‘Is Darcy coming?’ I ask.
‘Erm . . .’ Luke sounds unsure, but I can see the naughty smirk twitching in the corners of his lips. ‘Maybe in a while.’
I look at my watch. It’s after 8.30. Assembly is at 9 a.m. If Darcy arrives on the steps at 8.55, all smiles for Mr McEvoy’s benefit, I swear I’m going to scream.
‘She’s not feeling great,’ Luke says.
‘Did she have too much to drink?’ I ask, and it comes out all snappy and as jealous as I feel.
Luke laughs sheepishly and runs a shaky hand through his hair, and I realise he looks so awful because he’s epically hungover.
‘A party the night before school starts?’ I say, and I concentrate, so the feeling of missing out isn’t written all over my face. ‘If Mr McEvoy finds out he’ll go ballistic.’
‘Who’s going to tell him?’ Luke asks, and I wonder if it’s a threat. ‘Anyway, even if he does find out it’ll be worth it. Best. Night. Ever.’
I close my eyes. Best night ever, I think silently, my heart aching. Well, the joke is on them. I had a fun night of my own – collaging with no one to disturb me. And I’m not the one with so much alcohol still in my system that my breath smells like the bottom of a beer barrel.
I want to tell Luke to close his mouth, or at least to take a step back, but instead a dig at Darcy slips out. ‘Well, just be glad she didn’t puke in your bed.’
Luke looks at me with unsure eyes.
And I stare back with a confidence I don’t really feel as I say, ‘Oh c’mon, I’m not blind. Her bed is three down from mine and she hasn’t been in it all summer. It doesn’t take a genius to work out she’s been sleeping with you.’
‘You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?’ Luke asks, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him act like the schoolboy, worried and afraid he’ll get in trouble.
I think about it for a moment. If I tell Mr McEvoy he’ll expel Darcy and Luke for sure and they’ll probably never see each other again. But then I won’t see Luke either, and how is he going to fall in love with me then?
‘Don’t worry,’ I say, and I’ve never felt so empowered. ‘I know how to keep a secret.’
‘You’re the best,’ Luke says, and my heart actually skips a beat. I can feel my cheeks blush and I try to shrug it off, saying, ‘Yeah, well, you might want to brush your teeth.’
Luke slaps a hand over his mouth and I’m not the only one with red cheeks.
‘Smells like you had a good night,’ I add, on a roll. ‘Just don’t breathe on any of the first years, the fumes could kill them.’
Luke can’t hide his smirk any longer. ‘Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts my head.’ He closes his eyes and massages his temples with his fingertips.
I smile at Luke and he smiles back at me, and we share this wonderful moment when I think we might actually be becoming friends.
‘Right,’ he says, straightening his tie. ‘You’re okay on your own here, aren’t you? This is boring as hell.’
I stop smiling, but Luke doesn’t notice as he turns to walk away and I wonder if he’s even going to bother saying goodbye.
Mr McEvoy appears on the steps behind us, suddenly. ‘Tina. There you are,’ he says, placing his hand on my shoulder.
Luke’s mouth snaps closed and I wonder if he’s holding his breath, afraid to give Mr McEvoy any clues about what he was up to last night. Luke’s eyes search for mine, and I know he’s silently checking that I’ll keep my word and keep his secret.
I move my head up and down. Nodding so subtly that if Luke wasn’t watching for it he’d miss it. He smiles and his tense shoulders drop. He knows his secret is safe with me. For now.
‘I’ve been looking for you,’ Mr McEvoy says, and I know for certain now that Luke is barely breathing.
‘Is everything all right, sir?’ I ask.
‘Darcy isn’t feeling very well. A dizzy spell.’ Mr McEvoy sighs. ‘She’s in sick bay. Would you sit with her, please?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ My whole face smiles.
‘Dizzy again,’ Luke says, finally opening his mouth. ‘Is she okay?’
‘She’s fine,’ Mr McEvoy adds. ‘But I think she could use some company while I try to get hold of this uncle of hers. I’m not having much luck, as per usual.’
