Then she was struck by a wonderful inspiration: tissues. The thought of being able to offer Cecilia something both useful and appropriate filled her with something ridiculously akin to joy. She rustled through her handbag and found a small unopened packet of tissues and a bottle of water.

‘You’re like a boy scout,’ Will had said to her early on in their relationship when she’d pulled a small flashlight from her bag after he’d dropped his car keys on a dark street on their way home from a movie. ‘If we got stuck on a desert island we could be self-sufficient thanks to Tess’s handbag,’ Felicity had said, because, of course, Felicity had been there too, that night, she remembered now. When had Felicity ever not been there?

‘My goodness me,’ said Cecilia. She straightened up, plonked herself on the kerb and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘How embarrassing.’

‘Here.’ Tess handed over the tissues. ‘Are you all right? Was it something you maybe . . . ate?’ Cecilia’s hands, Tess noticed, were trembling badly and her face was pasty white.

‘I don’t know.’ Cecilia blew her nose and looked up at Tess. There were purplish crescents under her streaming eyes and tiny flecks of mascara on her eyelids. She looked dreadful. ‘I’m so sorry about this. You must go. You’ve probably got a million things to do.’

‘I don’t actually have a thing to do,’ said Tess. ‘Not a thing in the world.’ She undid the bottle cap. ‘Sip of water?’

‘Thank you.’ Cecilia took the water bottle and drank. She went to stand up and staggered. Tess grabbed her arm just before she fell.

‘Sorry, so sorry.’ Cecilia was almost sobbing.

‘It’s fine.’ Tess held her up. ‘It’s perfectly fine. I think I should drive you home.’

‘Oh, no, no, that’s so sweet of you, but I’m really fine.’

‘No you’re not,’ said Tess. ‘I’ll drive you home. You can hop into bed and I’ll drop your daughter’s shoes back off at the school.’

‘I can’t believe I nearly forgot Polly’s damned shoes again,’ said Cecilia. She looked utterly appalled at herself, as if she’d put Polly’s life at risk.

‘Come on,’ said Tess. She took Cecilia’s keys from her unresisting hand, pointed the key at the Tupperware car and pressed the unlock button. She was filled with an unusual sense of capability and purpose.

‘Thank you for this.’ Cecilia leaned heavily on Tess’s arm as she helped her into the passenger side of her car.

‘It’s no problem at all,’ said Tess in a brisk, no-nonsense voice entirely unlike her own, closing the door and heading around to the driver’s side.

How kind and civic of you! Felicity spoke up in her head. Next thing you’ll be joining the P&C!

Fuck off Felicity, thought Tess, and she turned Cecilia’s keys in the ignition with a deft flick of the wrist.

Chapter twenty-two

What was wrong with Cecilia this morning? She was certainly not herself, mused Rachel as she walked into St Angela’s, feeling peculiar and self-conscious about her bouncy flat-footed walk in her sneakers instead of her normal heels. She could feel moisture in her armpits and along her hairline, but actually, walking instead of driving to work had left her feeling quite invigorated. Before she’d left the house this morning she’d momentarily considered calling a taxi because she felt so exhausted after last night. She’d been up for hours after Rodney Bellach had left, mentally replaying that video of Janie and Connor in her head, over and over. Each time she remembered Connor’s face it became more malevolent in her memory. Rodney was just being cautious, not wanting her to get her hopes up. He was old now, and a bit soft around the edges. Once a snappy, smart young police officer saw the video he (or she!) would instantly see the implications and take decisive action.

What would she do if she ran into Connor Whitby at school today? Confront him? Make the accusation? The thought made her feel dizzy. Her emotions would surely soar like mountains: grief, fury, hatred.

She took a deep breath. No, no, she would not confront him. She wanted this done properly, and she didn’t want to forewarn him or say something that might cost her a guilty verdict. Imagine if he got off on a legal technicality because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She felt an unexpected sense of not quite happiness, but something. Hope? Satisfaction? Yes, it was satisfaction, because she was doing something for Janie. That was it. It had been so long since she’d been able to do something, anything, for her daughter: to go into her bedroom on a cold night and place an extra blanket over those bony shoulders (Janie felt the cold), to make her one of her favourite cheese and pickle sandwiches (with heaps of butter – Rachel was always secretly trying to fatten her up), to carefully handwash her good clothes, to give her a ten dollar note for no reason at all. For years she’d felt this desire to do something again for Janie, to still be her mother, to look after her again in some small way, and now at last she could. I’m getting him, darling. Not much longer now.

Her mobile phone rang in her handbag and she fumbled for it, anxious to catch the caller before the silly thing stopped ringing and went to voicemail. It must be Rodney! Who else would call at this time of the morning? With news already? But surely it was too soon, it couldn’t possibly be him.

‘Hello?’

She’d seen the name, just before she answered. Rob, not Rodney. The ‘Ro’ had given her a moment of hope.

‘Mum? Everything all right?’

She tried not to feel aggrieved with Rob for not being Rodney.

‘Everything is fine, love. Just on my way in to work. What’s up?’

Rob launched into a long story, as Rachel kept walking towards the school office. She went by one of the Year 1 classrooms and heard bubbles of children’s laughter floating out the door. As she glanced in, she saw her boss, Trudy Applebee, streak across the classroom with one arm lifted in the air, like a superhero, while the Year 1 teacher put her hand over her eyes and giggled helplessly. Was that a disco strobe light flashing white lights around the room? Tess O’Leary’s little boy certainly wouldn’t be bored on his first day of school, that was for sure. As for that report Trudy was meant to be working on for the Department of Education . . . Rachel sighed, she’d give her until ten am and then she’d drag her back to her desk.