Emma Hislop

The Lie

By the time Sinead found out Joe was married to Talie and they owned the print studio, the sex was already there, or it wasn’t there yet but it was arriving. Something about the secrecy had excited them in a good way, not a secret exactly but not discussed. Sinead had taken a beginners class with Joe. There was something about him. Those deep set eyes and long eyelashes. She’d booked private instruction to perfect her lithography technique, and he’d offered her a job. The studio was called Doctor Ink and ran workshops and held events, as well as printing t-shirt and tote bags for businesses. Sometimes art students used the space and there was always music. It felt like an exciting place to work.

She looked at her phone. She was lying in bed, in the exact spot the printing press used to be, recalling Joe washing down screens wearing latex gloves. The cracked leatherette seats had stuck to her thighs. She could still see the indentations in the floor left by the wash troughs. At the end of the room, the doors opened into what had been the washout room. Joe’s mountain bike was propped up against the wall. This made her remember the finances again and she opened the banking app. She transferred the amount into Joe’s account, more than she’d had in her entire life, and waited for the payment to be confirmed.

The house was so quiet, she would just stay here. It wasn't like her to lie in; there were so many jobs but she wasn’t used to the lack of interruptions, or the absence of noise. She’d been so tired lately, fainted at work - low on iron. It had been quite nice, disappearing for a little while.

Afterwards, Joe had suggested they go out for a steak, even though she was vegetarian. He was always joking around, so different from Sinead’s other boyfriends. She’d always gone for men who took themselves too seriously.

Joe had left to pick up the glass for the new gallery window before she was awake and the house was cold when she eventually got up. Moving into the print studio was her idea. It made sense. She’d sold her house, and they would use the money to set up next door to the old studio, really just an espresso machine and a gallery space with a limited number of prints. Joe had called it a fresh start and Sinead agreed, without saying out loud that it was more than that, it was her investment, her chance to make something of this. It was what it represented, the thing she had worked so hard to hold onto. The new place would be in Sinead’s name. She needed to show the community and Talie that she’d won. This was a small town. They needed to stick it out. The long tables and stools from the print studio had all been sold now, and the little stage dismantled where Talie once stood for the screenprinting demonstrations. In its place, a heap of dirty washing in the wicker basket. It looked like someone else’s life, not hers. At first, it had felt strange to be away from home, like she was avoiding something. She would need to go back to her own life now and then, to do her washing, dye her hair, feed the cat. Closing the studio had been inevitable after lockdown but she’d tried to fight it. She’d fought for it from the start. She’d gone to the bank and met with her manager.

‘We’ll be a blended family’ she’d told her two. Veronika had shrugged and carried on swiping through her phone. Nat had grabbed her skateboard and gone to the skatepark without saying a thing. Neither response was that unusual. Joe’s kid, Knox just carried on, as though Sinead didn’t exist. They’d have to adjust, she was putting herself first this time. She hadn't, since Dave, her ex left. He was fucking his assistant. The shame Sinead felt hadn’t come from the affair, more from all the time that was wasted. Nat wasn’t even a year old when it happened.

She walked down the hallway, picking up items, two jumpers, a sock, a homework folder. One end of the old upstairs section was Veronika’s room now and Knox at the other end. Nat was next to their room, in the old toilet block. It needed windows. The new toilet was under the stairs. She looked in the hall mirror at herself - her makeup was smudged round her eyes. The robe was loosely belted, one breast partially exposed. Now, when making decisions about what to wear, she thought of Talie. More eyeliner. Redder lipstick. Dangly earrings all the time. Talie made her look bad, so she would look like Talie. She straightened the hall runner with her foot. The plain ones were nicer but the patterned ones were on special. They’d painted the hallway a shade of grey that she’d chosen only after trying out twenty other colours but the place still retained its particular smell of emulsion and lacquer. What are you doing? the building seemed to say, probably echoing most of the bloody community. Downstairs, there was a huge hole where the drying racks had been and a refurbished barn door was going in. The bin in the corner was jammed full and there was a trail of last week's dahl spilling onto the floor. There were papers strewn across the table, and she looked at the printed letters, which talked about money and demands. She put on a coffee. It was the stovetop so it would take a while. It was good to take things slowly.

