Grace is woken by the sound of her phone ringing, and then Tom saying hello.
‘Who is it?’ she asks groggily. She and Tom were watching a movie together. She must have nodded off. She was tired: she’d been gardening all afternoon.
‘It’s Katy.’
‘Who?’ Her brain is still muddled with sleep. Her skin feels hot. Sunburn?
Tom hands her the phone. ‘Katy, your friend from school.’
Oh yes, that Katy. But they weren’t friends, that’s the perplexing thing.
She pulls herself into a more upright position. It’s late: almost eleven. ‘Katy ... Hello ... What is it?’
‘I’m so sorry for disturbing you ... I just didn’t know who else to call, who else would understand the implications .’
Grace is instantly more alert. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Tom catches her eye and mouths, What’s wrong?
‘Someone slipped a note under my door. This is what it says .’ Katy’s voice trembles as she reads the note. ‘How did this person get inside the apartment block? How do they know where I live?’
Grace thinks for a moment. ‘I would imagine they slipped inside while someone else was exiting. Didn’t you include your address for RSVPs?’
‘Oh, God, yes. Stupid me. My email was all that was really needed.’
‘You weren’t to know ... You did nothing I wouldn’t do.’
‘What am I meant to make of the boyfriend comment? Whoever this is obviously knows that I live alone. I’m so creeped out ...’
Poor Katy. Grace remembers those few hours of crippling fear when she thought someone had been in her house and taken the photo from the fridge.
‘Do you have anyone who can come over and stay with you?’
‘Jim, one of my neighbours, came around and checked all the rooms with me. Gave me some reassurance that there’s nobody actually in here. But I’m scared, Grace. This person was at my door. What if they’re still around, lurking in the building somewhere, waiting their chance?’
‘Do you want Tom to come over?’
Tom’s eyebrows shoot up. Grace ignores him.
Katy’s laugh sounds strangulated. ‘I haven’t even met Tom.’
‘There’s always a first time.’
‘Thank you, but no. I just needed to tell you. Because you get it. When Jim looked at the note, he couldn’t see the menace in it. I’m much calmer now that we’ve spoken.’
‘You’re sure you don’t want Tom to call around?’
‘Yes, sure.’
‘How about the police?’
‘It’s not a crime to put a note under someone’s door . Is it?’
‘Assuming the person doesn’t live in your apartment block, then they were trespassing at the very least ... Look, Tom knows a lot of police officers through work. I’ll ask him to talk it over with one of them, see what they say.’
‘Thanks, Grace, I’d appreciate that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called so late.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’m here any time, day or night. Goodnight, Katy. Talk to you tomorrow.’
‘Goodnight, Grace.’
Grace hangs up the phone. Rests her forehead against her hand. It’s burning; she definitely got sunburnt when she was in the garden this afternoon.
Tom is standing, waiting for an explanation. ‘Where were you planning to send me?’
‘To Katy’s place. In Neutral Bay.’
‘Is she in some kind of danger?’
‘I don’t think so. She got a weird note about the yearbook. She’s upset and frightened more than anything.’
‘Should I go there?’
‘She said no need. But can you talk to one of your cop friends and see if anything can be done to stop this?’
They give up on the movie and go to bed.
Grace sleeps fitfully. She dreams that she’s in a strange apartment and someone is repeatedly knocking on the walls and doors. She keeps running from room to room, trying to see who it is.
‘Who’s there?’ she shrieks frantically. ‘Who is it? Why are you doing this?’
Suddenly, she comes face to face with a corpse-like Katy Buckley: translucent skin, dilated eyes, unkempt hair.
‘It’s me,’ she breathes. ‘It’s been me all along.’
Grace screams until she’s awake.
Tom reaches out in the dark. ‘Shush. It’s just a nightmare.’
Grace has a quick shower and surveys herself in the mirror. Her forehead and nose are sunburnt, her hair is in need of a trim, and her face is drawn from last night’s restless sleep. She puts on some foundation, one of her best tops, and rubs some cream into her hands, which are tattered from the garden. She always makes a special effort when she sees Annabel. She suspects that at some deep-down level she’s still trying to impress her. She laughs at the thought.
Grace dispenses chores before she goes out. ‘Tahlia and Poppy, I want you two to change the sheets on all the beds. Lauren, honey, you’re to help Daddy with the gardening. Billy, your job is to tidy away all the toys.’
The children groan half-heartedly. They know by now it’s better to get the chores over and done with; moaning, as well as being ineffective, is a waste of time. Grace and Tom are firm believers in natural consequences as well as chores. If the kids forget their homework or sports uniform, Grace does not rush to school with the forgotten item; instead, they’re expected to deal with their irate teacher, possible detention and other consequences of their forgetfulness. If they don’t put their dirty clothes in the wash, they have to wear the item in a less-than-clean state – although this doesn’t bother Billy in the slightest.
Manly is a short drive down the hill. Seven minutes later, Grace has transitioned from suburbia to beachside. It’s a stunning morning: cloudless sky, piercing sun, barely a breeze.
Annabel is waiting at the café where they agreed to meet. She’s wearing large sunglasses and a white sundress that shows off her golden shoulders. Grace kisses her cheek and gets a whiff of the scent she associates with her friend: a sophisticated, expensive smell.
