by Rachel Ryan
“Bren, please. I told you. I need space.” Whenever Bren wanted to talk about him and Emma, Georgina felt like she couldn’t breathe.
With an almost comically wounded expression—and that grated; he wasn’t the one who’d been cheated on—off he went, leaving Georgina to drink her cup of chamomile tea in peace.
There should be someplace you could send a philandering spouse for a few weeks while you organized your thoughts. It didn’t seem fair that he was right there, breathing down her neck, while she was still reeling from the shock. If they were rich, she could ship him off to a hotel. If they had a big house, they could disappear to opposite ends. But when you lived in a poky little North Dublin two-bedroom, there weren’t a whole lot of options. Perhaps, Georgina thought, there was a business opportunity there. Disgraced-partner camp? Get rid of your unfaithful husband or wife for a few weeks? But wait—she spotted the glaring flaw in her business model. All those cheaters shut up on top of one another? A recipe for disaster, surely.
“Georgie?” Bren interrupted her absurd train of thought. “Cody wants you to tuck him in.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Upstairs, she found Cody with his nose in a book and his reading lamp on. Georgina smiled.
“Time for lights off, my love,” she said.
“One more chapter!”
“Did you brush your teeth already?”
“Yes!”
“Okay.” She sat down beside him. “One more chapter. Do you want me to read it to you?”
“Yes.” Cody beamed at her. There was a small, dark smudge on his left cheek.
Georgina reached out a finger to brush it. “What’s that?”
“What?” Cody scrubbed at his face. Another trace of something dark stained the corner of his mouth.
“Cody.” She recognized the signs. “You’ve been eating chocolate in bed again, haven’t you?”
“No.” He was rubbing at his face frantically now, desperate to wipe away the evidence.
“Cody, no sweets after we brush our teeth, you know this. It defeats the whole purpose of brushing teeth.” She groped under his pillow, searching for the hidden goods. “Where’s the chocolate?”
“I ate it all.”
“Really.” Last time this happened, Georgina had found an entire tub of Nutella under Cody’s pillow. “Go on, you, go brush your teeth again.”
She pushed him gently off the bed. He stood on the carpet staring at her.
“Go,” she said, exasperated. “Do you want your teeth to get all rotten?”
“The chocolate’s gone,” Cody insisted. “I ate it all.”
Georgina paused. Why did he seem so anxious? What didn’t he want her to find?
He stood watching, tense, as her hands felt under the duvet and touched something square…
Cody made a little involuntary movement as Georgina pulled out a large box of Maltesers chocolates. Maltesers were Cody’s favorites.
“Where did you get these, Cody?”
He said nothing, just stared with wide, nervous eyes.
She yanked the duvet right back. There was a plain white card. She opened it. In blue Biro scribble, it read:
Darling Cody,
Chocolate for you! Chocolate is the prize for boys who win the game.
Lots of love,
Granny xxx
Georgina stood up as if in a dream.
“Bren?” she called, and then half screamed: “Bren!”
Cody folded his arms sullenly. “I knew you’d be angry at me.” Georgina was struck by the force of his glare.
Bren came rushing into the room. “What’s wrong?”
Georgina pushed the card into his hand.
He read it, confusion all over his face. “What is this?” he asked, looking from Georgina to Cody and back again.
“Someone gave him those.” Georgina pointed at the Maltesers. “An adult. An adult wrote that card, Bren.”
“What is this, buddy?” said Bren. “Is this part of your game?”
Cody looked from his father’s bemused but relaxed face to his mother’s panic-stricken one. “Yes,” he said. “It’s part of my game.”
“Oh, come on, Bren! Did you read—”
Bren studied the card, frowning. “Calm down, Georgina. I’m not convinced it’s an adult’s handwriting.”
“You’re telling me to be calm? Cody, who sent you this?”
“One of the kids at school wrote the card for me,” said Cody. “I asked them to do it.”
“Why, buddy?” said Bren.
“It’s part of my game, I said. An important part.”
Bren held up a hand to silence Georgina as she opened her mouth to speak. “Then where did the Maltesers come from, Cody?”
“I bought them myself. With my own money,” Cody added defiantly. “My own money that Granddad gave me.”
Bren looked half amused, half sad. But what he did not look was afraid. Paradoxically, it would have reassured Georgina to see her own fear reflected on her husband’s face.
“Rose always bought him Maltesers,” Bren addressed Georgina in a low voice. “He wants to pretend he still has a grandmother who buys him presents. Georgina, this is how children deal with things—imagination.”
“You really believe that?”
“And you really believe—what? That they’re a gift from beyond the grave?”
Georgina snatched the card out of his hand.
“I won’t let you make me out to be the irrational one here! Someone is contacting our son. Who gave you this, Cody?” He drew back from her, and she took him by the arm and pulled him closer, trying to make him see the urgency in her face. “Tell me!”
“One of the kids at school wrote— Ow, Mom, let go of me!”
“Don’t grab his arm like that, Georgina!”
“Cody, I’m sorry.” She let go of his arm. He backed away rapidly until he was behind his father’s legs and continued glaring at her from there. “But you have to tell me. Who gave you the chocolates?”