Joe got home well after dark that night. From the sofa, Sinead watched him pacing on the deck. He was wearing his boxer shorts and an old Doctor Ink tee shirt. Merchandise sales had gone up after the Talie incident. That was the kind of community it was. Nothing ever happened, so when it did, everyone wanted a part of it. Joe was on his phone - to who, this late? She turned the volume down on the tv.

It was Barb and it was something about Talie. Joe spoke slowly, telling his mother in law things she wanted to hear, consolations. I'm sorry, it will be alright. Yes, she was still his mother in law. The boys were fine. No, they hadn’t noticed any changes in Talie before she went away. Was it wrong to say they hadn’t noticed? That they were absorbed in themselves? The sliding door banged. Joe threw his phone on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa next to Sinead.

He talked relentlessly, throwing out statements and bits of information, stressed, talking over Sinead when she tried to reply. She gathered Talie had taken her clothes off in Arrivals at Auckland Airport. She was coming back from India where she’d been discovering herself - her words. Security put her in handcuffs and flew her down to Ward Twenty One.

‘Fuck, okay, she’s not dead.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Christ, sometimes I think she just does it for attention. She's been a bit out of sorts since the change ... in our living arrangements.’

‘Can we just—’ she said.

‘Of course. It’s just a bit of a shock. I’m still processing it.’

‘What do you mean, out of sorts?’ Sinead shook her head, moving away from him on the sofa. She was visualising Talie taking her clothes off. Joe hadn’t mentioned Talie’s lunacy towards Sinead to Barb. Why hadn’t he brought them up to speed? Sinead hardly recognised her own voice when she said, ‘I hope you asked how we can help.’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ Joe said. ‘Nothing compared to last year.’

Sinead remembered the broken crockery, Talie’s injuries to her hands, her embarrassment afterwards.

‘She just told me she skipped her meds a couple of times,’ Joe said. ‘Barb said she was withdrawn the night she stayed with them in Auckland. They won’t be down for another week.’ Sinead looked at his bare feet, tanned against the pale concrete floor, and noticed his hairy toes. She didn't remember his toes with hair.

‘I take it you haven’t told Barb we’ve moved in together? Does she even know Doctor Ink has closed?’

Joe didn't say anything.

‘You haven’t told her.’ If it was a question before, it wasn’t now. Sinead didn’t know how much Barb knew or what to say about Talie. She didn't actually remember what Joe’s reply was, she didn't want to say she felt sorry for her, maybe she pretended she hadn't heard.

She stopped for a pack of cigarettes at the kiosk on the way into the hospital, before carrying on down the glass corridor that linked the buildings. Her footsteps somehow sounded like an intrusion. The rain outside was practically horizontal. Hardly anything was allowed in and most items had to be left at the front desk, like the raspberry muffin she brought from home last time. There were memories here but she brought them with her. She remembered room nineteen because they were nineteen at the time. She’d thought she would remember which room had been Lena’s but she hadn’t. All the internal doors had been removed, each room open to her view as she passed, like the pigeonholes at work, and she couldn’t tell one from another. They used to be green, but now they were all painted white. She’d lost count. There was a car accident. It wasn’t her driving, she was the one in the passenger seat reaching over to grab the wheel. Smashed glass made Lena unrecognisable and the steering wheel pushed through her ribcage. A girlfriend who she said she loved, who she visited twice and didn’t come again.

‘I’m here to see Talie Manning.’ She put as much normality into the sentence as possible, putting the cigarettes down on the counter.

‘Hold on one moment.’ The receptionist pushed a buzzer on the wall. ‘Take a seat.’

