Miss Barnes turned so fast, her pink boa swung against Jane’s face.
Jane turned around and came face-to-face with Tom again.
“Hold out your hand,” he said. “Quickly.”
She held out her hand and he gave her a handful of pretzels.
“That big scary-looking Elvis over there found a bag of them in the kitchen,” said Tom. He reached to the side of her face and removed something pink from her hair.
“Feather,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Jane. She ate a pretzel.
“Jane.” She felt a cool hand on her arm. It was Celeste.
“Hello, you,” said Jane happily. Celeste looked so beautiful tonight; it was a pleasure simply to lay eyes upon her. Why was Jane always so weird about beautiful people? They couldn’t help their beauty, and they were so lovely to look at, and Tom had just brought her pretzels and blushed a little when he took the feather out of her hair and he wasn’t g*y, and these fizzy pink cocktails were glorious, and she loved school trivia nights, they were just so funny and fun.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” said Celeste.
74.
Shall we go out onto the balcony?” said Celeste to Jane. “Get some air?”
“Sure,” said Jane.
Jane seemed so young and carefree tonight, thought Celeste. Like a teenager. The hall felt claustrophobic and overheated. Beads of sweat rolled down Celeste’s back. One of her shoes was viciously rubbing away the skin at the back of her heel, leaving a nasty, bloody little blister, like she imagined a bedsore to be. This night would never end. She’d be here forever, assaulted by malicious snatches of conversation.
“So I said, that’s unacceptable . . .”
“Completely incompetent, they have a duty of care . . .”
“They’re spoiled brats, they eat nothing but junk food, so . . .”
“I said, if you can’t control your child then . . .”
Celeste had left Perry talking to Ed about golf. Perry was being charming, seducing everyone with his attentive “no one could be more fascinating than you” gaze, but he was drinking much more than he normally did, and she could see his mood changing direction, almost imperceptibly, like the slow turn of an ocean liner. She could see it in the hardening of his jaw and the glazing of his eyes.
By the time they left for home, the distraught, sobbing man in the car would have vanished. She knew exactly how his thoughts would be twisting and turning, like the roots of an ancient tree. Normally, after a bad “argument” like yesterday, she would be safe for weeks on end, but the discovery of her apartment was a betrayal of Perry. It was disrespectful. It was humiliating. She’d kept a secret from him. By the end of the night, nothing else would matter except her deception. It would be as if it were only that, as if they were a perfectly happily married couple and the wife had done something mystifying and bizarre: She’d set up a secret, elaborate plan to leave him. It was mystifying and bizarre. She deserved whatever was going to happen.
There was no one else out on the huge balcony running the length of the hall. It was still raining, and although it was under cover the wind was blowing in a fine mist, making the tiles wet and slippery.
“Maybe this isn’t so nice,” said Celeste.
“No, it’s good,” said Jane. “It was getting so noisy in there. Cheers.”
She clinked glasses with Celeste and they both drank.
“These cocktails are crazy good,” said Jane.
“They’re ridiculous,” agreed Celeste. She was on her third. All her feelings—even her thumping fear—were nicely coated in fluffy cotton wool.
Jane breathed in deeply. “I think the rain is finally stopping. It smells nice. All salty and fresh.” She moved to the balcony edge and put her hand on the wet railing. She looked out at the rainy night. She seemed exhilarated.
It smelled damp and swampy to Celeste.
“I have to tell you something,” said Celeste.
Jane raised her eyebrows. “OK?” She was wearing red lipstick, Celeste noticed. Madeline would be thrilled.
“Just before we left tonight, Josh came and told me that it’s Max who has been bullying Amabella, not Ziggy. I was horrified. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She looked up and saw Harper coming out onto the balcony, rummaging in her bag. Harper glanced their way and quickly clip-clopped up the other end, out of earshot, where she lit up a cigarette.
“I know,” said Jane.
“You know?” Celeste took a step back and nearly slipped on the tile.
“Ziggy told me yesterday,” said Jane. “Apparently Amabella told him and asked him to keep it a secret. Don’t worry about it. It’s all OK.”
“It’s not OK! You’ve had to put up with that terrible petition, and people like her.” Celeste nodded her head in Harper’s direction. “And poor little Ziggy and parents saying their kids couldn’t play with him. I’m going to tell Renata tonight, and Miss Barnes and Mrs. Lipmann. I’m going to tell everyone. I might get up and make a public announcement: You got the wrong kid.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Jane. “It’s fine. It will all get sorted out.”
“I’m just so terribly sorry,” said Celeste again, and her voice shook. She was thinking now of Saxon Banks.
“Hey!” said Jane. She put her hand on Celeste’s arm. “It’s fine. It will all get sorted out. It’s not your fault.”
“No, but in a way it is my fault,” said Celeste.
“It couldn’t possibly be,” said Jane firmly.
“Could we join you?”
The glass door slid open. It was Nathan and Bonnie. Bonnie looked as she always did, and Nathan was dressed in a less expensive–looking version of Perry’s outfit, except that he’d taken his black wig off and was twirling it about on his fist like a puppet.
Celeste knew she was obliged to dislike Nathan and Bonnie on Madeline’s behalf, but it was difficult at times. They both seemed so harmless and eager to please, and Skye was such a sweet little girl.
Oh, God.
She’d forgotten. Josh said Max had pushed Skye down the stairs again. He’d moved on to a new victim. She had to say something.
“I found out tonight that my son Max has been bullying some of the little girls in his class. I think he might have pushed your daughter on the stairs, um, more than once,” she said. She could feel her cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry, I only just—”