Carol: I had a very badly bruised tailbone, in fact.
51.
Gabrielle: Next thing I hear, Harper is accusing Jane of assaulting her in Turtle Corner, which seems unlikely.
Stu: Harper carried on like a pork chop. She didn’t look like she’d been assaulted. I don’t know. I’d just gotten a call about a blown water main. I didn’t have time to deal with two mothers fighting it out in the sandpit.
Thea: And that’s when some of the parents decided to report matters to the Department of Education.
Jonathan: . . . which obviously freaked poor Mrs. Lipmann out. I think it was her birthday too. Poor woman.
Mrs. Lipmann: I will say this: We couldn’t possibly have suspended Ziggy Chapman. The only time he’d even been accused of bullying was at the orientation day, when he wasn’t even a student. After that it was all just conjecture on the part of the parents. I have no idea if it was my birthday. That is of no relevance.
Miss Barnes: Those parents were crazy. How could we possibly have suspended Ziggy? He was a model student. No behavioral issues. I never had to put him on the Sad Chair. In fact, I can’t remember even giving him a red dot! And he certainly never got a yellow card. Let alone a white one.
The Day Before the Trivia Night
Madeline worked on Fridays, which meant that she mostly missed the Friday-morning school assembly. Ed normally made an appearance if one of the kids was performing or receiving a merit award. Today, however, Chloe had begged Madeline to come because the kindergarten class was reciting “The Dentist and the Crocodile” and Chloe had a line to say all on her own.
Also, Fred’s class was performing on their recorders for the first time. They were going to play “Happy Birthday to You” to Mrs. Lipmann, which would be a painful experience for all concerned. (There was a general feeling around the school that Mrs. Lipmann might be turning sixty, but no one could confirm or deny.)
Madeline had decided to go to the assembly and then work late next Monday afternoon, something she didn’t used to be able to do on a Monday because she took Abigail to basketball practice while Ed took the little kids to their swimming lesson.
“Abigail probably doesn’t need to go to basketball training anymore,” she said to Ed as they got out of the car with their take-out coffees. After they’d dropped the children off they’d zipped down to Blue Blues, where Tom was doing a roaring trade from all the Pirriwee Public parents in need of caffeine to get through a recorder performance at the assembly. “Maybe Nathan is coaching her now.”
Ed chuckled warily, probably worried she was about to launch into another rant about the cancellation of the math tutor. Her husband was a patient man, but she had noticed a glazed look on his face as she’d talked, admittedly for quite a long time, about Abigail’s difficulty with algebra and the fact that Nathan had never been there to help Abigail with her math homework and therefore had no idea how outrageously bad she was at it, and yes it was true that Nathan had always been good at math, but that didn’t mean he could teach it, and so on and so forth.
“Joy e-mailed this morning,” said Ed as he locked the car. Joy was the editor of the local paper. “She wants me to do a piece on what’s going on at the school.”
“What? The trivia night?” said Madeline disinterestedly. Ed often wrote short articles about school fund-raising events for the local paper. She could see Perry and Celeste crossing the street to go into the school. They were holding hands, loved-up gorgeous couple that they were, Perry walking slightly ahead, as if he were protecting Celeste from the traffic.
“No,” said Ed carefully. “The bullying. The petition. Joy says ‘bullying’ is one of those hot-button issues.”
“You can’t write about that!” Madeline stopped abruptly in the middle of the road.
“Get out of the road, you bloody idiot.” Ed grabbed her elbow as a car came whizzing up from the beach. “One day I’m going to be writing a story about a tragedy on this road.”
“Don’t write it, Ed,” said Madeline. “That’s so bad for the school’s reputation.”
“I am still a journalist, you know,” said Ed.
It had been three years since Ed had given up a stressful, high-grade job with longer hours and much better pay at the Australian so that Madeline could go back to work and the two of them could evenly share parenting duties, and he’d never once complained about the intrinsically sedate nature of work at a local paper, cheerfully going off to surf carnivals and fetes and one-hundred-year birthday celebrations at the local nursing home. (The sea air seemed to preserve its residents.) This was the first time he’d ever hinted at the possibility that he wasn’t entirely satisfied.
“It’s a valid story,” said Ed.
“It’s not a valid story!” said Madeline. “You know it’s not a valid story!”
“What’s not a valid story? Gidday, Ed. Madeline, nice to see you.” They had caught up with Perry and Celeste. Perry was in a beautifully cut suit and tie; bespoke, Italian, worth more than Ed’s entire wardrobe, Madeline guessed, including the wardrobe. She managed to caress the silky fabric of his sleeve with her fingertips as Perry leaned over to kiss her and she breathed in the scent of his aftershave.
She wondered what it would be like to be married to a man who dressed so well. If it were Madeline, she would take such pleasure in all those lovely textures and colors, the softness of the ties, the crispness of the shirts. Of course, Celeste, who didn’t have much interest in clothes, probably didn’t even register the difference between Perry and rumpled, unshaven Ed, with his old musty-smelling, olive-green fleece over his T-shirt. Watching Ed and Perry talk, though, she felt an unexpected surge of affection for Ed, even though she’d just that minute been feeling aggravated with him. It was something to do with the open, interested way he listened to Perry, and his graying, stubbled chin, in contrast with Perry’s shiny-smooth jaw.
Yes. She’d much rather kiss Ed. So that was lucky.
“Are we late? We dropped the boys off first at kiss-and-drop because there was no parking,” said Celeste in her flustered, worried way. “The boys are so excited about Perry being here to see them perform this poem.”
“We’re not late,” said Madeline. She wondered if Celeste had said anything to Perry yet about his cousin possibly being Ziggy’s father. She would have told Ed by now.