I study Luke. His smile is crooked and his shoulders are tense. I thought he’d be more relieved that I’m keeping secrets for him. Or more grateful, at least. But he’s not even looking at me. He’s too busy thinking about Darcy and her self-inflicted starvation because she’s too good for the canteen food unlike the rest of us.
‘Don’t worry, Mr McEvoy. I’ll take care of her,’ I say.
‘But Tina already has a job – welcoming the incoming first years,’ Luke reminds our principal. ‘I can sit with Darcy, sir. If it helps.’
Mr McEvoy nods, making a face that falls somewhere between concerned and impressed. ‘You’ve a way with words, Mr Hogan. Hold on to that as you get older and you’ll go far someday.’
I’m about to protest, knowing where this is going, but Mr McEvoy doesn’t give me a chance.
‘Right, Tina. You stay here. Keep smiling and waving and doing a great job. Remember St Peter’s is a home away from home.’ Mr McEvoy gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze before he claps his hands and adds, ‘Luke, hop along to sick bay. Quick march. I’ll try calling Darcy’s uncle again soon, but I really must get to assembly now.’
Luke and Mr McEvoy hurry away without looking at me, and I stand alone waving to strangers who pass by without waving back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
GILLIAN
Friday 5 July 2019
The doorbell rings and I ignore it. It’s early, not long after 8 a.m., and I’m not fully dressed. I want to curl my hair and pop on some make-up before I leave to walk around to Darcy’s. I have big news for the Hogans today, and I really would like to look my best when I deliver it.
The doorbell rings again. It irks me that someone thinks it’s okay to call unannounced at this hour of the morning, and I assume they’re actually looking for Kimberly or Eddie. When the bell-ringing stops and knocking starts instead it grows a little harder to ignore. And when it escalates to the door rattling on its hinges as someone actually pounds their fist against it, I slam down my foundation brush on my bedside table in frustration.
‘Hellllloooo,’ a female voice calls. ‘Hello, Gillian, are you in there? Please open the door.’
I roll my eyes as I recognise Kimberly’s voice and I can sense her strange determination to find me. I march through my apartment, the stomp of my feet echoing the pounding on the door.
I creak the door open slowly and Kimberly almost knocks on my face as she has her fist raised and ready to pound some more.
‘Oh,’ she says, as if she wasn’t really expecting to see me, and I’m suddenly sorry I answered after all. ‘You’re okay.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, running my hand through my hair that’s frizzy and that I won’t have time to curl if I have to stand chatting for long.
Kimberly stares at me. Her eyes are washing over me as if she’s searching for something. It makes me instantly uncomfortable and I don’t understand.
‘I was in the shower,’ I lie, wondering if she’s searching for an explanation as to why I took so long to answer the door.
‘Thank God, you’re okay,’ she says again, and I realise she’s somewhat breathless. It can’t simply be from knocking with such vigour. Kimberly’s toned arms and slim legs, emphasised by the neon yoga pants and Lycra top she’s wearing leave no question about her fitness. Kimberly is frightened, I decide. I’m just not sure of what. Me?
‘Can I come in?’ she asks, looking all around as if someone is watching.
I glance over my shoulder. Both bedroom doors are closed.
‘Please,’ she adds, as I look back at her and make eye contact.
I nod and step back so she can walk past. I close the door behind us with some r
eluctance, and I can’t seem to take my eyes off the bedroom doors.
‘I just wanted to check you’re okay,’ Kimberly says, looking all around.
‘Of course, I’m okay.’ I smile. ‘Are you?’ I want to add that Kimberly is acting so oddly it’s making me uncomfortable, but I barely know her and I’ve no idea if this isn’t simply what she’s always like. And I find myself momentarily regretting the decision to move into such a domestic community where people all seem to know each other’s business – or at least want to know it.
‘I was so worried about you,’ Kimberly says, flopping on to one of the kitchen stools without my inviting her to. She eyes up a half-full cup of coffee that I left on the shelf earlier, and despite the less-than-subtle hint, I don’t offer to make us some.
I want to tell Kimberly I’m running late, and I won’t have time to curl my frizzy hair now. But damn curiosity forces me to ask, ‘Why were you worried about me?’
‘Because of that guy that was here,’ she says. ‘Sorry, could I get some water? My heart is racing.’