“Georgina, let’s go downstairs and talk, just the two of us,” said Bren.
“I want my card back,” said Cody loudly.
“Give him the card, Georgina.”
Georgina’s eyes widened. She grabbed the box of Maltesers off the bed as well and held them aloft. “What, and these too? Bren, we don’t know who gave these to our child.”
“For God’s sake, Georgina.” Bren was stage-whispering in that way adults sometimes did when a child was in the room. “Obviously we have to discuss this, but not like this!” In his normal voice, he said to Cody, “Buddy, me and you are going to have a talk about this soon, okay?” Then he turned to Georgina. “How about, under the circumstances, we let him keep the chocolates and—”
She strode past him and into the hall. They followed her, Cody whining and Bren arguing, but she ignored them both and marched down the stairs.
She’d been right the whole time.
“Georgina, what are you—”
“No!” Cody wailed. “Mom, those are mine!”
Bren and Cody were both behind her, protesting, as she opened the bin and poured the Maltesers into it.
“Jesus, Georgina, there was no need to do that.” Bren tried to grab her arm, but she shook him off, shoving the card into the bin too. Purging the house of these tainted items.
“I’m not having him eat those.”
“He’s already eaten half of them!”
“They could be poisoned for all we know!”
“Jesus, Georgina, listen to yourself.”
Cody was crying now. Georgina crouched in front of him. “Do you feel sick at all, sweetie? Is your tummy okay?”
“I hate you,” said Cody. But before she could chide him—they tried to discourage that phrase in this house—Bren was there, scooping his son up into his arms.
“It’s all right, buddy, it’s okay.” He stroked Cody’s back. “There’s no need to cry. I’ll read you a story. Me and mom wil
l discuss this tomorrow.” He glared at Georgina over Cody’s shoulder. “When everyone’s less upset.”
And they were gone, Cody still crying as Bren carried him up the stairs. Those hiccupping sobs tore at Georgina’s heart. But she didn’t have time for guilt.
Chocolate is the prize for boys who win the game.
She sank onto the sofa, where she sat like a statue, staring unseeing across the room. How could Bren deny this? It was happening right under his nose.
Chocolate is the prize for boys who win the game.
What game? And who was playing it? How could she protect Cody if she didn’t know what she was protecting him from?
Chapter 23
That evening, after Cody finally fell asleep, Bren and Georgina had a ferocious row. At first he wouldn’t talk to her, just strode past her when she tried to speak. He was cleaning the house ostentatiously, keeping deliberately busy so he wouldn’t have to look at her.
“Bren, please talk to me.”
He slammed the fridge door.
“Cody cried for half an hour before he fell asleep,” he said in a hard voice. “I’ve never seen him so distressed.”
“I’m sorry,” said Georgina, and she was. Hearing Cody cry like that made her feel as if her chest was tearing open. “But we’ve got to get answers out of him. He’s lying to us.” Bren, tying a knot in a garbage bag, just shook his head at her. She grabbed his arm. “Our son is lying to us. How can you be so blind to this?”
He shook her off. “How can you keep insisting on your wild conspiracy theories, frightening your son, when he’s told you he’s doing it himself?”
Georgina didn’t know what to say. If Bren was in a horror movie, he’d be the person denying the existence of monsters even as one tore him apart.
He stamped away to take the trash out and came back in with the air of a man who had made an effort to calm down. “Okay. I shouldn’t be so angry at you. I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard time recently, Georgina, and I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know that I added to it.”
“Bren, how many times? This is bigger than you and Emma!”
He looked at her seriously.
“Then I hope you’re still planning to go see the therapist on Saturday,” he said. “Talking about things that are bigger than you and me.”
“What?” Her inability to reach him overwhelmed her. “Have you been listening to a word I’m saying? This is about Cody.”
“No, Georgina,” said Bren firmly. “This is very much about you.”
* * *
Bren slept on the sofa that night. He didn’t discuss it with Georgina, just brought a duvet and pillow downstairs.
“I’ll be awake before Cody,” was all he said.
Georgina’s sleep was fractured by vague nightmares. She woke feeling distinctly unrested. Cody was sullen over breakfast and wouldn’t kiss her goodbye.
Chocolate is the prize for boys who win the game.
With Bren and Cody gone, Georgina sat in the morning silence and tried to think. What was she supposed to do now? The idea of contacting the police had floated through her mind. But how could she even begin to explain? She had no evidence.
Only the card. And it had wound up in the trash.
She stood up. Bren had taken the garbage out last night, hadn’t he?
She pulled on a coat and shoes, grabbed a pair of yellow rubber gloves, and went out to the front garden.
There was ice melting on the grass and traffic on the road. Georgina approached the garbage cans self-consciously. At least the people in the passing cars were strangers. She didn’t want to think what Bren would say if he saw her rooting through the trash.
She lifted the lid of the general waste can and, nose wrinkled in distaste, began her search. Her gloved fingers split the taut plastic of the tied black bag. Out spilled used tissues, orange netting, crumpled plastic packaging… but no card.
“Morning, Georgina.”
She looked around. Vera, bundled up in a purple scarf that matched her coat, was observing her with interest from behind her round glasses.
