“Everything is going to be fine,” she told him. She knew this couldn’t possibly be true, but as she stroked the military-straight line of John-Paul’s graying hair on his neck, she finally understood something about herself.
She would never ask him to confess.
It seemed that all her vomiting in gutters and crying in pantries had been for show, because as long as nobody else was accused, she would keep his secret. Cecilia Fitzpatrick, who always volunteered first, who never sat quietly when something needed to be done, who always brought casseroles and gave up her time, who knew the difference between right and wrong, was prepared to look the other way. She could and she would allow another mother to suffer.
Her goodness had limits. She could have easily gone her whole life without knowing those limits, but now she knew exactly where they lay.
FORTY-SEVEN
Don’t be so stingy with the butter!” demanded Lucy. “Hot cross buns are meant to be served dripping with butter. Have I taught you nothing?”
“Have you heard nothing of the word ‘cholesterol’?” said Tess, but she picked up the butter knife. She and her mother and Liam were sitting in the backyard in the morning sun, drinking tea and eating toasted hot cross buns. Tess’s mother was wearing her pink quilted dressing gown over her nightie, and Tess and Liam were wearing their pajamas.
The day had started out suitably dour for a Good Friday, but had suddenly changed its mind and decided to twirl about and show off its autumn colors after all. There was a brisk, flirty breeze, and the sun was pouring through the red leaves of her mother’s flame tree.
“Mum?” said Liam with his mouth full.
“Mmm?” said Tess. She held her face up to the sun, her eyes closed. She felt peaceful and sleepy. There had been more sex last night in Connor’s apartment after they’d gone back on the bike from the beach. It was even more spectacular than the previous night. He had certain skills that were really quite . . . outstanding. Had he read a book, perhaps? Will had never read that book. It was curious how last week sex was just a pleasant semiregular pastime she never really thought about. And now, this week, it was all-consuming, as if it were all that really mattered about life, as if these moments in between sexual encounters were irrelevant, not really living.
She felt like she was becoming addicted to Connor and the particular curve of his upper lip and the breadth of his shoulders and his—
“Mum!” said Liam again.
“Yeah.”
“When are—”
“Finish what’s in your mouth.”
“When are Daddy and Felicity coming? For Easter?”
Tess opened her eyes and glanced at her mother, who raised her eyebrows.
“I’m not sure,” she said to Liam. “I have to talk to them. They might have to work.”
“They can’t work at Easter! I want to see Dad head-butt my rabbit egg.”
Somehow they’d started the somewhat violent Easter Sunday tradition of beginning the day with the ceremonial head-butting of a chocolate Easter Bunny. Will and Liam both found the poor bunny’s caved-in face to be hysterically funny.
“Well,” said Tess. She had no idea what to do about Easter. Was there any point in putting on a happy family show for Liam’s benefit? They weren’t good enough actors. He’d see right through it. Nobody would expect that of her, surely?
Unless she invited Connor? Sit on his lap like a high school girl proving to her ex-boyfriend that she’d moved on to no less than the muscly-armed school jock? She could ask him to roar up on his bike. He could do the head-butting of Liam’s chocolate rabbit. He could out-head-butt Will.