73.
The trivia night had been going for over an hour now without food or trivia. Jane had a sense of gentle undulating movement, as though she were on a ship. The room was becoming warmer. It had been cold earlier and the heat was on too high. Faces were turning pink. The rain picked up again and pounded on the roof, so people had to raise their voices to be heard over the roar. The room rippled with laughter. A rumor circulated that someone had ordered in pizza. Women begun to pull emergency snacks from handbags.
Jane watched as a large Elvis offered to donate five hundred dollars to the school in return for Samantha’s salt and vinegar chips.
“Sure,” said Samantha, but her husband, Stu, swept the chips out of her hand before the deal could be struck. “Sorry, mate, I need these more than the kids need SMART Boards.”
Ed said to Madeline, “Why don’t you have snacks in your bag? What sort of woman are you?”
“This is a clutch!” Madeline brandished her tiny sequined bag. “Stop that, Bonnie. I’m fine!” She swatted at Bonnie, who was following her about, dabbing at her dress with a handful of paper towels.
Two Audreys and an Elvis argued loudly and passionately about standardized testing.
“There is no evidence to suggest—”
“They teach to the test! I know for a fact they teach to the test!”
Blond Bobs ran this way and that with mobile phones pressed to their ears. “The caterer is just five minutes away!” scolded one when she saw Stu eating his salt and vinegar chips.
“Sorry,” said Stu. He held out the pack. “Want one?”
“Oh, all right.” She took a chip and hurried off.
“Couldn’t organize a root in a brothel.” Stu shook his head sadly.
“Shhhhh,” hissed Samantha.
“Are school trivia nights always this . . .” Tom couldn’t seem to find the right word.
“I don’t know,” said Jane.
Tom smiled at her. She smiled at him. They seemed to be smiling at each other quite a lot tonight, as if they were both in on the same private joke.
Dear God, please don’t let me be imagining this.
“Tom! Where’s my large skim cap, please! Ha ha!” Tom widened his eyes fractionally at Jane as he was swept off into another conversation.
“Jane! I’ve been looking out for you! How are you?” Miss Barnes appeared, totteringly taller than usual in very high heels. She was wearing a giant hat, a pink boa and carrying a parasol. She didn’t look anything like Audrey Hepburn as far as Jane could see. She was enunciating her words very slow-ly and care-ful-ly to make sure nobody knew she was tipsy.
“How are you holding up?” she said, as though Jane were recently bereaved, and for a moment Jane struggled to recall her recent bereavement.
Oh, the petition of course. The whole school thought her child was a bully. That. Whatever. Tom isn’t gay!
“We’re meeting before school on Monday morning, right?” said Miss Barnes. “I assume it’s about the . . . issue.”
She put air quotes around the word “issue.”
“Yes,” said Jane. “Something I need to tell you. I won’t talk about it now.” She kept seeing Celeste in the distance with her husband, but she hadn’t even gotten to say hello yet.
“I’m dressed as Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, by the way,” said Miss Barnes resentfully. She gestured at her outfit. “She made other movies besides Breakfast at Tiffany’s, you know.”
“I knew exactly who you were,” said Jane.
“Anyway, this bullying thing has gotten out of control,” said Miss Barnes. She stopped enunciating and let her words flow in a slurred, sloppy rush. “Every day I’m getting e-mails from parents concerned about bullying. I think there’s a roster. It’s constant. ‘We need to be sure our children are in a safe environment,’ and then some of them do this passive-aggressive thing: ‘I know you’re under-resourced, Miss Barnes, so do you need more parent helpers? I am available to come in on Wednesday afternoons at one p.m.’ And then if I don’t answer straightaway, ‘Miss Barnes, I have not yet heard back from you regarding my offer,’ and of course they fucking cc Mrs. Lipmann on everything.”
Miss Barnes sucked on the straw of her empty glass. “Sorry for swearing. Kindergarten teachers shouldn’t swear. I never swear in front of the children. Just in case you’re thinking of making an official complaint.”
“You’re off duty,” said Jane. “You can say what you want.” She took a small step back because Miss Barnes’s hat kept banging against Jane’s head as she talked. Where was Tom? There he was, surrounded by a cluster of adoring Audreys.
“Off duty? I’m never off duty. Last year my ex-boyfriend and I went to Hawaii and we walked into the foyer of the hotel, and I hear this cute little voice saying, ‘Miss Barnes! Miss Barnes!’ and my heart sank like a stone. It was the kid who had just given me the most grief over the whole last term and he was staying at the same hotel! And I had to pretend to be happy to see him! And play with him in the fucking pool! The parents lay on their deck chairs, smiling benevolently, as if they were doing me a wonderful favor! My boyfriend and I broke up on the holiday and I blame that kid. Do not tell anyone I said that. Those parents are here tonight. Oh my God, promise me you’ll never tell anyone I said that.”
