Good Little Liars Read online

  Emma watched as Tessa walked back towards Mr Brownley, shaking her head, then she turned away from him to walk on. He reached out and held her arm. She wrenched it out of his grasp, moving her shoulder to block him. They looked like they were arguing. Emma fumbled around looking for the window latch to see if she could open it. What were they saying? Mr Brownley reached out for her arm again, obviously wanting Tessa to stay where she was, or to follow him back the other way maybe. Something definitely didn’t look right.

  Suddenly, Tessa pulled herself from his grip with a force that sent her stumbling backwards and she fell onto her bottom. She looked silly and childish and Emma gasped with shared embarrassment. She watched as Tessa got up, picked up her bag and ran, disappearing behind the tall cypress hedge on the other side of the building. Mr Brownley hesitated briefly, and looked over his shoulder. He made a scooping movement with his arm, twice, as if he was motioning to someone else. Then he turned and ran after Tessa. He rounded the corner and the hedge swallowed him up and then there was nothing else for Emma to see. No more movement below her at all.

  Now, as the weight of the old story stained the silence of the kitchen, Emma locked eyes with Marlee. ‘It was probably important. Maybe it was related to what Tessa told Linda Perkins and me, remember?’

  Marlee suddenly went pale and put her hand to her mouth. Emma wondered if she was going to be sick. She was staring past her, through the window, breathing hard.

  ‘Marl, are you okay?’

  ‘Mmmm? No, not really. I… um, I just wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘No. I know. Sorry. But I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘What do you mean? What is there to do? Tessa’s death was an accident.’

  ‘I know the police said that. But what if he chased her in? You know… they had a lover’s tiff or something.’

  Marlee was staring blankly at her.

  Emma persisted. ‘What would they have been arguing about so badly that he’d grab her like that? He was a teacher. It didn’t look right.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t you think we need to find out what happened? I know I should have spoken up at the time. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I told Phillip once, years ago when we were first going out, and he said I probably blew things up in my mind to try to make sense of it. That I’d imagined it.’

  Marlee was staring out the window again. ‘Marlee? What if he pushed her?’ Emma couldn’t believe how dramatic she sounded. But still. What if he had?

  ‘I’m pretty sure he’s not the murdering type, Em. Listen to yourself. He’s the headmaster of Tasmania’s most prestigious school. Rosie’s school. Maybe Clementine brings out the drama in you. She’s a bit of a lunatic, if you believe the media stories.’

  ‘But she was telling me it wasn’t him.’ Emma picked up the breakfast plate off the bench and began rinsing it. ‘He is her uncle though, so of course she’d say that.’

  ‘Em, do you really want to stir up a shit storm over something that might not have happened? What if it is a false memory? I read an article in Time Magazine once about them. They’re common. Something to do with the hippocampus area of the brain distorting things that are suggested to us. Tessa suggested she’d be with him, didn’t she? So you thought you saw that. But maybe you just dreamed it. Why else wouldn’t you have told me before now?’

  ‘I didn’t want to upset you. You were so upset already. Plus, with your mum… you know. And with Ms Sharp asking you to make sure everyone else was okay, you just went into overdrive. I know being Head Girl wasn’t easy. You had to keep everyone going for those last few days.’

  ‘Mmmm.’

  ‘Marl, what if he lied? Maybe the school kept quiet about it to protect his reputation or something. I don’t know.’ Emma paused, watching Marlee’s disbelieving face. ‘And that’s not all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I found a photograph.’ Emma closed her eyes. The naked picture of Tessa was right there, behind her lids. Then another image of Tessa flitted across her mind, as real as if she’d been in the room – Tessa, flicking her hair out of her eyes as she leaned over her guitar and strummed a ballad during music class, ignoring everyone, intent only on her music, her voice so startlingly soulful that every person in the class was completely still. Mr Brownley, watching, mesmerised.

  She opened her eyes and saw Marlee watching her.

  ‘What sort of photograph?’

  ‘Of Tessa. Naked. It was behind the fireplace here. It was date stamped the day before she died.’ Emma reached up to the shelf above the kitchen sink and pulled down a box. She opened it and handed the photograph to Marlee.

