Authors: Liane Moriarty
M
adeline was being assaulted by a vicious bout of PMS on Chloe’s first day of school. She was fighting back, but to no avail.
I choose my mood,
she told herself as she stood in the kitchen, tossing back evening primrose capsules like Valium. (She knew it was no use, you were meant to take them regularly, but she had to try something, even though the stupid things were probably just a waste of money.) She was furious with the bad timing. She would have liked to have found a way to blame someone, ideally her ex-husband, but she couldn’t find a way to make Nathan responsible for her menstrual cycle. No doubt Bonnie danced in the moonlight to deal with the ebbs and flows of womanhood.
PMS was still a relatively new experience for Madeline. Another jolly part of the aging process. She’d never really believed in it before. Then, as she hit her late thirties, her body said,
OK, you don’t believe in PMS? I’ll show you PMS. Get a load of this, bitch.
Now, for one day every month, she had to fake everything: her basic humanity, her love for her children, her love for Ed. She’d once
been appalled to hear of women claiming PMS as a defense for murder. Now she understood. She could happily murder someone today! In fact, she felt like there should be some sort of recognition for her remarkable strength of character that she didn’t.
All the way to school she did deep-breathing exercises to help calm her mood. Thankfully Fred and Chloe weren’t fighting in the backseat. Ed hummed to himself as he drove, which was kind of unbearable (the unnecessary, relentless
cheerfulness
of the man), but at least he was wearing a clean shirt and hadn’t insisted on wearing the too-small white polo shirt with the tomato sauce stain he thought was invisible. PMS would not win today. PMS would not ruin this milestone.
They found a legal parking spot straightaway. The children actually got out of the car the first time they were asked.
“Happy New Year, Mrs. Ponder!” she called out as they walked past the little white weatherboard cottage next to the school, where plump, white-haired Mrs. Ponder sat on her fold-out chair with a cup of tea and the newspaper.
“Morning!” called Mrs. Ponder eagerly.
“Keep walking, keep walking,” Madeline hissed at Ed as he started to slow his pace. He loved a good long chat with Mrs. Ponder (she’d been a nurse in Singapore during the war), or with anyone really, particularly if they were over the age of seventy.
“Chloe’s first day of school!” Ed called out. “Big day!”
“Ah, bless,” said Mrs. Ponder.
They kept walking.
Madeline had her mood under control, like a rabid dog on a tight leash.
The school yard was filled with chatting parents and shouting children. The parents stood still while the children ran helter-skelter around them, like marbles skidding about a pinball machine. There were the new kindergarten parents smiling brightly and nervily.
There were the Year 6 mums in their animated, unbreakable little circles, secure in their positions as queens of the school. There were the Blond Bobs caressing their freshly cut blond bobs.
Ah, it was lovely. The sea breeze. The children’s bright little faces—and, oh for fuck’s sake, there was her ex-husband.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t known he’d be there, but it was outrageous that he looked so comfortable in
Madeline’s
school yard, so pleased with himself, so ordinary and dad-ly. And worse, he was taking a photo of Jane and Ziggy (they belonged to Madeline!) and a pleasant-looking couple who didn’t seem much older than Madeline, but who she knew must be Jane’s parents. He was a terrible photographer too.
Don’t rely on Nathan to capture a memory for you. Don’t rely on Nathan for anything.
“There’s Abigail’s dad,” said Fred. “I didn’t see his car out front.” Nathan drove a canary-yellow Lexus. Poor Fred would have quite liked a father who cared about cars. Ed didn’t even know the difference between models.
“That’s my half sister!” Chloe pointed at Nathan and Bonnie’s daughter. Skye’s school uniform was gigantic on her, and with her big sad eyes and long, fair, wavy, wispy hair, she looked like a sad little waif from a production of
Les Misérables
. Madeline could already see what was going to happen. Chloe was going to adopt Skye. Skye was exactly the sort of shy little girl Madeline would have taken under her wing when she was at school. Chloe would ask Skye to come over for playdates so she could play with her hair.
Just at that moment, Skye blinked rapidly as a strand of her hair fell in her eyes, and Madeline blanched. The child blinked
just like Abigail
used to blink when her hair fell in her eyes. That was a piece of Madeline’s child, Madeline’s past and Madeline’s heart. There should be a law against ex-husbands procreating.
