The Younger Wife(30)

‘Here it is!’ she cried, and Tully claimed the phone and accepted the FaceTime.

‘Hi, babe,’ she said as a face appeared on the screen.

‘Uh-oh. Babe? Does this mean you’re drunk?’

Heather glanced at the screen and recognised Tully’s husband Sonny from a photo she’d seen at Stephen’s house. He looked faintly amused.

‘That’s right, babe,’ Tully said, laughing. It was hard to match up this Tully with the uptight Tully from the other day. Even from a few hours ago. Her whole body was loose and relaxed.

‘I take it this means I am your Uber driver this evening?’

Evening? Heather looked around. Sure enough, the sky was starting to darken. It felt like only a few minutes ago that Rachel had cleared the dishes away and produced the most delicious sponge cake Heather had ever tasted. Now, even the sponge remains had been cleared away and the picked-over remains of a magnificent cheese platter lay on the table before them.

‘Only if you give me a five-star rating,’ Tully said.

‘Promise not to vomit in my car and we have a deal.’

Due to her proximity to Tully, Heather had no choice but to eavesdrop. But she felt like she was witnessing something very personal. Tully was drunk. Sonny thought it was funny. He was offering to give her a ride home. No one was yelling or getting into fight. It was like something out of a TV show.

‘Can I get you anything else, Heather?’ Rachel asked, as Tully continued chatting to Sonny. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘There’s nothing else I could possibly want,’ Heather replied. ‘Honestly, I’ve never known a host to be as considerate as you are.’

Rachel waved the compliment away but she looked pleased. ‘I love to make people feel comfortable and welcome. And to feed them, obviously. It’s a bit of an obsession of mine.’

Heather picked up her wineglass and took a long sip before returning it to the table. ‘I went to high school with a girl who had an obsession with feeding people. She used to bring homemade cakes and slices to school nearly every day.’

Rachel was looking at her intently.

‘After high school, I heard through a friend that the girl had been sexually assaulted by her uncle during high school. Apparently baking was her escape – almost like therapy. If she was stressed or angry or upset, the only thing that could calm her down was cooking. And it didn’t hurt that the weight she gained made her a little less attractive to her uncle.’

Rachel was still looking at her, but her face had become a little grey. It was all the confirmation Heather needed that her suspicions about Rachel were true. It made her wonder about the Aston family, ostensibly so close, and yet completely blind to something Heather had been able to extract in a couple of minutes, using a made-up example about a girl from school.

‘All right, Uber driver,’ Tully was saying. ‘You can pick me up. But don’t be late or your rating is ruined!’ She laughed and hung up the phone. ‘My ride’s on its way.’

‘What about you?’ Rachel asked Heather. ‘Should I call Dad? You won’t be able to drive home now, will you?’

Heather was definitely too drunk to drive. But thankfully she wasn’t so drunk she thought calling Stephen was a good idea. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I thought maybe we could hang out for a bit longer. Maybe open another bottle?’

‘Of course,’ Rachel said, ever the amenable host.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. But, as it turned out, it definitely wasn’t.





14


TULLY


Tully woke at 3 am with a dry mouth, a thumping headache and all of the anxiety in the world. This was what happened when you got drunk in your thirties. She had memories – distant memories – of being drunk in her twenties, nights when she’d collapse happily into bed at the end of the night (often with a nice-looking boy), and when she finally got to sleep she’d drift into a slumber so deep she wouldn’t wake until noon the next day.

Today, when she woke for the second time, it was 6:21 am and Locky was sitting astride her stomach. ‘Daddy says you’re feeling sick,’ he said unworriedly.

‘I’m sure you sitting on her stomach doesn’t help, mate,’ Sonny said, lifting Locky off her.

Tully rubbed her eyes and glanced around. ‘Where’s Miles?’

‘Asleep,’ Sonny said. ‘In his bed.’

‘His big-boy bed?’

‘Yep. Been in it since seven last night.’

Tully couldn’t believe it. ‘Tell me the truth: did you drug him? Lace his bottle with alcohol?’

‘You were the only one laced with alcohol last night,’ Sonny said, smiling. It was strange, seeing him smile at her. Tully started to wonder if she was still drunk and imagining it. Then he said, ‘It was nice to see you so relaxed last night. I haven’t seen you like that in ages.’

‘Are you saying you like me drinking?’

‘I like you letting your hair down,’ he corrected, then he took Locky’s hand. ‘Come on. Let’s let Mummy sleep.’

‘Wait, I can go back to sleep?’ She gazed at him with an intensity that made her headache a little worse. ‘But . . . I’m a drunken disgrace. You should be reporting me to the police. Taking my children away from me and putting them with a very nice elderly foster family who still have one of those old-fashioned cookie jars filled with homemade biscuits!’