‘A great big out-of-control pet dog.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jessica. ‘Yeah. That’s right.’ She paused. ‘Why is it like a dog?’
‘So, it’s like we got a dog, and it’s the dog we always wanted, we dreamed of this dog, this dog is our dream dog, but it’s changed everything about our lives. It’s, like, really distracting, it barks all through the night wanting our attention, it won’t let us sleep, we can’t do anything without taking the dog into account. We have to walk it, and feed it, and worry about it, and . . .’ He scrunched up his face, working it out. ‘See, the problem with this dog is that it bites. It bites us, and it bites our friends and family; it’s got a really vicious streak, this dog.’
‘But we still love it,’ said Jessica. ‘We love the dog.’
‘We do, but I think we should give the dog away,’ said Ben. ‘I think it’s not the right dog for us.’
‘We could get a labradoodle,’ said Jessica. ‘Labradoodles are so cute.’
Masha reminded herself that Jessica was very young.
‘I think Ben is using the dog as a . . . story to explain how the lottery win has impacted your lives,’ she said. ‘A metaphor, that is.’ The word metaphor came to her a fraction later than she would have liked.
‘Yeah,’ said Jessica. She gave Masha a sly, shrewd look and tapped her nose with her forefinger. ‘If we’re going to get a dog we should get it before the baby comes.’
‘What baby?’ said Masha.
‘What baby?’ said Ben.
‘I’m pregnant,’ said Jessica.
‘You are?’ said Ben. ‘But that’s awes
ome!’
Masha reeled. ‘But you never –’
‘You gave my pregnant wife drugs,’ said Ben to Masha.
‘Yeah, I kind of feel really angry about that,’ said Jessica to Masha. ‘Like, I think you should go to jail for a very long time for this.’
chapter forty-four
Heather
Heather woke but did not open her eyes.
She was lying on her side, on something thin and soft, her hands pillowed beneath her head.
Her body clock told her it was morning. Maybe around 7 am, she would have guessed.
She was no longer high. Her mind felt clear. She was in the yoga and meditation studio at Tranquillum House and today was the anniversary of Zach’s death.
After years of nausea she’d vomited up her secret and now she felt shaky, strange and empty, but also better. She felt cleansed, which, funnily enough, was exactly what Tranquillum House had promised. Heather would have to write them a glowing testimonial: I feel so much better after my time at Tranquillum House! I especially enjoyed ‘tripping’ with my husband and daughter.
Obviously they would leave this place immediately. They would not eat or drink anything provided by Masha. They would go straight to their rooms, pack, get in the car and leave. Perhaps they would go to a cafe in the nearest town and order a big fried breakfast in Zach’s honour.
Heather wanted to spend this year’s anniversary alone with her family talking about Zach, and tomorrow, she wanted to somehow mark her children’s twenty-first birthday in a way that wasn’t about shame or grief, or everyone pretending to forget that this was Zoe’s birthday too. Napoleon had been saying it for so long: we have to separate Zach from the way he chose to end his life. There was so much more to Zach than his suicide. One memory should not eclipse all the other memories. But she hadn’t listened. She had somehow thought that his unhappiness that one day nullified everything else that he did in his life.
Now, all at once, she knew that Napoleon was right. Today they would mark the anniversary of his death by pooling their best memories of his eighteen years of life, and the grief would be unbearable, but Heather knew better than anyone that the unbearable could be borne. For the last three years she’d been grieving Zach’s suicide. Now it was finally time to grieve his loss. The loss of a beautiful, silly, smart, impetuous boy.
She hoped that his sister would cope today. All that rubbish about ‘not being close’ to Zach. Heather’s heart ached for her. The child adored her brother. They were ten years old before they stopped creeping into each other’s beds at night when they had nightmares. Heather would need to tell her over and over that it wasn’t her fault. It was Heather’s failure alone. Her failure to notice her son’s change in behaviour and her failure to give anyone, including Zach himself, a reason to look for it.
And at some point today they would report the madwoman’s actions to the police.
Heather opened her eyes and saw that she was lying on a yoga mat, face to face with her sleeping daughter. She was still asleep, her eyelids fluttering. Heather was close enough to feel Zoe’s breath on her face. She put her hand to her cheek.