Amy scratched an insect bite on her arm so hard she drew blood. She pressed her thumb against the spot of blood and said, ‘I did just say that, didn’t I? Do you really think that’s possible? That’s she’s having an affair with this doctor? I guess stranger things have happened, right? You probably see lots of strange things in your line of work. It’s just that my parents, my parents –’ She dropped her thumb from her arm and looked back at them, her face open and earnest. ‘My parents were the only parents holding hands at school events. They kiss, in public, all the time! They worked together, they played doubles together. Their marriage isn’t perfect, I’m not saying that, but it’s a good marriage, I know that for a fact. Their marriage is my benchmark.’
There was something almost childlike about her view of her parents’ marriage. Christina thought of her mother’s Google search: How does a divorce affect adult children? No wonder Joy Delaney was worried.
‘When you first reported your mother missing you mentioned that things had been “a little tumultuous” lately between your parents,’ Christina reminded her.
‘Did I?’ said Amy vaguely, and, it seemed to Christina, regretfully. ‘Well, you know that Mum and Dad argued before she left. Dad isn’t hiding that from us. He told us that straight away.’
‘Right,’ said Christina. ‘But what did you mean when you said things had been a little tumultuous lately?’
There was a pause. Amy fidgeted. ‘Just that they’d been kind of snappy.’
‘So no hand-holding then,’ said Christina dryly, and she saw Amy flinch again, as if she’d hurt her feelings.
‘Not so much recently,’ admitted Amy, and she avoided eye contact.
‘Well, obviously we’ll keep trying to get in touch with this Dr Edgeworth. We’re also trying to track down the woman who stayed with your parents last year,’ said Christina. ‘She seems to be a woman of mystery.’
‘Savannah,’ said Amy heavily. ‘I had a number for her but it’s disconnected.’
‘I’m trying to understand what went on with her.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Amy evasively.
‘Your brother said she caused some dramas in the family.’
‘Did he?’ said Amy. ‘Is that all he said?’ She looked at Christina warily.
‘Is there more to say?’
‘No. I don’t know.’ She curled a long strand of blue-dyed hair around her finger as she considered her next words. ‘I don’t think it’s relevant, though. To you. I mean to . . . this.’
It was relevant alright. Christina could taste the relevance, as sweet as sugar.
She waited. Ethan quietly cleared his throat.
‘Do you remember when you first met her?’ asked Christina.
‘It was Father’s Day last year,’ said Amy. ‘I made brownies.’ She paused. ‘So did she.’
chapter twenty-two
Father’s Day
Brooke Delaney parked outside her parents’ place and sat with her hands on the steering wheel, willing herself to move, to open the car door, to get out, go inside and be introduced to this girl, this Savannah, to whom she would try to be kind and welcoming. She didn’t want to make conversation with a stranger on Father’s Day, especially this particular Father’s Day, her first family event since the separation.
She considered putting on lipstick, just to please her mother. Brooke didn’t like to wear any make-up. She’d always found the whole concept peculiar. Why paint your face like a clown?
She found the lipstick that had been rolling about in the console of her car ever since her mother had pressed it upon her at least two years ago. She put it on, smacked her lips together, and looked at herself. Yep. Clown.
She felt hollowed out, scooped out, empty, and not only that, there was a sharp, digging-like sensation at the centre of her chest, like inflammation of the costal cartilage, as if she’d been doing too many plyo push-ups, except she hadn’t been doing plyo push-ups, she’d been looking at social media.
That’s where she’d seen a photo of her husband, sitting next to a woman she didn’t recognise.
There was nothing to say there was anything significant about this woman – and so what if there was, it’s a separation, Brooke.
Right now the word ‘separation’ felt as violent and irreversible as an amputation.
Just something about the tilt of her husband’s head. The angle of it.
The woman had a heap of long hair tumbling about her shoulders and she wore a lot of make-up. Like, a lot. Grant always said he didn’t want a ‘high-maintenance’ girl. He wanted a girl who camped, who hiked, and who didn’t need to blow-dry her hair each morning. Brooke ‘ticked a lot of boxes’， he said, on their second date.