Talie was sitting on a chair, leaning on the wall. Her black hair looked unwashed and was coming loose, wet circles under the arms of her grey pyjamas. Sinead stood there for a while then moved over to the other chair, pulled it closer to hers and sat down. Talie didn't move or look at Sinead, her heavy lidded eyes and thick brows completely still. There was no sound at all, except for her slow breathing. It was a bit much, she wasn’t a statue. Sinead wanted to kneel down and shake her awake, help her to stand. Perhaps if she did, Talie would revert to her old self and speak clearly, they could have a conversation. Sinead lifted her hand, paused. Talie’s blue eyes were looking right at her. Why did she? Why did they? It hadn’t happened all at once. It would be easy to say they saw it coming. This was what they’d tell people and also probably people were being told that, probably, Talie hadn’t been well for years and this could have been foreseen.

There were no surfaces at the studio she and Joe hadn’t been familiar with, the wooden tables, the printing press, the toilet cubicles. That night they were upstairs in the office. It was late, about two a.m. Joe was sucking on her nipples and she’d just pushed him down. She watched his head working over her vulva, looking for her clit and then he had it - she’d always imagined they’d get caught. But when Talie appeared in the doorway, unable not to see, their clothes strewn around nothing to do with her, the orgasm was too good. A noise came from the back of Sinead’s throat that she didn’t hold back.

It wasn't their finest hour. Or was it? Weren’t they exactly where they wanted to be? Either way, now Talie had evidence. The next night, she’d told the entire workshop Sinead was stealing her life.

The planning of it all, the timing was so Talie. Later, Sinead imagined her looking up the roster - how to manage it, what time to make the announcement- the effort it would have taken. Sinead had never asked Joe to leave Talie and the kids or to be with her. Joe had always come to Sinead, though they’d never spent the whole night together, just fucked. It was as though once Joe left Talie, they no longer shared a frame of reference. But Talie was here now, in front of Sinead in the middle of the psych ward, just to reassure Sinead, if she needed any reassurance, that Talie was, and probably always had been, unwell.

A nurse came into the room with the medication. Her lipstick was a garish pink and some had smeared on her teeth. She put the plastic cup down on the bedside table.

‘Why don’t we get you dressed? You could take your friend outside and get some fresh air.’

‘People round here don’t like being told the truth,’ Talie said.

What had Sinead expected? That it’d be different this time? She wanted to fill the gap but nothing came, so she held up the cigarettes. Talie brightened so instantly Sinead almost laughed.

‘That's why they all gossip. The nurses say there's no hive mind but it's not true,’ Talie’s face was doing so much. The nurse helped her off the chair and began taking off her pyjama top. Sinead looked away. Talking would mean they’d have to discuss it and they’d never talked about this thing that had happened. She could say I’m really sorry for what we did to you, Talie she wasn’t sure she meant it, but she could say it.

‘Look, there are a lot of stories in here so I don’t need to make anything up. They’ll tell you they’re good stories, but they’re not true. So let's stick to the truth, me and you.’

Outside, the rain had stopped. Talie was even thinner than before. She still had that slow confident walk, long strides, swinging her arms. Apart from the walk, nothing about her felt familiar.

‘Stop following me around’ growled Talie. ‘I don’t need to explain myself to you.’

Everything was wet in the large, circular courtyard. The walls were high, and silvery grey ivy was creeping up the bricks.

‘Shall we sit?’ Sinead motioned towards the only dry seats under the awning.

‘That’s not necessary.’

Sinead took out one of the cigarettes and lit it, imagining Joe’s hands on Talie’s waist, her breasts, her hair. She passed the cigarette to Talie who accepted both, making a sound like a piece of food was caught in her throat. Her hair was sticking to her neck. She didn’t smoke before Joe left her, and now she did, yet somehow the most normal thing about her was the smoking. Sinead wrapped her denim jacket around herself and folded her arms. Visiting hours were between ten a.m. and twelve. She wasn’t sure how long it’d been.

‘Do you need anything?’ Sinead asked.

Slowly, Talie smiled. She came forward now, closer to Sinead, too close, her face against Sinead’s. Each time Sinead moved away, not directly back, but a tiny step to the right, Talie matched her movements so they moved in a circle as she spoke.

‘I know what you’re up to,’ Talie said. ‘Everyone knows.’ She nodded her head, so the cigarette in her mouth bobbed up and down.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ Sinead said. ‘Let's not talk.’

