The Husband's Secret (23 page)

‘Good morning, Tess.’

It was Cecilia Fitzpatrick suddenly walking alongside her in the same direction, chunky car keys jangling from one hand. There was something odd about the way she was walking, as if she had a limp.

Tess took a deep, bracing breath. ‘Morning!’ she said.

‘Just dropped Liam off for his first day, did you?’ said Cecilia. She was wearing sunglasses so Tess was spared the scary eye contact. She sounded as if she was coming down with a cold. ‘Was he okay? Always a bit tricky.’

‘Oh, well, not really, but Trudy . . .’ Tess stopped, distracted, because she’d just noticed Cecilia’s shoes. They weren’t matching. One was a black ballet shoe. The other was a gold sandal with a heel. No wonder she was walking funny. She looked away and remembered to keep talking. ‘But Trudy was wonderful with him.’

‘Oh, yes, Trudy is one in a million, that’s for sure,’ said Cecilia. ‘Anyway, this is my car here.’ She indicated a very shiny white four-wheel drive with the Tupperware logo along the side. ‘We forgot Polly had sport today. I never . . .
anyway, we forgot, so I’ve got to drive home and get her shoes. Polly is in love with the PE teacher, so I’ll be in terrible trouble if I’m late.’

‘Connor,’ said Tess. ‘Connor Whitby. He’s her PE teacher.’ She thought of him last night at the service station, his helmet under one arm.

‘Yes, that’s right. All the little girls are in love with him. Actually, half the mothers are too.’

‘Really.’ Slosh, slosh went that waterbed.

‘Good morning, Tess. Hi there, Cecilia.’ It was Rachel Crowley, the school secretary, walking from the other direction, wearing a pair of white running shoes with her businesslike skirt and silk shirt. Tess wondered if anyone ever looked at Rachel without thinking about Janie Crowley and what had happened to her in that park. It was impossible to think that Rachel had once been an ordinary woman, that no one could have sensed the tragedy that was waiting for her.

Rachel stopped in front of them. More conversation. It was endless. She looked tired and pale, her white hair not quite as beautifully blow-dried as it had been when Tess had met her yesterday. ‘Thanks again for the lift home last night,’ she said to Cecilia. She smiled at Tess. ‘I was at one of Cecilia’s Tupperware parties last night and had too much to drink. That’s why I’m on foot today.’ She gestured at her shoes. ‘Shameful, isn’t it.’

There was an awkward silence. Tess had confidently expected Cecilia to speak next, but she seemed distracted by something off in the distance and was strangely, almost bizarrely silent.

‘Sounds like you had a fun night,’ said Tess finally. Her voice sounded too loud and hearty. Why couldn’t she just speak like a normal person?

‘It was actually.’ Rachel frowned slightly at Cecilia, who
still hadn’t said a word. She turned her attention back to Tess. ‘Did Liam go off to his classroom okay?’

‘Miss Applebee took him under her wing,’ said Tess.

‘That’s good,’ said Rachel. ‘He’ll be fine. Trudy takes special care of the new children. I’d better go start my day. Get out of these ridiculous-looking clodhoppers. Bye girls.’

‘Have a great –’ Cecilia’s voice came out husky and she cleared her throat. ‘Have a great day, Rachel.’

‘You too.’

Rachel headed off towards the school.

‘Well,’ said Tess.

‘Oh dear,’ said Cecilia. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth. ‘I think I’m going –’ She looked around her agitatedly, as if she was searching for something. ‘Shit.’

And suddenly she was crouched in the gutter being violently sick.

Oh God, thought Tess as the awful retching sounds went on and on. She did not want to see Cecilia Fitzpatrick being sick in a gutter. Was it a hangover from the previous night? Food poisoning? Should she crouch down beside her and hold back her hair like girlfriends did for each other in nightclub toilets after too many tequilas? Like she and Felicity had once done for each other? Or should she gently rub Cecilia’s back in a circular motion like she did for Liam when he was sick? Should she at least make some soothing, sympathetic sounds as she stood here watching, to show she cared? Rather than just standing here, wincing and looking the other way? But she barely knew the woman.

When she was pregnant with Liam, Tess had suffered from chronic all-day-long morning sickness. She’d thrown up in numerous public places, and her only wish had been to be left alone. Perhaps she should slip quietly away? But she couldn’t just abandon the poor woman. She looked around her desperately for another school mum, one of those capable
sorts who would know what to do. Cecilia would have dozens of friends at the school, but the street was suddenly deserted and quiet.

