Chapter Four
Kim
It’s an hour and a half into the first day of soccer clinic, and Kim is already cold and a little bored. Below her position halfway up the grandstand, there’s a group of kids at each end of the field doing warm-up exercises with the coaches. Kim thinks wistfully of her local café in St Kilda, where there’s a closed door against the cold, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the muted chatter of customers. That’s where she would like to be now, not stuck on a hard bench in a semi-open grandstand where an icy breeze is blowing straight from Antarctica. It’s only May, still autumn, but Melbourne’s weather is always unpredictable.
Bella’s in the group of kids nearest to her, and for five days this week, Kim has to sit in the stand and cheer them on.Parents Welcome!the brochure said. Kim plans on sneaking out for coffee, for lunch, to do some work.
Kim tucks her hands underneath her thighs and hunches into her jacket. She looks around to see what other parents are here—maybe there’ll be someone she knows, and they can go grab a coffee—but none are familiar. Bella is the only kid from her soccer club—possibly because the clinic is in Ringwood, almost an hour from St Kilda if the traffic’s bad, which it usually is. She retrieves her phone from her pocket and checks her email.
Forty minutes later, the kids are filing off the field and heading into the clubhouse for what the program describes asquizzes and games. Kim looks around. While she was engrossed in her emails, the other parents had disappeared. Maybe she missed something. She climbs down from the grandstand and follows the trail of kids to the clubhouse. There are no parents inside, so she ducks back out and searches on her phone for the nearest coffee shop.
The five-minute walk gets her blood moving again, and she’s almost warm. Sometimes, she thinks she’s turned cold-blooded like a lizard, since Chris died. Cold to the core, warmed only by the sun. Certainly not by the heating in her apartment. Money has been tighter since Chris died, and it’s cheaper to put on an extra sweater than turn on the heating.
He’d told her he’d taken out a life insurance policy for her and Bella, but after he died, she never found the policy documents. When she contacted the insurance company, they had no record of a Chris Henwood. Of course they didn’t, and even if they did, she didn’t have a death certificate.
The coffee shop is sterile and functional, with vinyl flooring and furniture that looks like it came from a school canteen. But the coffee smells rich, almost every table is occupied, and there’s a queue for the counter. Kim pushes her hands into the pockets of her jacket and waits.
The woman in front of her orders in a soft voice. When she turns to leave the counter, Kim sees her face. She sways momentarily, staring in disbelief. It’s been nearly two months since their confrontation, but Kim would know her anywhere. The woman is Danika.
Danika notices her, too, and for a moment they face each other.
Kim probably looks as shell-shocked as Danika—face blanched of colour, eyes wide and slightly panicked. Then,Danika swivels and walks to the far end of the counter to wait for her order.
Kim watches her go, and the barista has to ask her for her order twice before the words register. She moves to the opposite end of the counter from Danika to wait.
What is Danika doing here? Ringwood is a long drive from Belgrave, nearly as far away as St Kilda. One reason lands in Kim’s mind with a thump. Soccer clinic. She hadn’t noticed Camille among the kids in their bright kit, but then, she hadn’t been looking.
Danika’s name is called, and she collects her drink and makes her way to the only unoccupied table.
Kim swallows. There is no way she can stay here. All the tables and most of the seats are taken. The only glaringly open seats are at the table where Danika sits—and she can’t, absolutely won’t, sit there. She tightens her lips. Besides, Danika would likely call the police if she tried.
When her name is called, she apologises and asks for the coffee to go instead. As she walks out of the café, she can’t help glancing in Danika’s direction. Danika is staring at her, drink untouched in front of her. She meets Kim’s eyes, and the expression in them makes Kim falter. Danika’s lips part, then tighten, and a small frown forms and flees her face, as if she’s debating something.
Kim jerks her stare back to the door, but Danika’s gaze drills into her spine as she leaves.
She meanders back to the field and sees most of the parents gathered around the railings, although the kids must still be in the clubhouse. For a moment, she considers joining them, but her head is woolly with thoughts, so she climbs up a few levels of the grandstand and huddles against the side wall away from the worst of the wind.
She stares down into her coffee, and that is how she almost misses Danika, walking toward the group of parents. She pauses and scans the area.
Kim remains still. The last thing she wants is a confrontation here, where Bella might see, although she acknowledges she did exactly that when she presented on Danika’s doorstep.
Danika’s sweep stops at Kim, and she stares, hands deep in the pockets of her jacket. Danika hesitates, then puts one foot on the lower step of the grandstand.
Oh, no.Kim breaks eye contact and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, feigning absorption in the empty field. When she glances back, Danika has gone to join the group of parents. Her breath shudders out of her. She would like to talk with Danika—only she has the answers to some of Kim’s questions—but not here, not if it would mean raised voices, maybe tears.
The kids return to the pitch, and Kim stares. Camille must be there somewhere. She scans the kids one by one. Camille’s face is etched in her mind from last time, but at this distance, she’s not sure she’ll pick her out.
And then she does, and her breath freezes in her lungs. Camille is wearing red-and-blue, laughing with a brown girl in the same colour kit. How could Kim have thought she wouldn’t notice her? Apart from the hair, Camille bears a strong resemblance to Bella. The same gangly body, as if the owner doesn’t know where to put their limbs, the same small face and pointed chin, and big eyes. Elfin, Chris used to call Bella, and now she wonders if he said the same thing about Camille.
The coach pairs the kids up to do one-on-one drills, and it’s with a sense of fatality that Kim sees Bella paired with Camille.
Of course.
The girls smile at each other and then run off to do a drill where one kid has the ball and has to get past the other, who hasto stop them. Straightaway, Kim sees they are evenly matched, unlike some of the other pairs, who are not. One boy bursts into tears as his counterpart breezes past him for the third time in a row. A girl kicks her partner in the shins, causing him to trip her up. But Bella and Camille play on, absorbed in the game and each other, taking it in turns to feint and dribble around.
Kim sneaks a look at Danika. She’s watching Camille, and while she’s facing away from Kim, her posture is one of alertness. She must know Bella is here, must know Camille is playing with her half-sister.
What Danika will do with that knowledge is what has Kim on edge.
