She traces a finger on the rim of the cup. A wedding present, part of a set. Wedgwood Gold Columbia.
“Maybe if you hadn’t done what you’d done, Susan O’Donnell would never have sent the message and none of this would have happened.”
“Sorry. You know I—”
“Don’t speak.” She says it lightly, calmly. But she wants to hurl the cup at him, watch hot tea drip down his giant, stupid face.
The sound of someone on the stairs halts her. Cody, tousle-headed from sleep, ambles into the kitchen. He’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and boxers, though she’s told him time and again to dress before he comes downstairs. He stops when he sees his parents, looks from one to the other.
“What?” he says in that insouciant way teenagers do. It drives her mad.
“Your work experience has been canceled,” she says. “They know about the Fitzpatrick incident.”
Cody’s eyes widen, his cheeks color. Warren is backing out of the kitchen, still jangling his keys. He makes a “gotta go” gesture.Coward.
Cody turns to the fridge, grabs a carton of juice and pours a glass. His back is tight with tension.
“Don’t think you’re going to spend your summer in your bedroom,” Celeste says in a low, controlled voice. “And don’t dare sulk. You brought this on yourself.”
Cody slams the fridge and stomps up the stairs without looking at her. Celeste, knuckles white, picks up her tea.
23
Jon
Saturday
Jon is surprised to hear the TV on when he arrives downstairs on Saturday morning. Susan’s still asleep upstairs, Bella beside her, after a wakeful night. Did they leave the TV on when they went to bed? It was late when Greta and Leesa and the girls left, and he’d had a fair bit of wine, but he’s pretty certain he switched it off…He slows as he moves toward the living room, suddenly nervous. He stops, swallowing, listening. It’s definitely the TV. It takes him another moment before he reaches out a hand and, carefully, pushes the door. Onscreen, he recognizes an old episode ofStranger Things. And in front of the screen, cross-legged on the rug, sits Aoife.
She turns now to look at him.
“Hi, Jon.”
“Aoife! How are you? I mean…”
“My mum let me in with your spare key.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “She said not to wake you or Susan, that you need your sleep.”
He remains, however, baffled. They’re a close family, Susan and her sisters, cloyingly close at times, and they all keep spare keys in casesomeone gets locked out, but they’re not in the habit of letting themselves into each other’s houses uninvited.
Aoife must read his mind. “My mum and Susan agreed it. Mum and Maeve are gone down to Kildare Village, shopping. I didn’t want to go, so Susan said I could stay here till my friend’s mum picks me up in the afternoon.”
“Ah, OK.” Susan should have told him. He scratches his head. Then again, maybe she did and he forgot.
“Uh, coffee?” he asks.
“Yes, please!”
He wonders if thirteen-year-olds drink coffee. He’s pretty sure he did at that age, and Aoife’s old enough to say if she’s not allowed. He raises a hand and heads for the kitchen to put on the coffee machine, rubbing his eyes.
Jon doesn’t really like Aoife. Susan admires her confidence, but to him, it’s just precociousness. He’d never tell Susan. She’d be horrified. And hurt. Family is everything to her. Jon has no siblings and admits—though only to himself—that he doesn’t always get it. This closeness. This living in each other’s pockets. Susan claims it’s because their dad left when she was a baby and then their mum died when she was in college, and he understands that, he absolutely does. But maybe it shouldn’t mean there’s a slightly annoying thirteen-year-old invading his Saturday-morning space? Especially with the week they’ve just had.
He brings a coffee to Aoife, who is now on the couch, looking at her phone.
“I’ll head back upstairs,” he says, not sure of the etiquette here but fairly certain he doesn’t have to stay and chat.
Aoife nods knowingly. “You must be tired,” she says, sounding like someone twice her age. “The message situation,” she adds.
“Um, yeah.”
