The reunion has been called off. Grace is both relieved and disappointed on receiving Katy’s email.
From: admin@yearbook.com.au
Subject: Reunion cancelled
Sorry, everyone. People are still being sent threatening notes and so the reunion is off. Maybe another year. Let’s stay in touch. Use the Facebook group to post old photos and news. Xxx Katy
There will be no night out in Manly, no overnight stay in a hotel, no complicated babysitting arrangements. Their budget will be the better for it. She was so looking forward to it, though. Seeing how everyone has changed, if they’ve transformed themselves – like Katy – or are essentially the same – like Annabel. Grace likes to think that she falls into the former category. She has changed, grown, become a better, stronger person. Not as easily influenced as she once was.
Tom sticks his head around the study door. ‘Are you coming to bed?’
‘Just finishing off a few things,’ she says vaguely. ‘I’ll be a few minutes.’
Most nights she waits until he’s asleep before slipping carefully between the sheets, keeping a safe distance when before she would have cocooned her body in his. She can tell he’s puzzled by her behaviour this past week, which has been see-sawing between avoidance and sudden interrogations.
‘Have you come across Daniel recently?’
‘Are you sure you’ve never met Zach Latham? He’s a well-known GP in Manly.’
She brings up Luke’s name, Katy’s name and Melissa’s name, and searches his face for recognition: not a glimmer. Unless he’s a very good actor. It makes no sense, she tells herself. There is nothing linking Tom to these people. And not only is there no link, there is no reason: other than the flimsy theory of Tom wanting to force Annabel’s hand with Daniel, and then – because he had sent Annabel an email – convincing himself he needed to send others. Flimsy being an understatement. Grace has been inside her head far too much. She needs to talk this through with someone who knows both Tom and the intricacies of what’s been going on. Someone who can tell her, in her usual brusque manner, to stop being daft: Annabel. But that’s not going to happen anytime soon; her poor friend has barely left Jarrod’s side. Grace’s details about the accident are sketchy. Annabel’s not allowed to have her phone switched on in ICU, and Grace has spoken to her only a couple of times, their conversation centred around practical ways in which Grace can help.
Her thoughts revert to her husband, and the disturbing truth that he knew all along about Daniel’s dabbling with drugs.
Tom is a good man. He would never threaten or upset people. Yes, he can be a bit judgemental and zealous at times, but he would never do anything as extreme as this.
The reunion has been cancelled because of these messages. All of Katy’s planning and organisation come to nothing. Grace’s anticipation and nostalgia left with no outlet. But wait! Is that the point? Is that what she’s been missing?
Maybe Tom doesn’t want you to go, Grace.
Maybe it’s that simple. For some bizarre reason known only to himself, her husband does not want her at this reunion and is prepared to go to crazy lengths to have it called off.
No, no, no. If Tom didn’t want her to go, he would come out and say it. Wouldn’t he?
Grace spends the following day in the kitchen, making a lasagne, a shepherd’s pie and a pasta bake: crisis food. She takes the meals around to Annabel’s house in the evening, hoping to catch her friend on one of her quick trips home from the hospital.
Jemma answers the door. She seems pleased to have a visitor, and even more pleased when she sees the food. ‘Hey, Grace. Oh, thank you so much ... Come in.’
Grace steps inside the cavernous hallway with its glossy white tiles. Everything in Annabel’s house is ridiculously oversized: the master suite, the his-and-hers bathrooms, even the utility room seems unnecessarily large. Mia comes skipping from the back of the house and launches herself forward for a hug. There’s no sign of either Daniel or Annabel.
‘How’s your father doing?’ Grace asks, sitting down on a kitchen stool.
‘The same,’ Jemma says, shooting Mia a wary glance and leading Grace to the assumption that the young girl is being protected from the gravity of her father’s condition. ‘Do you want some tea?’
Grace smiles. ‘That would be lovely.’
Poor Jemma. Having to hold everything together at home while missing out on her university course and social life. But she’s always been the kind of child who gets on with things without much fuss. Mia is the same: low maintenance. Daniel, of course, is a different story.
‘Is your brother home?’