“For the millionth time, Chloe,” she hissed, “Skye is Abigail’s half sister, not yours!”
“Deep breaths,” said Ed. “Deeeep breaths.”
Nathan handed the camera back to Jane and strolled toward them. He’d grown out his hair recently. It was thick and gray and flip-flopping about on his forehead as if he were a middle-aged, Australian Hugh Grant. Madeline suspected he’d grown it deliberately to one-up Ed, who was almost completely bald now.
“Maddie,” he said. He was the only person in the world to call her Maddie. Once, that had been a source of great pleasure; now it was a source of profound irritation. “Ed, mate! And little, hmmm . . . It’s your first day at school too, isn’t it?” Nathan could never be bothered to remember Madeline’s children’s names. He held up his palm for a high five with Fred. “Gidday, champ.” Fred betrayed her by high-fiving him back.
Nathan kissed Madeline on the cheek and shook Ed’s hand enthusiastically. He took an ostentatious relish in the civility of his dealings with his ex-wife and family.
“Na
than
,” intoned Ed. He had a particular way of saying Nathan’s name, a deepening and drawling of his voice and an emphasis on the second syllable. It always made Nathan frown slightly, never quite sure if he was being laughed at or not. But today it wasn’t enough to save Madeline’s mood.
“Big day, big day,” said Nathan. “You two are old hands, but this is a first for us! I’m not ashamed to say I got a bit teary when I saw Skye in her school uniform.”
Madeline couldn’t help herself. “Skye is not your first child to start school, Nathan,” she said.
Nathan flushed. She’d broken their unspoken no-hard-feelings rule. But for God’s sake. Only a saint could let that one go. Abigail had been at school for two months before Nathan had noticed. He’d called up in the middle of the day for a chat. “She’s at school,” Madeline had told him.
“School?”
he’d spluttered. “She’s not old enough for school, is she?”
“Speaking of Abigail, Maddie, are you OK if we swap weekends this week?” said Nathan. “We’re going to see Bonnie’s mother down at Bowral on Saturday, and Abigail hates to miss seeing her.”
Bonnie materialized by his side, smiling beatifically. She was always smiling beatifically. Madeline suspected drugs.
“My mother and Abigail have such a special connection,” she said to Madeline, as if this would be news that Madeline would welcome.
This was the thing: Who would want their daughter having a “special connection” with their ex-husband’s wife’s mother? Only Bonnie could think that you would want to hear that, and yet, you couldn’t complain, could you? You couldn’t even think,
Shut up, bitch
, because Bonnie was not a bitch. So all Madeline could do was just stand there and nod and
take it
, while her mood snarled and snapped and strained at the leash.
“Sure,” she said. “No problem.”
“Daddy!” Skye pulled on Nathan’s shirt, and he lifted her up onto his hip while Bonnie gazed tenderly at them both.
“I’m so sorry, Maddie, but I’m just not cut out for this.” That’s what Nathan had said when Abigail was three weeks old, a fretful baby, who, since she’d been home from the hospital, had never slept longer than thirty-two minutes. Madeline had yawned, “Me either.” She didn’t think he meant it
literally
. An hour later, she’d watched in stunned amazement as he’d packed his clothes into his long red cricket bag and his eyes had rested briefly on the baby, as if she belonged to someone else, and he’d left. She would never ever forgive or forget that cursory glance he gave his beautiful baby daughter. And now that daughter was a teenager, who made her own lunch and caught the bus to high school all on her own and called out over her shoulder as she left, “Don’t forget I’m staying at Dad’s place tonight!”
“Hi, Madeline,” said Jane.
Jane was once again wearing a plain V-necked white T-shirt (did she own no other sort of shirt?), the same blue denim skirt and thongs.
Her hair was pulled back in that painfully tight ponytail, and of course she was doing her clandestine gum-chewing. Her simplicity was somehow a relief to Madeline’s mood, as if Jane were what she needed to feel better, in the same way that you longed for plain dry toast after you’d been ill.
“Jane,” she said warmly. “How are you? I see you met my delightful ex-husband here and his family.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” said Nathan, presumably sounding like Santa Claus because he didn’t know how else to respond to the “delightful ex-husband” barb.
Madeline felt Ed’s hand rest on her shoulder, a warning that she was skating too close to the line of incivility.
“I did,” said Jane. Her face gave nothing away. “These are my parents, Di and Bill.”
