Chapter 2
In the dark sitting room, the television is playing. Danny is asleep, facedown on the sofa, his lanky frame already too big for the little two-seater. There is a silvery spindle of dried saliva on the cushion beneath him. Cathy shakes him briskly awake, rattling the blinds open as she does so.
“Time for school! Come on. Up!”
Danny grunts and wipes at his lips, looking at his mother blearily.
Scout, wearing just his nappy and a smear of jam on his cheek, goggles at his older brother before reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Cathy’s hair.
There is a strong smell of burning toast, the sound of the microwave pinging in the kitchen.
If she’s late for work, she’ll get another warning, Cathy knows.
There are creases in her shirt, her hair is still damp. She’ll be lucky if she makes the bus.
“You’ll need to fix your own breakfast, Danny. I’ve got to get Scout to day care. Go on and get changed—and no messing about on your phone!”
“Uh-huh.” Danny yawns. He scratches at his neck. “Did you see the message I sent you about the video?”
“Yes, and I’ll watch it later. Right now, I need you moving.”
Her phone rings as she’s strapping Scout into his dungarees. She almost ignores it, peering down to look at the screen only at the very last second.
Hazel.
Seeing the name floating there is agony and sweetness, like biting through tinfoil.
There is a sliding feeling like rockfall in Cathy’s chest. She quickly directs Scout to his toys and picks up the call before the voicemail kicks in.
Her heart is beating faster than she can remember but her voice is calm and level, almost cautious.
“Hazel? Is it really you?”
“It’s really me.”
“Mum said you were home. Bet you don’t recognize the place.”
She can hear the smile in Hazel’s voice as she replies, “I saw what she did to your bedroom.”
“Ugh. I know, right? The Pussy Palace.”
Hazel laughs and Cathy grins. She can’t help herself and right at that moment the years are washed away.
“Joe and I are separating, but you probably know that. We’re getting a divorce. The papers arrived this morning, but I bet Mum already told you everything, huh? They left for the cruise an hour ago.”
“How long are they gone for?”
“Fifty days.”
“Lucky bastards. Can’t believe she’s trusting you with the cats.”
“Me neither. I think she’s set up a nanny cam.”
Cathy snorts with laughter. It’s funny, she thinks. This feeling of release. Like she’s been storing all these heavy, bad feelings inside her for a long time only to find they’re as insubstantial as smoke.
“I want to see you,” she tells Hazel as Scout rams a plastic truck into her legs.
Cathy no longer cares about the creases in her shirt or getting to work on time.
She is suddenly full of big ideas, the way she always is.
“Can we get lunch this weekend? There’s a new shopping center in town, we can go there. I can get a babysitter, even.”
“No, bring the boys. I’d like that. I’d like to see you too. It’s been so long.”
Bring the boys. Cathy hesitates. There is a pinching sensation in her stomach, like a contraction. It’s one thing to expose herself to old wounds. Another to drag her boys into it. She sucks in a quick breath, telling herself she’s worrying unnecessarily.
“Listen, Hazel, I have to get to work. Shall we—Scout, hang on, honey, hang on—shall we say Saturday? I can meet you out front by the fountain about eleven.”
“Sure. Eleven sounds good.”
Danny is lingering in the doorway, as if waiting to ask her a question.
Money for lunch maybe, or needling her again about watching the video he made for school.
She waves him away, pointing at the clock.
You’re late, she mouths, and then Scout lets out a piercing wail as he topples off his ride-on truck, one foot snagged in the little red steering wheel.
Cathy moves the phone to her other ear, wishing all of this away so she could just talk to her sister for another minute.
She should be rushing out the door by now, pushing Scout’s buggy ahead of her, but there’s something she wants to say, and it can’t wait.
“I am glad you called, Hazel. Really.”
“Me too.”
And Cathy knows this is the truth, and that her sister means it. But when she hangs up, there is still a lingering doubt sitting uneasily inside her, like a sliver of glass.
Bring the boys.