  Marlee stared at it for a full minute, her face not changing. Eventually she spoke quietly. ‘She wanted to be a model. Remember?’

  ‘Did she? Well not a playboy model. Don’t you think it’s strange that she’d even pose for a photo like that? Who took it? And why was it here?’

  ‘Who knows, Em? She probably took it herself with the timer. She was a bit mixed up.’ Marlee sounded resigned. She closed her eyes and slumped, as if she was suddenly exhausted. ‘I was having my piano lesson after school with Brownley that day, remember? Em, he was in the music block when she died. He had students back-to-back. You must have seen her quite a while before she fell.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But it’s just that maybe the time of death was a bit out or something.’

  ‘Or maybe you’re just in a muddle.’

  Emma’s hands were clenched into tight balls. Why wasn’t Marlee worried about this? It was a gigantic, terrible possibility.

  ‘I think I need to tell the police.’ Emma felt tears blurring her vision. It was the lack of sleep. Or maybe she just wanted someone to believe her.

  ‘Em, I’m sure it couldn’t have been him. You’re making yourself sick for nothing. I…’ Marlee’s face had taken on an ashen pallor. ‘I just need a glass of water.’ She went to the sink and ran the tap, the gushing hiss of the water breaking into Emma’s thoughts. Marlee’s head slumped forward and her shoulders sagged.

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ said Marlee.

  ‘What?’

  Marlee turned back to her and leaned against the sink, sipping her water. Around them, shafts of light coming in through the tiny window pierced the cold air as the sun moved up in the sky. The call of a magpie rolled in through the silence.

  ‘I’m pregnant.’

  ‘What? How? You can’t be!’

  ‘Well I am. And I’m feeling pretty disgusting.’ Marlee moved to the table again and sat down, then leaned down and put her head in her hands on the tabletop.

  ‘Marlee! Oh my goodness. Are you alright?’ Emma placed her hand gently on Marlee’s back. Her mind skittered. Marlee was pregnant. Pregnant! That’s why she looked so ill.

  ‘Marl, are you okay? It must be a shock. How far gone are you?’

  ‘Ten weeks.’

  ‘Okay. Well, that’s good, isn’t it? You’ll be a great mum! Who’s the father?’

  Marlee sat up. ‘I don’t know what to do, Em. He’s just a guy I met, but everything’s so messed up. I don’t know if I even want to keep it. What would I know about being a mother?’

  Emma pulled her chair around to face Marlee and rested a hand on her knee. ‘Marl, you’ll be a fantastic mum. Look how you are with Rosie. You know all the right things to do. You might have to give up the night life for a bit, that’s all.’

  Marlee gave a hollow laugh. ‘Yeah.’ Her face crumpled and some strands of gleaming red hair fell out of the loose pigtail.

  ‘Listen, you’re just tired. And sounds like you’ve got morning sickness. You need some thinking space. Want to come on a yoga retreat I saw advertised today on my Facebook feed? It’ll be a perfect opportunity for you to have a think about it all.’

  ‘Jesus, Em. I don’t think so. I’m having trouble getting through a work day at the moment, let alone managing bloody downward dog poses. Can’t you take Carol?’ />
  Carol was Emma’s perpetually cheerful and chatty friend from her old mother’s group. Emma had taken her on a beginner’s meditation retreat last year and during the morning of silence Carol had lasted exactly thirty-seven minutes before shattering the peace with a stream of chatter that burst like water from a dam wall. She had ruined Emma’s carefully constructed concentration, forcing her to move to the other side of the creek to find space on her own.

  ‘No! Carol is even less the yoga-type than you are. It wouldn’t be peaceful. Anyway, Carol doesn’t need thinking time like you do.’

  ‘Okay, okay. That woman does have verbal diarrhea, I’ll give you that. I’ll think about it. I’ve got a couple of weeks up my sleeve before I need to decide whether to terminate or not.’

  ‘Oh no! Marl, I really think that would be the wrong decision. You’ve got this one chance. You never thought you’d have it.’