Jemma shakes her head, grimaces. ‘He’s been taking advantage of Mum not being here ...’
Grace feels a flare of anger towards Daniel. For his colossal selfishness. For giving his mother and sister something extra to worry about, as if the situation with Jarrod wasn’t enough.
Jemma pours boiled water into two matching mugs. ‘Milk? Sugar?’
Everything in Annabel’s kitchen is colour matched and ultramodern. Polar opposite to Grace’s kitchen, which is more than forty years old and looks every day of it. Every time Grace comes here, she resolves to buy some new crockery at the very least, but she never does.
Grace sips her tea, chats to Jemma about university, gives feedback on a story Mia is writing for homework, before tucking her god-daughter into bed. The clock is edging towards 9 p.m. and still no sign of Daniel. It’s a school night, for heaven’s sake. Where is he? Just as she is about to say something to Jemma, that perhaps they should try phoning him, she hears the front door open and close.
‘Daniel?’ Jemma calls out, worry etched in her voice.
A grunt in response. Then the sound of another door opening and closing. His bedroom? The bathroom? Grace waits, wondering if Daniel is going to appear at any point. Ten minutes pass. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Apparently not.
‘I’d better go,’ she says to Jemma. ‘Thanks for the tea. Tell your mum to call me if she needs anything at all.’
‘I will,’ Jemma promises.
Grace smells it as soon as she steps into the hall. Earthy. Woody. Unmistakable. ‘That’s weed.’
Jemma sighs. ‘He’s been smoking every day since Mum’s been at the hospital.’
What an awful, awful mess. What kind of state will Daniel wake up in tomorrow? How can he pay attention at school? Have the motivation to learn and do well? What is even the point of school if this is all he cares about?
‘Has he been going to school?’
‘No. But Mum doesn’t know that.’
‘I should try to knock some sense into him,’ Grace says, moving towards the stairs.
Jemma sticks an arm out, stopping her. ‘There’s no point when he’s off his face. Trust me.’
Her argument is valid. Nevertheless, Grace finds it difficult not to barge into Daniel’s room, demanding he not cause his family this extra worry. She is uneasy as she hugs Jemma goodbye.
Her own house is silent and mostly in darkness. She looks in on each of the children. Tahlia is lying on her side, facing the far side of the room. Lauren is on her back, her face illuminated by her bedside lamp. Poppy likes to burrow down: her head is barely visible. Billy’s in a tangle of sheets. She says a quick prayer for each child, that they’ll make the right choices and not end up like Daniel. She looks in on Tom, too, who obviously went to bed early because of his 6 a.m. shift. Or maybe he’s avoiding her now. Playing her at her own game.
Grace pours herself a glass of water and begins to process her thoughts, which are as tangled as Billy’s sheets. What if Jarrod ends up with some long-term brain damage or some other debilitating problem? Annabel said there’s strictly no visitors, so all Grace can do is offer support on the home front. She can’t help feeling she failed tonight. That she should have done something more. For a moment, while she and Jemma were at a stand-off in the hallway, she’d briefly thought about phoning Tom and asking his advice. This last thought brings her back to all the horrible doubts she’s had about her husband and the aborted reunion.
She sighs. She should go to bed. She hasn’t been sleeping well.
She rinses her glass, turns out the lights, and then something prompts her to return to Lauren’s room. At the time it’s an automatic thing, she’s turning the doorknob without understanding why. Later she thinks she might have subconsciously wanted to turn off Lauren’s lamp. Or perhaps she felt a draught, or an increase in noise, or sensed some other change in the atmosphere.
There’s no denying what she notices as soon as she looks into the room. The window is open. The curtains are blowing. And Grace is very sure that the window was not open when she looked in fifteen minutes ago.
‘Lauren, what on earth are you up to now?’ she whispers to her sleeping daughter.
Grace pulls the window shut, trying not to make too much noise. Something goes floating to the ground. A folded piece of paper. Grace opens it.
I have one question for you. If it was one of your kids being harmed, would you still look the other way?
Grace screams. Lauren jumps up in bed and starts screaming too. Moments later Tom comes stumbling into the room. He finds his wife and daughter clutching each other, whimpering in terror.