Page 43 of The Soulmate

‘I know.’

We’ve always been honest with Asha about the way she came into our family. We talk about it in positive, age-appropriate ways, saying things like, ‘Freya, you came out of my tummy, but Asha, you had another mummy, and you came out of her tummy before you came to live with us.’ We read books to the girls about adoption, stepfamilies and the different ways people become a family. We framed a picture of Asha’s mother and hung it in their room. We told her it was sad that her mother had died, and that her mother had loved her very much. Asha had been completely uninterested, but of course we’d always expected that one day she’d want to know more. It was only a matter of time.

‘She pays closer attention than we think,’ Gabe says. ‘We need to be more careful about what we say in front of her.’

‘I agree.’

We turn onto our street. Mr Hegarty is mowing his nature strip. He gives each of the girls a high five as they scoot past. When Gabe and I get close, he stops the mower. The setting sun shines into his eyes, and he lifts a hand to shield them.

‘Nice evening for a walk,’ he says.

We both smile, nod, agree, but my mind is elsewhere and I think Gabe’s is too.

‘There was a man here earlier asking after you.’ He squints at us. ‘Well, technically he asked after Gabe. He pulled up in a fancy black car with a driver. He was probably sixty-odd. Sandy-grey hair. Smart trousers. Collared shirt.’

I feel my smile freeze in place.

‘Did he say what he wanted?’ Gabe asks.

‘No. Just asked if I knew Gabriel Gerard and asked which house was yours. I told him I couldn’t give out that information, of course. Not that he looked shifty or anything, but you can’t be too careful these days, can you?’

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My mouth is dry.

‘Thank you, Mr Hegarty,’ Gabe says, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. ‘We appreciate your discretion. Especially with our little girls around.’

Mr Hegarty gives us a wave and starts up his mower again. But above the noise of it, Gabe’s voice remains in my head.Our little girls. Dear God. We have just endangered our little girls.

*

‘It must have been Max,’ I say to Gabe when we are inside.

He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, I’m pacing. The girls, already naked, are streaking up and down the hall, oblivious to the storm brewing around them.

I am both shocked and totally unsurprised. Also, irate with myself. For goodness sake . . . what did Ithinkwas going to happen?Of courseMax had found out.Of coursehe was going to come here. All we’ve done is make things worse for ourselves by not telling the police. Worse for Gabe.

‘It might not have been Max,’ Gabe says.

‘Who else would it be?’

‘I don’t know.’ Gabe looks stressed, even though he’s keeping his voice calm. ‘It could have been a police officer. A plainclothes detective, maybe?’

I stop pacing and look at him. ‘Would that be better?’

He sighs. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What do we do? What is the plan now?’

I feel like I’m in a Hollywood movie. We’re a nice normal couple who find themselves embroiled in something involving the Mob or the government or an underworld gang. The bath, with its floating rubber duckie, is a sickening, bizarre backdrop.

‘We do nothing,’ he says. ‘Just wait. If anyone knows anything, we’ll hear about it soon enough.’

As if on cue, his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and shows me the screen. The number is withheld. My adrenaline spikes. Is this what it’s going to be like every time the phone rings? Every time someone turns up at the house looking for us?

Gabe turns off the tap and lifts the phone to his ear. ‘Hello?’ We lock eyes. ‘Yes, speaking.’

I watch him, my heart rate climbing.

Gabe scrunches his face up tight, then lets it go. ‘Damn. Yes. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.’