  Marlee sighed heavily. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Would the dad want to be involved? Who is this mystery man anyway?’

  ‘Just someone I met through work. Don’t think he’d be up for it.’

  ‘Well, even so, it could be the best thing that ever happened to you. Let’s just take a couple of days and we can talk it over, okay? When you’re sick, everything seems horrible.’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  Emma smiled at her. ‘Want to come up to the school hall and help set up for the art exhibition?’

  ‘Not especially,’ said Marlee.

  ‘Come on, it’s the school’s major fundraiser.’

  ‘Screw the school. They’ve got loads of cash. Let’s go do something fun.’

  ‘Some of the money raised will be for doing up the staff cottages,’ said Emma, mildly irritated.

  ‘Well, so it bloody well should be. This place is still as rundown as it was when we were at school.’ Marlee peered around the room and Emma was suddenly self-conscious about the mess and the dingy, dark room with its scuffed paintwork. ‘Let’s go shopping for an outfit for the school reunion. You can’t not go to it just because of the group email. Come on, I found a really cute little boutique.’

  Emma sighed. ‘Okay.’

  ‘And I know it’s Saturday, but you might want to think about your choice of outfit.’

  Emma looked down at her pink rabbit pyjama pants. She grabbed Rosie’s pile of clothes and headed towards the bedrooms, catching a glimpse of Marlee’s frown as she looked out the window.

  ‘I’ll just jump in the shower. Stop worrying about things.’

  ‘You stop worrying about things,’ said Marlee.

  Emma wondered if that was possible. Could she stop worrying about things? Motherhood made everything so much worse. It was like wearing your heart on the outside of your skin, where everybody could prod at it with a stick. Being responsible for another little human made you so fearful about what could go wrong. Marlee would find this out for herself if she went through with the pregnancy.

  From: Linda Perkins

  To: Emma Parsons

  Re: Fabulous formal photo… the countdown is on, girls!

  * * *

  Dear Emma,

  Loved your email! (Obviously not meant for me but who cares!) How funny are you about the toenail thing. My DH is the same! Gross! Can’t wait to catch up at the reunion. We obviously have heaps in common. I haven’t had sex for ages either. DH has a little problem in that department since the prostate cancer. Not that I mind. When the oncologist told us sex might be hard afterwards, I was secretly fist-pumping the air and saying (internally) bring on the surgeon’s knife and a huge fat dose of radiation! Not that I let on to DH. Poor man was gutted. Absolutely Gutted. As if they’d just told him he was getting both legs amputated.

  And don’t worry about what you said about Tessa in the email either. Some of the girls will probably think you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest, but I’ve always wondered if she slept with Brownley too and how the whole thing panned out. She seemed hell-bent on getting him, didn’t she! Looking back, when I think about the underwear she’d bought for it and how certain she was that he was keen, I feel a bit sick. I’ve got daughters coming up to that age. Bloody hell, I can only hope they don’t ever plan to do the deed with a hot teacher on school grounds (their sports teacher is a bit of hunk, so I’ll be paying attention!)

  Anyway, can’t wait to catch up. See you at the reunion lovely lady

  Lots of love, Linda

  Sixteen

  Emma

  Emma jumped off the bed and grabbed the phone as Rosie’s ringtone began blaring.

  ‘Hello, Sweetie, how are you?’

  ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Are you alright, Rosie? I’m sorry about this morning. Dad should have asked before he brought that woman to your hockey game. I don’t want to criticise your father darling, but it was really thoughtless of him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This morning… with Pia in the car when he picked you up—’

  ‘Mum, what are you talking about? Grandma was in the car. I haven’t even seen Pia. I told Dad if I had to see her on my weekends with him, I’d stop coming.’

  ‘Oh, Sweetie…’ said Emma, and hot tears sprang into her eyes. You go, my baby girl! she thought.

  ‘I’m just calling to say that Grandma wondered if I could stay at Dad’s another night and she could drop me over on Monday morning early to get ready for school.’

  ‘Is Grandma there for long?’

