48.
Madeline stood in her living room and wondered what to do.
Ed and the kids were asleep, and thanks to Celeste, all the cleaning up after book club was done. She should go to bed, but she didn’t feel tired enough. Tomorrow was Friday, and Friday mornings were hectic because she had to drive Abigail to her math tutor before school, and Fred did chess club and Chloe—
She stopped.
She didn’t need to get Abigail to her math tutor by seven-thirty a.m. That was no longer her responsibility. Nathan or Bonnie would have to take Abigail. She kept forgetting her services as Abigail’s mother were no longer required. Her life was theoretically easier with only two children to get out of the house each day, but each time she remembered a task relating to Abigail that was no longer hers, she felt that sharp sense of loss.
Her whole body jangled with anger she couldn’t release.
She picked up Fred’s toy lightsaber from where he’d conveniently left it on the floor for someone to trip over tomorrow morning. She turned on the switch so it burned red and green and sliced it through the air like Darth Vader, taking down each of her enemies.
Damn you to hell for stealing my daughter, Nathan.
Damn you to hell for helping him, Bonnie.
Damn you to hell, Renata, for that nasty petition.
Damn you to hell, Miss Barnes, for letting poor little Amabella get secretly bullied in the first place.
She felt bad for damning poor dimpled Miss Barnes to hell and quickly moved on with her list.
Damn you to hell, Saxon Banks, for what you did to Jane, you nasty, nasty man. She swung the lightsaber so enthusiastically over her head that it clanged against the hanging light and sent it swinging back and forth.
Madeline dropped the lightsaber on the couch and reached up to hold the light fixture steady.
Right. No more playing with the lightsaber. She could just imagine Ed’s face if she’d broken a light fixture pretending to be Darth Vader.
She went back into the kitchen and picked up the iPad from where she’d left it after showing Celeste the pictures of Saxon Banks. She would play some nice soothing Plants vs. Zombies. It was important to keep her skills up-to-date. She liked hearing Fred say, “Mum, that’s awesome!” when he looked over her shoulder and saw she’d gone up a level and gotten a new fancy weapon for taking on the zombies.
First she’d have another quick look at Abigail’s Facebook and Instagram accounts. When Abigail was living at home Madeline had dutifully checked in every now and then on her daughter’s online presence, just to be a good responsible modern mother. But now she did it addictively. It was like she was stalking her own daughter, pathetically seeking out bits of information about her life.
Abigail had changed her profile picture. It was a full-length photo of her facing the camera, doing a yoga pose, hands folded in prayer, one skinny leg propped on the other knee, her hair falling over one shoulder. She looked beautiful. Happy. Radiant, even.
Only the most selfish of mothers could feel resentful toward Bonnie for introducing her daughter to something that made her so obviously happy.
Madeline must be the most selfish of mothers.
Perhaps Madeline should take up yoga so she and Abigail would have something in common? But every time she tried yoga she found herself silently chanting her own mantra: I’m so boooored, I’m so boooored.
She scrolled down the comments from Abigail’s friends. They were all supportive, but then she stopped on one from Abigail’s friend Freya, who Madeline had never liked all that much. One of those toxic friends. Freya had written: Is this the shot you’re going to use on your “project”? Or not sexy/slutty enough?
“Sexy/slutty”? Madeline’s nostrils flared. What was the little witch Freya talking about? What “project” required Abigail to be sexy/slutty? It sounded like a project that needed to be stopped.
This was the thing with the murky world of the Internet. You swam along through cyberspace, merrily picking up this and that, and next thing you knew you’d stumbled upon something unsavory and ugly. She thought of how she’d felt seeing the face of Saxon Banks on her computer screen. This was what happened when you spied.
Abigail had replied to Freya’s comment: Shhhhhh!!! Top secret!!!!
The reply had been sent five minutes ago. Madeline looked at the time. It was nearly midnight! She always insisted that Abigail had an early night before math tutoring, because otherwise she had to be dragged out of bed and the tutoring money would be wasted if Abigail was too tired to concentrate.
