Can You Keep a Secret? by Caroline Overington Page A

smoke.
    Pearl was sitting where she always sat, in a red velvet armchair that faced the window, her head wreathed in cigarette smoke.
    ‘It’s me, Mom,’ said Colby, but Pearl did not get up. She stayed in her chair, waiting for Colby to drag Caitlin around to face her. She was thin, with bright red lipstick bleeding into the vertical lines around her mouth. Not old, but no longer young. A small dog that had been lying on its stomach by her feet got up and began to yap.
    ‘Shut up, Miffy,’ Pearl said, but Miffy yapped louder.
    ‘Mother, this is Caitlin.’
    Caitlin felt embarrassed. Her clothes were filthy and her hair matted with ash and conditioner. It wasn’t how she’d imagined meeting Colby’s mum, but in the circumstances, how could it even matter?
    ‘Hello, Mrs Colbert,’ she said. It was a bit confusing, how Colby’s mum hadn’t jumped up, and how she wasn’t saying, ‘Oh, thank God you’re alive. Look at the two of you. Sit down and we’ll get Reg to get you something to drink.’
    Exasperated, Colby said, ‘Are you even going to say hello?’
    ‘Alright,’ said Pearl, ‘I’ll say hello. Hello.’ She was reaching for another cigarette. There was a packet on every surface, but her hand seemed to have difficulty locating the box closest to her.
    ‘You’re drunk,’ said Colby. He turned to look at the TV. It wasn’t on. He grabbed a remote control. ‘I can’t believe you’re not even watching this.’
    ‘What’s to see?’ said Pearl. ‘The same thing over and over.’
    ‘We need to find out what’s going on.’
    ‘We know what’s going on,’ said Pearl, waving her cigarette lighter. ‘Somebody has smashed some planes into some buildings.’ She took a few quick puffs of her cigarette, decided she didn’t want it, and bent it into the ashtray.
    ‘Bring some coffee, Reginald.’
    Reginald dipped his head and shuffled back out of the room.
    ‘This is a catastrophe,’ Colby said, pointing to the images on the TV. ‘Where does it end? We’re going to war, I suppose.’
    ‘Well, you won’t get drafted,’ said Pearl. ‘They’ll take the poor and the unemployed before they take you.’
    Colby’s jaw tightened. ‘I’m not thinking about me,’ he said. ‘There are so many people missing … we’ve got a whole team on that floor. I’ve been trying to reach people but …’ As he spoke, the phone in his hand rang. ‘Thank God,’ he said. It was Summer, the most organised person he knew.
    ‘Thank Christ you’re alive,’ he said. He was striding around while talking. ‘I’ve been calling everyone. Have you heard from Robert Brancato? I’ve spoken to Aaron, to plenty of others, but not Robert.’
    Summer hadn’t heard from Robert either. She told Colby she’d arrived at the office shortly before 8 am, carrying apples for the fruit bowl on her desk. She’d answered some emails and then, at around 8.30 am, she’d got up from her swivel chair and said, ‘Okay, coffee before the bell anyone?’ There had been quite a few orders. Summer made a list and took the elevator down to the ground floor, crossed the street and was walking towards the barista when she felt the ground shake. She turned to see the gaping hole in the tower where she worked.
    ‘I know it’s wrong, but I just ran for my life,’ she told Colby.
    ‘It’s not wrong,’ Colby reassured her. ‘It’s normal. You’re alive. But, Summer, I need you to concentrate. Who was inthe office when you left? Was Robert? Was he at his desk? Who did you see?’
    ‘I can’t remember. I should have gone to where we go when there’s a fire alarm. Oh, Colby! I took orders from ten people. They’re saying on the TV that everyone’s dead!’
    ‘Everyone’s not dead.’ Colby was still striding around his mother’s parlour. Caitlin had taken a seat in one of the dusty chairs. She had her head in her hands. ‘Nobody would have gone to the evacuation spot. Nobody. Forget that. It was chaos.’
    ‘All this