Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Victoria
I quiz the boys on the woman who took them to the park all the way home.
‘What did she look like?’
‘A lady,’ says Dylan.
‘I know that but what colour hair did she have?’
‘She said that we would get ice cream and we did,’ says Cash. ‘But Reese got us the ice cream. I had chocolate but Dylan had cookies and cream.’
I sigh; talking to five-year-olds is not easy. ‘Did Kayla actually know her? Did she give her a hug?’
‘Kayla said, “My auntie lives in Queensland. You’re not my auntie”,’ says Dylan.
‘Yeah, but then the lady said she was and then— Can we have a sleepover with Max? He says we can.’
‘No, no.’ I bite down on my lip, irritated.
When we get home, the afternoon rush takes over.
Finally, when the boys are asleep, I glance around the kitchen, unable to believe the mess and not even able to blame Ed for it.
After I whip round the kitchen, I pour myself a drink and open my computer, googling both of Camilla’s sisters.
Lia is a lawyer and she lives in Canada.
It could be Lia pretending to be Camilla now, but how would she be organising this unless she’s here?
I don’t think Lia and Camilla even got along.
It’s much more likely to be Sophie, who was closer to Camilla. But then why didn’t she say something when we called her? She seemed surprised to hear from us and if it’s her, she should be… I don’t know, shocked we tracked her down? Wanting to tell us how much she hates us? Something.
I google Camilla again, this time adding the word ‘death’ on the end and get a lot of results, all of which don’t have any relevance.
I open my Facebook and type in Camilla Struthers but there’s nothing.
It’s like someone has wiped away her internet presence except for the Instagram account and that obviously doesn’t belong to her.
Is that what’s happened? Has someone deleted her social media, knowing that we would google her?
I know she had Facebook because we all did and I know that Facebook accounts are there even after you die.
But it’s like Camilla never even existed.
I think about Camilla with her white-blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. She was never beautiful because there was always a sour expression on her face.
I pick up my glass of wine and take a large sip. It’s a cheap red wine so it tastes more like acidic cordial than anything else but it’s the only thing I have.
Who is talking to us? That’s the only thing I need to know. Who is talking to us and what do they know about the things I did to Camilla?
I remember my anger now. It was white hot. Reese was so kind, so sweet, so fragile and desperate to please everyone. How could Camilla have slept with her fiancé? It was the act of a nasty jealous bitch and she deserved whatever she got.
I take another sip of my wine as a message comes in over Instagram.
Time we met up, don’t you think?
I want to tell this person, whoever it may be, to shove it. But I can’t.
Whoever this is managed to hack both mine and Reese’s emails. They took our children from school. They’re dangerous and we need to know exactly who we’re dealing with here.
Where?
Why wait until now? Why bother now? Whole lives have been lived since Camilla killed herself.
My parents’ house. You remember where that is, don’t you?
If this was Sophie messaging, she would know that Reese and I know Camilla is dead.
If I close my eyes, I can see the small weatherboard house. I know it was about half an hour’s drive from where Reese’s apartment was but I’m not sure of the actual address.
No
27 Sutton Place, Woodville
When?
Tomorrow night. 8 p.m. Bring your best friend Reese. Tell no one else.
You won’t get away with this you know.
Maybe, but that’s not important. The important thing is that you don’t get away with what you did Victoria.
I don’t reply to that but I’m obviously going to go. What choice do I have? What choice do we have?