The Good Sister(80)

Wally turns his head to face me and his glasses slide down his nose. ‘So your mother really never did those things in Rose’s diary?’

‘No.’ I think about that. ‘I mean . . . there were moments of truth in there . . . but they weren’t to do with Mum. It’s as if Rose just unearthed all our memories and recast them so she was the victim. Mum never broke our things or left us overnight or locked Rose in her room.’

‘They were all lies,’ Wally says.

‘Yes,’ I say. Then I hesitate. ‘Or maybe it’s the way Rose thinks things happened? I know that when we have recollected things together, her versions are always a little bit different to mine. Bigger, more dramatic. And she always adds things she couldn’t possibly know, like why people did what they did. But the way she tells them, it feels like she believes it is true.’ I pause.

‘What is it?’ Wally asks.

‘There was another part of the diary that I wondered about. About one of Mum’s boyfriends. Gary. She said he did something to her in the swimming pool. I think that part might be true.’

Wally frowns. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because he tried something similar with me.’

Wally rises up onto an elbow, balancing Willow between his chest and other arm. ‘Your mum’s boyfriend–’

I hold up a hand. ‘He didn’t hurt me. I gave him a knee to the groin and he didn’t try it again. It never occurred to me that he might try it on Rose. I should have looked out for her better. I hate the idea of something bad happening to Rose. Even now, I hate it.’

‘Unfortunately, that sentiment isn’t reciprocated,’ Wally says. ‘If it were, Rose wouldn’t have falsified a diary intended to keep Willow from you.’ He stands up and carries Willow over to the bassinet.

‘The part I don’t understand is why she lied about what happened the night Billy died. She didn’t need to lie about that. I did drown Billy! Why did she need to say that she wasn’t there when he died?’

Wally frowns. ‘That is weird.’ He puts Willow down. Standing upright again, he becomes very still. ‘You said it was Rose’s idea to hold him under,’ he says slowly. ‘And she kept time while you held Billy down?’

‘Yes.’

‘And didn’t you say if felt like a long time? Maybe it was a long time?’

It takes me a minute to understand where Wally is leading me. Rose told me to hold Billy down. She told me how long to hold him. And then she made up a story saying she wasn’t there.

‘It makes sense. Why else would she need to make up a story about it?’ Wally says.

‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t think Rose would do that.’

‘I’m sorry, Fern,’ Wally says. ‘But I think she would.’

It takes me a minute to realise the ramifications of this. ‘So I didn’t kill Billy?’

Wally shakes his head. ‘I don’t think you did.’

Before I know it, tears are streaming down my cheeks. ‘If this is true, Wally . . . it means I can be trusted with my baby! Doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, Fern.’ Wally wipes a tear from my cheek. ‘It does.’

I let out a sob. Wally comes to my side and I allow him to hold me for the longest time. It doesn’t even bother me the tiniest bit.

I can be trusted with my baby, I tell myself. I can be trusted with my baby!

I understand it’s true. It’s just that, after all these years, it’s going to take me a little longer to believe it.





Three months later . . .


I sit on the floor with my legs crossed and Willow in my lap. Linda stands in front of me wearing a pair of giant white underpants over the top of her clothes, and a bright red cape – Captain Underpants. She zooms around the room, her cape flapping behind her.

We’re at Baby Rhyme Time. Sixteen mothers sit on the floor cross-legged with their babies balanced in their laps. An additional four mothers sit on chairs at the back, breastfeeding or pushing their strollers vigorously, trying to get their babies to settle. Wally sits on the floor beside me, watching Linda curiously.

‘Tra-la-LAAAAA,’ Linda cries, taking off across the room again.

I have to lip-read because I’m wearing my noise-cancelling headphones. They’re big ones – the ones that look like earmuffs – and I’m wearing them over the straps of my black-tinted goggles. Wally is also wearing headphones and goggles, as he doesn’t like to be left out. We’ve been coming to Rhyme Time every week for three months now. Willow enjoys it and it’s one of the few places where no-one stares at our accessories. In fact, a few weeks ago, the funniest thing started happening. A little boy, the older brother of one of the babies, had come in wearing a little pair of headphones and goggles too. His mother told Wally he’d always found the music a bit loud and our solution, she thought, was genius. The following week, another child was wearing them. This week, half a dozen babies and toddlers have them on.

Last week, Carmel had asked if I’d consider facilitating a Sensory Rhyme Time session, where the music would be soft and the lights kept low. I’d agreed before she’d finished asking the question. Since Willow and I were released from hospital, Wally and I have divided our time between staring at Willow and frantically reading books about how to raise a baby, and while it hasn’t been a bad existence, I’m missing my routine. Besides, Carmel has told me that Wally is welcome to bring Willow any time we like. I’m glad because I think Mum was right when she said that taking a child to the library is the very best education you could give a child. Willow is going to be very well educated.