'Vid sort of railroaded me into this barbeque,' said Erika defensively, and oddly, because Clementine had never known Erika to be railroaded into anything.
'We don't mind,' said Clementine. 'We liked them. It will be fun.' She smiled as she watched Holly waltz around the room with a cracker held ecstatically high like a trophy. Holly had inherited Clementine's temperament, which was fine except for when their moods didn't synchronise. Ruby was more like Sam, pragmatic and patient. Yesterday Clementine had walked into their bedroom to find Ruby sitting on the floor next to Holly, gently patting her shoulder while Holly lay flat on her stomach prostrate with grief because her drawing of a panda bear didn't look like a panda bear. 'Twy again!' Ruby said, with a perplexed expression on her face just like Sam's, an expression that said: Why make life so hard for yourself?
'Okay, well, good. Fun, yes,' said Erika. She sounded disappointed, as if she hadn't actually planned for the day to be fun. 'It's just that - Oliver is kind of cranky with me for accepting Vid's invitation because, ah, as I mentioned, we'd love to discuss, this, ah, proposal we have, and he thinks we won't have the chance now. I was thinking maybe after the barbeque you could come back to our place for coffee. If there is time.'
'Of course,' said Clementine. 'Or even beforehand if you like. Whichever. It's all very mysterious, Erika. Can you give me a hint?'
'Oh, well, no, not really.' Now she sounded almost agitated.
'Fine then,' soothed Clementine. 'We'll talk about this mysterious whatever-it-is after the barbeque.'
'Or before,' said Erika. 'You just said ...'
'Or before,' agreed Clementine, just as Ruby toddled into the room carrying a tiny plastic pink gumboot in each hand and looking pleased with herself. 'Oh clever girl, Ruby, you can wear your gumboots! That's a great idea.'
'I beg your pardon?' said Erika, who could never bear it when Clementine spoke to her kids when she was on the phone to her. She seemed to think it was a breach of etiquette.
'Nothing. Sure. Let's talk before the barbeque.'
'See you then,' said Erika brusquely, and she hung up, in that infuriatingly abrupt way of hers, as if Clementine were her lowly intern.
It didn't matter. A barbeque with Erika's charming neighbours on this sunny winter's day would be fun. What could be nicer?
chapter eight
The rain eased slightly, although of course it didn't stop, it would freaking well never stop, so Tiffany took the opportunity to grab an umbrella and drag their recycling bin, rattling indiscreetly with wine and beer bottles from the previous night, down her driveway.
She was thinking about Dakota and the smile she'd given Tiffany when she'd dropped her off at school this morning: a cool, polite smile as if Tiffany were someone else's mother.
There was something going on with Dakota. It was subtle, this thing. It might be nothing, or it might be something. It wasn't that she was misbehaving. Not at all. But there was something spookily distant about her. It was like she was encased in an invisible glass bubble.
For example, this morning at breakfast Dakota had sat straight-backed at the table, chewing daintily on her toast, her eyes flat and unreadable. 'Yes, please.' 'No, thank you.' Why was she being so polite? It was creepy! It was like they had a well-mannered foreign exchange student boarding with them. Eating disorder? But she was still eating; although not with much enthusiasm.
Tiffany couldn't get to the bottom of it, no matter how hard she tried or what questions she asked.
'I'm fine,' Dakota kept saying in her mechanical new way.
'She's fine, leave the kid alone!' Vid said. It made Tiffany want to scream. Dakota was not fine. She was ten years old. A ten-year-old shouldn't smile politely at her mother.
Tiffany was determined to smash right through this freaking glass bubble thing Dakota had going on. Even if she was imagining it.
She was nearly out on the street when she saw Oliver bringing out his recycling bin too, although it wasn't rattling as much as hers.
'Morning, Oliver!' she called out. 'How are you? Isn't this rain terrible!'
Shit. Every time she saw her neighbours now, ever
since the barbeque, her stomach muscles tensed, as if she were doing a Pilates crunch.
She'd always liked Oliver. He was so straightforward and polite; a bit of a dork, with his black hair and spectacles, like a grown-up Harry Potter. He had a very small head, she couldn't help but notice. There was nothing to be done about his pea-head, but Tiffany should tell Erika to buy Oliver some of those vintage, black-rimmed glasses; transform her husband into a cute hipster in just one move. (Vid had a massive head. You couldn't get a baseball cap to fit him. Not that he'd ever wear a baseball cap.)
'How are you, Tiffany?' Oliver called back. He neatly pulled his bin to a noiseless stop, while Tiffany grunted as she hauled hers over the kerb. 'Need a hand?'
'No, no, I've got it. Aren't you nice to offer! Don't hear Vid offering! Oomph. That's my workout done for the day!' (It wasn't. She was going to the gym later.) 'What are you doing home at this hour? Taking a sickie?'
She walked over to within chatting distance and noted Oliver's terrified glance at her cleavage. He fixed his eyes desperately on her forehead as if she were a test. Yeah, buddy, I'm a test, but you pass every time.
'I am actually. Getting over a bit of a flu thing.' Oliver put his fist over his mouth and coughed.