“What?”
“I know I do jigsaws and make amazing pumpkin soup, but I’m actually straight.”
“Oh!” said Jane. She could feel her face turning crimson. “I’m sorry. I thought . . . I didn’t think, I knew! How did I know? Someone told me. Madeline told me ages ago. But I remember it! She told me this whole story about how you broke up with your boyfriend and you took it really bad and you just spent hours crying and surfing . . .”
Tom grinned. “Tom O’Brien,” he said. “That’s who she was talking about.”
“Tom O’Brien, the smash-repair guy?” Tom O’Brien was big and burly with a black bushy beard. She had never even properly registered the fact that the two Toms had the same name, they were so different.
“It’s perfectly understandable,” said Tom. “It would seem more likely that Tom the barista was g*y than Tom the giant smash-repairer. He’s happy now, by the way, in love with someone new.”
“Huh,” said Jane. She considered. “His receipts did smell really nice.”
Tom snorted.
“I hope I didn’t, um, offend you,” said Jane.
She hadn’t fully closed the bathroom door when she’d gotten dressed. She’d left it partly ajar, the way she would have if Tom had been a girl, so that they could keep talking. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. She had talked to him so freely. She’d always been so free with him. If she’d known he was straight she would have kept a part of herself safe. She’d let herself feel attracted to him because he was g*y, so it didn’t count.
“Of course not,” said Tom.
Their eyes met. His face, so dear and familiar to her now after all these months, felt suddenly strange. He was blushing. They were both blushing. Her stomach dropped as if she were at the top of a roller coaster. Oh, calamity.
“I think that piece goes in the corner there,” said Tom.
Jane looked at the jigsaw piece and slotted it into place. She hoped the tremor in her fingers looked like clumsiness.
“You’re right,” she said.
Carol: I saw Jane having a very, shall we say, intimate conversation with one of the fathers at the trivia night. Their faces were this close, and I’m pretty sure he had his hand on her knee. I was a little shocked, to be frank.
Gabrielle: It wasn’t a school dad. It was just Tom! The barista! And he’s g*y!
69.
Half an Hour Before the Trivia Night
You look so beautiful, Mummy,” said Josh.
He stood at the bedroom door, staring at Celeste. She was wearing a sleeveless black dress, long white gloves, and the pearl necklace Perry had bought for her in Switzerland. Celeste had even put her hair up in a passable Audrey Hepburn–style beehive bun and had just that moment found a vintage diamond comb. She looked pretty nice. Madeline would be pleased with her.
“Thank you, Joshie,” said Celeste, more touched than she could remember ever being from a compliment. “Give me a cuddle.”
He ran to her, and she sat on the end of the bed and let him snuggle into her. He’d never been as snuggly as Max, so when he needed a hug she made sure to take her time. She pressed her lips to his hair. She’d taken more painkillers, even though she wasn’t sure if she really needed them, and was feeling detached and floaty.
“Mummy,” said Josh.
“Hmmm?”
“I need to tell you a secret.”
“Hmmmm. What’s that?” She closed her eyes and hugged him closer.
“I don’t want to tell you,” said Josh.
“You don’t have to tell me,” said Celeste dreamily.
“But it makes me feel sad,” said Josh.
“What makes you feel sad?” Celeste lifted her head and made herself focus.
“OK, so Max isn’t hurting Amabella anymore,” said Josh. “But then, yesterday, he pushed Skye down the stairs near the library again, and I said he shouldn’t do that, and we had a big fight because I said I was going to tell.”
Max pushed Skye.
Skye. Bonnie and Nathan’s anxious, waif-like little girl. Max had pushed Skye down the stairs again. The thought of her son hurting that fragile child made Celeste feel instantly sick.
“But why?” she said. “Why would he do that?” The back of her head had begun to ache.
“Dunno,” shrugged Josh. “He just does.”
“Wait a moment,” said Celeste. Her mobile phone was ringing somewhere downstairs. She pressed a fingertip to her forehead. Her head felt fuzzy. “Did you say, ‘Max isn’t hurting Amabella anymore’? What are you talking about? What do you mean?”
“I’ll answer it!” called out Perry.
Josh was impatient with her. “No, no, Mummy. Listen! He doesn’t go near Amabella anymore. It’s Skye. He’s being mean to Skye. When no one is looking except me.”
“Mummy!” Max came running in. His face was ecstatic. “I think my tooth is wobbly!” He put his finger in his mouth. He looked so cute. So sweet and innocent. His face still had that baby-roundness. He was desperate to lose a tooth because he was obsessed with the idea of the Tooth Fairy.
When the boys turned three, Josh asked for a digger and Max asked for a baby doll. She and Perry had enjoyed watching him cradle the doll, singing it soft little lullabies, and Celeste had loved the fact that Perry didn’t mind at all that their son was behaving in such a nonmasculine way. Of course, he’d soon dropped dolls for lightsabers, but he was still her cuddly son, the most loving of the boys.
And now he was staking out the quiet little girls in the class and hurting them. Her son was a bully. “How does the abuse affect your children?” Susi had asked. “It doesn’t,” she’d said.
“Oh, Max,” she said.
“Feel it!” said Max. “I’m not making it up! It’s definitely loose!” He looked up at his father as Perry came into the room. “You look funny, Daddy! Hey, Daddy, look at my tooth! Look, look!”
Perry was barely recognizable in his perfectly fitted shiny black wig, gold aviator glasses and, of course, the iconic white Elvis jumpsuit with glittering gemstones. He held Celeste’s mobile phone in his hand.
“Wow! It’s really loose this time?” he said. “Let me see!”
He put the phone down on the bed next to Celeste and Josh and got down on his knees in front of Max, pushing his glasses down over his nose so he could see.