Page 46 of Perfect Wives
I throw open the front door and hurry out. Drizzle clings to the air as we run, the girls rushing to greet Oscar and Henry. I wrap my cardigan tight, shivering, wishing I’d grabbed a coat but not wanting to run back.
When I glance over my shoulder, I see Marc is still standing in the doorway, watching us leave. He’s tickling Lanie, making her giggle, holding her close. Something in my chest softens, and I know that no matter how furious I am for all the months he’s lied, and for what he did, I know I will eventually forgive him. Because that’s what families do – we survive.
We’ll survive Marc’s betrayal. We’ll start our new life together. But I’m not leaving like the Gallaghers – cast out and shunned. I won’t do that to the girls. Oscar and Henry are like brothers to them. Beth and Georgie like aunts. It would shatter their trust forever to see these people turn their backs on us. Georgie and Beth are my best friends. And right now, I need them. We have to protect each other during Jonny’s murder investigation. Be each other’s alibis.
But if it comes down to it – if I have to choose between my friends and my family – there’s no choice at all.
I’ll protect what’s mine.
TWENTY-FOUR
TASHA
The bell rings across the playground, and the children begin lining up in their neat little rows, looping their book bags over their shoulders. I wait. Poised. Tense. Any second now, Matilda’s lip will wobble, and the tears will spill onto her cheeks, and she’ll rush at my legs, cling on for dear life, and it will take five minutes and the help of the teaching assistant to coax her into class. Four years at this school and it’s always the same. I’ve tried reward charts and bribes and threats and everything I could think of, but nothing has worked. It’s just another burden to add to my day.
Parents scatter, already peeling away to begin their days, but not us. We wait in our usual spot near the fence, our huddle tighter than usual, our smiles more forced. I feel more exposed without the pushchair.
The sky is a flat grey above us, and the drizzle has started again, frizzing my hair and chilling my body.
Beth nudges my side, keeping her voice low. ‘Is it just me, or are people looking at us differently?’
‘Not just you,’ Georgie replies as she waves to someone at the gates. ‘Julie – Katie’s mum – gave me a look like I’d kicked her dog a minute ago. And did you see the way Lydia practicallyturned her back on us this morning? I mean, come on. It’s like we’re radioactive. I was supposed to meet Mrs Gardner this afternoon about PTA spending, but she cancelled, and that’s a first. Didn’t even give a reason, just said something had come up. It’s weird, right? Like, why now?’
‘It’s because of the police update on the local news last night,’ Beth whispers.
‘I didn’t see it,’ I reply, feeling sick.
‘Detective Sató said they’re talking to Jonny’s neighbours and building a picture of his last known movements,’ Beth replies.
Georgie shakes her head. ‘She basically suggested it was someone inside Magnolia Close.’
I glance around, my chest tightening. Beth is right. People are glancing our way, watching and pretending not to.
‘Can you see her?’ Beth asks, and I know instantly who she means.
I scan the playground. ‘Rowan is here,’ I say, nodding towards the year three line where Matilda is standing hand in hand with Keira’s daughter. The two of them are giggling and pointing at a group of boys, heads together like they’ve been best friends for years. And for once, Matilda isn’t looking back at me or beckoning me over. No wobbling lip. No tears.
I should be grateful she’s happier – that she’s found a friend – but seeing her with Rowan causes my stomach to knot. Even though I’ve avoided Keira since that day in the pub, I can’t escape how she looks at me when we pass – like she knows all my secrets.
‘Keira must have dropped Rowan and gone before the bell,’ Georgie says as the children disappear inside. Matilda doesn’t even look back.
We wait for the playground to empty before we begin the five-minute walk back to the close. The road outside the school isheavy with traffic – mums in SUVs. Delivery vans. The air smells faintly of petrol and wet leaves.
We pass the long stretch of detached Victorian houses, tall and grand, their paint peeling around sash windows and balconies. Most are apartments now – rented out to commuters who make the forty-minute train journey to London. Beside me, Georgie is bouncing on the balls of her feet like her energy has been turned up too high, too forced.
‘Are you OK, Georgie?’ I ask.
She flinches just a fraction before nodding. ‘Yeah. I just want everything to go back to normal. The weekend felt like it dragged, right? And did you see the WhatsApp messages this morning?’
I shake my head. ‘Lanie took my phone again this morning. I haven’t had a chance to look since I got it back. What did it say?’
Beth pulls out hers and shows me the screen. ‘Ryan accused Andrea of installing the secret camera,’ she says, scrolling down. ‘And?—’
She shows me the screen, and I gasp. ‘He’s saying he thinks I killed Jonny.’ The anxiety tightens around me in a stranglehold.
‘Try not to think about it, Tasha. They just want someone to blame. It’s pathetic,’ Georgie says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. ‘They’ll move on soon enough.’
‘I hope so,’ I say quietly.