Her phone rang. She reached for it, but Talie grabbed her shoulder. ‘Careful,’ she said, ‘careful.’ Talie giggled, laughed. ‘You got what you wanted. You wanted and you wanted. Fuck. Fuck no. Is it Freya now, or Rhiannon? The dark haired one?’

She asked for Joe, where he was, when he was coming. Then she would think he was there, talking to him. Sinead stalled her. He was busy at work, he was coming. The questions came at her, and she tried to answer except for when she said,‘He was supposed to be meeting me here.’

‘It's getting to you,’ Talie said. And then she kept talking about something else.

It had been busy in the studio, constantly. The hens’ party workshops were always well-attended. But that night was Eve Taylor’s hens’ party and Talie was Eve’s maid of honour. It was a hot night. Sinead was working the upstairs section because Rhiannon had called in sick. The workshop smelled wonderful. Garlic and red wine, printing ink. The hens had created a makeshift dance floor by pushing the benches back after the t-shirt printing workshop. The music, which seemed louder than usual, had stopped. Joe was demonstrating how to make a stencil with a latecomer, and Sinead was coming downstairs with more squeegees. Talie was standing on the stairs, glass of wine in one hand. ‘Excuse me.’ It was rowdy and no one took much notice. Right then, Sinead knew what it meant, which event had brought them here. She didn’t know how Talie would play it.

‘Sorry to interrupt!’ Talie shouted, and gradually, the talking lessened, then stopped. She stepped round Sinead and positioned herself at the front. She was drunk, nobody could argue with that, but sober enough to know what she was doing.

‘Talie,’ Sinead said quietly. ‘Don’t do this.’ There was a heaviness inside her body, like a weight going down into water. She glanced at Joe for help, trying to meet his eye but he’d removed himself to the side of the room and was watching Talie. She dared him in her mind to look up, go on, go on, come closer.

‘Everybody knows Sinead, one of our finest staff members here at Doctor Ink.’ Talie paused. ‘How long have you been with us?’ She was asking Sinead, or anyone.

‘I haven't really thought about it’, said Sinead, smiling hard at Talie.

‘What are you asking that for?’ Eve shouted.

‘Two whole years!’ Talie said with a slow wave of her hand. Then, ‘can you believe it, Sinead!’ She found Sinead’s hand and her grip tightened over it and Sinead thought she is stronger than me. There were a few claps and someone said ‘Speech, speech!’ Joe’s eyes bounced from Talie to Sinead now, then back to Talie.

‘You’ve achieved so much, in such a short time.’ Talie turned and touched Sinead’s hair with her free hand before Sinead could move, making her hair fall across her face. Was this the end? Maybe this was the humiliation that would end it all. But that wasn't important now; what mattered was the impulse, the way she reacted and what she reached for - tune it out, she’d done it before. She felt the strong, cold pull of the river, moving past her, towing her away. She had occasionally wondered if she was too old for the backless dresses but had worn them anyway. It wasn’t a crime to want to look nice. Go ahead, Talie. She pictured Talie, lying at the bottom of the stairs, her dark hair covering her face.

‘This bitch is fucking my husband. She’s trying to steal my life.’

‘Well, clearly fucking you is such a non-event.’ Sinead almost laughed when she said it. They weren’t monsters. Talie wasn’t happy and she told people she wasn't happy and they felt sorry for her. Joe was right there, but nothing good ever came of Talie and Joe. Talie had forgotten all the ways in which she’d disappointed Joe. It was like it was all on Joe to fix it and he couldn't help Talie, no matter what he did. Sinead sometimes liked imagining them older, living away from here. They didn’t owe anyone an explanation. She wanted to shake Talie, but she just said, ‘You might need to take some responsibility for yourself, Talie,’ and tried to find a way to move down the stairs. For someone so small, Talie took up a lot of room. Sinead couldn’t stay where she was but she couldn't get past.

‘You’re dreaming if you think that fucking other peoples’ husbands will get you to the top. You’re having a fucking laugh.’