“I promise,” said Jane. “On my life.”
“Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, the e-mails. But that’s not all. They keep turning up!” said Miss Barnes. “The parents! At any time! Renata has taken a leave of absence from work so she can do random checks on Amabella, even though we’ve got the teacher’s aide who does nothing but observe Amabella. I mean, fair enough, I never saw what was going on, and I feel bad about that. But it’s not just Renata! I’ll be in the middle of doing some activity with the kids and suddenly I’ll look up and there’s a parent at the door, just watching me. It’s creepy. It’s like I’m being stalked.”
“It sounds like harassment to me,” said Jane. “Oops— Just watch. There you go.” She gently pushed Miss Barnes’s hat out of her face. “Do you want another drink? You look like you could use another drink.”
“I’m at Pirriwee Drugstore on the weekend,” said Miss Barnes, “because I’ve got a terrible urinary tract infection—I’m seeing someone new, anyway, sorry, too much information—and I’m standing at the counter, waiting, and all of a sudden Thea Cunningham is standing at my side, and honestly, I didn’t even hear her say hello before she launches into this story of how Violet was so upset after school the other day because Chloe told her that her hair clips didn’t match. Well, they didn’t match. I mean, for God’s sake, that’s not bullying! That’s kids being kids! But oh no, Violet was so wounded by this, and could I please talk to the whole class about speaking nicely to one another, and . . . I’m sorry, I just saw Mrs. Lipmann giving me a death stare. Excuse me. I think I’ll just go splash cold water on my face.”
Miss Barnes turned so fast, her pink boa swung against Jane’s face.
Jane turned around and came face-to-face with Tom again.
“Hold out your hand,” he said. “Quickly.”
She held out her hand and he gave her a handful of pretzels.
“That big scary-looking Elvis over there found a bag of them in the kitchen,” said Tom. He reached to the side of her face and removed something pink from her hair.
“Feather,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Jane. She ate a pretzel.
“Jane.” She felt a cool hand on her arm. It was Celeste.
“Hello, you,” said Jane happily. Celeste looked so beautiful tonight; it was a pleasure simply to lay eyes upon her. Why was Jane always so weird about beautiful people? They couldn’t help their beauty, and they were so lovely to look at, and Tom had just brought her pretzels and blushed a little when he took the feather out of her hair and he wasn’t gay, and these fizzy pink cocktails were glorious, and she loved school trivia nights, they were just so funny and fun.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” said Celeste.
74.
Shall we go out onto the balcony?” said Celeste to Jane. “Get some air?”
“Sure,” said Jane.
Jane seemed so young and carefree tonight, thought Celeste. Like a teenager. The hall felt claustrophobic and overheated. Beads of sweat rolled down Celeste’s back. One of her shoes was viciously rubbing away the skin at the back of her heel, leaving a nasty, bloody little blister, like she imagined a bedsore to be. This night would never end. She’d be here forever, assaulted by malicious snatches of conversation.
“So I said, that’s unacceptable . . .”
“Completely incompetent, they have a duty of care . . .”
“They’re spoiled brats, they eat nothing but junk food, so . . .”
“I said, if you can’t control your child then . . .”
Celeste had left Perry talking to Ed about golf. Perry was being charming, seducing everyone with his attentive “no one could be more fascinating than you” gaze, but he was drinking much more than he normally did, and she could see his mood changing direction, almost imperceptibly, like the slow turn of an ocean liner. She could see it in the hardening of his jaw and the glazing of his eyes.
By the time they left for home, the distraught, sobbing man in the car would have vanished. She knew exactly how his thoughts would be twisting and turning, like the roots of an ancient tree. Normally, after a bad “argument” like yesterday, she would be safe for weeks on end, but the discovery of her apartment was a betrayal of Perry. It was disrespectful. It was humiliating. She’d kept a secret from him. By the end of the night, nothing else would matter except her deception. It would be as if it were only that, as if they were a perfectly happily married couple and the wife had done something mystifying and bizarre: She’d set up a secret, elaborate plan to leave him. It was mystifying and bizarre. She deserved whatever was going to happen.
There was no one else out on the huge balcony running the length of the hall. It was still raining, and although it was under cover the wind was blowing in a fine mist, making the tiles wet and slippery.
