I’d dug through my handbag for the website address Kara had given me and looked it up.
Somehow, the terror of chatting to men for money had started to dull in comparison to telling Gray or my mother about my gambling.
12. I, Inside The Walls
IT ALWAYS STARTS LIKE THIS, HAPPY in the garden.
They come here in temptation.
They don’t know that they will fall, one by one, into a hell of their worst imagining.
13. Gray
I WOKE WITH MORNING SUN SLANTING across my face and a mouth drier than cardboard.
Evie wasn’t beside me in the bed.
That wasn’t unusual for a Sunday. I’d sleep in on Sundays, and she’d get up with the kids, except when she worked late at the city restaurant on Saturday night. But today was different, and with a sinking feeling I remembered why. Evie had left me. Was this something I was going to have to get used to—waking up without her?
The house was quiet and empty. In the kitchen, the notepad where I’d written down a list of Evie’s friends was still lying on the bench top. Late last night, in a marijuana haze, I’d called every one of those names. None of them knew anything. Every one of them expressed their heartfelt shock that Evie had left me, but their concern of course was all for her. They immediately closed ranks. They were her friends—I got it—but this breakup was fresh and painful, and they’d always been friendly with me before. Not now. I was on the outside.
Finally, at midnight, I’d called Evie’s mother, demanding to know if Evie was there. I’d gotten an earful from Verity and given an earful back. She said she hadn’t spoken to Evie since the last time she hadn’t spoken to Evie. When I’d told her that made no sense, she told me I was a drunken idiot. Which I’d also argued with. I hadn’t been drunk.
I stared at the list of names on the notepad.
One name stood out.
Marla.
When I’d spoken to Marla last night, she’d been too nice. Marla was rarely nice to me. She’d married one of my good mates four years ago, and ever since the marriage went bust （six months into it） she’d hated both him and me.
Was Marla just being extra nice because finally she’d gotten what she wanted—Evie and me breaking up—or because of something else?
No, Marla, you don’t have me fooled. You know something.
Running out to my car, I jumped in and drove to her street. I parked across the road from Marla’s house, next to the 7/11. Close enough that I could see who was coming in and out. Marla couldn’t easily spot me here, and if she did, I could just say I was buying a snack. She couldn’t claim that I was stalking her, even though I was. I knew better than to just knock on the front door. She didn’t open up for anyone except friends and family. I was neither. She’d insisted her landlord install a peephole in the front door. Somehow, that summed up Marla. She viewed life through a pin-narrow lens. I couldn’t figure how she and Evie were even friends.
Heading into the 7/11, I bought myself a milkshake. I took it back to the car and settled in, switching the radio on.
The nine o’clock morning news started.
C’mon, Marla. You normally take Princess Pout to ballet lessons at this time, the daughter that looks and acts like a mini you. I know this is when you take her, because Willow was doing the lessons, too, before we stopped being able to afford them.
The door opened.
Damn. Just Marla and Princess Pout. She didn’t have Willow and Lilly.
I’d been wrong about Evie and the girls being at Marla’s.
I turned the key in my car’s ignition and drove the car down to the exit of the 7/11.
Checking along down the street for oncoming cars, I caught sight of the shutters in one of Marla’s windows flipping open. Two little faces poked out.
The faces of my daughters.
They were here. Which meant Evie was here with them.
I swung the car around into the street and parked. I waited for Marla to leave and then sprinted across the busy road.
I knocked harder than I meant to on Marla’s front door, the frustration inside me boiling up.
What was I even going to say to Evie? The hell if I knew.
No one answered.
I took back my concern about knocking hard, and I hammered at the door. A second later, I stopped and sat myself down on the front step, my head in my hands.
People are allowed to leave people, Gray. You can’t make Evie come home. You just have to ride this out.
“Dad!” came a soft, high voice to the side of me. Willow’s voice.
She was peeking between the shutters, tapping on the glass.