‘That sounds like a good idea.’ Eva nods approvingly and Rosie knows she’s referring to the swim rather than to Anna, whom Eva has never really connected with. Eva is one of those people who believes cold water cures everything from dry skin to a broken heart. ‘I just wanted to see if you needed anything – a chat, maybe, or food or help with the children …’
‘No, I’m fine. Thanks, Eva.’
Still on edge from almost being caught out, Rosie can’t return Eva’s smile as she passes Rosie the warm bundle she’s been holding.
‘Here – I baked it this morning. It’s the one with cheese and chives.’
Heath’s favourite.
Eva glances again at the laptop on the table, like she’s thinking about saying something. It makes Rosie bristle.
‘I’m so sorry this has happened,’ she says, quiet but steady.
Rosie doesn’t want Eva’s calm now, not when all those websites are spinning so wildly in her brain. She puts the bread on to the work surface and grabs a tote bag from the hook by the back door before shoving in a still-damp towel from the drying rack.
Eva says nothing, knows Rosie well enough to know when to back off.
‘Seb probably won’t be long,’ Rosie says, bending down to pick up the fallen chair.
‘No, I won’t wait for him. It was you I wanted to check in on.’
Rosie doesn’t know what to say so she just nods furiously and says, ‘Yes, well, I’m fine. Fine!’
She heads out of the back door, leaving Eva to deal with the human maggot she raised whom she can still hear, laughing, above their heads.
Rosie walks quickly into the water and the cold screams through her as she wades up to her hips. A huge wave, made up of a million angry foaming mouths, rises to bite, but she dives underneath it. The freeze makes her retract into herself so she can hardly move at all. Then a great pull drags her up and out and she surfaces, screaming, swearing, and she’s so fucking small but she’ll keep fighting because there’s nothing else. Another enormous wave roars towards her, a great salty mouth howling for her. This time, she lets it take her, pulling her into its mess, its rage, and while it plays with her, rolling her around with its watery tongue, there’s a moment of immense silence, of such elemental gentleness that Rosie doesn’t feel scared, she doesn’t feel anything and, for a second, she disappears. Then, without warning, the sea starts chewing her again, her lungs panic, heave, and suddenly the sea is done with her. It spits her out, a diner spitting a bone out of a stew. She’s left in the shallows, spluttering and breathing hard. The water has worked smooth Rosie’s jagged edges like sea glass. She isn’t thinking about Abi and all those other plastic women online and for a moment she’s left with just the clean, simple realization: Seb was never good. He’d been yearning and suppressing and hiding himself all along. He’d had secrets. And she loves him, and she hates him and she loves him and she hates him, and she has no idea how they’re going to survive.
She doesn’t dry herself well so she’s shaking with cold by the time she gets back to the car, but this is the best bit, her skin tasting of salt, the sparkle and fizz of blood in her veins. Her phone buzzes with more missed calls from Seb and one from Eddy and then a text comes through from Anna.
Just got to the cafe, babe. Will order us some tea. Love you. X
Anna has been ending every message to Rosie with ‘love you’ since Saturday, which to Rosie feels more indicative of Anna’s guilt, for not telling Rosie that Abi and Seb had had sex, than genuine love for her. Rosie wishes for the millionth time that, apart from Maggie, her architect friend in Sydney, she hadn’t let her old friendships from school and university fade over time. She’d known it was happening, especially after they moved to Waverly, but her children were so young, her life already overly stuffed with people. She couldn’t handle any more, so letting those relationships splutter and die had felt more like a relief than a loss. Until now. Now she just has Anna and a handful of other Waverly women whom she calls friends, who no longer feel safe. Especially not now when she really needs help.
Rosie dresses, for once not caring that her dimply bottom and sagging breasts are on display. She slowly makes her way along the beach to the cafe; it’s windy so she clamps her arms around herself in a hug to try to keep warm. Her hair is cold and wet, like seaweed dangling around her face. She’s shivering by the time she arrives at the almost empty cafe and sees Anna sitting at a table for two in the far corner by the window, a pot of tea and two mugs in front of her. Anna stands and opens her arms as soon as Rosie walks through the door. The young girl behind the counter glances up from her phone to look at Rosie, but the screen drags her eyes back immediately.