And then they were all silent as they tucked into their meals—the only sounds Felix chomping on ice from his lemonade and Tony scraping his plate. Allison had to grip her knife and fork tight, fingernails biting into her palms, to prevent the fury from erupting. How dare Tony do this to their once-happy family?
Perhaps she should suggest Felix see the school counsellor. Although, unlike her, Felix seemed to be taking it all in his stride. Was it bravado? She’d phoned his best mate, Darcy, to ask how he thought Felix was doing. ‘He’s all good,’ came the short reply.
Allison finished off her veal, noting that Tony had stolen a piece of roast potato from her plate and had taken a big hunk of garlic bread. This man she loved had two faces—the old familiar Tony and an unrecognisable stranger. She took another gulp of wine and steeled herself to raise the subject of Felix’s living arrangements again. But before she could speak, Tony put a hand on her wrist.
‘I was hoping we could talk about selling the house,’ he said.
Snatching her arm away, she tried to remember how to breathe. ‘The market’s good at the moment,’ he continued. ‘And it’s such a big place, we’ll get a great price. You could buy an apartment with ocean views, like you always wanted.’
The last time Allison had mentioned an apartment with ocean views was seventeen years ago. Before Felix. When she was worrying that she’d never fall pregnant and that they should choose a different type of life.
‘I …’
I thought this was a temporary madness.
I thought we could get through this.
I thought you were coming home.
Allison coughed. Swigged the rest of her wine down her throat to clear it. Focused on her son’s face. Of course Tony had raised the subject in a public place so she wouldn’t be able to scream.
‘You won’t have to bother about the upkeep of the pool then,’ Tony said, as if by talking and talking he could make it happen. ‘Have you spoken to the blond guy at the pool shop? He’s really helpful.’
She kept her eyes on Felix, waiting for his reaction. Surely he’d be as upset as her; it was the only house he’d ever lived in. Until now.
Her son was staring at his lap, presumably on his phone, texting, snapping, whatsapping, whatever he did on there.
The fury from earlier doubled and threatened to overwhelm her. Swallowing hard, Allison bent down to reach under the chair for her handbag, turning her face away from her husband. She considered the bill. Were they supposed to split it now? Like a reverse first date; the first date towards divorce. She could feel Tony watching her.
Ignoring him and the bill, she dropped a kiss on her son’s head.
‘Well done on the goal, Felix.’ She tried to make her voice normal. ‘Sorry I’ve got to go. I have a student who’s sick. I need to do some work for her tonight.’
Allison stormed out of the restaurant and drove slowly, slowly, flipping through the radio channels. When Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’ trilled through the speakers, she stabbed at the button to silence it. Yet another reminder of a date with Tony in their early years. The song made her slam her hands against the steering wheel. She parked in the garage and sat there, considering the empty, silent family home.
If only her fury could keep the fear at bay each night.
3
‘We’re going for drinks at Manly Wharf,’ Shona said after school on Friday. ‘To celebrate surviving the first week back and to welcome Elena. Are you coming?’
‘Who’s Elena?’
‘The new ESL teacher. Haven’t you met her?’
Allison recalled a face she didn’t recognise in the staffroom yesterday. Elena. A young woman wearing black glasses and an intense expression, with thick dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. The department had given them a new acronym now—what was it? EAL/D: English as an additional language or dialect.
‘Where is she?’
‘I think they’re all in the front office, discussing who’s driving.’
Allison rushed out of the library and across the courtyard to the office. Her colleagues were standing in the entrance way, the new teacher slightly to one side.
‘Elena, where do you live?’ Allison demanded.
‘Sorry?’ The woman turned towards her. ‘You are … ?’
‘Where’s your house?’ Allison was almost shouting. ‘Where do you live?’
The other teachers stopped speaking and turned to her.
‘Are you okay, Allison?’ one of them asked. ‘Have you met our new ESL teacher? She moved here from Melbourne.’
‘Why did you move here, Elena? Was it because of a man?’
She knew they were watching, wondering what was going on, but Allison couldn’t stop herself. Was this the reason for Tony’s secrecy? Could his new girlfriend really be a teacher at her own school?
The door opened and shut behind her, and Shona was at her elbow, pulling her towards the corridor.
‘Let’s get a cuppa, hen. I’ve got some of your favourite teabags.’
Even as Shona dragged her off, Allison asked the question once more. ‘Where are you living, Elena?’
The shell-shocked girl answered softly. ‘Mona Vale.’
Oh dear God, what was she doing, yelling at the new teacher? Just because her name sounded like Helena. While Allison hadn’t actually accused the woman of sleeping with her husband, the staff would now all be gossiping about the usually calm Mrs Walsh.
Bloody Tony, sending her mad.
‘I guess you’re not coming to drinks then?’ Shona said, as she made the cups of tea.
‘No, I’ve got book club anyway.’
‘Do you want me to tell them what’s going on? They’ll all be asking now.’
Allison felt she didn’t have much choice. But what if Tony’s new woman was a teacher or parent at her school? How could she possibly turn up to work each day?
After Shona finished her cup of tea and headed off to join the others, Allison hid in her classroom. She hadn’t actually lied to Shona—her book club was on that evening. The book focused on a wife murdering her unfaithful husband. Allison wasn’t attending.
By five-thirty, when Allison walked into the staff car park, her silver hatchback was the only vehicle on the hot tarmac.
Unlocking the Mazda, she glanced at the car door. Rubbed at a mark underneath the handle. Was that a reflection from the wispy clouds? She rubbed again. Bloody hell—a scratch extended all the way from the bonnet to the boot. Staring around the empty car park, Allison felt the night-time fear rush through her body. Someone had keyed her car.
It couldn’t be her colleagues, not even Elena—they wouldn’t do that to her.
Allison dumped her folders on the passenger seat, desperate to get out of there. Switching on the ignition, she heard a soft click. What the hell? Allison tried again and again. Normally, she’d check under the bonnet but not today. With the doors locked, she rang roadside assistance for help. We’ll be with you in thirty minutes. She couldn’t sit in a hot car for that long. Should she go back into the staffroom, lock herself in there? Or ring Nadia to come and wait with her?
Be brave. Don’t sit and sweat in the car.
She got out of the car, slamming the door. ‘Fucking hell,’ she growled to herself. ‘Who did this?’