Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Reese
The breakfast rush is typically chaotic. I’m sleep deprived. The idea that Camilla was at my son’s window continues to assault me with the force of a punch. I’m distracted and keep forgetting what I’m supposed to be doing.
Max walks around in his underwear until I yell, ‘Just go and get dressed,’ at which point he bursts into tears and I have to then cuddle him better and dress him even though he’s capable of doing it himself.
The only saving grace of the morning is that Nick is not here to offer gentle, pointed critiques while not actually helping at all. The photo of him and Victoria together is also on my mind but has been mostly usurped by the horrifying idea that Camilla was tapping at my son’s window last night.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have to get the kids into the car and dropped off at school.
I’m working from home today so all the way home from drop-off I promise myself twenty minutes of silent scrolling as I drink a cup of coffee and eat breakfast, hoping that this will relax me enough to get my thoughts in order.
Camilla wouldn’t actually hurt one of my children, would she?
That’s not actually possible. She’s trying to scare me, obviously, but why and what exactly does she want?
She said she wanted the truth to come out but she hasn’t suggested meeting or how the truth should come out.
What part of the truth is she talking about and will it really matter now anyway?
It all happened a long time ago. What can be achieved by bringing it up now?
I feel like there’s some part of this puzzle that I’m missing.
I can’t get the whole picture. Talking to Victoria is the best thing to do but I’m not ready to do that yet.
I need to be clear on exactly what I’m going to say.
Any hope I had of some quiet time disappears as I pull into my garage and my phone pings with a message from Zane.
Emily Goldman just cancelled the wedding!!!!!
I can read the sheer panic in his words.
We have laid out a lot of money to our contractors in anticipation of the final payment from the Goldman family.
Emily wouldn’t be the first person to cancel her wedding only days before it’s meant to go ahead, but it’s rare that it actually happens.
And if we have to cancel everything, we don’t only risk losing money, but also looking unreliable to all our contractors.
The wedding is only twelve days away. I call Zane.
‘I swear that this job will give me a heart attack one day,’ he says when he answers my call.
‘Do you know for sure that she’s serious?’ I ask.
‘She called me in tears at six a.m. when I was in the middle of a workout to tell me that her fiancé has just told her for the first time that he once kissed her best friend.’
‘Oh God, that’s not good.’
‘It was when they were both twelve,’ yells Zane. ‘This is obviously just a convenient excuse.’
I can’t help a snort that escapes me and then I burst into giggles, even as I feel a terrible heaviness in my heart. I am exhausted and scared and my reaction is because of that but Zane won’t appreciate my behaviour.
‘This is not funny, Reese. Even if it’s ridiculous, we are out thousands in deposits if they back out and who knows how hard it will be to get the money from the family.’
In my car, I clench a fist and push my nails into my palm so that I control myself. Taking a few deep breaths, I remind myself that I cannot go to pieces now.
‘Listen, Zane, first of all, the family are lovely and they will pay us whatever they owe, I’m sure of that; and secondly, Emily will have a chat with her mother, who is very wise and calm, and it will all be back on.
’ As I say these words, I realise I am right.
Weddings are incredibly stressful and all Emily needs is to talk to someone who will point out how odd her thinking is.
She only met her fiancé when she was twenty-eight and now at twenty-nine is ready for marriage.
The fact that he kissed her best friend at twelve is simply coincidence.
‘I hope you’re right,’ he huffs.
‘I am right,’ I tell him.
‘I assume you will be going over there now,’ he states, making it clear that this is exactly what I will be doing.
‘I just need to shower first but I will definitely go over there and talk to her and her mother.’ Whatever plans I had about working out what to do have just gone out the window.
I need to get this sorted but I can’t turn up looking flustered so I need to shower and dress.
Coffee, scrolling and thinking will have to wait.
It takes me half an hour to get to the Goldman house.
