‘Jesus. Is she OK? I didn’t think she’d … It was an accident. Lily, come up now, you’re OK.’

From the hall came more shouting and banging, and Robbie seemed to register it for the first time. He closed the dining room door.

‘She’s OK, Mary. Don’t over-react. She tripped over her own legs when I was trying to get her to give me a second’s peace.’

‘Sorry, Daddy,’ Lily said in a tiny voice, and a heavy dread settled around Mary. Lily had seen glimpses of her father’s anger – outbursts that left her quiet and subdued. But this was the first time he’d hurt her. And now, she was apologizing for it. This was how it started.

At the front door, the banging and shouting persisted, but Robbie ignored it. He looked stunned.

‘Jesus.’ He stood, still running his hand through his hair. Then he turned and walked through to the living room, and closed the door. Mary checked Lily’s arms and legs, running her hands up and down tiny limbs. No cuts, no lumps, no bumps. She lifted her t-shirt then, and there it was. On her back. A blazing red mark on Lily’s skin. Dear God. She pulled Lily up into her arms and stood by the dining room window, staring out. Lily nuzzled into her neck, and outside, at the end of the garden, the treetops swayed against the midnight sky. Beyond the trees, the back of Ruth’s house was lit up: lights on in every window. Mary pulled Lily closer. She’d have to confront Robbie. To face him head on. No matter what the outcome. And with Ruth’s words ringing in her ears, for the first time, Mary thought she could.

He doesn’t fool me.

58

July 1985

THE NEXT MORNING, IN a turn of events neither of them could have predicted, Ruth was by Mary’s side, combing the building site. Twelve short hours, but a lifetime beyond the dinner party. He doesn’t fool me. Now Ruth stayed with Mary as they searched for Lily.

Up and down the building site, Della Burke and Susie Stedman and their children shouted Lily’s name, but Mary didn’t have any voice left. And deep inside, below her panic, beneath her terror, she was grateful for Ruth’s calm presence.

It was the position of the barrels that caught their attention. Even in her near hysteria, Mary could see there was something deliberate about the way they had been placed, blocking the doorway. Beside her, Ruth tensed.

Without speaking, they moved together towards the first barrel and pushed it aside. The second one was heavier, but between them they got it out of the way. Still silent, they each gripped a side of the wooden pallet and lifted. Mary walked through, sick with fear and dread and hope. Her eyes skittered this way and that, her voice stuck in her throat. But there was nobody there.

On her arm, she felt Ruth’s fingers and only then realized she was slipping towards the floor.