75.
Madeline was trapped in a passionate conversation with some Year 2 parents about bathroom renovations. She liked the parents very much, and she knew she’d just bored the husband silly while she and the wife had an intense conversation about the most flattering types of wrap dresses, so she owed it to the poor man to keep listening.
The problem was she really had nothing to say about bathroom renovations, and although she agreed it must have been terrible when they ran out of tiles, and that particular line was discontinued, and they only needed three more tiles to finish, she was sure it probably all worked out in the end, and she could see Celeste and Jane out on the balcony, and they were laughing with Bonnie and Nathan, which was unacceptable. Celeste and Jane were her friends.
She looked about for someone else to take her place and grabbed Samantha. Her husband was a plumber. She must surely have an interest in bathroom renovations. “You’ve got to hear this story!” she said. “Can you imagine? They, um, ran out of tiles!”
“Oh no! That exact same thing happened to me!” said Samantha.
Bingo. Madeline left Samantha listening intently and eagerly awaiting her turn to tell her own bathroom renovation disaster story. Good Lord. It was a mystery to her how anyone could find that more interesting than wrap dresses.
As she made her way through the crowd, she passed a group of four Blond Bobs huddled together so close, it was obvious they were sharing something scandalous. She paused to listen:
“The French nanny! That funny-looking girl.”
“Didn’t Renata fire her?”
“Yes, because she totally missed the fact that Amabella was being bullied by that Ziggy kid.”
“What’s happening with the petition, by the way?”
“We’re going to submit it to Mrs. Lipmann on Monday.”
“Have you seen the mother tonight? She’s had her hair cut. She’s flitting about like she hasn’t got a care in the world. If my kid were a bully, I wouldn’t be out showing my face, that’s for sure. I’d be at home, with my child, giving him the attention he obviously needs.”
“Needs a good smack, is what he needs.”
“I hear she was bringing him to school with nits yesterday.”
“I am just gobsmacked that the school let it go on for as long as it did. In this day and age, when there is so much information about bullying—”
“Right, right, but the point is, Renata’s nanny is having an affair with Geoff.”
“Why would she want to have an affair with Geoff?”
“I know it for a fact.”
Madeline felt enraged on Jane’s behalf, and strangely enough on behalf of Renata too—even though Renata had presumably approved the petition.
“You are awful people,” she said loudly. The Blond Bobs looked up. Their eyes and mouths were little ovals of surprise. “You are awful, awful people.”
She kept walking without waiting to hear their reactions. As she slid back the door to go out onto the balcony, she found Renata behind her.
“Just getting some fresh air,” said Renata. “It’s getting so stuffy in here.”
“Yes,” said Madeline. “And it looks like it’s stopped raining.” They stepped out together into the night air. “I’ve contacted my insurance company, by the way. About the car.”
Renata winced. “I’m sorry I made such a fuss yesterday.”
“Well, I’m sorry for running into you. I was busy yelling at Abigail.”
“I got a fright,” said Renata. “When I get frightened, I lash out. It’s a flaw.” They walked over toward the group near the railing.
“Really?” said Madeline. “How terrible for you. I have a very placid personality myself.”
Renata snorted.
“Maddie!” said Nathan. “Haven’t seen you yet tonight. How are you? I hear my wife spilled her drink all over you.”
He must be a bit drunk too, thought Madeline. He wouldn’t normally refer to Bonnie as his “wife” in front of her.
“Luckily it was a pink drink, so it matched my dress,” said Madeline.
“I’ve been celebrating the happy ending to our daughter’s little drama,” said Nathan. “Here’s to Larry Fitzgerald of South Dakota, hey?” He lifted his drink.
“Mmmm,” said Madeline. Her eyes were on Celeste. “I have this funny feeling that ‘Larry Fitzgerald’ might actually live closer than we think.”
“Eh?” said Nathan. “What are you talking about?”
“Are you talking about Abigail’s website?” said Celeste. “Did she close it down?”
Her delivery was absolutely perfect, thought Madeline, and that’s what gave it away. Most of the time Celeste looked evasive, as though she had something to hide. Right now she looked completely composed and poised, and her eyes held Madeline’s. When most people lied, they avoided eye contact; when Celeste lied, she held it.
“You’re Larry Fitzgerald of South Dakota, aren’t you?” said Madeline to Celeste. “I knew it! Well, I didn’t know it for sure, but I had a feeling. It was all too convenient.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” said Celeste evenly.
Nathan turned to Celeste. “You gave one hundred thousand dollars to Amnesty? To help us? My God.”
“You really shouldn’t have,” said Madeline. “You shouldn’t have done that. How can we ever repay you?”
“Goodness,” said Renata. “What is this all about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Celeste to Madeline. “But don’t forget you saved Max’s life, so that’s a debt that really can’t be repaid.”
