Page 24 of The Soulmate

‘What happened to the USB?’ I ask when Freya takes off again.

A look of guilt crosses Gabe’s face. ‘Remember when you came to the beach, and you saw me drop something?’

I do remember. It was silver. Gabe had said it was surfboard wax. It makes sense now. Everything makes horrifying sense.

‘Hold hands, girls,’ Gabe says as we reach the road. He takes their scooters in one hand and holds Freya’s hand in the other. She chain-links to Asha who holds out her hand to me. A middle-aged woman smiles as we cross the street, a wobbly line of children, scooters and schoolbags. On the other side of the road Gabe puts the scooters down again, and the girls take off.

‘How are you doing that?’ I say. ‘How are you operating like a normal, responsible human being?’

Gabe takes my hand in his. ‘You’ve been strong for me so many times, Pip,’ he says. ‘Now it’s my turn.’

Mr and Mrs Hegarty are in their front garden. The Hegarty house faces ours, so they don’t have the ocean view, but their front garden is almost as spectacular. Several times I’ve noticed people slowing their cars to admire it. Mrs Hegarty waves at the girls as they scoot past, then rests her forearms on the fence, settling in for a chat. Mr Hegarty remains kneeling, holding a trowel.

‘The garden is looking great, Mrs Hegarty,’ Gabe says as we stop outside their house. Even under these circumstances, he can’t turn off his charm.

Mrs Hegarty practically levitates with pride.

‘We decided to get some weeding done while the sun is out,’ she says, removing her floral-trimmed gardening gloves. ‘Who knows when we’ll get another chance, with all this rain!’

The Hegartys are gold-star neighbours – no loud parties, always keeping an eye on things, happy to take our rubbish bins out or collect mail if we go away. They have a flourishing lemon tree, and we regularly come home to a bag of lemons on the doorstep. They adore the girls and have admired many a ‘street performance’ Asha and Freya have put on, as well as having regular chats with them at the fence.

Mrs Hegarty has told us many times how pleased they were when we bought the cliff house.

So many weekend homes around here, she said. It’s nice to have permanent neighbours. And ones with children!

To society, there is nothing purer than a family with small children. Except, perhaps, being elderly and enjoying gardening. We trust people based on the strangest, most arbitrary things, none of which have any bearing on whether or not you are inherently good. The Hegartys have no idea what we are capable of. No one does.

‘How are you both holding up?’ Mrs Hegarty puts a hand to her chest. ‘It’s tragic, what happened to that woman. And the paper said she was only fifty-two. So young! What on earth would possess her to jump?’

The newspaper hadn’t said Amanda Cameron had taken her life, but the Hegartys would have seen the police and rescue operation two nights ago and it didn’t take much for people around here to put two and two together.

At first, I think Mrs Hegarty’s question is rhetorical, but when she says nothing more, I realise that she is wanting an answer.

She discovered an incriminating video of me and her husband, I imagine saying.When she realised what I’d done, she decided her life wasn’t worth living.

Gabe’s eyes dart to me for just a second. Then he says, ‘We don’t really know.’

‘But you were with her, weren’t you, Gabe? Surely she must have given you some indication of why she jumped?’

He hesitates a moment. ‘She said her husband had been unfaithful.’

Mrs Hegarty tuts. ‘Well, I hope it was worth it. Now he’ll have to live with guilt for the rest of his life.’

She looks over her shoulder at Mr Hegarty, as if in warning. He keeps his head down. After a moment, she turns back to us. ‘Pippa? Are you all right, dear? You look unwell.’

‘Actually,’ I say, ‘I don’t feel well.’

Gabe puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘I’d better get her home.’

‘Yes,’ Mrs Hegarty says. ‘Go. Just sing out if you need anything.’

She gives us a wave and Gabe and I shuffle off.

We’ve almost reached our driveway when she calls after us: ‘I’ll bring you some lemons!’

22

PIPPA