Grace smiles and gestures towards the blue sky and sparkling ocean. ‘What a glorious morning!’
Annabel grimaces. ‘Shall we order?’
This response is abrupt even for Annabel, who specialises in being curt. It’s obvious something serious is afoot. Grace knew this from the minute she received Annabel’s text, asking if she was free for an impromptu coffee. Their catch-ups, while regular, are rarely of the impromptu kind.
Annabel raises her hand and a waitress – blonde, tanned, like a young Annabel, in fact – appears with astonishing speed.
‘What’s up?’ Grace asks once the waitress has taken their orders.
‘I don’t know where to start ...’
‘Start wherever you like,’ Grace says, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze.
‘It’s Daniel—’ Annabel’s voice breaks. Is she about to start crying? Here in the middle of the café? Grace is thrown. Annabel doesn’t cry easily.
‘He was assaulted last night, here in Manly—’ Annabel chokes on a sob, tries to compose herself, fails miserably. Now she is crying openly and attracting glances from the other patrons.
Grace, who was half-expecting to hear that Daniel had been expelled from school or perhaps had got into trouble with the police, is shocked. ‘Is he okay? Was he badly hurt?’
‘He has cuts and bruises and a few cracked ribs. But it’s not the assault that’s the problem, it’s the drugs ...’ Annabel pushes her sunglasses back on her head and roughly wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. Her eyes are bloodshot. ‘He was so off his face he made himself a target. And not even this – ending up in hospital – has made him see the light.’
‘What kind of drugs?’ Grace asks with dread.
‘Amphetamines ... Speed ...’
Grace could burst into tears too but that would be of no help to Annabel. ‘Tom says that’s the most prevalent at the moment. Seems to be everywhere.’
‘I’m at my wits’ end.’ Annabel slides her sunglasses back in place. Her mouth is trembling and it’s obvious she’s trying to hold back another bout of tears. ‘I don’t know what to do or where to turn. Jarrod is too distraught to think straight. I need your help, Grace. I need your support, because Jarrod is as good as useless right now.’
Grace has never seen her friend this vulnerable. ‘I’ll help you and Jarrod any way I can ... Do you mind if I tell Tom? The council provides some really worthwhile services. They’re often badly advertised, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t good .’
‘Tell whoever you like. Jarrod and I tried to keep it quiet, and look where that’s got us.’
‘You’ll need to get Daniel on some kind of rehabilitation programme ...’
Annabel nods. Then she crumples in her seat and begins crying again. ‘Something this devastating hasn’t happened since I found out I was pregnant with Jemma.’
Grace takes the opportunity to be positive. ‘Jemma worked out okay, didn’t she? This will too, honey. You’ll get through it.’
Annabel uses some serviettes to dab her eyes and blow her nose. They both turn to their coffees, which arrived some time ago and are already half cold. Grace looks out at the ocean, her mug poised at her lips. There are dozens of surfers bobbing out at the break. A wave rolls in, they all paddle furiously and rise up on their boards, one managing to ride inside the curve of the water – a feat of timing and skill – while the rest topple and get wiped out. Life goes on, some people thriving at the same time that others are falling apart.
Her phone beeps with an incoming text.
Thanks for listening last night. Sorry I woke you up and alarmed you. I’m much calmer this morning. By the way, Rickie phoned. Drunk as a skunk and obviously looking for sex. First child will not be your namesake after all. xx Katy.
‘Excuse me a minute,’ Grace says to Annabel as she hits the reply button. ‘I just need to answer this. It’s from Katy Buckley.’
Glad to hear you’re feeling better this morning. So sorry about Rickie. Can’t believe he did that. What a jerk! We should catch up soon. Xx Grace.
‘Why is Katy Buckley sending you texts?’ Annabel asks, sounding more like her usual self.
‘She received one of those messages last night, about the year-book. She was totally freaked out by it.’
‘But why text you?’
‘Because I went to look at the venue with her. We had coffee and talked about the emails ...’
Annabel snorts. ‘All these years later and she’s still trying.’
‘Trying what?’
‘Don’t you remember? She was always trying to get into our group. Being all friendly and annoying. I guess she’s finally got to you.’
The spitefulness in Annabel’s voice propels Grace back through the years. The snow excursion: Annabel eyeing Katy’s duffel coat as they waited to get on the bus.
‘Oh my God. Where did she get it? The fucking army? It looks like a sack on her.’
Another flashback: Annabel sneering from the check-out counter as Katy, her arm hooked through Luke’s, disappeared down one of the library aisles.
‘She still thinks she has a chance with him. Wake up, Katy. He’s fucking gay and you’re fucking pathetic.’
But worse than anything was that scene with the birthday card. Its fragments floating to the floor, Annabel’s inexplicable hatred, Katy’s face puce with mortification.
‘Get your own friends, Katy Buckley. Stop acting like you’re one of us because you’re not.’
Grace comes back to the present, guilt mingling with the taste of coffee in her mouth. She’s tempted to tell Annabel to stop being such a bitch. She would, if it weren’t for Annabel being so upset about Daniel.
‘As a matter of fact, I really like Katy Buckley. I guess she has finally got to me.’