Big Little Lies(11)

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Celeste’s birthday gift was a set of Waterford crystal champagne glasses.
“Oh my God, I love them. They’re absolutely gorgeous,” said Madeline. She carefully took one out of the box and held it up to the light, admiring the intricate design, rows of tiny moons. “They must have cost you a small fortune.”
She almost said, Thank God you’re so rich, darling, but she stopped herself in time. She would have said it if it were just the two of them, but presumably Jane, a young single mother, was not well off, and of course, it was impolite to talk about money in company. She did actually know that. (She said this defensively to her husband in her head, because he was the one who was always reminding her of the social norms she insisted on flouting.)
Why did they all have to tread so very delicately around Celeste’s money? It was like wealth was an embarrassing medical condition. It was the same with Celeste’s beauty. Strangers gave Celeste the same furtive looks they gave to people with missing limbs, and if Madeline ever mentioned Celeste’s looks, Celeste responded with something like shame. “Shhh,” she’d say, looking around fearfully in case someone overheard. Everyone wanted to be rich and beautiful, but the truly rich and beautiful had to pretend they were just the same as everyone else. Oh, it was a funny old world.
“So, school politics, girls,” Madeline said as she carefully replaced the glass in the box. “We’ll start at the top with the Blond Bobs.”
“The Blond Bobs?” Celeste squinted, as if there were going to be a test afterward.
“The Blond Bobs rule the school. If you want to be on the PTA, you have to have a blond bob,” said Madeline. She demonstrated the required haircut with her hand. “It’s like a bylaw.”
Jane chortled, a dry little chuckle, and Madeline found herself desperate to make her laugh again.
“It shouldn’t be peroxide blond, obviously; it should be expensive blond, and then you get it cut in that sort of ‘mum’ haircut, where it’s like a helmet.”
“You’re being mean.” Celeste tapped her lightly on the arm.
“I’m not!” protested Madeline. “I love that hairstyle! I told Lucy Ponder when I’m ready to run for the PTA she can give me the approved blond bob.” She said to Jane, “Lucy Ponder is a local hairdresser, and she’s the daughter of the lady who lives in the house overlooking the school playground. Everyone is connected to everyone in Pirriwee.”
“Really?” said Jane. A flash of something both hopeful and fearful crossed her face, and she glanced quickly over her shoulder.
“It’s OK, we’re safe, no Blond Bobs in sight,” said Madeline.
“So are the Blond Bobs nice?” asked Celeste. “Or should we steer clear?”
“Well, they mean well,” said Madeline. “They mean very, very well. They’re like . . . Hmmm, what are they like?” She tapped her fingers on the table, trying to think of the right way to describe the Blond Bobs. “They’re like mum prefects. They feel very strongly about their roles as school mums. It’s like their religion. They’re fundamentalist mothers.”
“You’re exaggerating,” said Celeste.
“Of course I am,” agreed Madeline.
“Are any of the kindergarten mothers Blond Bobs?” asked Jane.
“Let’s see now,” said Madeline. “Oh yes, Harper. She’s your quintessential Blond Bob. She’s on the PTA and she has a horrendously gifted daughter with a mild nut allergy. So she’s part of the Zeitgeist, lucky girl.”
“Come on now, Madeline, there’s nothing lucky about having a child with a nut allergy,” said Celeste.
“I know,” said Madeline. She knew she was getting too show-offy in her desire to make Jane laugh. “I’m teasing. Let’s see. Who else? There’s Carol Quigley. She’s sort of a wannabe Blond Bob; she’s not quite blond enough. She’s not actually on the PTA yet, but she’s doing her bit for the school by keeping it clean. She’s obsessed with cleanliness. She runs in and out of the classroom with a bottle of spray-and-wipe.”
“She does not,” said Celeste.
“She does!”
“What about dads?” Jane opened a packet of chewing gum and slipped another piece into her mouth like illegal contraband. She appeared to be obsessed with gum, although you couldn’t really see her chewing it. She didn’t quite meet Madeline’s eye as she asked the question. Was she hoping to meet a single dad perhaps?
“Well, I’ve heard on the grapevine we’ve got at least one stay-at-home dad in kindergarten this year,” said Madeline. “His wife is some hotshot in the corporate world. Jackie Somebody. She’s the CEO of a bank, I think.”