Chapter 49
Celeste
Tuesday
· · ·
Upstairs, Nika is in her bedroom, brushing her hair at her dressing table. Celeste knocks on the open door and steps inside, eyes scanning surfaces quickly but discreetly. In the mirror, Nika watches. “Are you looking for something?”
“The lint roller,” Celeste says smoothly. “It’s not in the drawer in the kitchen.”
“I’ve got my own one, I don’t use the one in the kitchen.” A shrug and a smile. “Want me to help you look?”
“No, it’s fine.” Celeste hovers by the bed, then smooths a patch of duvet and sits.
Nika’s eyebrows arch. “Are you OK, Mum?”
On some level, Celeste knows that this isn’t right.
That other mothers and daughters must sit on each other’s beds and chat.
But she doesn’t dwell on that now; there are more urgent concerns.
She’s read enough about self-harm to know that missing knives are a red flag, and she’s not going to relax till she finds it.
“I’m fine. Are you OK?”
She notices again the dark circles under Nika’s eyes. “Are you sleeping all right?”
Nika opens her mouth then closes it again. She tilts her head. Is she surprised, confused? Or hiding something?
“You know you can always talk to me.”
A small smile now. A smile that might mean we both know that’s not true.
Celeste tries again. “I know you’ve always been very…well adjusted and haven’t needed my guidance, but if ever there is something, do let me know, won’t you?”
Nika nods. Celeste’s eyes go to her daughter’s arms, taking in the long-sleeved hoodie she’s wearing, despite the warm July weather.
“Aren’t you too hot?”
Nika folds her arms across her body. Has she got thin, Celeste wonders now?
She’s always been slim. Celeste knows you’re not supposed to care about your children’s weight as long as they’re heathy and happy, but she’s always been secretly glad Nika is slim.
Her friends go on and on about body positivity but, honestly, if people just…
she stops the thought before it takes off.
That’s not why she’s here. She scans the room again, taking in the makeup and the skincare that costs almost as much as her own.
The handbags hanging inside the open wardrobe door.
The vast array of trainers, neatly boxed below rails of dresses.
The schoolbooks on her desk, ready for September.
All the hallmarks of a perfectly well-adjusted teen.
Maybe the knife’s just gone, the way of odd socks, never to be adequately explained.
And Nika would tell her if anything was wrong.
They’re not the most chatty mother and daughter, but they don’t fight.
Yes, Celeste thinks as she stands and walks to the door, Nika would tell her.
· · ·
Out on the landing, she pauses at Cody’s open door and glances in.
He’s in his gaming chair, his back to her, engrossed in some online thing, his hand moving a joystick at speeds she’ll never understand.
Imagine if he applied the same focus to school.
Something grabs her attention then. Something about his hand.
His knuckles. Bruised purple. What on earth has he been up to now?
She takes one step into the room and falters.
This would be better dealt with by Warren.
She steps back out and quietly closes the door.