Truly Madly Guilty(112)

‘Right. Well. Cups of tea? Coffee?’ said Pam. ‘Erika brought along some very nice chocolate nuts that will go very nicely with a cup of tea. Just the ticket!’

‘Isn’t she clever,’ said Sylvia.

‘I’m quite remarkable,’ said Erika.

As Pam began the complicated process of confirming everyone’s tea and coffee orders, Clementine collected plates and took them into the kitchen. Her father followed her, carrying Ruby, who had that comfy, superior look children always got in the arms of a tall man; like a fat-cheeked little sultan.

‘You okay?’ said her father.

‘Fine,’ said Clementine. ‘Sorry about Sam. He’s just stressed about work, I think.’

‘Yes, he does seem stressed about the new job,’ said Martin. He put Ruby down as she began to wriggle. ‘But I think it’s more than that.’

‘Well, it’s been hard for him ever since the … accident,’ said Clementine.

She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to call it an accident, if that implied she didn’t consider herself responsible.

‘Sam blames himself for not watching Ruby – and I think, I know, he also blames me,’ said Clementine. It was somehow easier to just baldly admit it to her dad, who would just take what she said at face value, rather than her mother, who would listen too intently and empathetically and filter everything through her own emotions.

‘And I guess I blame him,’ said Clementine. ‘And at the same time we’re both pretending we don’t blame each other at all.’

‘Right,’ said her father. ‘Well, that’s called being married. You’re always blaming each other for something.’ He opened a kitchen cupboard and began taking out mugs. ‘What’s the bet I’m getting the wrong ones out?’ He turned to look at Clementine, holding two mugs by the handles on his fingertips. ‘But I reckon there’s something more going on. He’s not right. He isn’t quite right in the head.’

‘Not those ones, Martin.’ Pam bustled into the kitchen. ‘We want the nice ones.’ She took the mugs off him and swiftly put them away. ‘Who isn’t right in the head?’

‘Sam,’ said Clementine.

‘I’ve been saying that for weeks,’ said Pam.





chapter seventy



‘Hello again.’

Tiffany lifted her umbrella to see who had spoken. She was walking through the quadrangle towards the Saint Anastasias shop to buy Dakota’s uniform for next year.

It was Andrew’s wife again. Of course it was. Murphy’s Law would ensure that Tiffany ran into this woman and/or her husband every time she entered the school and at every school event until Dakota finished high school. It wasn’t going to be at all uncomfortable. No! It was going to be freaking great. Cara and Dakota would become best friends. They’d invite them over for a barbeque. ‘Where did you guys meet?’ the nice wife would innocently ask, and her husband would clutch his chest and drop dead of a heart attack (handy!). Except then Oliver would rush over from next door and revive him.

‘Tiffany, right? I’m Lisa,’ said Andrew’s wife. She tilted back her own battered umbrella to reveal her face. There were soft pink pouches under her eyes. One of the metal spokes of her umbrella had broken free of the fabric and was directed at her face like a weapon. ‘You probably don’t remember me. I sat next to you at the Information Morning.’

‘I remember. How are you?’ said Tiffany.

‘Not great. This constant rain is doing my head in,’ said Lisa. She surveyed Tiffany. ‘You look well. Do you take some sort of secret supplement?’

‘Caffeine?’ said Tiffany.

‘Seriously, it’s a pleasure to look at you.’

Tiffany laughed uneasily. Was she about to say, ‘I understand my husband used to pay good money just to look at you’?

‘Are you buying Cara’s school uniform too?’ said Tiffany. She knew that the uniform shop, run by ‘our lovely volunteers’, opened for just forty-five minutes at this time and ‘strictly no longer’ and it was ‘first in, best dressed (literally!)’.

Would it seem odd that she remembered Lisa’s daughter’s name? Suspicious?

‘Actually, I’d already bought her uniform but I’m bringing it back,’ said Lisa. ‘We’re moving to Dubai for the next five years, so Cara won’t be attending Saint Anastasias after all.’

‘Oh, well that’s …’ Tiffany tried to think of a more appropriate way to end the sentence rather than ‘wonderful news’, although paradoxically, irrationally, she found herself feeling almost disappointed. She liked Lisa. It’s a pleasure to look at you. Who actually said that? It was nice.

‘How do you feel about that?’ she said.

‘I’m trying to feel okay about it,’ said Lisa. ‘We did the expat thing when the kids were little and it was all fine, but I just don’t think I have the energy to do it again. We’re very settled in Sydney and this just came out of the blue. It happened on Wednesday, the same day as the Information Morning, actually … My husband hears about some marvellous, incredible opportunity that he can’t pass up or … or some bullshit.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Probably shouldn’t swear on Catholic school grounds.’ She looked up. ‘God won’t like it.’