Then she was struck by a wonderful inspiration:
tissues
. The thought of being able to offer Cecilia something both useful and appropriate filled her with something ridiculously akin to joy. She rustled through her handbag and found a small unopened packet of tissues and a bottle of water.

‘You’re like a boy scout,’ Will had said to her early on in their relationship when she’d pulled a small flashlight from her bag after he’d dropped his car keys on a dark street on their way home from a movie. ‘If we got stuck on a desert island we could be self-sufficient thanks to Tess’s handbag,’ Felicity had said, because, of course, Felicity had been there too, that night, she remembered now. When had Felicity ever not been there?

‘My goodness me,’ said Cecilia. She straightened up, plonked herself on the kerb and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘How embarrassing.’

‘Here.’ Tess handed over the tissues. ‘Are you all right? Was it something you maybe . . . ate?’ Cecilia’s hands, Tess noticed, were trembling badly and her face was pasty white.

‘I don’t know.’ Cecilia blew her nose and looked up at Tess. There were purplish crescents under her streaming eyes and tiny flecks of mascara on her eyelids. She looked dreadful. ‘I’m so sorry about this. You must go. You’ve probably got a million things to do.’

‘I don’t actually have a thing to do,’ said Tess. ‘Not a thing in the world.’ She undid the bottle cap. ‘Sip of water?’

‘Thank you.’ Cecilia took the water bottle and drank. She went to stand up and staggered. Tess grabbed her arm just before she fell.

‘Sorry, so sorry.’ Cecilia was almost sobbing.

‘It’s fine.’ Tess held her up. ‘It’s perfectly fine. I think I should drive you home.’

‘Oh, no, no, that’s so sweet of you, but I’m really fine.’

‘No you’re not,’ said Tess. ‘I’ll drive you home. You can hop into bed and I’ll drop your daughter’s shoes back off at the school.’

‘I can’t believe I nearly forgot Polly’s damned shoes again,’ said Cecilia. She looked utterly appalled at herself, as if she’d put Polly’s life at risk.

‘Come on,’ said Tess. She took Cecilia’s keys from her unresisting hand, pointed the key at the Tupperware car and pressed the unlock button. She was filled with an unusual sense of capability and purpose.

‘Thank you for this.’ Cecilia leaned heavily on Tess’s arm as she helped her into the passenger side of her car.

‘It’s no problem at all,’ said Tess in a brisk, no-nonsense voice entirely unlike her own, closing the door and heading around to the driver’s side.

How kind and civic of you
! Felicity spoke up in her head.
Next thing you’ll be joining the P&C
!

Fuck off Felicity
, thought Tess, and she turned Cecilia’s keys in the ignition with a deft flick of the wrist.

chapter twenty-two

What was wrong with Cecilia this morning? She was certainly not herself, mused Rachel as she walked into St Angela’s, feeling peculiar and self-conscious about her bouncy flat-footed walk in her sneakers instead of her normal heels. She could feel moisture in her armpits and along her hairline, but actually, walking instead of driving to work had left her feeling quite invigorated. Before she’d left the house this morning she’d momentarily considered calling a taxi because she felt so exhausted after last night. She’d been up for hours after Rodney Bellach had left, mentally replaying that video of Janie and Connor in her head, over and over. Each time she remembered Connor’s face it became more malevolent in her memory. Rodney was just being cautious, not wanting her to get her hopes up. He was old now, and a bit soft around the edges. Once a snappy, smart young police officer saw the video he (or she!) would instantly see the implications and take decisive action.

What would she do if she ran into Connor Whitby at school today? Confront him? Make the accusation? The thought made her feel dizzy. Her emotions would surely soar like mountains: grief, fury, hatred.

She took a deep breath. No, no, she would not confront him. She wanted this done properly, and she didn’t want to forewarn him or say something that might cost her a guilty verdict. Imagine if he got off on a legal technicality because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She felt an unexpected sense of not quite happiness, but something. Hope? Satisfaction? Yes, it was satisfaction, because she was doing something for Janie. That was it. It had been so long since she’d been able to do something, anything, for her daughter: to go into her bedroom on a cold night and place an extra blanket over those bony shoulders (Janie felt the cold), to make her one of her favourite cheese and pickle sandwiches (with heaps of butter – Rachel was always secretly trying to fatten her up), to carefully handwash her good clothes, to give her a ten dollar note for no reason at all. For years she’d felt this desire to do something again for Janie, to still be her mother, to look after her again in some small way, and now at last she could.
I’m getting him, darling. Not much longer now
.