“Maybe this isn’t so nice,” said Celeste.
“No, it’s good,” said Jane. “It was getting so noisy in there. Cheers.”
She clinked glasses with Celeste and they both drank.
“These cocktails are crazy good,” said Jane.
“They’re ridiculous,” agreed Celeste. She was on her third. All her feelings—even her thumping fear—were nicely coated in fluffy cotton wool.
Jane breathed in deeply. “I think the rain is finally stopping. It smells nice. All salty and fresh.” She moved to the balcony edge and put her hand on the wet railing. She looked out at the rainy night. She seemed exhilarated.
It smelled damp and swampy to Celeste.
“I have to tell you something,” said Celeste.
Jane raised her eyebrows. “OK?” She was wearing red lipstick, Celeste noticed. Madeline would be thrilled.
“Just before we left tonight, Josh came and told me that it’s Max who has been bullying Amabella, not Ziggy. I was horrified. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She looked up and saw Harper coming out onto the balcony, rummaging in her bag. Harper glanced their way and quickly clip-clopped up the other end, out of earshot, where she lit up a cigarette.
“I know,” said Jane.
“You know?” Celeste took a step back and nearly slipped on the tile.
“Ziggy told me yesterday,” said Jane. “Apparently Amabella told him and asked him to keep it a secret. Don’t worry about it. It’s all OK.”
“It’s not OK! You’ve had to put up with that terrible petition, and people like her.” Celeste nodded her head in Harper’s direction. “And poor little Ziggy and parents saying their kids couldn’t play with him. I’m going to tell Renata tonight, and Miss Barnes and Mrs. Lipmann. I’m going to tell everyone. I might get up and make a public announcement: You got the wrong kid.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Jane. “It’s fine. It will all get sorted out.”
“I’m just so terribly sorry,” said Celeste again, and her voice shook. She was thinking now of Saxon Banks.
“Hey!” said Jane. She put her hand on Celeste’s arm. “It’s fine. It will all get sorted out. It’s not your fault.”
“No, but in a way it is my fault,” said Celeste.
“It couldn’t possibly be,” said Jane firmly.
“Could we join you?”
The glass door slid open. It was Nathan and Bonnie. Bonnie looked as she always did, and Nathan was dressed in a less expensive–looking version of Perry’s outfit, except that he’d taken his black wig off and was twirling it about on his fist like a puppet.
Celeste knew she was obliged to dislike Nathan and Bonnie on Madeline’s behalf, but it was difficult at times. They both seemed so harmless and eager to please, and Skye was such a sweet little girl.
Oh, God.
She’d forgotten. Josh said Max had pushed Skye down the stairs again. He’d moved on to a new victim. She had to say something.
“I found out tonight that my son Max has been bullying some of the little girls in his class. I think he might have pushed your daughter on the stairs, um, more than once,” she said. She could feel her cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry, I only just—”
“It’s all right,” said Bonnie calmly. “Skye told me about it. We discussed some strategies for what to do if this sort of thing happens again.”
Strategies, thought Celeste bleakly. She sounds like Susi, as though Skye were a domestic violence victim. She watched Harper stub out her cigarette on the wet balcony railing and then carefully wrap it up in tissue, before hurrying off inside, ostentatiously not looking their way.
“We did actually e-mail Miss Barnes today to tell her about it,” said Nathan earnestly. “I hope you don’t mind, but Skye is painfully shy and has difficulty asserting herself, so we wanted Miss Barnes to keep an eye on things. And of course, it’s up to the teacher to sort these things out. I think that’s the school policy. Let the teachers handle it. We would never have approached you about it.”
“Oh!” said Celeste. “Well, thank you. Again, I’m just so sorry—”
“No need to be sorry! Gosh! They’re kids!” said Nathan. “They’ve got to learn all this stuff. Don’t hit your friends. Stand up for yourself. How to be a grown-up.”
“How to be a grown-up,” repeated Celeste shakily.
“Still learning myself, of course!” said Nathan.
“It’s all part of their emotional and spiritual development,” said Bonnie.
“There’s some book along those lines, isn’t there?” said Jane. “Something like Everything You Need to Know You Learned in Kindergarten: Don’t Be Mean, Play Nicely, Share Your Toys.”
“Sharing is caring,” quoted Nathan, and they all laughed at the familiar line.
Detective-Sergeant Adrian Quinlan: Eight people, including the victim, were on the balcony at the time of the incident. We know who they are. They know who they are and they know what they saw. Telling the truth is the most important thing a witness has to do.