I have to tell Kav now. I’ve been desperate to hide this information from him, to protect this blissful life we’ve built. Any drama, any problem could cause a crack. And I know first-hand what happens when a crack appears in a marriage.
We’re standing outside our villa when I say, ‘I need to tell you something.’
Kav shifts from foot to foot and sniffs, waiting, and I wish I’d told him sooner. All this lying, all these secrets only hammer a wedge into our smooth, loving marriage.
‘Pearl contacted me recently on social media.’ Kav frowns, sucking in a lip. ‘She’s out of jail and I didn’t want to tell you before because I instantly blocked her and that was that. Also, mentioning it to you and you getting worried would only freak me out even more.’
He crosses his arms and I suddenly feel sick for slapping him. Crack, crack, break. ‘What did she say?’
I fiddle with my wedding ring. ‘She said she misses Edmund and we never should’ve taken him off her.’
‘But then you blocked her?’
‘Yep. Straight away.’
He squints at me. ‘I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me.’
Twisting the ring around and around, I watch him watching me. ‘I hate negativity coming into our lives.’
‘You should never lie to me,’ he says, shaking his head.
‘It’s not a lie—’
‘It doesn’t mean anything though.’ He uncrosses his arms and twists around to the street at the party guests mingling. ‘I think we should tell the police, but I truly think he’s just wandered off.’
We tell the police, just in case, and the young cop says they’ll get authorities in the city to follow up on Pearl and Edmund’s biological father. That’s if they’re even still together.
‘But we’re still assuming he’s wandered,’ the older cop says, adjusting the torch in his belt. ‘It’s important we stay calm.’
And I know I need to remain calm, but it’s very difficult. Where would he wander, and why? The only hope I have is that he’s got lost while exploring. And he is the type of kid to just leave and wander off. Especially on his own. But not in the dark.
We’ve questioned the kids. Levi and Rosie were on their phones, watching YouTube, and Edmund was playing Monopoly Junior, with no one really joining in. Coco was watching an inappropriate family movie filled with violence and practical jokes and gorging herself with sugar. Edmund was halfway through the game when he apparently went off to the bathroom.
And didn’t come back.
Coco was too preoccupied by the movie and lollies and the teenagers weren’t even aware of anything other than their screens.
But he still didn’t come back.
More needs to be done. Julie has placed a jacket over my shoulders and Georgia has made me put on some sensible shoes so I can continue looking for him. I’m a shaking mess and I want to throw up. I do. In the bushes. It’s small and bitter and mostly fruit juice mixed with garlic kebabs. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I look up to see Eloise standing by her villa, holding herself and watching. It’s a peculiar expression, one I can’t accurately describe. Intrigue?
‘We’ve got a group of people down by the cliffs,’ Kav whispers in my ear, pulling my attention away from Eloise. ‘Just in case he went exploring down that way.’
I’m nodding, but not really absorbing what he’s saying. Someone hands me a tissue and I wipe my mouth, smelling sour garlic.
‘At what point do we alert the island?’ I ask the older police officer, who’s speaking to his colleague about which direction they’ll take. They don’t seem too alarmed by this. They look like I’ve just interrupted them from a gripping series on TV and this is really all a nuisance.
He gives a short smile and tucks that torch in again. ‘I’d say if we don’t find him by ten, then we’ll phone the city police. Remember, it’s only been thirty minutes, ma’am.’
‘And in that time, he could be drowning.’
The young cop has a smear of acne on his forehead. Way too young to deal with this. ‘Your husband says he likes to wander,’ he reminds me.
‘He does. But not at night, never at night.’
‘Let’s give it a while, Pen,’ Kav says, taking my hand and squeezing it. ‘He can’t be far.’
I want to scream. And cry. And vomit again. ‘I’m so angry at Rosie.’
Georgia rubs my shoulders with warm bony hands. ‘Now, now. We’ve got the whole road out searching. Someone will find him. Let’s take a breath for a moment.’ She has a wobbly voice, as though she’s worried too, yet wanting me to calm down. She doesn’t want me to get into a bad state, she keeps saying. Not now that they all know. I’m pregnant, I’m vulnerable, and they love me more because of it. I’m now officially part of their tribe. If I lose this baby due to stress, then I’ve lost three altogether.
And maybe losing Edmund is my punishment for what I’ve done.
Eloise, 8.45 p.m.
Penny is actually human when she’s suffering. It’s the first time I’ve seen her like this. She doesn’t care about the running mascara, the vomiting in the bushes, even with everyone watching. This situation is making her real. I’m no longer looking at a celebrity I can’t touch or get near. Although I’m choosing to stay clear because she looks like the type to flip in an instant. I’ve seen her now with Rosie. I’ve seen what she’s capable of.
I’ve joined Julie and Sal to search for Edmund by the lighthouse. A couple of minutes ago, the police brought out a map of Rottnest and we’ve chosen to trace sections of the island with torches, in groups of three. While the cops spoke to the group, I hung back, scared their eyes would land on my face. We’ve all dispersed in every direction and, through Penny’s persuading, at 9 p.m. the whole island will start searching while the mainland police are contacted. I guess that’s when things will get serious.