There were some raised voices from inside the hall.
“I wonder what’s going on?” said Nathan.
“Oh, I might have started some little fires,” said Renata with a tiny smirk. “My husband isn’t the only one who thinks he’s in love with our nanny. Juliette found much to distract her in Pirriwee. What’s the French word for it? Polyamour. I found out she had an eye for a certain type of man. Or I should say a certain type of bank account.”
“Renata,” said Celeste. “I found out tonight that—”
“Don’t,” said Jane.
“—my son Max was the one who was hurting Amabella,” said Celeste.
“Your son?” said Renata. “But are you sure? Because on orientation day Amabella pointed out Ziggy.”
“I’m quite sure,” said Celeste. “She picked out Ziggy at random because she was frightened of Max.”
“But . . .” Renata couldn’t seem to get her head around it. “You’re sure?”
“I’m quite sure,” said Celeste. “And I’m sorry.”
Renata put a hand to her mouth. “Amabella didn’t want me to invite the twins to her A party,” she said. “She made such a fuss about it, and I just ignored her. I thought she was being silly.”
She looked at Jane. Jane looked steadily back. She really did look wonderful tonight, thought Madeline with satisfaction, and she realized that the constant gum-chewing had stopped sometime over the last few weeks without her noticing.
“I owe you a very big apology,” said Renata.
“You do,” said Jane.
“And Ziggy,” said Renata. “I owe you and your son an apology. I am so sorry. I will . . . Well, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“I accept,” said Jane. She lifted her glass. “I accept your apology.”
The glass door slid open yet again, and Ed and Perry appeared.
“Things are getting a bit out of hand in there,” said Ed. He grabbed some bar stools that had been lined up near the door and brought them over. “Shall we make ourselves comfortable? Hello, Renata. I’m very sorry about my wife’s lead foot on the accelerator yesterday.”
Perry brought some stools over as well.
“Perry,” said Renata. Madeline noticed she wasn’t quite as obsequious toward Perry now that she knew his son had been bullying her daughter. In fact, there was a definite edge to her voice. “Nice to see you in the country.”
“Thanks, Renata. Nice to see you too.”
Nathan held out his hand. “Perry is it? I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Nathan. I understand we’re very much in your debt.”
“Really?” said Perry. “How is that?”
Oh Jesus, Nathan, thought Madeline. Shut up. He doesn’t know. I bet he doesn’t know.
“Perry, this is Bonnie,” interrupted Celeste. “And this is Jane. She’s Ziggy’s mother.”
Madeline met Celeste’s eyes. She knew they were both thinking about Perry’s cousin. The secret hung in the air between them like an evil amorphous cloud.
“Pleasure to meet you both.” Perry shook their hands and with courtly gestures offered seats to the women.
“Apparently you and your wife donated one hundred thousand dollars to Amnesty International to help our daughter out of a spot,” gabbled on Nathan. He was twirling his Elvis wig around in his hand, and it suddenly flew off and over the balcony and into the darkness. “Oh shit!” He looked over the balcony. “I’ll lose my deposit at the shop.”
Perry removed his own black Elvis wig. “They do get a bit itchy after a while,” he said. He ruffled his hair with his fingertips so he looked boyishly rumpled and sat himself up on a bar stool, his back to the balcony. He looked very tall up on the bar stool, with the sky clearing behind him, clouds backlit by the moonlight from an emerging full moon, like a magical gold disc. Somehow they’d formed a semicircle around Perry, as though he were their leader.
“What’s this about donating one hundred thousand dollars?” he said. “Is this another one of my wife’s secrets? She’s a surprisingly secretive woman, my wife. Very secretive. Just look at that Mona Lisa expression of hers.”
Madeline looked at Celeste. She was sitting on her bar stool with her long legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap. She was completely still. She looked like she was carved out of stone, a sculpture of a beautiful woman. She’d turned slightly so she was looking away from Perry. Was she breathing? Was she all right? Madeline felt her heart speed up. Something was falling into place. Pieces of a puzzle forming a picture. Answers to questions she didn’t know she had.
The perfect marriage. The perfect life. Except Celeste was always so flustered. A little fidgety. A little edgy.
“She also seems to think we have unlimited financial resources,” said Perry. “Doesn’t earn a cent herself, but sure knows how to spend it.”
“Hey now,” said Renata sharply, as if she were remonstrating a child.
“I think we’ve already met,” said Jane to Perry.
Nobody heard her except for Madeline. Jane had remained standing while everyone else perched up on their bar stools. She looked tiny in the middle of them, like a child addressing Perry. She had to tip back her head. Her eyes were very big.
She cleared her throat and spoke again. “I think we’ve already met.”
Perry glanced at her. “Really? Are you sure?” He inclined his head charmingly. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall.”
“I’m sure,” said Jane. “Except you said your name was Saxon Banks.”