‘Yeah. Sure,’ I say, taking a glass from the cupboard and running the tap. ‘What guy?’
‘Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Very good-looking, especially for a psycho.’
Luke.
I almost drop the glass, and water splashes out over the edge.
Kimberly notices and with concern she says, ‘You know him.’
I shake my head, desperate to sidestep anything and everything about my complicated past.
‘Really?’
I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
‘I could swear he lives at the end of our road,’ Kimberly continues. ‘Gimme a second, his name is on the tip of my tongue. It’s eh . . . it’s eh . . .’
‘I haven’t had a chance to meet any of the neighbours yet,’ I say, cutting her off. ‘Except you and Eddie, of course.’
Her smile is false and she says, ‘He’s married. You haven’t got yourself mixed up with him, have you?’ I can feel Kimberly looking at me, but I don’t meet her gaze. I suspect any reaction I give will only fuel this silly theory. ‘Not that I’m judging, I swear. I mean he is absolutely gorgeous,’ she says. ‘But if it’s the man I’m thinking of his wife is pregnant . . .’ She clicks her fingers and suddenly smiles brightly. ‘Luke. That’s his name. Luke something-or-other.’
I turn off the tap and place the glass of water on the countertop next to her. ‘I’m not really one for relationships,’ I say. ‘I don’t have the time.’
Kimberly guzzles a large mouthful of water, but she seems more on edge than before. ‘Oh.’
‘Did he say who he was looking for, or why he was here?’
Kimberly shakes her head.
‘I’ve ordered some new bits and pieces for the apartment,’ I say, glancing around, as if I’m envisaging where cushions and throws might go. ‘You know, put my own stamp on the place. Maybe one of my boxes was delivered to his house by mistake and he was dropping it off.’
Kimberly is wide-eyed as she sips more water. ‘Are you sure everything is all right? You can tell me, you know. I’m a good secret keeper.’
‘Everything is fine,’ I say, thinking of my stupid frizzy hair and how, if I want to catch Darcy and Luke before Luke leaves for work, I really need to be on my way. ‘Or maybe he was looking for whoever lived here before me.’
Kimberly shakes her head. ‘Your apartment has been vacant for ages. Eddie and I were beginning to wonder if anyone would ever move in.’
I sigh. This is going nowhere and I really need to go. I look at my watch hoping she’ll take the hint. She does. She drains her glass and stands up.
‘Look,’ she says, placing the glass on the table. ‘If you ever need to talk . . .’
I pick up the glass, rinse it and turn it upside down on the draining board to dry.
‘Thanks,’ I say as I guide Kimberly to the door. ‘You’re so good to call in this morning.’
Kimberly has worry etched across her wrinkled brow. ‘Just please be careful. Call Eddie if he comes around again giving you hassle, okay. I have a bad feeling about all this.’
I nod. There’s no point arguing.
‘Or the cops. Call the cops. It’s trespassing or something, after all.’
‘Kimberly.’ I say her name in a sing-song voice, trying to tell her that this is all far too dramatic.
‘I’m serious,’ she says, stepping outside, and turning to hug me. She catches me unawares and I baulk. I haven’t been hugged in so long I’ve actually forgotten what it feels like to have someone’s arms around me, or to have someone care about me. Kimberly may have made a mess of my morning but she’s sweet, and I know she wants to be friends. I like her.
‘I know trouble when I see it,’ Kimberly says.
I nod. Kimberly has her mind made up.
‘I really don’t think he’ll be calling around again,’ I say.
Kimberly’s eyebrows narrow and she opens her mouth but I cut her off, telling her what she wants to hear. ‘I’ll be careful,’ I say.
Kimberly looks at me with an expression that asks if she should stay.
And I stare back with determination. ‘I promise.’
I watch as Kimberly walks away, turning when she’s halfway down the driveway to blow me a kiss and a wink. I close the door and smile.