The door is opened by Ethan Goldman, Emily’s father, who smiles when he sees me and then gestures to the kitchen, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders as if to say, ‘This has nothing to do with me.’ In the lovely kitchen with ornate timber doors and a grey granite countertop, I find Claire, Emily’s mother, making tea, and Emily at the kitchen table crying as she breaks a chocolate chip cookie into pieces.
‘He should have told me, she should have told me, why did they lie?’ she wails.
‘Because they both forgot or because they didn’t consider it important,’ her mother says as she shakes her head. ‘Tea, Reese?’ she asks and I nod.
An urge to discuss my own situation with Claire rises inside me. I want her to tell me that my husband just forgot about exchanging a hug with my best friend outside his favourite lunch spot. But this morning is not about me.
Sitting down at the table across from Emily, I hand her a tissue to dry her eyes. ‘Emily, do you really believe they feel something for each other?’ I ask and she starts to nod but then she sighs and shakes her head.
‘What if we rushed into things? Jonathon and I have only been together for a year, what if we don’t know each other well enough?’
‘But you’ve lived together,’ I say, understanding now that the innocent kiss shared by two twelve-year-olds has nothing to do with Emily’s tears.
Emily puts a piece of her broken cookie into her mouth and takes a deep breath and then she sighs. ‘I’m worried that this is a terrible mistake.’
‘Because you don’t feel ready for marriage or because something about the wedding is bothering you?’ I ask her, amazed that I sound so calm and in control. A wedding planner has to be everything to her bride and that includes psychological counsellor, if she needs it.
Emily picks up her mug of tea and takes a sip as her mother and I wait in silence.
‘I hate the way my hairdresser wants to do my hair. I look ugly and I can’t make her understand what I want and I can’t be ugly on my wedding day,’ she finally says and then she sighs, as though a huge weight has lifted off her shoulders.
The smallest things become of paramount importance with a wedding. Emily hasn’t been able to make herself understood and it’s made her reconsider everything.
‘Silly girl,’ tuts her mother. ‘Why not just say that? You’ve made poor Jonathon crazy.’
‘Everything feels crazy,’ says Emily, who is a lawyer in her day job and works long hours. She has obviously been overwhelmed by the wedding and everything that accompanies it.
‘I tried to get an appointment to try another style yesterday but she said that she can’t fit me in and she’s not changing things now.’
‘Well, that’s unacceptable,’ I say. ‘Let me see what I can do.’
While I’m going through my hairdressing contacts, Jonathon arrives and he and Emily go for a walk together and return all smiles.
I message Zane that the wedding is back on and then I stay with Emily until the hairdresser I have found arrives and wait until I know that Emily is going to be happy with her.
My marriage might be about to fall apart but it feels good to know I am still good at my job and that I have managed to get the wedding back on track. If only dealing with my own life were that simple.
By the time I leave the Goldman house, it’s after 2 p.m. and I’m starving. Claire kept offering food but I didn’t want her to go to the trouble of making me anything.
I stop at a shopping centre for a quick bite and then I duck into the grocery store because we’ve run out of peanut butter.
It’s only when I get to school to pick up the children that I realise I have somehow not been consumed by the messages from Camilla, the picture she sent me, or the frightening fact of her being outside Max’s window last night.
My work has taken up my brain space and it has been oddly relaxing to spend time with the Goldman family and to have to concentrate on them.
I have also not heard from Victoria. Should I message her? She’s probably really upset about her job. I’m not being a good friend.
‘Tonight,’ I promise myself. I will talk to Victoria when the kids are asleep. I’ll ask her about the photograph and get that cleared up and then I will tell her about Camilla coming to my house.
I wait in the pick-up line until I get to the front, scanning for my children. I have our surname on the windscreen so they’re usually there when I get to the front but when I do get there, Kayla and Max are not waiting for me.
Lowering my window, I call out to the line supervisor, ‘Kayla and Max Evans?’
She nods her head and lifts her bullhorn, calling for my children. But they aren’t here or anywhere close.
‘Perhaps they’re still inside?’ she says and I nod because sometimes they do linger on the play equipment. Pulling over into the first available space, I park and get out.