“Lose something, did you?”
Georgina stepped away from the garbage can. “Yes. My ring. I can’t find it.”
The card must be deeper in the trash. Goddammit. If she could scrape together enough of an understanding of what was going on to go to the police, it would’ve been a useful piece of evidence…
Vera was still looking at her curiously. Georgina mumbled something about having to get to work and went back inside.
She didn’t need the card to picture those scrawled letters. They were burned into her memory.
Chocolate is the prize for boys who win the game.
The rest of the day passed in a daze. At work, Georgina gave customers the wrong change and looked at them blankly when they complained. Driving to Cody’s school for pickup, she nearly crashed twice.
Chocolate is the prize for boys who win the game.
At the school gates, she pretended to listen while Kelly-Anne babbled on and on: “Have you ever had your eyebrows threaded, Georgina? I always have mine done, and they come out so much better…” Forced some kind of a smile, a nod.
When the flood of children rushed out, Cody hung back so she couldn’t see him. Only when the crowd was dispersing did he trail sulkily over to Georgina. He jerked away when she tried to ruffle his hair.
“Sweetie,” she said, hurt.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
In the car home, Cody sat with arms folded, refusing to answer her questions.
“I’m really sorry I upset you last night, darling,” she said. “I’m just worried about you, you know that, right?”
“You don’t want me to have a new granny,” he said. “You hate New Granny.”
She caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “I thought you said New Granny was pretend?”
Cody looked away. “She is.”
* * *
Bren sent Georgina a long message from work:
Georgie, I know I could’ve handled things better last night. But I can’t stand back and watch you upset Cody like that. He got the Maltesers for himself and got an older kid to write the note. That’s heartbreaking. You can’t get angry at him for wanting to pretend he still has a grandmother. I know you don’t think you’re struggling, but it’s painfully obvious from the outside. Please go to the appointment I’ve made for you with the therapist on Saturday. I know things are complicated between us right now, but you know I have your best interests at heart.
Georgina read the message briefly and tossed her phone aside. She didn’t have time for this. She was consumed by fear for Cody.
There was no longer any doubt in her mind. She hadn’t hallucinated the chocolate on her son’s face or the handwritten card. It wasn’t paranoia that made her certain Cody was lying. It was common bloody sense. He got the Maltesers for himself and got an older kid to write the note… What shit. If Bren wasn’t so damn stubborn, he’d be able to see that for himself.
Perhaps Bren wanted her to be unwell because it would compress all of this into something clean and simple and easy to understand. Just poor, crazy Georgina again. A one-word answer, a diagnosis in a doctor’s handwriting, something that could be tied up neatly with a bow, a prescription for medication and a ten-week course of therapy.
You know I have your best interests at heart.
An oddly formal way of signing off. As if he were a stranger to her rather than the man whose bed she had shared for the best part of a decade.
Even during the toughest times in their relationship, Georgina had always felt like Bren was ready to catch her. It was hard to grasp that she couldn’t rely on him now. She felt as though she were sitting in a familiar old armchair and had leaned back comfortably to find the back had disappeared. Where she had always met solid support before, she was now thrown with a jolt into emptiness.
Chapter 24
The next day Bren took the afternoon off work to bring
Cody to the zoo. “Something to cheer him up.”
It didn’t need to be said aloud that Georgina wasn’t invited.
Alone in the house, Georgina spread out her college notes and opened up her laptop out of pure habit. Staring at the screen, she realized she wouldn’t be able to take in a single word.
Chocolate is the prize for boys who win the game.
You hate New Granny.
She stood up shakily. Her dream of being an art teacher, instead of feeling real and almost tangible as it usually did, seemed far-off and unimportant.
She got out her sketchpad and pencils. Drawing was the only thing that could completely engross her, no matter the circumstances. Once the pencil touched the page, hours slid by.
When she looked up, it was half past five and dark outside.
Bren and Cody would be home soon. Georgina considered calling Bren to ask him to pick up bread and milk, but with things so frayed between them, even this simple domestic request seemed a conversational minefield. Easier to go herself.
She put away her drawing materials and set off to the local shops. Her heeled boots click-clacked loudly in the quiet, making her walk a little faster. But once she turned onto the main road there were cars, and people bustling about, and Georgina felt safer.
In the corner shop, she picked up milk, bread, and one of Cody’s favorite chocolate bars. She knew she was trying to buy his affection back, and she knew this wasn’t recommended in any of the parenting books, but she didn’t care.
You’re not the only one who’s realized sugary treats are the key to Cody’s heart, a little voice whispered nastily in her head.
Georgina felt nauseated. It was too easy, too clichéd: promise a child sweets and they’ll lie to their parents for you. She put the bar back, suddenly unable to hold it a moment longer. Paying for the milk and bread quickly, she turned to leave, but bumped straight into someone, nearly knocking them over.
“Oh, God, sorry,” said Georgina with a conciliatory cringe as she looked into a pair of green eyes she recognized, at a pretty, dark-haired woman she knew—
“Emma,” she said in shock. Emma, Bren’s long-ago girlfriend and recent participant in his extramarital activities, right here in her local shop.