She’s cold inside. She’s accepting the word of a stranger over that of her dead husband of twelve years. So far, though, there’s been little that wasn’t on the public record. If what Kim says is true—that Danika’s husband Chris Henshall is Kim’s partner Chris Henwood—then there’ll be more evidence. Photos of Kim and Chris. The private investigator’s file. Documents, maybe, in the name of Chris Henwood with her Chris’s photo. Danika comes to a stop in the street, in the shade of an overhangingmelaleuca. She could return to Kim now and demand to see photos. She hesitates, turns back toward the pitch, takes half-a-dozen paces, then halts again. Turns back the way she was going.
She can’t face it today, but there will be tomorrow.
Chapter Six
Kim
“How was today?” Kim makes eye contact with Bella in the rearview mirror.
Bella chomps her muesli bar and grins through a mouthful of oats and cranberries. “Good. Cami and I were the best at dribbling.”
“Cami?” Kim asks, although she knows.
“My friend. Can I have another muesli bar?”
“Sure. There’s another in the outside pocket of my bag.” Bella’s inherited Chris’s endless energy and appetite, along with his lean build.
Bella fishes another bar from Kim’s bag. “Tomorrow we’re gonna learn how to head the ball.”
“And tonight, you’re going to put all your soccer kit in the washing machine instead of leaving it on the bathroom floor, else you won’t have clean kit for tomorrow.”
“Can Jorie come over? I want to show her what we learned today.”
“Call her and see if she wants to come eat with us. We’re having nachos. Ask Suze if she wants to stay too.”
“Cool.” Bella picks Kim’s mobile phone from her bag and pushes Suze’s number. After a quick conversation, she says, “They’ll come around in an hour. Suze is staying too.”
“Good.” Kim changes down for the roundabout. “So you’ll have twenty minutes to put your kit in the machine. You can wear your school shorts to play with Jorie.”
The kids are running soccer drills in the park across the street from Kim’s apartment. Kim and Suze sit on the balcony, where they have an uninterrupted view of the girls. Kim fetches two glasses of wine, sits next to Suze on the wicker lounge, and puts her feet on the low table in front of them.
“Bella’s great to do this,” Suze says. She brushes her thick, black hair from her face. “Jorie was heartbroken she couldn’t attend the clinic.”
Kim nods. It’s hard for Suze as a single parent. She does okay as a phone and internet clairvoyant and from her card readings at the St Kilda Sunday markets, but there’s not enough for expensive soccer clinics.
“Try to stop her,” Kim says. “She just wants an excuse to run around and play more soccer, even though she’s done that for hours today.”
“Maybe next time,” Suze says. “I had a good day today—the phone barely stopped ringing. Many people want to know who’s going to win the election so they can place a bet.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I looked up the polling this morning, so I said that.” She grins. “You don’t have to be a clairvoyant to read the polls.”
“So that’s the new topic of the week? No more questions about whether to default on the mortgage because nuclear war is imminent?”
“No. Although asking if the person they’ve just matched with on a dating app is their true love is still popular. That one will always be.” Suze sighs and turns her head to follow Jorie and Bella as they run up the park chasing the ball.
“True love. Never what anyone thinks.” Kim swallows hard and swirls the wine in her glass before taking a sip.
“I’m sorry.” Suze reaches out a hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The ball of emotion that never leaves her chest swells again. When Chris first disappeared, her life became a solid knot of anguish and worry. Not knowing where he was, or if he was all right. And then the tearing disbelief when no one seemed to know him. His work, which it turned out wasn’t his work after all. His British parents were dead. And of course, his friends’ details were stored on his mobile phone, and that disappeared with him. Then came the slow burn of anger: at the police who said he didn’t exist. At the banks, law offices, insurance agents, and superannuation funds who had no record of him, despite what Chris had said. At the private investigator who said he doubtless existed under another name and took weeks and thousands of dollars to find him.
And then the cold wash of anger that obliterated everything else once she had the investigator’s report in her hands. That report goes everywhere with her; she dares not leave it at home in case Bella finds it.
Bella. She will have to say something to Bella eventually.
Kim looks out at the park again. She’s only told Suze the bare facts—that Chris wasn’t who he claimed. She hasn’t told anyone that Chris had another wife and child, and that she knows who they are. But now, the words beat in her chest, push into herthroat, and spill out of her mouth before she can consider the wisdom of telling.