Kimberly is right, Luke really can’t come here again. I decide my frizzy hair doesn’t matter after all, and today is not the day to speak to Luke and Darcy. I need to have patience. Soon I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
DARCY
Saturday 6 July 2019
Morning light shines through my open bedroom curtains. I’m getting used to Luke being up before me, and sometimes he’s left for work before I even wake up. I sit up in bed. The baby kicks and my ribs ache, reminding me of how big I’m getting and how close my due date is now. As usual my mind wanders to work. I hope we can have all the investment paperwork signed before I go on maternity leave. Obviously, I know Luke can take care of everything if the negotiations drag on and the baby arrives in the meantime, but I’d rather have it all sorted out as soon as possible.
I check the bedside table for a note from Luke. He’s taken to leaving notes to say good morning if he has to leave while I’m still asleep. Yesterday’s one was particularly sweet and left me smiling all day, even when I was too sick to get out of bed. I read it so many times, when I close my eyes now I can still see the words.
Good morning, honey.
I watched you sleeping for a while. You’re so beautiful. I hope our baby is a girl and looks just like you. I’m going to the office now, but I’m just a text or a call away, if you need me. I will always take care of everything.
Love you so much,
Luke xx
I folded it and put it in my underwear drawer with all the others. I don’t tell Luke I’m keeping his notes. I want it to be a surprise after the baby is born. I plan to buy him something lovely as soon as this is all over and I’m back driving. I’ll go into town and get him that expensive watch he’s had his eye on for a couple of years. I’ll give him the watch and the notes together, to say thank you for all the time he’s spent taking care of me. And not just during this pregnancy from hell. He’s taken care of me always from my very first day at St Peter’s, and I grow to love him more and more with the years.
I’m still swooning over thoughts of my husband when I hear the wind catch the back door downstairs and it slams with a bang. It gives me a fright and I find myself on my feet surprisingly quickly, considering how long it usually takes me to pull myself out of bed.
‘Everything all right down there,’ I shout as I reach the bedroom door.
But there’s no answer.
‘Luke?’ I say again.
Nothing.
I shuffle on to the landing. The house is silent and still and I wonder if Luke has left for work after all. Maybe he was in a hurry this morning and didn’t
have time to leave me a note. Leaning over the banister on the balcony outside my room, I stare into the hall below. All the doors downstairs are open. I’ve spent the last couple of days in bed, too poorly to go downstairs even for meal times. Luke has brought me everything I need. I call Jinx quickly.
‘Here, boy. Here, Jinx, Jinx, Jinx.’
I wait and listen, hoping to hear the scramble of his little paws on the kitchen tiles. But Jinx doesn’t come, and my heart sinks. I really thought he’d have bounced back to good health by now. I miss my full-of-energy puppy. And the vet promised it would just be a couple of days before he was as good as new. But Luke says Jinx has been sleeping a lot and he didn’t want to bring him upstairs in case he was sick in our bedroom. I said I didn’t mind, we could clean it up. But Luke wouldn’t hear of it. Deep down I know Luke is right. The smell of dog puke would set me off and I could be sick for days. The thought of spending any more time leaning over the loo is torture.
Feeling less shaky than I have for days, I venture down the stairs.
‘Luke? Jinx?’ I call, after another door bangs and I stall on a step.
Damn this creepy old house, I think, hating how nervous I feel in my own home. I know it’s ridiculous, but my heart races nonetheless.
I take the remainder of the stairs at a faster pace, ignoring the banging, which I suspect is Jinx trapped in the utility room. I hurry into the kitchen and I’m surprised to find the window above the sink wide open and swaying in the wind. It explains the banging, but I wonder why Luke left in such a hurry he forgot to close it. I lean over the sink and try to grab the window handle, but my enormous belly is in the way and I can’t get close enough to the countertop to reach it. A strong gust of wind whips by and catches the window, slamming it against the wall outside.
I unlock the back door and hurry out, crossing my fingers that the glass isn’t broken. Surprisingly the window is intact and I push it closed from this side. Letting it go, I know I’ll need to be quick getting back into the house before the wind catches it again, and the window and I are trapped in an endless game of cat and mouse. I turn, ready to run back inside, when a mound in the corner of the garden catches my eye. I forget about the window and take reluctant steps forward to investigate, my heart racing faster than ever. Moist, dark-brown earth is heaped next to the hedging that separates our house from the next. It’s round and fresh.
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