“Hello! Your grandson is just beautiful.” Madeline shrugged off Ed and shook hands with Jane’s parents, who were somehow
lovely
, you could just tell by looking at them.
“We actually think Ziggy is my own darling father reincarnated,” sparkled Jane’s mother.
“No we don’t,” said Jane’s dad. He looked at Chloe, who was pulling at Madeline’s dress. “And this must be your little one, eh?”
Chloe handed a pink envelope to Madeline. “Can you keep this, Mummy? It’s an invitation to Amabella’s party. You have to come dressed as something starting with
A
. I’m going to dress up as a princess.” She ran off.
“Apparently poor little Ziggy isn’t invited to that party,” Jane’s mother said in a lowered voice.
“Mum,” said Jane. “Leave it.”
“What? She shouldn’t be handing out invitations in the playground unless she’s asking the whole class,” said Madeline.
She scanned the playground for Renata and saw Celeste walk in through the school gates, late as usual, holding hands with the
twins, looking impossibly gorgeous. It was as though another species had turned up at school. Madeline saw one of the Year 2 dads catch sight of Celeste and do a comical double take and nearly trip over a schoolbag.
And there was Renata, bustling straight for Celeste and handing her two pink envelopes.
“I’m going to kill her,” said Madeline.
Mrs. Lipmann:
Look, I’d rather not say anything further. We deserve to be left in peace. A parent is dead. The entire school community is grieving.
Gabrielle:
Hmmm, I wouldn’t say the
entire
school community is grieving. That might be a stretch.
• • •
C
eleste saw the man trip while he was checking her out.
Maybe she should have an affair. It might make something happen, push her marriage over the cliff it had been inexorably creeping toward for so many years.
But the thought of being with any other man besides Perry filled her with a heavy, listless sensation. She’d be so bored. She was not interested in other men. Perry made her feel alive. If she left him, she’d be single and celibate and bored forever. It wasn’t fair. He ruined her.
“You’re holding my hand too tight,” said Josh.
“Yeah, Mummy,” said Max.
She loosened her grip.
“Sorry, boys,” she said.
It hadn’t been a good morning. First, there was something cataclysmically wrong with one of Josh’s socks that could not be rectified with any amount of adjusting. Then Max couldn’t find a very specific
little Lego man with a very specific yellow hat that he required right at that very minute.
They’d both wailed and wailed for Daddy. They didn’t care that he was on the other side of the world. They wanted him. Celeste wanted Perry too. He would have fixed Josh’s sock. He would have found Max’s Lego man. She’d always known that she was going to struggle with the school-morning routine. She and the boys were late sleepers and generally out-of-sorts in the morning, whereas Perry woke up happy and energetic. If he’d been here this morning, they would have been early for their first day at school. There would have been laughter in the car, not silence, interspersed by pitiful shudders from the boys.
She’d given them lollipops in the end. They were still sucking on them as she got them out of the car, and she’d seen one of the kindergarten mothers she recognized from the orientation day walk by and smile sweetly at the boys, while flicking Celeste a “bad mother” look.
“There’s Chloe and Ziggy!” said Josh.
“Let’s go kill them!” said Max.
“Boys, don’t talk like that!” said Celeste. Good God. What would people think?
“Just pretend-killing, Mummy,” said Josh kindly. “Chloe and Ziggy like it!”
“Celeste! It is Celeste, isn’t it?” A woman appeared in front of her as the boys ran off. “I met you and your husband at the uniform shop a few weeks ago.” She touched her chest. “Renata. I’m Amabella’s mum.”
“Of course! Hi, Renata,” said Celeste.
“Perry couldn’t make it today?” Renata looked around hopefully.
“He’s in Vienna,” said Celeste. “He travels a lot for work.”
“I’m sure he
does
,” said Renata knowingly. “I thought I recognized him the other day and so I Googled him when I got back home,
and that’s when it clicked!
The
Perry White! I’ve actually seen your husband speak a few times. I’m in the funds-management world myself!”
Great. A Perry groupie. Celeste often wondered what the Perry groupies would think if they were to see him doing the things he did.
“I’ve got some invitations for the boys to Amabella’s fifth-birthday party.” Renata handed her two pink envelopes. “Of course, you and Perry are most welcome to come along. Nice way for all the parents to start getting to know one another!”