Truly Madly Guilty

Tiffany turned again quickly. It was the sort of remark that Dakota used to make all the time, testing her vocabulary, testing out ideas, trying to work out exactly how the world worked.

'I do feel regret,' said Tiffany, eager to chat, to have one of those conversations she used to have all the time with Dakota, where she was always left amazed and delighted by her daughter's quirky, clever observations, but Dakota just kept staring out the window, her jaw set, almost as if she were angry, and after a moment Tiffany gave up and faced the other way.

Vid talked for the rest of the drive about a new Japanese restaurant some clients of his had been talking about which served the best tempura in Sydney, possibly the world, possibly the universe.

'Here we are!' said Vid as they approached a giant set of iron gates. 'Look at your new school, Dakota!'

Tiffany turned to smile at Dakota, but Dakota had her eyes closed, and she was letting her forehead bump quite hard against the window, as if she'd passed out.

'Dakota!' said Tiffany sharply.

'What?' Dakota opened her eyes.

'Look!' said Tiffany. She made a gesture at the surroundings. 'What do you think?'

'It's nice,' said Dakota.

'Nice?!' said Tiffany. 'Nice?' She looked at the lush, green fields. The imposing buildings. There was a massive sports arena in the distance that looked like the freaking Colosseum. 'It's like Downton friggin' Abbey.'

Vid wound down his window a fraction. 'Smell that?'

'What?' Tiffany sniffed. Some sort of fertiliser? Damp earth?

'The smell of money.' He rubbed his fingertips together. He had the same look of satisfaction as when he walked into an opulent hotel foyer. It was all just fun to him. He had the money. He could afford the best. So he'd buy the best and take pleasure in it. His relationship with money was completely uncomplicated.

Tiffany thought of her own high school: a cheerful, graffitied concrete jungle out in the western suburbs. Did the girls here smoke ciggies in the toilets? Maybe they did lines of excellent-grade coke in marble bathrooms.

Vid parked in a car park rapidly filling with shimmering luxury cars. Tiffany automatically curled her lip at the sight of all those cars. It was a habit left over from her childhood, when her family had sniffed at wealthy people as if there were something unsavoury and immoral about them. She still did it, even though her car was just as luxurious, even though she'd been the one to buy this car, with money she'd freaking well earned.

The feeling didn't abate as the parents and their daughters were led into a magnificent hall. The smell of good perfume and cologne filled t

he air as dads in their suits and ties, and mums in effortlessly casually chic spring outfits, who obviously had older daughters at the school because they all knew each other, traded cosy, chummy, entitled rich-people remarks. 'How was Japan?' 'Great! How was Aspen?' 'Well, you know the children had never been to Athens before, so ...'

'Snap!' A middle-aged woman with dark curly hair sat down next to Tiffany and pointed at their matching Stella McCartney silk skirts. She was wearing a white cardigan exactly like the one Tiffany had been looking for in Dakota's drawer.

'Got mine on sale.' The woman leaned forward and put her hand over her mouth. 'Forty per cent off.'

'Fifty per cent off,' whispered back Tiffany. An outright lie. She'd paid full price, but life was a competition and she knew non-working wives of wealthy men loved to talk about how they'd saved by bargain-shopping for designer clothes. It was their contribution to the household finances.

'Dammit!' The woman laughed nicely which made Tiffany wish she'd told the truth. 'I'm Lisa,' she said. 'Are you new to the school?'

'My stepdaughters went here,' said Tiffany, thinking that her stepdaughters would rather die than be described as her stepdaughters. They, as was their right, had many years ago decided the best way to show loyalty to their mother was by doing their level best to pretend that Tiffany didn't really exist. They tended to give a little start when she spoke, as if the pot plant had tried to join in the conversation. They loved Dakota, though, so that was all that mattered.

'My two older daughters are here at the school,' said Lisa. 'Cara is our baby.' Lisa gestured to a little girl sitting next to her, swinging her legs and chewing gum. 'Oh God, Cara, I told you to throw that out before we came in! How embarrassing. And my husband, Andrew.'

The husband leaned forward to give a little wave. He was in his late fifties with lots of grey hair (he'd be proud of his hair, like Vid was of his) and that distinguished, statesman-like confidence that comes with professional success in a career like medicine or law.

He had distinctive pale hazel eyes, with dark rings around the irises. Tiffany's heart lurched as if she'd tripped in a dream.

'Hi, Andrew,' said Tiffany.

chapter thirty

The day of the barbeque

'So. Our stomachs are full,' said Vid, patting his.

Tiffany knew he meant: My stomach is full, so I need a cigarette, like people once did in the civilised world.