Free Lisa Heidke by Lucy Springer Gets Even (mobi) Page B

‘My kids say he smells of beer in the morning and drinks from a silver flask during the day. He hides it in his middle right-hand desk drawer.’
    ‘No,’ says Emma.
    ‘True,’ says Lizzie, making a cross over her heart with her right index finger. ‘Children don’t make up stories like that.’
    ‘Seems like a nice guy,’ I chip in.
    ‘Yeah, nice but a drinker,’ Dee says.
    I drain my glass and zone out, wondering if, in a couple of years when the kids go to new schools, this group of women will remain in contact. Unlikely, when there’s nothing much to talk about besides Mr Cutts’ drinking habits and whether Miss Wise (Year One) really is a member of the Children of God sect. (I don’t believe she is.)
    ‘His wife left him, didn’t she?’ says Camel-toe Wendy, still banging on about Bryan Cutts, poor bastard.
    ‘Years ago,’ says Dee, refilling her glass.
    I feel sorry for Mr Cutts, thinking how I’d probably be taking a flask of vodka to school if I had to teach thirty-one screaming nine-year-olds day in, day out.
    ‘How are the renovations coming along, Lucy?’ Dee asks.
    ‘Could be better. Tradesmen defecating in paint pots, that sort of thing.’
    Dee stares at me in horror. I mentally slap myself. This is exactly how rumours get started. If I choose not to correct what I’ve just said, it’ll be all over the school by Monday morning. ‘Did you hear? Lucy’s builders poo in the paint pots.’ Bella would never talk to me again.
    ‘Kidding,’ I say. ‘But seriously, the wee is killing my hydrangeas. According to the builder, we’ve got rising damp, drainage problems, a non-flushing toilet . . . but it’ll all work out eventually, I guess.’
    ‘I thought Trish was coming tonight?’ says Wendy.
    Nadia glares at her. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
    ‘Is Trish okay?’ I ask Nadia. ‘I’ve seen her a couple of times lately and she’s stared straight through me.’
    The other women look sheepishly into their wineglasses. ‘What with Alana -’ Wendy begins.
    ‘The concert was great the other day, wasn’t it?’ Nadia interrupts.
    ‘Very good,’ agrees Emma.
    Am I missing something here?
    The conversation drifts towards predictable talk about private schools versus public, selective versus non-selective, streaming as opposed to not . . . Thank God Max insisted on paying Isabella’s and Sam’s school fees up-front. At least I won’t have that financial burden to worry about. At the time, I didn’t think it made sense but Max insisted. Said that school fees would keep increasing every year so it made financial sense to pay them outright at today’s rates. For a brief moment, that little memory makes me wonder if Max has been planning his getaway for a long time.
    ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ bellows a voice, causing everyone to turn around in surprise. It’s Trish and she’s glaring at me.
    At first I think she’s joking. ‘Occasionally, they let me out for good behaviour,’ I reply.
    But she starts screaming and now the whole restaurant’s turning our way. ‘You think it’s funny, your mongrel husband running off with Alana?’ she shrieks.
    ‘Alana?’ I say, shocked. ‘Max doesn’t even -’ I stop, horrified at the knowledge that’s dawning on me. Max and Alana? Max said he needed space . . . with Alana? The same Alana who started babysitting for us two years ago when she was studying for her HSC? Bookish, freckles on the nose, Justin-Timberlake-lovingAlana? The women around the table shift uncomfortably in their seats. It’s blindingly clear they know exactly what Trish is talking about.
    ‘My God, why didn’t anyone tell me?’ I say, feeling utterly humiliated. Tears start rolling down my cheeks. ‘I didn’t know he was with Alana,’ I sob.
    ‘It’s okay,’ says Nadia.
    ‘How could you have known,’ says Emma, putting an arm around me.
    ‘Thanks to your husband,’ Trish continues, undaunted, ‘Alana’s given up university. She says