Page 44 of The Soulmate

‘What is it?’ I mouth. I am already steeling myself.

‘Yes. Yes, that works for me. I’ll be there. Thank you. My apologies again.’

He hangs up. ‘I forgot to take the girls to get their vaccinations.’

The flash of rage I feel doesn’t completely make sense, even to me. It’s wild and furious.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ I scream. ‘I made the bloody appointment for you! All you had to do was show up!’

It feels amazing to scream at Gabe. It’s not something I do. We speak respectfully to each other; we tiptoe around each other’s feelings. But there’s something about screaming that feels good, particularly given the banality of the subject. This is normal marital irritation. I focus on it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gabe says. ‘I had things on my mind.’

Like trying not to be imprisoned because of you.

And there it is: the reason I can never yell at him again.

Gabe’s gaze flickers to the bathroom doorway. I turn around. Two naked girls stand there, eyes wide. Their parents fighting is something new to them. They appear more curious than frightened.

‘Bath time!’ I say, in a ridiculously cheerful voice. The stress of the situation has sent me mad.

Asha’s gaze travels to the bath and she shakes her head. ‘More water! And bubbles!’ Then she tears off back down the hallway with Freya at her heels.

Gabe picks up the bubble bath and pours it in, turning the bath a sickly pink colour. He turns the tap back on.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again.

I close the lid of the toilet and sit on it. My anger dissipates as fast as it came on. ‘I don’t care about the vaccinations.’

‘I know.’

My shoulders slump and I hold a palm against my forehead. ‘If Max has been asking around about us, it means he knows you were the one with Amanda before she died. Which means it’s only a matter of time until –’

The doorbell rings. The girls squeal. I hear the thunder of feet as they streak to the door.

Gabe turns off the tap again. ‘Wait!’ he and I shout in unison. We grab a towel each and race after them.

‘Mummy!’ Asha calls, as Gabe and I arrive in the hallway. The front door is wide open and Detective Tamil is standing there. ‘The police are here!’

40

PIPPA

THEN

I‘d just got out of the shower when I heard the thump. It sounded distinctly like a body hitting floorboards.

It was early, just after 6 am. Asha had been with us nearly a week. It hadn’t been a terrible adjustment, considering. Asha had not been overly distressed. She hardly ever cried. She played with the toys we put out and ate the food we offered. She allowed us to care for her. But there was a guardedness. She didn’t smile. I hadn’t once heard her laugh.

We’d fallen into a bit of a routine, the way you did with a new baby. Everything was trial and error. We knew that she liked pasta and strawberries. She’d commandeered one of Freya’s stuffed frogs, which she carried with her everywhere, and we’d already developed a hearty fear of losing Froggie, the way any parent worried about losing that one toy that would soothe their child. We knew that she hated daytime naps but would fall asleep at 6 pm and then sleep right through till the next morning. During the day, I was her primary parent, the one she went to instinctively to have her needs met. But this early hour, this short period of time before Freya woke up, had somehow become Gabe’s.

When I heard the second thud, I grabbed my robe and raced out of the bedroom.

In the living room, I found Asha sitting up in her highchair. Gabe was on the floor, face down, his arms and limbs splayed like the police outline of a murder victim. But I barely registered that because of what else was happening.

Asha was laughing.

Gabe saw me. ‘Watch!’ he said.