“Off duty? I’m never off duty. Last year my ex-boyfriend and I went to Hawaii and we walked into the foyer of the hotel, and I hear this cute little voice saying, ‘Miss Barnes! Miss Barnes!’ and my heart sank like a stone. It was the kid who had just given me the most grief over the whole last term and he was staying at the same hotel! And I had to pretend to be happy to see him! And play with him in the f**king pool! The parents lay on their deck chairs, smiling benevolently, as if they were doing me a wonderful favor! My boyfriend and I broke up on the holiday and I blame that kid. Do not tell anyone I said that. Those parents are here tonight. Oh my God, promise me you’ll never tell anyone I said that.”

“I promise,” said Jane. “On my life.”

“Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, the e-mails. But that’s not all. They keep turning up!” said Miss Barnes. “The parents! At any time! Renata has taken a leave of absence from work so she can do random checks on Amabella, even though we’ve got the teacher’s aide who does nothing but observe Amabella. I mean, fair enough, I never saw what was going on, and I feel bad about that. But it’s not just Renata! I’ll be in the middle of doing some activity with the kids and suddenly I’ll look up and there’s a parent at the door, just watching me. It’s creepy. It’s like I’m being stalked.”

“It sounds like harassment to me,” said Jane. “Oops— Just watch. There you go.” She gently pushed Miss Barnes’s hat out of her face. “Do you want another drink? You look like you could use another drink.”

“I’m at Pirriwee Drugstore on the weekend,” said Miss Barnes, “because I’ve got a terrible urinary tract infection—I’m seeing someone new, anyway, sorry, too much information—and I’m standing at the counter, waiting, and all of a sudden Thea Cunningham is standing at my side, and honestly, I didn’t even hear her say hello before she launches into this story of how Violet was so upset after school the other day because Chloe told her that her hair clips didn’t match. Well, they didn’t match. I mean, for God’s sake, that’s not bullying! That’s kids being kids! But oh no, Violet was so wounded by this, and could I please talk to the whole class about speaking nicely to one another, and . . . I’m sorry, I just saw Mrs. Lipmann giving me a death stare. Excuse me. I think I’ll just go splash cold water on my face.”

Miss Barnes turned so fast, her pink boa swung against Jane’s face.

Jane turned around and came face-to-face with Tom again.

“Hold out your hand,” he said. “Quickly.”

She held out her hand and he gave her a handful of pretzels.

“That big scary-looking Elvis over there found a bag of them in the kitchen,” said Tom. He reached to the side of her face and removed something pink from her hair.

“Feather,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Jane. She ate a pretzel.

“Jane.” She felt a cool hand on her arm. It was Celeste.

“Hello, you,” said Jane happily. Celeste looked so beautiful tonight; it was a pleasure simply to lay eyes upon her. Why was Jane always so weird about beautiful people? They couldn’t help their beauty, and they were so lovely to look at, and Tom had just brought her pretzels and blushed a little when he took the feather out of her hair and he wasn’t g*y, and these fizzy pink cocktails were glorious, and she loved school trivia nights, they were just so funny and fun.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” said Celeste.

74.

Shall we go out onto the balcony?” said Celeste to Jane. “Get some air?”

“Sure,” said Jane.

Jane seemed so young and carefree tonight, thought Celeste. Like a teenager. The hall felt claustrophobic and overheated. Beads of sweat rolled down Celeste’s back. One of her shoes was viciously rubbing away the skin at the back of her heel, leaving a nasty, bloody little blister, like she imagined a bedsore to be. This night would never end. She’d be here forever, assaulted by malicious snatches of conversation.

“So I said, that’s unacceptable . . .”

“Completely incompetent, they have a duty of care . . .”

“They’re spoiled brats, they eat nothing but junk food, so . . .”

“I said, if you can’t control your child then . . .”

Celeste had left Perry talking to Ed about golf. Perry was being charming, seducing everyone with his attentive “no one could be more fascinating than you” gaze, but he was drinking much more than he normally did, and she could see his mood changing direction, almost imperceptibly, like the slow turn of an ocean liner. She could see it in the hardening of his jaw and the glazing of his eyes.

By the time they left for home, the distraught, sobbing man in the car would have vanished. She knew exactly how his thoughts would be twisting and turning, like the roots of an ancient tree. Normally, after a bad “argument” like yesterday, she would be safe for weeks on end, but the discovery of her apartment was a betrayal of Perry. It was disrespectful. It was humiliating. She’d kept a secret from him. By the end of the night, nothing else would matter except her deception. It would be as if it were only that, as if they were a perfectly happily married couple and the wife had done something mystifying and bizarre: She’d set up a secret, elaborate plan to leave him. It was mystifying and bizarre. She deserved whatever was going to happen.

There was no one else out on the huge balcony running the length of the hall. It was still raining, and although it was under cover the wind was blowing in a fine mist, making the tiles wet and slippery.