Apples Never Fall

The risk of upsetting Stan outweighed the risk of upsetting Amy. The risk of upsetting Stan had always outweighed the risk of upsetting any of the children.

Nearly always.

A hot sour feeling blossomed across her chest like heartburn or a heart attack; at her age either was always a possibility, but she ignored it and sat down at the table to wait for her breakfast to be put in front of her. She resolutely turned her head away from her mother-in-law’s china cats. Sometimes they seemed to watch her, the way her mother-in-law had once watched her, with pure malice.

She placed her hand lightly on Stan’s forearm and said, “Maybe change into that blue shirt, darling. The one Amy gave you for Christmas.”

“It’s too tight across the back,” said Stan.

“I know,” said Joy. “But wear it anyway.”

Chapter 21

NOW

“Chocolate brownie?” asked Joy Delaney’s oldest daughter, with such anxious, fervent hope as she held out the plate that Christina and Ethan each took one.

“They’re straight out of the oven,” said Amy Delaney.

Christina and Ethan sat side by side on a couch in the front room of Amy’s inner-city terrace, which she apparently shared with three flatmates. Amy sat opposite them, on the very edge of an armchair so ripped it looked like someone had taken to it with a knife. It seemed like a fairly typical share house. The room they were in was filled with mismatched furniture and smelled faintly of cannabis and garlic. Amy was a head taller than both Christina and Ethan, and she wore flowing harem pants that looked like pajamas and a white singlet top inscribed with the words This is how I roll. She’d tied back her blue-dyed hair for the press conference, but this morning it was dripping wet as if she’d just got out of the shower.

You wouldn’t think she’d grown up in that nice family home with the flowerbeds and garden gnomes, except for the fussy way she hosted them, insisting that she make them cups of tea and bringing out brownies and side plates and napkins.

Christina bit down on the brownie, which was sweet and nutty and gave her an instant sugar rush. She was highly susceptible to sugar highs. Also sugar lows. Nico used it to his advantage. When he proposed he gave her a diamond ring and a Caramello Koala.

The coffee table was too far away to reach the cups of tea that Amy had made them.

“Oh, sorry!” said Amy, noticing, and she got on her knees and tried to shove the coffee table closer to them. The tea sloshed onto the table.

Amy swore under her breath, and looked close to tears.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” said Ethan soothingly, and he got to his feet and tugged the table closer in one smooth move.

“Thank you!” Amy fidgeted with the fabric of her pants. “This room isn’t very well set up for guests. Anyway. Thank you for coming to me. That was nice of you. I don’t know if I can give you any more information than I already have. I mean, I’m not really that worried. I’m sure Mum is fine. She told us she was going off-grid. When she comes home she’ll be so cross with us for wasting your time like this! She’ll be so embarrassed. I feel kind of embarrassed, to be honest.”

Her words said one thing, but her body language said something else entirely.

“I’m curious. If you’re so sure your mother is fine”—Christina asked the same question she’d asked Amy’s brother—“then why report her missing?”

“Well, I guess just in case she isn’t fine.” Amy’s gaze slid all over the place. She clutched her hands together as if to stop them escaping. Christina ran a practiced eye over her for signs of drug use and didn’t find any physical signs except for her skittishness and the shadows under her eyes, which could easily be attributed to her concern for her mother.

Amy said, “Expect the best but prepare for the worst. I thought you’d check out the hospitals, put out an alert, that sort of thing.”

“We’re doing all that,” said Christina. “You were obviously there at the press conference.”

“Yes, I know I was there! That was a great press conference, thank you! It was really … professional!” She looked around wildly for inspiration. “But, um, I guess what I’m saying is, I really didn’t expect you guys to treat my parents’ house like an actual crime scene.”

Christina said nothing. She waited.

“Those scratches on my dad’s face are from the hedge out the back of our house. I can show you the hedge! They’re not from my mother’s fingernails.”

Yes, they are, thought Christina. I’d put a million bucks on it.

Amy shuddered so convulsively at the thought of her mother’s fingernails that for a moment Christina thought she was having an actual seizure.

Ethan glanced uneasily at Christina as Amy closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and grimaced like a weight lifter, as though she were physically taking control of her mental state.

She opened her eyes, and when she spoke again her voice was steady. “Here’s the thing. You don’t know my father. He’s a stranger to you. All you see is a grumpy old man. He suppresses his emotions. That’s what men of his age do. That’s probably why he looks guilty to you.”