No Way to Behave at a Funeral. Noel Braun
home. He’s arranged to come to Angela’s first. You can tell him what we’ve done and why.’
‘No. We should go home and put all his things back.’
‘What if I ring Stephen’s mobile as soon as we were inside?’
‘Noel, I need to go to hospital.’
I didn’t know what to do. Should I drive straight to Royal North Shore or Northside? I wasn’t even sure how one was admitted to hospital. Did you just turn up? ‘You’ve got your appointment with the new psychiatrist in two weeks time. He might put you in hospital,’ I said.
‘Noel, I need to go to hospital now,’ Maris repeated, still wringing her hands.
Both my heart and mind were racing as we sat in the darkened car, Maris in crisis and filled with fear. What could I do? I wanted to do the best for her welfare. At the same time, for Stephen and Anthea’s sake, I was frantic for a smooth run, if it was at all possible, up to their wedding.
I took a gamble. ‘Perhaps we should go inside. The family’s waiting. We can think about hospital later.’
She seemed to accept the idea and reached for her handbag. That gesture of tucking her bag under her arm was so familiar, a signal she was ready for action.
I thanked God Stephen answered his mobile. ‘Of course, I’m not concerned. Anthea and I are on our way. See you soon.’
We had a very good night. We met Tim’s new partner Melissa, who came up to all our expectations. I could see they were very fond of each other. Stephen and Anthea arrived. The family settled down to the party with lots of music and chatter. We know how to enjoy ourselves, our mob. Maris took out her battered camera. We took many photos and had lots of laughs.
‘You kids are worse than the oldies,’ I said. ‘When you get together, you reminisce about the old days as if you’ve all lived a hundred years.’
I was still uneasy and kept a close eye on Maris. But I was relieved to see her smiling. She seemed to be beaming with maternal pride as they told their stories.
During the evening, she took her boys, Stephen and Tim, aside. I watched them in the corner of the lounge room. She held their hands firmly and looked them firmly in the eyes.
‘I love you.’
‘We love you, too, Mum.’
‘I’m so proud of you both. You’ve chosen such lovely girls as your partners.’
‘Thank you, Mum,’ they both said.
‘I’ve had a good life rearing my children to be the fine young people you are today.’ She gave each of them a prolonged hug.
Later, I noticed Maris was missing.
‘Where’s Mum?’ I kept saying.
‘Are you worried Mum might do something?’ asked Angela.
‘Yes.’ This was the first time I revealed my deep concern. Angela found her with the grandchildren. Maris adored her four grandchildren. She spent time with them reading and patted Eliza to sleep, which Eliza had never allowed before nor has allowed since. Angela told me she found Maris later sitting quietly in the bedroom, gently rocking herself. ‘Your mother’s going psychotic,’ Maris said.
When it was time to leave there was lots of kisses and hugs from Angela, Guy, Tim and Melissa. I’d had plenty to drink, so Jacinta drove. Maris and I sat in the back holding hands like young lovers. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. She did not respond as she usually did with a reciprocal kiss, but stared remotely ahead, immersed in her inner world.
The street lights flickered across my wife’s pale features. Her cheeks looked so soft and fragile. She was my delicate flower that I wanted to hold carefully and protect from all dangers.
Chapter 3
Saturday 30th was the day of Stephen’s bucks’ party. It was a warm, humid morning, typical of early summer. While Stephen and friends went paint-balling, I was to attend my training course and late in the afternoon Guy, Angela’s husband, and I would join the paint-ballers for dinner.
When I woke Maris was staring at the ceiling. ‘I need to go to hospital,’ she said. My racing heart echoed her pain and my head tried to gauge the depth of her terrible anguish. I felt helpless.
She rang in turn her GP, psychiatrist and psychologist, none of whom answered her call. I was distressed about her restlessness. I had to stay with her even though I didn’t know how to help her.
I rang Marie, a colleague at Lifeline, who was attending the Gestalt course, and asked her to offer my apologies. Maris seemed to calm herself when I told her I would stay with her.
I showered and dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. Even when under stress we slip into automatic and go through our routines. Each morning I squeezed us an orange drink. I had hers ready. She went into my home office before coming out to the kitchen.
‘I just want to dash up to Terrey Hills to get the books from Ginny,’ she said.
This sounded reasonable as I had heard them, both avid readers, discussing the books earlier in the week. ‘Have your orange drink and some breakfast first,’ I said.
‘I want to catch Ginny before she goes out.’
At that moment, I thought she had used the phone to contact Ginny when she went into my office. She took her car keys and dashed out the door to the garage before I could think. This sudden change confused me. I followed her out. I had it in mind to drive her. Too late. I caught a glimpse of her staring ahead as she drove her Blue Nissan Pulsar down our laneway.
She left just on 9 am. Thus began the longest morning of my life.
Tim and Stephen’s friends arrived for a barbeque breakfast. The smell of sausages and bacon drifted along our balcony as the young men gathered, chatting and laughing in anticipation of the day’s fun. I tried to reassure myself that Maris would be back soon with the books but as the clock advanced to 10 am dread possessed me. It was as though someone had intruded into a private inner space and violated something precious. Something was terribly amiss.
I mixed with Stephen’s friends and tried some small-talk but I couldn’t concentrate and wandered around the house waiting for I knew not what (but I really did). I tried to conceal my concern from Stephen. I did not want to upset his day. Besides Maris might be back any tick with her books and an excuse. Maybe Ginny kept her talking.
An hour later I looked down from the balcony and saw two police climbing our sixty steps to the front door. The knot in my stomach tightened as I waited for them to reach the house.
‘Do you own a blue Nissan Pulsar?’ the police sergeant asked.
‘Yes, I do. That’s my wife’s car.’
‘There’s been an accident. Would you go immediately to Royal North Shore Hospital?’ ‘What’s happened?’
‘Got no details. But here’s my mobile number.’
I was confused. I couldn’t think. Tim and Jacinta, waiting in the background, heard every word.
‘I’ll drive you, Dad,’ said Tim.
‘I’ll come, too,’ said Jacinta.
We drove down the lane in time to see some of Stephen’s friends already leaving. As the three of us were driving down Boundary Street, the police sergeant rang.
‘Is some one driving you?’
‘Yes. Why?’
He didn’t answer. There was only one reason why he’d ask such a question. But I tried to fill the vacuum with other possibilities. Another motor accident? Maris had written off her Toyota Corolla back in April. I felt my heart beating furiously at my ribs, as if it was trying to tear itself loose and abandon me.
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