‘I’m worried about you.’ She touched her fingers to my cut cheek. ‘Your face, Bella’s arm. You’re always so jumpy. Is he hurting you, Lexie?’

I shook my head, unable to explain. Marty and I—we hadn’t been coping particularly well since Archie’s death but we still loved each other. I was sure of it. The trouble was that we didn’t grieve in the same way. Mel was looking at me so sympathetically that the tears came again. One playgroup mum slandering me on TV and the other here to support me.

‘If he’s hurting you or Bella, we can tell the police.’ Mel passed me a tissue. ‘We can get him arrested.’

‘No, no,’ I gulped between the tears. It was my fault, not his.

‘Lexie, I think you’re in a dangerous situation.’

My thoughts crashed together—confused memories of the day Bella’s wrist was broken, the moment Marty had arrived at the playgroup after Bella had disappeared, his whispered phone calls with Victoria, the water bottle and the shoe. My husband wasn’t dangerous. He wouldn’t take Bella to punish me. Or would he? My tears grew into sobs. They racked my body and I gasped for air. Mel rubbed my shoulders in small circles that helped me to breathe.

The front door slammed again. Marty was home. Straight away, he was in the lounge room and kneeling in front of me.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Marty apologised, his eyes locked on mine. ‘I shouldn’t have said all that stuff about Archie.’

He took the tissue from my hand and used it to dab away my tears.

‘We have to stay strong together, Lexie,’ he said. ‘That’s the only way we’ll find her.’

I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at Mel. Space to think, that was what I needed.

When I didn’t reply, Marty turned his attention to the woman on the couch next to me. It had been such a strange time with people coming and going that I didn’t know if they’d met before. Mel piped up before I had a chance to speak.

‘I’m Mel—one of the mums from playgroup,’ she said, holding out her hand to Marty. ‘I’m so sorry to meet you under these circumstances.’

My husband’s face, ruddy from the night air, turned white.

39 BRENDAN

39

BRENDAN