The first place I go is the play equipment, nodding and smiling at other parents as I pass them. Dark clouds are gathering above me and I really want to get home before the rain starts.
It is immediately clear that my children are not on the play equipment. There are only a couple of children there and they are both older.
‘Weird,’ I mutter and I turn around, scanning the grounds of the school. Maybe they’ve gone outside to wait for me?
I start walking back, irritated that I got out of my car when I should just have waited.
At the front gate of the school, the pick-up line supervisor is coming back into the school, her orange vest over one arm and the bullhorn in her hand. There are no more children out the front of the school.
‘Sorry, I’m looking for Kayla and Max Evans, they aren’t in the school,’ I say, hearing the slight rise in my voice, feeling tingles of panic begin all over my body.
‘Have you checked the classrooms?’ she asks. ‘I know rooms five and six are open for the after-school care kids, maybe they’re with friends?’ She sounds completely unconcerned.
‘Thanks, I’ll do that,’ I say, trying to let her lack of worry comfort me.
I know Dylan and Cash go to after-school care today so it’s possible that my kids are there.
Dylan, Cash and Max all get along really well so maybe they wanted to play.
But they’ve never done that before. Why would they do that now?
I walk quickly over to the rooms, my heart thudding in my chest.
The door to room five is open and there is a teacher at the front watching a noisy gaggle of children all painting or playing with Lego, reading books and talking.
‘Sorry,’ I say, going up to the teacher, who I think is Mr Patterson. ‘I’m looking for my kids, Kayla and Max Evans?’
‘Oh, um, right,’ he says, putting on the pair of glasses that are hanging around his neck as he picks up a clipboard. ‘Were they supposed to be here today?’
‘No, no,’ I say as I scan the classroom, wondering if somehow I just can’t see my children.
‘They’re not on the list. The year fives and sixes are next door doing homework, perhaps check there.’
As I turn to leave, I remember that Dylan and Cash should be here, but they aren’t. Perhaps Ed picked them up early? I know he doesn’t have a fixed schedule anymore.
Maybe the kids were picked up by my mother? Did I make that arrangement and just forget because I had a sleepless night? I check my calendar, knowing I would have put something like that in my phone but there’s nothing.
My children should be here. They should be here.
Darting into the next-door room where, in contrast to room five, it’s quiet as the older children do their homework, I can see instantly that my children are not here. My tingles of panic have turned into sharp pricks, running up and down my skin. Where are they?
‘Can I help you? It’s Mrs Evans, isn’t it?’ says the teacher at the front of the room, who I know is Miss Emerson because she taught Kayla last year.
‘Yes, um… my kids, I can’t…’ My voice wobbles and my eyes grow hot. Is this happening? Is it actually happening? ‘I can’t find my kids.’
‘Oh, they must be here somewhere, I’m sure. Have you checked with the office?’ She, too, doesn’t sound concerned. This is a small suburban school and the most exciting thing that happens here is the arrival of the reptile man with his collection of snakes and lizards.
‘No, I’ll go there,’ I say and I turn, running to the office to the sound of thunder overhead. Where are you? Where are you?
I burst into the office, sweating and shaking. When I speak, my voice sounds like it’s caught in my throat. ‘Kayla and Max Evans,’ I say desperately. ‘I can’t find them. I’ve looked everywhere, everywhere.’
The secretary, an older woman named Bonnie, has been at the school forever and she is the first person who looks concerned. She immediately starts typing and clicking through screens.
And then she smiles and sighs, sounding relieved. ‘Oh, they were picked up by their auntie. Did you forget? You sent an email this morning,’ she says with a little laugh, obviously meant to convey how easy it is to forget such a thing.
There is a chair behind me and I feel my knees go weak so I sink down into it.
I never sent an email.
My sister lives in another state and I would know if she was here.
An overwhelming fear paralyses me as I realise that I don’t know where my children are.
I don’t know where they are.