On the way out of the airport, Anne stopped at the cafe they’d been to that morning. She ordered a pot of tea, then changed her mind.
‘I’ll have a hot chocolate,’ she said, and then found herself pointing to the hummingbird cake under a glass cloche on the counter. She knew she should drop five kilos, but she’d been caring for other people all day. It was cold. She had a long drive home in the rain.
She’d bought a magazine for Tom but he’d forgotten to take it. It was Vanity Fair, with Johnny Depp on the cover; not something she’d have chosen for herself, but Tom would have enjoyed it. It would have taken his mind off Roly during the flight, and he would have known about all these magnates, actors and celebrities. She read about a young designer who had his own line of ultra-luxe seamless T-shirts, liked to stay at the Regency in New York, drove a matt-black Rubicon jeep and supported Beagle Rescue. She skimmed advertisements for skin care and handbags and lingerie. The inside back page featured Stacey Bass, a New York socialite and philanthropist (did these people even exist?), giving trite answers to a list of trite questions.
The first was: When have you been happiest? and the reply: Every moment is my happiest. It’s such a privilege to be alive.
When have you been happiest, Anne?
Her wedding day? No, it was when Jake, her second child, was born. She was happy because she had what she wanted, what she’d always wanted – a husband, children, a family. A happy family. So happy that all her friends commented on it.
The last question: What is your motto?
Live with all your heart, said Stacey Bass.
This is just a stupid questionnaire in a stupid magazine, Anne told herself, turning to the back cover and a glossy full-page image of a watch. The Roman numerals were encrusted with diamonds. Anne concentrated her scorn on the watch, but there it was, on the page underneath. Live with all your heart. Live with all your heart.
What if you can’t do that? she thought. What do you do then?
She upended her mug to get at the last of her drink and the chocolaty sludge on the bottom was so sweet it made her teeth ache.
The outside light wasn’t on, but the back door was unlocked. Anne let herself in and walked through the dark house towards the sound of the TV, stumbling over a pair of boots in the hall and finally opening the door to find Matty and Maura side by side on the couch. A pair of dirty bowls sat on the coffee table in front of them.
‘Anne!’ said Matty. He sounded more shocked than surprised. ‘I thought you were staying down tonight.’
‘I was, but I had to take Tom to the airport, so I came on home. I texted you.’
‘I haven’t looked at my phone.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘You must be tired. Do you want a cuppa? I’ll make you one.’
‘In a minute.’
She sat in the armchair and watched the little figures in stripes surging and eddying over the green background.
‘I thought you didn’t like the footy,’ she said to Maura.
‘Dad and I always watch it.’
‘Have you eaten?’ asked Matty.
‘Sort of.’ Traffic on the outbound lanes had been slow – the football, the rain – and it took her ages to get as far as the roadhouse. She’d needed petrol and a pee, and though she wasn’t hungry, she’d lined up at the McDonald’s counter for fries.
‘There’s curry,’ said Maura, standing up, and Anne noticed she had a stubby in her hand.
‘What’s that?’ she said. ‘Are you drinking beer?’
‘Well, duh,’ said Maura.
‘It’s only light, darl,’ said Matty.
‘She’s not even sixteen. She shouldn’t be drinking at all.’
‘Dad lets me have a stubby with him when we watch the game. It’s just one, it’s no big deal. It’s not like I get drunk or anything.’
‘D’you want me to get you that cuppa now?’ said Matty.
‘No. Don’t bother. I’m going to have a shower.’
In the kitchen a colander half full of rice sat in the sink. On the bench were a saucepan of yellow sludge, empty tomato and coconut milk tins, the remains of a cauliflower and a litter of knives and wooden spoons. She thought of her own meal. Salt, fat and chemicals, a laminex table by a litter bin.
‘I didn’t think you’d be back tonight.’ Matty had followed her. ‘We were going to clean up in the morning. Look, I’ll do it now if you –’
‘Matt, I thought we agreed she can’t drink yet, she’s too young. It undermines me, you letting her drink, that’s just unfair.’
‘Anne –’
‘I’m going to have a shower.’
She stood with hot water streaming over her face and shoulders. The timer beeped after four minutes, and she still hadn’t used shower gel or shampoo. When she finally came out of the en suite, Matty was sitting on the bed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I was a bit tired and Maura said she’d cook. I’m not usually one for a veggie curry, but she made a terrific job of it. Did you know you could cook pappadums in the microwave?’
Anne towelled her hair.
‘Anne, it was only one stubby. It’s light. It’s not as if I’m getting her smashed or anything. It’s with food.’
‘I wish I hadn’t come home.’
‘To tell you the truth, I wish you hadn’t, too. Not if you’re going to be like this.’
She stared at him.
‘Look, I’m sorry, but we were having a good time. We were talking. She thinks about things, all sorts of things; she really cares, you know? About her friends, about the environment.’ He must have seen the expression on her face. ‘No, really. She’s quite . . . quite deep, Anne. I mean for a kid.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Anne, I love it that she wants to sit with me and watch the footy and have a beer.’
‘Oh, it’s so easy for you to be the soft touch; Daddy’s home from work, let’s have fun-fun-fun –’
He cut her off. ‘I love it that she wants to be with me.’
She thought about sleeping in the spare bedroom but in the end decided not to. Matty came in about midnight.
‘I’m sorry, Anne,’ he said. How did he know she was still awake? He got into bed and lay beside her, not touching. ‘Goodnight. Sleep well.’
After only a few minutes, Matty began the loud deep breathing that preceded a snore, so she got up and walked out into the passage. Maura’s door was shut and there was no sliver of light coming from under it. The lounge was tidy. So was the kitchen. She opened the fridge. The pot of dhal was uncovered so she took it out, stretched Glad Wrap over the top and put it back. There was a jar of chilli flakes left on the counter, too, and her hand was moving towards the spice rack when she caught sight of the stubbies in the recycling. Two stubbies. One each. Why had she made such a drama of it? Maura was into saving the world, not alco-pops and sex. There was very little likelihood that she’d be a single mum at eighteen, like Anne was. After all this time, she couldn’t even remember what Andy’s father had looked like.