Her mobile phone rang in her handbag and she fumbled for it, anxious to catch the caller before the silly thing stopped ringing and went to voicemail. It must be Rodney! Who else would call at this time of the morning? With news already? But surely it was too soon, it couldn’t possibly be him.

‘Hello?’

She’d seen the name, just before she answered. Rob, not Rodney. The ‘Ro’ had given her a moment of hope.

‘Mum? Everything all right?’

She tried not to feel aggrieved with Rob for not being Rodney.

‘Everything is fine, love. Just on my way in to work. What’s up?’

Rob launched into a long story, as Rachel kept walking towards the school office. She went by one of the Year 1
classrooms and heard bubbles of children’s laughter floating out the door. As she glanced in, she saw her boss, Trudy Applebee, streak across the classroom with one arm lifted in the air, like a superhero, while the Year 1 teacher put her hand over her eyes and giggled helplessly. Was that a disco strobe light flashing white lights around the room? Tess O’Leary’s little boy certainly wouldn’t be bored on his first day of school, that was for sure. As for that report Trudy was meant to be working on for the Department of Education . . . Rachel sighed, she’d give her until ten am and then she’d drag her back to her desk.

‘So is that okay then?’ said Rob. ‘You’ll come to Lauren’s parents on Sunday?’

‘What’s that?’ said Rachel. She walked into her office and put her handbag on her desk.

‘I thought maybe you could bring a pavlova. If you like.’

‘Bring a pavlova where? When?’ She couldn’t process what Rob was going on about.

She heard Rob take a deep breath.

‘On Easter Sunday. For lunch. With Lauren’s family. I know we said we’d come to you for lunch, but it’s just impossible to fit everything in. We’ve been so busy with all the arrangements for New York. So then we thought if you came over to their place, we could see both families at once.’

Lauren’s family. Lauren’s mother had always just been to the ballet or the opera or the theatre the night before, and whatever it was would have been simply
extraordinary
or
exquisite
. Lauren’s father was a retired barrister who would exchange a few courteous pleasantries with Rachel, before abruptly turning away with a politely baffled expression on his face, as if he couldn’t quite place who she was. There was always a stranger at the table, someone beautiful and exotic-looking, who would dominate the conversation with endless talk of their recent fascinating trip to India or Iran,
and everybody except for Rachel (and Jacob) would find them enthralling. There appeared to be an endless supply of these colourful guests, because Rachel had never met the same one twice. It was like they were hired as guest speakers for the occasion.

‘Fine,’ said Rachel resignedly. She would take Jacob off and play with him in the garden. Anything was bearable if she had Jacob. ‘That’s fine. I’ll bring the pavlova.’

Rob loved her pavlovas. Bless him. He never seemed to notice that Rachel’s wonky-looking pavlovas were a somewhat lowbrow addition to the table.

‘By the way, Lauren wanted to know if you wanted her to pick up any more of those biscuit things, whatever they were, that we brought over the other night.’

‘That’s nice of her, but actually they were a little sweet for me,’ said Rachel.

‘She also said to ask if you had fun at the Tupperware party last night.’

Lauren must have noticed Marla’s invitation on the fridge when she picked up Jacob on Monday. Show-off.
Look how interested I am in my mother-in-law’s elderly little life
!

‘It was perfectly fine,’ said Rachel. Would she tell him about the video? Would it upset him? Please him? He had a right to know. She sometimes felt uneasily aware of how little notice she’d taken of Rob’s grief, how she’d just wanted him to stay out of her way, to go to bed, to watch TV, to let her cry in private.

‘Bit boring eh, Mum?’

‘It was fine. Actually, when I got home –’

‘Hey! I got Jacob’s passport photo done before work yesterday. Wait till you see it. So cute.’

Janie had never had a passport. Yet Jacob, at just two years old, had a passport that allowed him to leave the country at barely a moment’s notice.

‘I can’t
wait
to see it,’ said Rachel. She would not tell Rob about the video. He was far too busy with his own important, jetsetting life to worry about an investigation into his sister’s murder.