She sent her a private message: Hey! What are you doing up so late? You’ve got tutoring tomorrow! Go to bed! Mum xxx.
She noticed that her heart was beating after she pressed Send. As if she’d broken a rule. But she was Abigail’s mother! She still had the right to tell her to go to bed.
Abigail answered immediately: Dad has canceled the tutor. He’s going to tutor me instead. Go to bed yourself! x
“He what?” said Madeline to the computer screen. “He fucking what?”
Nathan had canceled the math tutor. He’d made a unilateral decision about Abigail’s education. The very same man who had missed school plays and parent-teacher interviews and athletics carnivals and preparing a trembly little five-year-old for show-and-tell every Monday morning and projects on big sheets of cardboard and projects that needed to be submitted for the first time online with log-in instructions that didn’t make any sense and homework forgotten until late the night before and covering books with contact paper and exam nerves and the meeting with that lovely teacher with the crazy jewelry who said all those years ago that Abigail would probably always struggle with math so give her all the support she needs.
How DARE he?
She dialed Nathan’s number without a moment’s thought, trembling with righteous rage. There was no way she could wait till the morning. She needed to yell at him now, right now, before her head exploded.
He answered with slurred, sleepy surprise: “Hello?”
“You canceled Abigail’s math tutor? You just canceled without even checking with me first!?”
There was silence.
“Nathan?” said Madeline sharply.
She heard him clear his throat. “Maddie.” He sounded wide awake now. “Did you seriously ring me at midnight to talk to me about Abigail’s math tutor?”
It was an entirely different tone of voice than the one he normally used. For years her interactions with Nathan had reminded her of dealing with an unctuous, eager-to-please salesman working on commission only. Now that he had Abigail, he thought he was her equal. He didn’t need to be apologetic anymore. He could be irritable. He could be like a regular ex-husband.
“We’re all asleep,” he continued. “Could it seriously not have waited until tomorrow morning? Skye and Bonnie are both very light—”
“You’re not all asleep!” said Madeline. “Your fourteen-year-old daughter is wide awake and on the Internet! Is there any supervision in that house? Do you have any idea what she’s doing right now?”
Madeline could hear the soft, melodious tones of Bonnie saying something sweet and understanding in the background.
“I’ll go check on her,” said Nathan. He sounded more conciliatory now. “I thought she was asleep. And look, she wasn’t getting anywhere with that math tutor. He’s just a kid. I can do a better job than him. But you’re right, of course I should have talked to you about it. I meant to talk to you about it. It just slipped my mind.”
“That tutor was making real progress with her,” said Madeline.
She and Abigail had tried out two other tutors first before they’d gotten Sebastian. The kid got such good results, he had a waiting list of students. Madeline had begged him to squeeze in Abigail.
“No, he wasn’t,” said Nathan. “But let’s talk about it when I’m not half-asleep.”
“Fabulous. Look forward to it. Will you be letting me know of any other changes you’ve made to Abigail’s schedule? Just curious.”
“I’m hanging up now,” said Nathan.
He hung up.
Madeline threw her mobile phone so hard against the wall it bounced back, landing faceup on the carpet, right at her feet, so she could see the shattered screen, like the sharp reprimand of an adult to a child.
Stu: Look, I didn’t think poor old Nathan was a bad bloke. I saw him a bit about the school. The place is overrun by women, and half the time they’re all so busy rabbiting away to each other, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise. So I’d always made a point of talking to the other dads. I remember one morning Nathan and I were having a good old natter about something when Madeline comes stalking by on her high heels and, jeez Louise—if looks could kill!
Gabrielle: I couldn’t stand to live in the same suburb as my ex-husband. If our kids attended the same school, I’d probably end up murdering him. I don’t know how they thought that arrangement could work. It was just crazy.
Bonnie: It was not crazy. We wanted to be as close as possible to Abigail, and then we happened to find the perfect house in the area. What’s crazy about that?