Eloise flushes a shade of red that I don’t think I’ve ever seen on her pale skin, but Tina doesn’t see it as she has turned her back on El too. She is looking down the driveway at the car that has stopped next to her. A Year 8 is climbing into the back seat.

The woman driving it is looking into her rear-view mirror, smiling, and I can hear her in my head, asking her son if he has had a good day.

Eloise is watching too and takes a step closer to Tina.

The woman pulls away, her eyes still on her mirror, chatting to her son.

As the car accelerates forward, I see El reach out and grab Tina, then go to shove her in front of the quickening car. It is all happening in slow motion. I can see my hand reach up to pull at Eloise’s coat at the same time that I hear Tracey shout out.

Eloise’s hands push Tina towards the car and immediately pull her back in. The car screeches to a halt, the woman’s face a mask of fear and shock. There is silence around us until El says, “Tell your mother I saved your life, Tina,” and she lets her go.

Tina crumples into a heap on the ground and Tracey stoops to help her up. The mother scrambles from the car, her apologies running over each other. Students stand and gape, talking behind their hands and watching as the mother helps Tina up, asking her again and again if she’s ok.

Tracey launches at Eloise and slaps her hard, catching her nose, which spurts blood onto her shirt. Eloise gasps, but then recovers, smiles sweetly and walks away casually, turning back only to say, “Watch your back, Tracey.”

37

NOW

The garden was cold, the grass wet, but that wasn’t why Helen was shivering. There was something about Mills’ face, like she was barely holding herself together, pulling in the threads of her sanity before it unravelled completely. Helen had never seen her look this way before. She trailed behind Helen, as though her legs really did not want to take her where they were going. Helen had a sudden expectation that she would walk into the pool house and see her sitting on a lounger, still in the bikini she wore that night, her hair pulled into an impossibly high ponytail and her lips shimmering in pink gloss, then a Polaroid flash as she documented the shock on Helen’s face and that laugh, loud, cackling.

They were halfway down the garden when she heard Clive barking aggressively back at the house.

Helen stopped and turned back. He hardly ever barked.

Someone was in the house. Someone who shouldn’t be there.

“Leave it, Mum. This is important,” Mills said.

Clive’s barking grew more animated.

“Something is wrong. He never barks like that.”