Chapter 37
amy
‘Finn!’ Amy said, opening the front door. ‘Look at you!’
‘Don’t. Mom already took about a million photos.’
‘I’m not surprised. You look like a movie star.’
‘It’s just a tux.’
‘It’s never just a tux.’
She beckoned him inside, but he hovered on the doorstep, clearly keen to get going. She took the hint and called up the stairs: ‘Nicky! Finn’s here!’
‘Is it cool if Nicky stays over at our place tonight?’ Finn asked. ‘We thought we might go to the beach tomorrow, if the weather stays good. We can walk back to our house from the marina if we don’t want to drive.’
‘If you sneak beer and vodka onto the boat and can’t drive, you mean,’ Amy said. ‘It’s fine. I’m not going to shop you. Don’t let anyone see you, that’s all I ask.’
Nicky finally came downstairs. He was wearing the tux she’d rented for him, identical in every way to the one Finn was wearing; and yet somehow it looked cheaper than his cousin’s, a little shinier, more ill-fitting.
He pulled awkwardly at his cuffs, shifting his weight from one squeaky new shoe to the other.
Few teenage boys were comfortable in a tux, of course.
Finn was the exception. His star quality had nothing to do with what he was wearing.
‘Let me just get a quick picture of you boys together before you go,’ she said, taking out her phone.
‘Mom.’
‘Just let her do it,’ Finn said. ‘Trust me, it’s easier.’
‘I hate it when you take photos,’ Nicky said.
‘I know you do,’ Amy said. ‘But sometimes it’s nice to have proof of life.’
‘Where d’you want us?’ Finn asked.
‘Out on the deck?’
They followed her outside, comfortably falling into position leaning against the railing with their arms around each other’s shoulders.
Amy and Iris had taken a thousand photos of the boys together exactly like this, many of them standing right here: as two-year-olds on their first day at nursery school, their heads barely reaching the top of the rail; gangly seven-year-old boys with gappy front teeth and skinned knees; awkward teenagers whose adult selves were already visible beneath the soft skin and acne and fuzzy chin growth.
As they posed in their rented tuxedos on the eve of their high school prom, full of life and promise, she could see what they’d look like at forty, at sixty, as old men.
She put her phone away.
‘Did you pick up Maggie’s corsage?’ she asked Nicky.
His face fell. ‘Shit. Do we have time to—’
‘It’s OK, bro, I got it covered,’ Finn said. ‘I got it with Rose’s. They’re both in the car.’
‘Look after your sister,’ Amy told him. ‘Remember, she’s only fifteen.’
‘It’s Rose,’ Nicky said.
‘Even so.’
‘It’s fine,’ Finn said. ‘I got it, Aunt Amy. Mom’s already given me the big-brother speech. I’ll look after her.’
She watched them get into Finn’s car, laughing and high-fiving one another, buzzed on their own youth and energy.
Nicky always came out of his shell when his cousin was around.
He was going to feel it keenly when Finn went to Pittsburgh this fall.
Amy was glad Maggie had decided to stay here and go to college in Vermont.
Nicky seemed somehow fragile to her these days, as if the ropes tethering him in place were fraying.
She felt a flare of guilt again. She really must find the time to figure out what to do about Maggie.
Maybe she should talk to Iris tonight. Her sister had a much better instinct than she did when it came to these teenagers.
She’d know how to help Maggie without making everything worse.
Once prom was out of the way, she could talk to Kate, too, and between the three of them they’d find a way to sort everything out.
Amy checked the time as they drove off and realised it was later than she’d thought.
The school’s faculty and staff were meeting at the marina at seven, an hour before prom started, and she’d promised to give Iris and Jesse a ride there to minimise the number of vehicles in the parking lot. She had less than an hour to get ready.
She showered quickly and changed into the pale green scattered-rose-print dress she’d ordered at the last minute from Me + Em in London, an outrageous extravagance she already regretted.
