And then Anya’s face is in front of him – or, rather, a series of Anya’s expressions throughout all the years he has been by her side: laughing, crying, in the peace of sleep and the pain of childbirth – and he is hit by flashes of everything he has felt for her, and that pull is so fierce that it wrenches him from this echoing, stirring longing. He has to find her right now and insist she come with him, from this awful, banal place they have drifted to. He still believes in them; they have just forgotten to spend time working things out.
The rush of energy galvanises him, because at last he knows what he has to do. For better or worse, he had said, gazing at his beloved many moons ago, as he took the vows that would make them husband and wife. He so rarely thinks of those vows; he has neglected his promises. He doesn’t believe that love has to be a never-ending fireworks display, but he’s forgotten that if he works at it he might sometimes light up the sky.
‘They’re round the back,’ says a voice nearby. Callum steps away from Danielle just before Mike McCallister appears.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ McCallister says, his eyes alight with intrigue. ‘I only wanted to check if you need any more help, Danielle? Or have you already volunteered?’ he asks Callum.
‘No, Georgia’s race starts in a minute,’ Callum says. Is McCallister telling the truth, he wonders, or had he seen them go around the back of the tent and thought he’d catch them out? Why does McCallister always seem like such a thorn in his side?
‘It’s pretty quiet at the moment,’ Danielle adds.
‘I’d better go,’ Callum interjects. ‘I’ll see you both later.’
He treads hastily around the side of the tent, picking his way over the patches of grass that haven’t succumbed to the mud. At least McCallister’s interruption had broken the impasse with Danielle. He wasn’t sure how he would have left without feeling he was insulting her all over again. Has he done enough to fix things? It’s hard to tell, but he hopes so.
Everyone is streaming out of the hall to watch the race. The day is growing greyer and the starting flags flap hard in the burgeoning breeze. Callum scans the spectators but can’t see Anya or Zac. He looks across to the group of runners and spots Georgia waiting close to a cluster of spindly trees, behind a fluttering line of raised white tape. The boy next to her is leaning towards her, saying something, and Georgia moves a little away from him. To Callum’s surprise the boy raises his hands in the air and then brings them to his sides in frustration.
Once Georgia is on her own, she scans the crowd, as though searching for someone. Callum waves and mouths good luck. She doesn’t respond; he’s unsure if she has seen him.
There is a hum in the air; the spectators are bunching together to watch the race begin. Crack! To Callum’s surprise, the starting gun goes off while Georgia is still looking in the wrong direction. The competitors begin the sprint uphill. After a fraction of a second, Georgia turns and sets about chasing down the front-runners.
His legs begin to wobble. He wants to sit down. Instead he watches his daughter reach the tree line and disappear beyond it.
He hopes to god they have done the right thing.
Now all they can do is wait.
31
ANYA
The starting gun explodes. Amid the noise and dappled light and chaos of the field, the racers sprint away, my daughter among them. All around us, people yell and scream encouragement to the runners as they hare up the hill. I want to put my hands over my ears. I wander between the spectators as though I am lost inside a dream, with no idea how to wake up. Everything looks the same, but it all feels entirely different.
I am wrong, I keep telling myself. I cannot confront anyone with this outrageous hypothesis. Surely I am wrong.
I remember Georgia’s face. I remember Leo Freeman’s expression as he watched her. I am not wrong. Something has gone on between them, but how much, and for how long? It is over, surely, or why is she kissing Danny?
Does this connect to everything else? The accident? That woman in our house?
I begin to form an idea of what might have happened. I stride across to where Jackie Nicholls, one of the school secretaries, stands with her husband and a group of friends.
‘Jackie,’ I say, tugging her sleeve, feeling like a madwoman as I urge her away from the others. ‘Is Leo Freeman married? Or does he have a girlfriend?’
She regards me with concern, her brow furrowed. ‘I think he’s single. Why?’ She breaks into a grin and winks. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re married, though, Anya – in case you’ve forgotten. He’s tempting though, isn’t he?’
I try to join in, smile and laugh, although the thought that it’s my Georgia who has been enticed into something with her teacher is making me shrivel inside.
‘Hang on,’ Jackie says, then shouts, ‘Sue!’ causing Sue O’Neil to turn around. ‘Sue will know,’ she whispers to me as Sue comes strolling across, curiosity all over her face.
‘Anya wants to know if Leo Freeman is married,’ Jackie says. ‘She won’t tell me why,’ she laughs, and winks again at Sue. That second wink makes my fists clench.