move. The next instant, he wanted to shake her, hit her, make her tell him what was going on. Could she have
done this? The police obviously thought so. He was immediately ashamed to have even thought it: Anna would never hurt Jack.
It was impossible. What had she seen?
He suddenly realised how incredibly tired he was. He wanted to get into the narrow bed beside his wife and hold her, feel
her warmth and her heartbeat and her breath. They would cry for Jack together.
He hated to think of her waking up alone earlier; she would have been so confused, so terrified. That was why she’d been agitated,
it was the trauma of everything: the police, the tests, whatever she had witnessed today. It was possible that she didn’t
even know that Jack was dead. A shudder ran through him. How could he tell her?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He lifted it out and saw his mother’s mobile number displayed. He disconnected the call,
switched the phone off, then put it back in his pocket.
Some time later, someone brought in a styrofoam cup of watery tea, which he let go cold. Someone else told him that his dad
was outside, but he shook his head; he wanted to be alone. Faceless nurses padded in and out of the room, checking Anna’s
temperature, her pulse, her blood pressure. She didn’t wake up. He shivered. There was a chill in the room, and he noticed
through the small window that the doctors and nurses had put cardigans and jumpers over their scrubs. He pulled Anna’s blanket
up to her neck and tucked it around her body. He moved his chair closer and laid his head down on the bed so it was touching
her arm. When she woke up, he wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Six weeks before
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
Anna watched the grey light from outside begin to creep into the hospital room, softly edging its way through the gaps in
the blinds. It draped itself over the bed; she rolled away from it so it couldn’t reach her. She was sure she had only fallen
asleep a few minutes earlier. She blinked, yawned, then reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.
Tony sprang up. ‘Is everything OK?’
She looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes, I’m fine, babe.’
He yawned, then rubbed at the dark stubble on his face. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Tired. I don’t think I slept at all.’
‘Me neither,’ he said.
‘Yes, you did! You were snoring all night.’ She got up, and went to sit next to Tony. She leaned into him and ran her fingers
through his hair. He lifted his head onto her stomach, kissed it, then whispered to the baby that it was time to come out
now.
Closing her eyes, she savoured the peacefulness of that moment, knowing it would be the last time they would be a couple.
Soon, they would be a family.
* * *
She screwed her eyes closed and pursed her lips, panting, as the force of a contraction powered through her body.
‘Just do your breathing, babe,’ Tony said, holding her hand. ‘Remember, they said in the classes not to hyperventilate, you
need to slow down.’
‘Yes, I remember!’ She shook off his hand and moaned, looking up at the high window that let some daylight in to counter the
harsh white fluorescent light of the delivery room. The contraction started to ease.
‘Is it going away?’
She nodded. Her mouth was so dry; she licked her lips. ‘Can you get me a drink from the bag?’
Tony stood up from the chair beside her and went to the black daypack at the end of the bed. The bag had sat inside the front
door of their house for weeks, decorated with bright pink sticky notes to remind her of last-minute items to add before they
left for the hospital. Tony rummaged in the bag and found the drink. He unscrewed it for her, and she took a sip.
‘Thanks.’ She turned to the midwife, who was sitting at a small workstation with her back to them, looking as though she was
so absorbed in her work that she couldn’t hear everything that was
done this? The police obviously thought so. He was immediately ashamed to have even thought it: Anna would never hurt Jack.
It was impossible. What had she seen?
He suddenly realised how incredibly tired he was. He wanted to get into the narrow bed beside his wife and hold her, feel
her warmth and her heartbeat and her breath. They would cry for Jack together.
He hated to think of her waking up alone earlier; she would have been so confused, so terrified. That was why she’d been agitated,
it was the trauma of everything: the police, the tests, whatever she had witnessed today. It was possible that she didn’t
even know that Jack was dead. A shudder ran through him. How could he tell her?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He lifted it out and saw his mother’s mobile number displayed. He disconnected the call,
switched the phone off, then put it back in his pocket.
Some time later, someone brought in a styrofoam cup of watery tea, which he let go cold. Someone else told him that his dad
was outside, but he shook his head; he wanted to be alone. Faceless nurses padded in and out of the room, checking Anna’s
temperature, her pulse, her blood pressure. She didn’t wake up. He shivered. There was a chill in the room, and he noticed
through the small window that the doctors and nurses had put cardigans and jumpers over their scrubs. He pulled Anna’s blanket
up to her neck and tucked it around her body. He moved his chair closer and laid his head down on the bed so it was touching
her arm. When she woke up, he wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Six weeks before
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
Anna watched the grey light from outside begin to creep into the hospital room, softly edging its way through the gaps in
the blinds. It draped itself over the bed; she rolled away from it so it couldn’t reach her. She was sure she had only fallen
asleep a few minutes earlier. She blinked, yawned, then reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.
Tony sprang up. ‘Is everything OK?’
She looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes, I’m fine, babe.’
He yawned, then rubbed at the dark stubble on his face. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Tired. I don’t think I slept at all.’
‘Me neither,’ he said.
‘Yes, you did! You were snoring all night.’ She got up, and went to sit next to Tony. She leaned into him and ran her fingers
through his hair. He lifted his head onto her stomach, kissed it, then whispered to the baby that it was time to come out
now.
Closing her eyes, she savoured the peacefulness of that moment, knowing it would be the last time they would be a couple.
Soon, they would be a family.
* * *
She screwed her eyes closed and pursed her lips, panting, as the force of a contraction powered through her body.
‘Just do your breathing, babe,’ Tony said, holding her hand. ‘Remember, they said in the classes not to hyperventilate, you
need to slow down.’
‘Yes, I remember!’ She shook off his hand and moaned, looking up at the high window that let some daylight in to counter the
harsh white fluorescent light of the delivery room. The contraction started to ease.
‘Is it going away?’
She nodded. Her mouth was so dry; she licked her lips. ‘Can you get me a drink from the bag?’
Tony stood up from the chair beside her and went to the black daypack at the end of the bed. The bag had sat inside the front
door of their house for weeks, decorated with bright pink sticky notes to remind her of last-minute items to add before they
left for the hospital. Tony rummaged in the bag and found the drink. He unscrewed it for her, and she took a sip.
‘Thanks.’ She turned to the midwife, who was sitting at a small workstation with her back to them, looking as though she was
so absorbed in her work that she couldn’t hear everything that was
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