The Mother's Promise(68)

She ducked under his arm, into the house. He followed her into the lounge room and fell backward onto the sofa. Zoe hovered awkwardly.

“We’re alone,” he said, sliding over to make space for her. She sat beside him and his arms went around her. Then he looked mock-confused. “Am I correct that the school day isn’t over yet, Miss Stanhope? I didn’t pick you as one to play hooky.”

“Neither did I,” Zoe said. Harry held her so casually that she found it hard to look at him.

“Are you okay?” he said, becoming serious. “Did something happen? Did anyone else say anything to you?”

“No,” she said.

He sat up. “Then what is it?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks, she knew, were pink.

“But you’re acting weird.”

She rolled her eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have social anxiety disorder.”

“I realize that, but…” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be shy around me, you know, after everything.”

“Harry!” she said. “I’m even more shy around you after everything.”

Her cheeks burned. She was afraid to look at him, afraid of the feelings that she would undouted feel if she did. And at the same time, she wanted to feel those feelings.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him, finally.

“Just that if talking makes you uncomfortable, I can think of something else we can do.”

She looked at him. He smiled. And for the next hour, all Zoe worried about was Harry’s parents coming home from work early.





50

Paul had just made Alice a cup of tea that she wouldn’t drink. He’d been doing all kinds of useless things like that today. Passing her books she didn’t want to read. Fluffing her pillows. That she really didn’t get. Weren’t pillows naturally fluffy? Sure, in times gone by when they were stuffed with feathers and twigs they probably needed fluffing, but Alice’s pillows, which were made out of some sort of wonderful foam that shaped itself to her head, did not.

Still, Alice was grateful to Paul. At the hospital she was told she had an infection—which explained the fever and why she’d been feeling so crappy. She’d been admitted for intravenous antibiotics and Dr. Brookes had wanted to keep her overnight for observation, but Alice had refused. She had Paul to look after her at home, she’d said, and he’d nodded, nobly if a little uncertainly. Who knew her brother could be so useful?

She’d just got comfortable on the couch with the remote control when the phone rang.

“Hello, Stanhope residence,” Paul said, and then his eyes drifted to Alice. “Yes, just a moment. Al?”

He passed her the phone.

“Alice Stanhope.”

“Hello, Ms. Stanhope, this is Rosalie Hunt, Zoe’s principal.”

“Is Zoe all right?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I understand she was back at school this morning, but I checked today’s register and it seems she didn’t attend any of her afternoon classes. I wanted to check everything was okay.”

“She didn’t attend afternoon classes?”

“No, not according to my records.”

“Well … perhaps she wasn’t feeling well?” Alice suggested, to herself as much as Mrs. Hunt, although that didn’t totally explain it. If she were ill, surely she’d be home by now?

“Yes, I’m sure it’s something like that. I just thought it was worth double-checking, especially after last week.”

Alice gave herself a couple of seconds to scan her brain, but she couldn’t come up with anything. “What happened last week?”

“The debate?”

She spoke as though Alice should know what this meant. Should she?

“Er … when Zoe … urinated on the stage?”

Alice thought she might faint. She let her head drop into her hands.

“Ms. Stanhope? Are you there?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding thick and foreign, “you said my daughter urinated on the stage?”

A pause. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” Alice replied, her voice rising. “Can you explain why didn’t I know? Surely you would think to inform the parents when—”

“We called you immediately, Ms. Stanhope. I spoke with a woman named…” Alice heard the ruffle of papers. “Kate Littleton. She said you were unable to take the call. When she came to the school—”

“Kate came to the school?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I thought you knew this.” Mrs. Hunt sounded flustered. “I did call you, last week, to check up on Zoe, and I left a message on your voice mail.”

Alice thought of all the messages stockpiled on her message service. She hadn’t felt well enough to check them.

“Wait, did you say Zoe hasn’t been at school? Before today, I mean?”

There was a long pause. “Well, after the debate she wasn’t at school for, let’s see … over a week. I assumed you’d allowed her to take some time off.”

Alice heard the keys in the door.

“All right,” she said to Mrs. Hunt. “Thank you for letting me know.”