People are really worried, pale-faced and rugged up in jackets and sneakers to begin searching properly. We’re going to be searching the town areas and popular tourist spots, beaches, caves, golf course and playgrounds. And after that, we’re doing the rest of the island.
‘Does he like lighthouses?’ Julie asks Sal and I as she cycles in front of us, puffing with the exertion. I can’t imagine she’d do much exercise.
‘I don’t know Edmund that well,’ I say.
‘I do,’ Sal says. ‘He loves anything out of the ordinary.’
‘He’s a strange kid,’ I say. And then wish I hadn’t. It’s not the right thing to mention, but it’s true, he’s always had a darkness to him, a face with no expression. I can imagine him as a baby lying there on the rug, people smiling, trying to coax a grin, a laugh out of him. I can imagine him like someone from The Addams Family or a horror movie. A child no one wants.
‘Julie said his biological parents are dodgy,’ I say, riding beside Sal.
Her blonde flowing hair smells of peach and teenage skincare. Her bum is tight in expensive activewear that looks like she’s packed it just for this occasion. It bobbles ahead as we ride up the hill. She shrugs. ‘And?’
Perhaps I’m the only one being morbid.
When we reach the top of the hill, we rest our bikes up against the rough wooden fence and start walking up the rocky path that winds against the ocean. It’s so much bigger at night. A blanket of never-ending black. The stars are much brighter out here. The wind stronger. I hold myself. It’s an eerie place to be. Waves crash against the cliff to the right of us, pounding like a warning. Up ahead, the white lighthouse looms over the cliff like a sheeted ghost. Yellow light fans around and then disappears. But you can hear the whir of it. You feel the shipwrecks out there. It’s a desolate place. I’m glad the women are here with me.
When we get to the top of the lighthouse, I’ve almost forgotten why we’re here. It’s not until Julie shouts out ‘Edmund’ and the wind carries her strong soaring voice out to sea that I hold in a breath.
‘What if it’s his real parents?’ I say to the waves. Julie and Sal can’t hear me. ‘What if they’ve come to take him back?’
Penny, 9.03 p.m.
I fear it’s all going to come out and now there are witnesses here, ready to watch me fall. As the police officer hops into his car, radios back to the city and the search for Edmund becomes serious, I’m paralysed by the wall outside our villa. Pearl and Edmund’s biological father can’t be found. They’re either out partying on a Saturday night or they’re here. But they aren’t answering their phones and I don’t know how long until officers visit their home. Kav is the only one who knows what I’m thinking, the only person who worries like I do.
‘I think someone took him,’ I utter in a voice so small it sounds like Edmund. Kav runs his hands through his hair and looks at me. We’ve been searching for an hour, calling out Edmund’s name. Scouring the main beaches on the bay, the caves, the cliffs, the lighthouse, the campsite, the town, near the pub, down the three roads that run adjacent to the ocean, one behind the other. But he’s gone. Without a trace.
‘And if it’s not them, then it’s someone else,’ I say.
‘What makes you say that?’ Kav says as the younger police officer looks up from his phone. He’s communicating to someone back on land but trying to listen in to me. The rest of the party guests have left us alone to keep searching, while Kav and I have returned to our villa, coming together in a moment of messy hugs and crying.
‘I saw someone strange staring at me,’ I tell him. ‘Yesterday in town. He gave me the creeps and I don’t know why.’ I say this to Kav and the police officer hangs up his phone and tells us back-up – police and forensics – are coming over by helicopter. There’s no need to ask the island tourists to search.
‘They’ll be here in twenty minutes,’ he says, stepping out of the car. ‘And we’ll be searching all the villas along here and in the other bays.’
‘Good.’ I stare at him, blinking. ‘Because I think someone has taken my son.’
‘But who would Edmund leave with?’ Kav says. ‘Someone would have seen him leave.’
I shrug, lip wobbling, staring into Eloise and Scott’s dark villa. Her kids are in there, sleeping. ‘I don’t know. What about that person I saw at The Basin last night? They were watching us.’
‘You can’t be certain you saw someone—’
‘But I know my son,’ I snap. ‘He wouldn’t tell the kids he was going to the toilet and then just leave and ride away to go exploring.’
‘He does like to wander—’
‘Not at night,’ I shout, turning away from Kav. ‘He wouldn’t ride off at night.’
Kav doesn’t reference the ‘my son’ comment. He lets me say it because he knows where that comes from. Kav and I aren’t so different. Ignorance is paradise and he appreciates that as well as I do. How often do we choose denial over truth, silence over conflict, sex over arguments? How often do we kiss over unsaid words and smile away the glares? To cuddle instead of push, to laugh instead of cry, to drink wine over water. Pleasure is the only driving force of life. Pain is too constant if you allow it in. Much better to bandage over the weeping cuts. Much better to dose ourselves in lies.
We’ve become that way now. Better liars than saints, better lovers than liars.
