Good Girl Bad (8)
On the tennis court, Rebecca eyed her husband appreciatively. With his dark skin and messy black hair, he’s easily the best-looking man on the courts. He also cycles to work every day, and is in great shape. He loped around the court effortlessly, putting the rest of them to shame.
She’s already showed off her handsome husband, and Rebecca is thrilled to now also show off her daughters and her home. She can see the admiration in Beth’s eyes as they roam across the tasteful furniture, the spotless presentation. “Tell us about your work, Beth?” she asks now, her blue eyes warm and inviting, and Beth starts to tell her about her dry-cleaning business.
It’s certainly not glamorous work, Rebecca thinks to herself, but she had noticed Beth getting out of a Tesla at tennis practice, so it seemed it was lucrative and that Beth and Sandy would be able to provide the type of friendship that Rebecca valued: luxury group holidays, expensive wines. The girls were older now, and could even be left by themselves for a weekend here or there, so she and Leroy could really enjoy themselves.
Beth’s sister, Emily, who was also a member of the tennis club and drove a beaten-up old Toyota Echo, had not had an invitation extended to her for dinner.
But she didn’t have time for too many more friends, Rebecca reasoned. There was a gap left by Rosie, who Rebecca had thought was a good friend, but then they’d had that falling out over the Christmas party. And she wanted to make sure anyone new to the group fitted in, could afford the types of things they did together without making it awkward. She wouldn’t say she vetted people, but she was conscious of things like that when making new friends.
Something nags at her about Rosie, an uncomfortable feeling, soft and blurry at the edges, and there’s that brief moment where her stomach drops and a thought tries to worm its way in, clouded in self-doubt. But it’s foolish, and Rebecca pushes it aside.
Beth’s here, isn’t she, full of joy and admiration?
Rebecca notices people’s admiration.
She doesn’t notice how much she needs it to calm her, how much she relies on it.
Anyway, she wants to be friends with people who can contribute something to the group. Not hold the group back.
Her mind wanders. Sandy and Leroy are laughing about something, easy-going, bonding. Beth is talking about her own daughters now, and Rebecca wonders aloud if perhaps they should get the whole family together next time? They talk a little about the perils of parenting teenage girls, the laughter and the wine both flowing, and Rebecca feels contentedness wash though her. Her moment of self-doubt about how little she knew about her daughters’ lives has passed. With Beth, she projects so much confidence and competence that she believes in it herself.
Just up the hallway, Genevieve is reading in bed, and in her room, Tabby has pulled out her extensive art supplies. She folds back sketches of Charlie, of Genevieve, her likenesses startling and life-like. She doesn’t show them to anyone, not even her sister, though of course Gen has noticed her sketching her from time to time.
Now, she continues working on her latest sketch, in blacks and grays: a man, naked from the waist up, his muscular torso sketched lovingly, his face staring straight at her, eyes heavy with lust.
It’s her best work yet, but she can’t show anyone, not ever. He’s too recognizable—her work is that good.
He’s hidden in between one hundred other sketches in her sketch pad, then tucked under the mattress on the trundle underneath her bed, which no one ever uses anymore, since no one—not even Freddy, especially not Freddy—ever stays overnight with her there anymore.
Butterflies cascading in her tummy, she sketches and shades.
6
Monday
Nate guides Genevieve through the giant shed to the plants section.
His hand rests lightly on her back.
He and Rebecca had exchanged curt words, but Nate was firm: he thought getting Gen out of the house and doing something productive would help to take her mind off things. At least until they had more information.
His mind, too.
He was torn between driving around like a madman, searching for Leroy’s car, but it seemed like searching for a needle in a haystack, when Gen was right there, needing him.
She’d been quiet on the drive, staring out the window vacantly, and Nate hadn’t pushed.
“I’m here for you, love, if you want to talk about anything,” was all he’d said, and she’d nodded imperceptibly, and they’d driven in silence.
Now, they wander amongst the trees, looking for something special they can plant over Charlie’s grave. Eventually Gen stops in front of a magnolia. It’s already as tall as Gen, and Nate wonders where on earth it will fit in Rebecca’s garden, but he says nothing, and hoists it onto the trolley.
Back at the house, Rebecca suddenly remembers Tabby’s phone, and leaps back to where she left it.
The code doesn’t work, though.
Rebecca taps in a few different iterations—any special dates she can think of. Birthdays, mainly. She curses Nate for taking Gen away—Gen might have some more ideas about what to try, but she’s reluctant to call Nate to ask over the phone. He might be a bit prissy about invading Tabby’s privacy like that.
God knows, invading a person’s privacy had certainly got him into enough trouble.
Instead, Rebecca goes to Tabby’s room, and looks around, dismayed. She doesn’t really know where to start, or what she is looking for. And if she’s honest with herself, she’s hesitant. She has an indistinct, unsettling fear about what she might find.