The Shadow House(33)

I looked up sharply. ‘Paddleboarding?’

‘Yes.’

‘With you?’

‘With me.’ His gaze was steady, his meaning clear. ‘We could maybe grab some lunch after?’

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. ‘That sounds lovely, but I can’t. Sorry. It’s Kara, I have to—’

‘Hey, Alex,’ Layla said, jogging up behind us and tapping me on the shoulder. ‘Amy’s not feeling the best so I’m taking the girls home to watch a movie. Would Ollie like to come?’ She looked from me to Kit and back again. ‘Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?’

‘No, not at all,’ I said. ‘Really, it’s fine, I was just heading home.’

‘Actually,’ said Kit. ‘I was just asking Alex if she’d like to come paddleboarding with me.’

Layla raised one eyebrow. ‘Oh, were you now?’

‘But I have Kara,’ I said quickly, ‘and she’ll be hungry again soon, so I ought to get home.’

‘No, don’t be silly, you two should go!’ Layla waved her arms, shooing us away. ‘I’ll take Kara. She and Ollie can both come back to my place. You take a break, have some fun.’

I baulked. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t.’

‘Of course you could! Honestly, an hour or two won’t hurt. Do you have expressed milk? Formula? Preferred solids? When was her last change?’

I shook my head, insisting that I couldn’t possibly impose, but Layla was adamant: Kara would be fine, it would be a pleasure to help out, easy-peasy: just hand over the food and the nappy bag, and the rest was simple.

‘Come on, Alex,’ she said after my fourth refusal. ‘It quite literally takes a village. Go on, take a break.’

I looked at my daughter, calm and content in her pram. She would be okay; it might actually do her some good to spend a little time away from me.

Just do it. Take the help.

‘Sure,’ I said, joy sparking in my belly. ‘Okay. Thank you.’

After I’d briefly explained Kara’s routine and promised I’d be no longer than an hour or two, I jogged home to get my swimmers, passing Ollie and his mates on the way. They were still huddled, but their attention was now fixed on the other side of the valley. In the centre of the group, her hair flashing azure in the sun, Violet pointed to the paddock above the dam and all the other kids turned their heads as one. In my hurry, I only vaguely registered that they were all staring in the direction of the farmhouse.





RENEE





14


Renee woke on the couch with a wet sponge in her hand. She was sitting upright as if she’d been watching TV, her head hanging to the left, her chin slick with drool. Her dreams clung to her like cobwebs.

… running through the trees, but not running, legs aren’t working, just spinning uselessly, brushing the forest floor, need to go faster …

She moved and a sharp pain shot up the side of her neck. Straightening up, she shuffled to the edge of the seat and looked down. The sponge had left a wet mark on her skirt and there was a bucket on the floor, full of pink water.

… a deafening sound, a horrific rumbling, the pines are falling one by one, something is coming, something monstrous …

She put the sponge in the bucket. Rubbing her eyes, she listened to the whir of the oven and the dull thump of Michael’s boots on the veranda outside. The windowpanes that had not been broken and covered with sheets of plywood were smeared with pink suds.

… out of the woods, down the hill to the dam, my baby, my angel, sitting alone by the water, faster, go faster, legs spinning, have to get there, have to save him, but …

From somewhere in the house came a gentle but insistent tapping. The sound of a door opening and closing. Outside, the dog barked twice. Renee frowned. She’d been doing something, but what?

… a giant red wave, roaring, pouring, crashing down the hill, the house goes down like it’s made of paper …

Cleaning. That’s what she’d been doing. Scrubbing the walls, the upholstery, the ruined family photographs, trying to wash out the blood.

No, not blood. It looked like blood, but it wasn’t. It was paint. Dark red. Convincing. Someone had thrown a rock that had smashed the window, followed by balloons filled with burgundy paint. The sofa looked like a butchered animal. And poor Gabe, he’d seen it. He’d seen everything.

Another sound. A clatter in the hallway, a murmur of voices.

Renee’s heart rate picked up. The clock on the wall, the hands, surely they were wrong? She’d only sat down to rest for a moment, she’d just closed her eyes for two seconds …

She shot off the sofa. The walls were still marked with paint, the sofa still wet. Gabe’s school photos, the family portrait, lay face-down on the side table, utterly ruined, and she hadn’t yet iced the cake.

‘Renee? Hell-ooo?’

Naturally, April and Frank had arrived early. Frank was all starched linen and pressed lines in a white shirt and stiff blue jeans; April had paired a purple chenille sweater with a jade green scarf that matched the frames of her glasses. In her hands, she carried a gift wrapped in shiny paper and a bottle of red wine.

Ebony came scampering in after them, pawing at their clothes, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. ‘Down!’ yelped April immediately. ‘Ugh, ridiculous animal.’ Ebony slunk away.