But it was beautiful, with its perfect tailoring and thick, printed cotton sateen: elegant and spring-like, classic and on-trend at the same time.
It was the kind of dress that caught your attention without ever being look-at-me. The kind of dress Mac would notice.
The kind of dress she needed right now.
‘Wow,’ Iris said, when she got into the car.
‘Where’s Jesse?’
‘He’s not coming. Don’t even,’ Iris added, holding up her hand. ‘Some crisis at work. Trust me, he’s going to be on my shit list for a month.’
‘Finn must be disappointed.’
‘Honestly? I don’t think the kids give a damn whether we’re there or not.’
‘How many pictures did you take?’
Iris laughed. ‘About a hundred.’
‘Me, too.’
‘You really do look amazing,’ Iris said, as Amy pulled out onto the main road. ‘That dress is incredible on you. You’ll blow him away.’
Iris didn’t need an amazing dress to get noticed, of course. She was wearing her favourite pair of white jeans and a sleeveless green linen T-shirt this evening, and she’d still draw every eye on board the Lady without even trying.
But Amy didn’t want every eye on her.
Just Mac’s.
‘Do you think,’ she said, ‘that Ring video—’
‘There’s more to it,’ Iris said. ‘Yes.’
‘I’d know if Mac was having an affair. Every wife says that, don’t they? But I’m sure I would. I’m sure I’d know.’
‘I think you’d know if he’d stopped loving you,’ Iris said.
A vehicle shot out of a concealed driveway just feet in front of them, and Iris grabbed at the dashboard as Amy slammed on the brakes.
‘What the fuck,’ Iris said.
‘Raylan Adams,’ Amy said. ‘I’d know that monster truck of his anywhere.’
‘What are his parents thinking?’
‘They’re not even in the country. Jamaica, I think.’
The truck flew round the bend ahead of them, and then shot right and disappeared up a steep dirt road leading into the mountains.
‘I’ve a feeling there’s an after-party at the Adams’s cabin,’ Iris said, glancing back at the mountain road as they passed it. ‘Finn asked if he could stay over at your house, and I’m betting he asked you if Nicky could stay with us.’
‘It’s like they think we’re stupid. Do they not realise we were teenagers once? Well, you were,’ Amy added, with a sigh. ‘I think I was born middle-aged.’
Iris laughed. ‘D’you remember that time you told Mom and Dad you were spending the evening studying over at Kate’s, and she told her mom she was with you? You were going to some bar in Montreal—’
‘—and we got a flat tyre just before we reached the Canadian border and the police picked us up.’
‘You were grounded for about a year,’ Iris said. ‘I was so impressed. I thought you were so fucking cool.’
‘Did you really?’
‘Hell, yes. I told everyone in my class.’
Amy flushed with pleasure. Her sister was the cool one, not her.
Iris had pierced her nose and got a tattoo and sneaked cigarettes at twelve and dated married men at twenty.
Amy had only ever slept with one man. She’d been sixteen before she’d even got pierced ears.
She’d never done anything remotely rebellious apart from the illicit trips to Montreal, and she was oddly touched that Iris even remembered them.
She turned into the marina, looking for a place to park. Mac’s truck was tucked neatly behind the boat storage shed, so she pulled in behind him, and she and Iris got out.
The caterers were already there, loading boxes onto the Lady.
Mary Lou, the parent liaison on the prom committee, was standing by the dock with a clipboard, checking things off.
A few parents had arrived early to decorate the boat and were now standing around, chatting as they waited for the kids to arrive.
There was a buzz of excitement in the air, and Amy found herself unconsciously shedding the personal drama of the last few days and effortlessly stepping back into her comfortable, familiar role as the calm, competent head of school.
Fake it till you feel it.
A shiny new Range Rover EV pulled into the marina. Amy felt Iris draw closer as they saw who was in it.
‘Showtime,’ Iris said.