‘Yes, you are.’ Tiffany backed away. ‘Yes, you are definitely here … there.’
She found Vid sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop watching a ‘masterclass’ on making the perfect tempura batter. He was officially obsessed after last night’s dinner which had sent him into rhapsodies.
‘She’s reading again,’ whispered Tiffany, pointing over her shoulder.
Vid gave a cursory thumbs-up and kept looking at the screen.
‘You fry by sound, not by sight,’ he said. ‘Interesting, eh? I have to listen.’ He put his hand to his ear to demonstrate.
Tiffany sat down next to him and watched the chef demonstrate how to ‘gently stretch’ a shrimp.
‘It was good we went last night,’ she said.
Vid shrugged. ‘They were strange. They didn’t say anything. Silent.’
‘That’s because you didn’t give them a chance to speak,’ said Tiffany. When Vid got nervous he talked. Last night he hadn’t appeared to draw breath for the entire ten-minute duration of their strange little visit.
It was only the three children who had behaved normally. Holly and Ruby had been thrilled to see Dakota, and had dragged her off to see bedrooms and toys and everything else in their house. ‘This is our fridge,’ Holly had said. ‘This is our television. That’s my mum’s cello. Don’t touch it! You’re not allowed to touch it under any circ-an-chance.’
In the meantime, the four grown-ups had stood in a strange, awkward foursome in the living room. Sam avoided all eye contact with Tiffany, as if it were illegal to look at her. Everything about him seemed clenched.
‘They never even offered us a drink!’ said Vid. He couldn’t get over that. He’d be offering drinks during an earthquake.
‘Yeah, well,’ said Tiffany. ‘They didn’t want us there.’
‘Hmmph,’ said Vid. ‘The little girl looks good. Very healthy. Rosy cheeks. We should have all been happy. Celebrating.’
‘I think they blame themselves,’ said Tiffany.
‘But she’s fine, she’s perfect, she’s beautiful!’ said Vid robustly. ‘Thanks to Erika and Oliver. All good. No need for the glum faces. Shh, now, I’m trying to concentrate on my tempura.’
‘You’re the one talking.’ Tiffany flicked his neck with her fingertip as she stood up. He slapped her bum in return. She went to the sink to get herself a glass of water and stood watching Dakota read. She felt immensely pleased with herself, like she’d pulled off a difficult deal. Visiting Clementine and Sam had been exactly the right thing to do. Socially awkward but absolutely the right thing for her family.
Last night, while they’d been standing in the hallway about to leave, and Vid was talking on and on about spotted gum floorboards, Clementine had pulled Dakota aside, taken her hand and placed it between her own in an almost ceremonial way and said, ‘Your mum told me you felt bad about what happened to Ruby at your place. Dakota, I forbid you to feel bad for another minute, for another second, okay? It was my responsibility.’
Tiffany had expected Dakota to say nothing, to just nod dumbly, but to her surprise Dakota had spoken up, clearly, although her eyes had stayed fixed on her trapped hand.
‘I should have told you I was going inside to read my book.’
‘But, see, I knew you’d gone inside,’ said Clementine. ‘I knew the moment you went inside, because your mum told me, so that had nothing to do with … anything! You weren’t their babysitter! When you’re older, you probably will do babysitting, and you’ll be very responsible, you’ll be wonderful, in fact, I know it, but my girls were not your responsibility that afternoon. So, you must promise me you won’t worry about this anymore, because …’ Clementine’s voice had momentarily wavered. ‘Because I just can’t bear it if you feel bad about that day too. I honestly cannot bear it.’
Tiffany saw Dakota stiffen, repelled by the level of raw, grown-up emotion in Clementine’s voice. Clementine released her hand and in that instant you could almost see Dakota make a decision: a decision to accept absolution and be a kid again.
And now she was back reading.