  ‘Yeah. She’s here for a few days, I think. She came to hockey this morning. It was really cool because I scored the winning goal and Grandma bought me a new outfit to celebrate!’

  Emma felt the lump of anxiety in her chest starting to loosen, before it balled up and constricted again. She was glad it hadn’t been Pia in the car this morning, but now Vivien was buying Rosie’s affections and attaching monetary value to goal scoring. Any parenting expert would tell you that was a sure way to create a selfish, non-team player. Although it was lovely to hear the cheery note in Rosie’s voice. Maybe parenting experts made exceptions for teenagers with idiot fathers.

  Emma wondered where Pia had disappeared to for the weekend. Maybe they’d cancelled the weekend cottage bookings and Pia was staying in there. She hoped not. Despite Phillip and Pia deciding they should take over all the cottage bookings and cleaning, Phillip had agreed to give Emma the profits it generated for the next twelve months in addition to maintenance. She couldn’t afford to lose bookings, just because Pia wanted to stay close to her new home.

  ‘I guess you can stay again tomorrow night,’ said Emma. ‘If you really want to. But what about your homework?’

  ‘That’s okay, Mum. I can get it off the school drive from Dad’s laptop. Grandma’s going to help me with it.’

  A wave of sadness made Emma feel weak. She sank onto the bed.

  ‘Okay, darling. You have a wonderful time. I’ll see you on Monday morning but ring if you need anything.’

  She put down the phone and stared out the window at the gum trees, wondering how she was going to get through the weekend alone. A couple of white cockatoos flew out of a tree branch and landed on her fence. Their yellow crests shot up and flared like an open hand as they bent down and began gouging at the fence with jagged beaks. Emma launched herself off the bed and rapped her knuckles on the window. They looked up at her nonchalantly, their beady eyes staring with disdain.

  ‘Go away, you pesky birds.’ Emma flapped her hand at them, then fell back on the bed, suddenly exhausted. She needed to unpack boxes that had been cluttering up the hallway for weeks but she didn’t have the energy. Maybe she’d ring Marlee. Tell her she’d been wrong about Pia being in the car. Tell her about Linda Perkins’ email. But the gloom she’d felt since the failed shopping trip with Marlee seemed to nail her to the bed. She hated shopping. Those mirrors made her look enormous and pale. She thought about the last dress she’d tried on, a deep orange chiffon concoction with ruffles at the cuffs. The boutique owner had handed it through the crack i
n the changing room door just as Emma had given up on all the other dresses.

  ‘Just put it on and come out and I’ll give you my honest opinion,’ Marlee said, when Emma complained about the style.

  Emma zipped it up and looked at herself in dismay before she stepped out into the shop. Marlee and the boutique owner both had their arms crossed.

  ‘Wow!’ said Marlee, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Fabulous!’ said the shop owner, her black designer outfit clinging elegantly to her tiny figure. ‘Just divine.’

  ‘I look like a lobster.’

  ‘No you don’t!’ said Marlee.

  ‘I absolutely do,’ said Emma clasping her fingers into an imitation of pincers and letting the ruffles fall over her hands.

  ‘You’re a perfect catch then,’ said Marlee.

  ‘I’m a large seafood platter.’

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ said Marlee. ‘Someone will pay a lot of money to crack you open and suck on your sweet bits.’ They both laughed, as the boutique owner smiled uncertainly.

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. It’s hideous. Let’s go get some ginger tea at the Tea Pavilion,’ said Marlee. ‘The thought of seafood is making me nauseous.’

  Now, as Emma smiled to herself at the thought, the phone began buzzing in her hand. To her surprise, Clementine’s name flashed onto the screen.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Emma, it’s Clem.’

  ‘Hi…’ Emma wasn’t sure what else to say. The idea that Clementine might actually call her up again wasn’t something she’d thought possible.

  ‘I was wondering what you’re doing tonight,’ said Clementine.

  ‘Oh. Well, I’m not doing anything really. I’m just at home on my own. Rosie is at her dad’s place.’

  ‘Excellent! Want to come see a band with me?’