Admittedly, when you looked at it practically, making the decision to have children was much stranger. If her own children were any sort of representation, children were difficult, anxiety-inducing little parasites. Cute, difficult, anxiety-inducing little parasites. Parasites with an aptitude for kindness, poignant observation and the most adorable pad of fat on the backs of their hands that Tully liked to press. ‘Mummy loves my squishy hands,’ Miles said whenever she did it.
In any case, when Heather had refused the champagne, Tully had worried for a moment. She’d been relieved when she finally drank the champagne, even if that didn’t necessarily prove she wasn’t pregnant. After all, Tully herself had had the odd drink during her pregnancy. She’d had four champagnes at Anna and Jake Silverstone’s wedding! （She’d always wondered if that was the reason for Locky’s slightly odd gait.） But still, reassuring. Unless Heather was an alcoholic? This was the problem with your father getting a girlfriend. There was so much you didn’t know. So much to worry about.
Tully put the car into reverse and backed out of her parking space. This morning she’d had a phone call from an old friend, Bec Saunders, asking how the lunch went. Tully had confided in Bec, which, in hindsight, hadn’t been the smartest move. Bec was a sympathetic ear who could be strikingly wise at times, but she was also, at her core, an insatiable gossip. She actually lit up when she heard an interesting tidbit, glowing as if she’d just had a facial at an expensive salon. When Tully had said, ‘I have to tell you something,’ she’d practically levitated! It was an annoying trait, as it made Tully want to share information with her, even though she knew she shouldn’t.
Anyway, Bec had been full of platitudes. ‘Well, do you know what Amber said when I told her? She said it was just not right that your dad is doing this, not while Pam is alive. Viv said the same. We’re all shocked by Stephen’s behaviour. It’s just so unlike him.’ And she laughed, a short, perfunctory laugh. Everyone would be laughing, Tully realised. Heather had made their family a laughing-stock.
No wonder she had turned to her old habit of stealing things for stress release.
Tully was eleven the first time she shoplifted. Mum was convalescing at home, having broken her wrist playing squash, and Tully and Rachel were delighting in playing nursemaid. When they realised they’d run out of bread, Tully had practically fallen over herself to be the one to run to the milk bar to get more. It wasn’t a long walk to the shops, less than five minutes each way, but she did have to cross a main road. She was about halfway there when she realised she hadn’t made this particular trip without Rachel before. Tully had been no stranger to anxiety, even then, and she felt it creeping from somewhere deep within, but she continued on. She just had to get the bread and return home; it wasn’t that hard.
The bell dinged as she entered the shop and the man behind the counter looked up from a little television set and then immediately looked back down.
Tully was feeling sick to her stomach by then. She made her way to the bread and selected a loaf, intending to get out of there as quickly as she could. Then a packet of Nerds, on the shelf beside the bread, caught her eye. She didn’t remember ever making the choice to take the Nerds. Probably because, for her, there was no choice to make. It felt like swimming to the surface for air after being held under water. Her body was doing what it needed to do. She was as powerless to stop it as the body that needed oxygen.
The stupid thing was, she had enough money to buy them. Mum wouldn’t have minded, especially if she shared them with Rachel. But she didn’t want to pay for them. She didn’t even want the Nerds. She wanted escape.
On the way home, Tully shoved the Nerds into her neighbour’s letterbox, too horrified to eat them and wanting to get rid of the evidence. She knew what she’d done was wrong. And yet, the peacefulness remained. She felt cushioned from herself. Buoyed. She’d found a way to escape from herself. But the sense of calm didn’t last long. By that evening she was lying in bed in the throes of a panic attack, waiting for the police to appear on the doorstep. But by the next morning, she knew she’d do it again. She had to. She had no choice.
At the boom gate, Tully glanced into the back seat again for a glimpse of the things she’d taken. There were too many to fit into her handbag; she was going to need to get creative. This was the problem with flexible working arrangements. COVID-19 had a lot to answer for, in Tully’s opinion. In the old days, Tully was free to bring home her goods during the day, knowing they could be safely hidden or disposed of by the time Sonny got home at 6 pm. Now, if he wasn’t in court, Sonny was often at home, which was highly inconvenient for someone with a habit like hers. She thought about the picnic blanket in the boot of the car. That would work. She’d pull over before she got home and cover everything up with it.