way.
“It’s nothing too serious, thanks, Cecilia,” said Tess’s mother. “Just a broken ankle.”
“Oh, no, but that
is
serious, you poor thing! How are you coping? How are you getting about? I’ll bring over a lasagna for you. No, I will. I insist. You’re not vegetarian, are you? But that’s why you’re here, I guess, is it?” Without warning, Cecilia suddenly turned to look at Tess, who took an involuntary step backward. What did she mean? Something to do with vegetarianism? “To look after your mum? I’m Cecilia, by the way, if you don’t remember me!”
“Cecilia, this is my daughter—” began Tess’s mother, only to be cut off by Cecilia.
“Of course. Tess, isn’t it?” Cecilia turned and to Tess’s surprise held out her hand to shake in a businesslike way. Tess had been thinking of Cecilia as someone from her mother’s era, an old-fashioned Catholic lady who used Catholic words like “passed” and would therefore stand back smiling sweetly while the men did the manly business of shaking hands. Her hand was small and dry, her grip strong.
“And this must be your son?” Cecilia smiled brightly in Liam’s direction. “Liam?”
Jesus. She even knew Liam’s name. How was that possible? Tess didn’t even know if Cecilia had children. She’d forgotten her very existence until thirty seconds ago.
Liam looked over, aimed his stick straight at Cecilia and pulled the imaginary trigger.
“Liam!” said Tess, at the same time as Cecilia groaned, clutched her chest and buckled at the knees. She did it so well, for an awful moment Tess worried that she really was collapsing.
Liam held the stick up to his mouth, blew on it and grinned, delighted.
“How long do you think you’ll be in Sydney for?” Cecilia locked eyes with Tess. She was one of those people who held eye contact for too long. The polar opposite of Tess. “Just until you’ve got Lucy back on her feet? You run a business in Melbourne, don’t you? I guess you can’t be away for too long! And Liam must be in school?”
Tess found herself unable to speak.
“Tess is actually enrolling Liam in St. Angela’s for a . . . short time,” spoke up Lucy.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” said Cecilia. Her eyes were still fixed on Tess. Good Lord, did the woman ever blink? “So let’s see now, how old is Liam?”
“Six,” said Tess. She dropped her eyes, unable to bear it any longer.
“Well, then he’ll be in Polly’s class. We had a little girl leave earlier in the year, so you’ll be in with us. One-J. Mrs. Jeffers. Mary Jeffers. She’s
wonderful
,
by the way. Very sociable too, which is nice!”
“Great,” said Tess weakly. Fabulous.
“Liam! Now you’ve shot me, come and say hello! I hear you’re coming to St. Angela’s!” Cecilia beckoned to Liam, and he wandered over, dragging his stick behind him.
Cecilia bent at the knees so she was at Liam’s eye level. “I have a little girl who will be in your class. Her name is Polly. She’s having her seventh birthday party the week after Easter. Would you like to come?” Liam’s face instantly got that blank look that always made Tess worry that people might think he had some kind of disability.
“It’s going to be a pirate party.” Cecilia straightened and turned to Tess. “I hope you can come. It will be a good way for you to meet all the mums. We’ll have a private little oasis for the grown-ups. Guzzle champagne while the little pirates rampage about.”
Tess felt her own face fold up. Liam had probably inherited his catatonic look from her. She could not meet another brand-new group of mothers. She’d found socializing with the school mums difficult enough when her life was in perfect order. The chat, chat, chat, the swirls of laughter, the warmth, the friendliness (most mums were so very nice) and the gentle hint of bitchiness than ran beneath it all. She’d done it in Melbourne. She’d made a few friends on the outskirts of the inner social
“It’s nothing too serious, thanks, Cecilia,” said Tess’s mother. “Just a broken ankle.”
“Oh, no, but that
is
serious, you poor thing! How are you coping? How are you getting about? I’ll bring over a lasagna for you. No, I will. I insist. You’re not vegetarian, are you? But that’s why you’re here, I guess, is it?” Without warning, Cecilia suddenly turned to look at Tess, who took an involuntary step backward. What did she mean? Something to do with vegetarianism? “To look after your mum? I’m Cecilia, by the way, if you don’t remember me!”
“Cecilia, this is my daughter—” began Tess’s mother, only to be cut off by Cecilia.
“Of course. Tess, isn’t it?” Cecilia turned and to Tess’s surprise held out her hand to shake in a businesslike way. Tess had been thinking of Cecilia as someone from her mother’s era, an old-fashioned Catholic lady who used Catholic words like “passed” and would therefore stand back smiling sweetly while the men did the manly business of shaking hands. Her hand was small and dry, her grip strong.
“And this must be your son?” Cecilia smiled brightly in Liam’s direction. “Liam?”
Jesus. She even knew Liam’s name. How was that possible? Tess didn’t even know if Cecilia had children. She’d forgotten her very existence until thirty seconds ago.
Liam looked over, aimed his stick straight at Cecilia and pulled the imaginary trigger.
“Liam!” said Tess, at the same time as Cecilia groaned, clutched her chest and buckled at the knees. She did it so well, for an awful moment Tess worried that she really was collapsing.
Liam held the stick up to his mouth, blew on it and grinned, delighted.
“How long do you think you’ll be in Sydney for?” Cecilia locked eyes with Tess. She was one of those people who held eye contact for too long. The polar opposite of Tess. “Just until you’ve got Lucy back on her feet? You run a business in Melbourne, don’t you? I guess you can’t be away for too long! And Liam must be in school?”
Tess found herself unable to speak.
“Tess is actually enrolling Liam in St. Angela’s for a . . . short time,” spoke up Lucy.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” said Cecilia. Her eyes were still fixed on Tess. Good Lord, did the woman ever blink? “So let’s see now, how old is Liam?”
“Six,” said Tess. She dropped her eyes, unable to bear it any longer.
“Well, then he’ll be in Polly’s class. We had a little girl leave earlier in the year, so you’ll be in with us. One-J. Mrs. Jeffers. Mary Jeffers. She’s
wonderful
,
by the way. Very sociable too, which is nice!”
“Great,” said Tess weakly. Fabulous.
“Liam! Now you’ve shot me, come and say hello! I hear you’re coming to St. Angela’s!” Cecilia beckoned to Liam, and he wandered over, dragging his stick behind him.
Cecilia bent at the knees so she was at Liam’s eye level. “I have a little girl who will be in your class. Her name is Polly. She’s having her seventh birthday party the week after Easter. Would you like to come?” Liam’s face instantly got that blank look that always made Tess worry that people might think he had some kind of disability.
“It’s going to be a pirate party.” Cecilia straightened and turned to Tess. “I hope you can come. It will be a good way for you to meet all the mums. We’ll have a private little oasis for the grown-ups. Guzzle champagne while the little pirates rampage about.”
Tess felt her own face fold up. Liam had probably inherited his catatonic look from her. She could not meet another brand-new group of mothers. She’d found socializing with the school mums difficult enough when her life was in perfect order. The chat, chat, chat, the swirls of laughter, the warmth, the friendliness (most mums were so very nice) and the gentle hint of bitchiness than ran beneath it all. She’d done it in Melbourne. She’d made a few friends on the outskirts of the inner social
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