It said something about his dad that it had taken Jacob thirty-four years for that thought to occur to him.
Your umpiring was top-notch, Jacob.
Just when he thought he had a handle on this grief business, it walloped him, as if he’d only just got the news. He pressed the back of a hand that still smelled like lamb casserole to his mouth and a small white butterfly fluttered by so close he felt its wings brush against his cheek.
His mother believed every passing butterfly was his dad stopping to say hello, which was convenient, because there were plenty of butterflies in this leafy suburb.
Hi, Dad, thought Jacob. He didn’t believe the butterfly was his dad, but still. Just in case. He watched the butterfly sail up above his mother’s front door. It hovered under the eaves, right next to the small metal bracket where his mother’s security camera usually hung. It had been smashed by a hailstone in the storm a couple of weeks back.
Yeah, I know, Dad, thanks for the reminder, I’m getting it fixed. I’ll pick it up –
Then he stopped in his tracks. He turned around and looked back at the Delaneys’ house and wondered what mistakes that camera might have witnessed from way up there with its bird’s-eye view.
chapter forty-nine
Christmas Day
‘That is the creepiest Santa I’ve ever seen,’ said Troy to Amy.
They sat side by side drinking champagne on the three-seater dark brown leather couch in their parents’ living room, watching a miniature Santa Claus gyrate his hips to ‘Santa Claus Rock’ on the coffee table.
‘He’s leering at me,’ said Amy.
‘Don’t turn him off,’ said Logan as he set up a stepladder under a light fitting to change a globe. ‘I suggested Santa might appreciate a break and Mum called me a Grinch.’
It was the first time they’d all been together since the dramatic confrontation with Savannah back in October, and it was also the first time in years that the Delaneys had celebrated Christmas with just the immediate family: no in-laws, no partners, no random friends or second cousins.
No strangers who turned out not to be strangers.
In fact, thought Amy, as she chugged back her second glass of champagne on an empty stomach – an extremely empty stomach – it was possible this was their first Delaney Christmas ever with just the six of them, because growing up they’d always had the two grandmothers at Christmas lunch, gently lobbing passive-aggressive compliments back and forth across the table.
It felt pointless celebrating without other people, as if the whole objective had always been to perform the festivities for an audience. Why bother with any of it now? No-one was religious and there were no children to become sugared-up and adorably excited about Santa.
Yet Amy’s mother appeared to be on a crazed mission to make this the Christmas-iest Christmas of Delaney family history. She’d decorated the already cluttered house with a quite extraordinary volume of newly purchased Christmas decorations. Shimmering lengths of tinsel had been thrown indiscriminately along windowsills. A series of identical grinning snowmen ornaments were precariously perched on top of the signed tennis ball collection. A nativity scene had been crammed in the middle of the tennis trophies, so that Amy could see the surprised face of baby Jesus reflected in a Bundaberg Seniors Mixed Doubles Tournament trophy. Baubles hung from doorhandles. There was reindeer-shaped soap in the bathroom. Steffi had been forced to wear jingly gold bells tied to her collar, which she clearly found mortifying. Right now she sat beneath the coffee table with her head between her paws, morosely munching on a piece of Christmas wrapping paper with the gift label still visible. It said, To: Troy! From: Mum and Dad. With love!
Joy wore a new red dress and flashing Christmas tree earrings and was whirling about the kitchen, preparing an incredibly elaborate hot lunch that was clearly beyond her capabilities. No-one was allowed to help her with anything. They had been instructed they must not bring anything except themselves and alcohol. They were ‘busy people with their own lives’。 ‘I’m not a busy person with my own life,’ Amy had protested, but she hadn’t even been allowed to make brownies.
When they’d arrived, three hours ago, they’d been told to remain in the living room, where they should all sit back and relax. It was extremely stressful.
‘Why didn’t you bring your toy boy along today?’ Troy removed a piece of red tinsel from Amy’s hair. He himself had a fetching dusting of gold glitter on his cheekbone, but Amy didn’t tell him. She thought it suited him. He looked like a rock star.