‘This is karma.’ I speak into my hands. ‘All karma.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Kav says, going back to his bike. ‘There’s still twenty minutes until they arrive. That’s twenty minutes where we could be looking.’
‘It’s my fault,’ I say, hanging my head.
He starts to ride off. ‘Okay, it’s your fucking fault.’
And he always lets me win. It’s just easier that way.
On Sunday mornings I collapse in a heap by the washing basket full of folded clothes. I don’t know why it happens in that spot, but I figure it has something to do with the laundry sink. Most mothers use them as baby baths.
The washing machine becomes a change table with the towel spread out while the baby soap rests on the edge along with the nappy. New parents fill the basin, testing the temperature with their elbow, and gently lower their fat, wrinkled babies into the basin, where they kick like frogs and make cooing noises. I have my back against the washing machine and that’s where I lose it.
We built our first house without baths. Edmund only ever has showers. So that basin, large and silver and deep enough to hold a new baby, stirs the rage and guilt inside me.
I wait until no one’s home. I lock the laundry door and go about folding the washing, humming and pretending as though it’s not going to happen this week. But it does and has happened every week for thirteen years. Life just gets too much and the mental exhaustion of trying to keep this family happy, afloat and loving is too much to balance.
I now have everything I’d ever wished for. An expensive house most people envy, a healthy son who loves his school and friends. I have a happy husband who goes out of his way to care for and love us all, even Rosie. I pray she’ll return to normal soon. But overall, there is no sickness, no poverty, no addiction, no toxic people surrounding us. Kav’s medical practice is flying. We have it all.
But once upon a time, thirteen years ago, I’d been in the same situation. Another loving husband, a happy daughter, a beautiful house, an eight-week-old baby boy. And then it all came crashing down around me. That’s why Kav can’t know anything about before. He has to believe what I’ve been showing him since we first got together. In my previous marriage, if I’d been better, cooked better, looked better, fucked better, birthed better, mothered better, it never would have happened.
It was my fault then and it’s my fault now.
Eloise, 9.13 p.m.
We return from the lighthouse the same time as the others, who are congregating on the street with their bikes. It’s like an eighties school camp, a meet-up where one of us has dared the other to go night cycling. I expect to see backpacks and torches and some dinking others on the back. But it’s not camp, it’s not fun. This Edmund missing business is serious. I see it in the wrinkled face of Brett, in the dishevelled hair of Georgia, who looks like she should be in bed with a novel and a nightcap.
Scott’s had to stay here with Coco and Levi, but he now wants to switch places with me, mutters a jibe about being more useful and knowing where to look.
‘Like where?’ I whisper, poking my head around the bedroom door. Coco’s in my bed, with her teddies bunched under her arms. Imagine if it were her. I grip the door frame, my nails marking the paint. ‘How will you know where to look?’
Scott plucks a jumper from the suitcase. ‘Kav said he’s an explorer. Likes wandering off at the park.’
He pulls a cap on as though a hat in the dark will be the key to finding Edmund. Really, it’s just habit. He wears a cap most days and shorts even when it’s cold. I love and hate that I know that about him.
‘I heard Penny say she thinks someone’s taken him,’ I whisper. Coco’s stirring. We need to leave the bedroom and the milky sweaty smell of her. But I don’t want to open the window. Not now. Not now Edmund’s missing. ‘What if it’s his biological parents? Have you heard about them?’
He ties his jumper around his waist and nods. ‘Yes. A little. Kav doesn’t really like to discuss it with me.’
I find myself sucking in air. ‘Do you think they’d come and take him?’
‘I don’t know,’ he shrugs and looks back at Coco. ‘Let’s hope he’s okay.’
We’re both looking at our baby. ‘What if it’d been Coco?’ I say.
I don’t see it, but I feel the back of his hand stroke my cheek and it makes me flinch unexpectedly. ‘We’d get through it,’ he says. We stare at one another and for the briefest of moments, his eyes land on my lips. Like he’s about to kiss me. But then his lashes flutter and he looks away, stepping back from the door and from me.
I’m holding my breath, watching him gather his phone and villa key off the table, and my cheek tingles with absence. How will I ever get him back again? What will it take? Not a blow job. Not even a night out together without kids. I can’t remember the last time we ever had a night like that, with oysters, thick menus, a candle between our glowing faces. I want you back. But how? How?
‘I hope you find him.’ I sniff.
‘It’ll only take one person to figure out where he’s gone.’
And this is what we do. Often, our words provoke and harm in roundabout ways. We manipulate and prod each other beneath monotone voices. Just the rise in pitch, the rise in volume will hint at the emotion we carry for each other. So, we speak levelly, evenly, purposefully wanting to damage the other for the hurt we feel, the absence of touch, love, sex, partnership. And as soon as Scott leaves the room, the house, the car, the table, the yearning for his affection, attention, is so great, I feel I’m drowning. And no matter what I do, I’ll never resurface, never be back the way he wants me. So, we remain bitter and sharp with barbed-wire words that cut and slash.