‘Are you finished?’ Sinead asked Talie. ‘Tables five and nine are waiting on squeegees. Oh, and find someone else’s fucking hand to hold.’ She pulled her hand out of Talie’s and looked around the room, which suddenly seemed alive, made of soft moving skin and hair. Her eyes began to blur. Talie was crying now, although it didn't stop her from talking. She’d been talking for a while, getting whiny. With all the light and the sound Sinead didn’t hear any more of what she said, she just smiled and smiled.

It was a Sunday at the studio. Sinead had been on all day with Freya, who was working a double and Rhiannon had just arrived for the evening workshop. Sinead and Freya drank coffee and talked about the Talie situation while Rhiannon washed screens. Sinead’s daughter, Veronika was helping her.

‘Why do you still even work here?’ Veronika asked. ‘It's not like it's well paid.’ Veronika had always known everything about the situation, probably more than she should.

‘I know.’ Sinead looked at Freya. Everyone knew how much she was doing.‘I do actually like my job.’ She could work school hours or weekends when the kids were at their dad’s. When they were little it seemed like she might never work again. She liked being there before they opened, ironing T-shirts, making the gallery look nice. It felt as though the completion of these simple tasks were the first steps to living a normal life. ‘The pay isn't that bad - and it’s going up soon.’

Rhiannon laughed. ‘Okay Sinead,’ she said, feigning a business tone. ‘You organise that.’

Sinead listed more things then, named them, because she’d lied - the pay was barely enough to support her and the kids - although then it began to seem pointless again, to her and Veronika and maybe to the others too. She didn't know. For a while it seemed like she could maintain it.  The job couldn't last forever. She should charge more, but she was biding her time. This was just the start. You couldn’t rush Joe.

‘I’ll talk to Joe,’ Sinead said. ‘I’ll ask for more money.’

Rhiannon snorted with delight. ‘Yeah, okay, talk to Joe. Cause Joe has a handle on the money.’

“It’s complicated.’ That’s what Sinead said to anyone who asked, but Rhiannon wasn’t asking. Everyone knew Talie did all the accounts for the business. Rhiannon laughed again, but didn’t say anything else except ‘talk to Joe’ under her breath, which started her laughing again.

Sinead went upstairs to the office. The weekly roster had to be written up, as well as the t-shirt order put through. She hated this small town, everyone claiming a monopoly on everyone's personal business. Rhiannon wasn’t everyone, but still. She went into the office. Joe was on the phone. She squeezed into his side with a quick hug. Sinead was sure it was Talie on the phone. Sometimes even the thought of her - her name was unbearable again - would untether something in Sinead. She thought about her a lot - like all the time. He’d rearranged the roster so Talie and Sinead never worked the same shift, and in that moment it had seemed enough. Except it meant she was paid for fewer hours. And instead Talie was another woman who knew her boyfriend as well as she did, who saw him on the days she didn't. She constantly thought about them together at work, holding staff meetings and having lunches, the times he’d had to stay over because Talie needed help with Knox.

‘Why won't you leave it alone?’ Joe was saying. ‘You know what happened. You know what the story is.’

Something was about to happen, or maybe it had already happened. Sinead mouthed roster at him. He wasn't getting anything done, with that going on. He passed her a piece of paper, with something typed on it. Lists reassured her, made her feel things were in order.

‘No. Look, I have to go.’ He hung up.

‘I don’t know why you bother answering your phone,’ Sinead said.

‘I can hardly just ignore her, Sinead. We have a kid together, in case you’d forgotten.’

There was silence, except for the music from the studio, someone was singing along.

Joe reached for Sinead's hand across the desk. ‘You’re obsessing over her, so it seems worse than it really is.’

‘Because every time we’re together it's like she's here with us. She's here now. Can’t you feel her?’ Sinead gestured with her hands. She wished they were fighting about something else.

The hard thing, as Sinead saw it, was that something had happened and it was private and then it wasn’t. And now when people thought of her, Sinead knew, they didn’t really think of her. They thought about Talie and Joe and the things that Sinead did.

‘I’ve been hearing how much fun she is at work. Without me there? Is that what Rhiannon meant?’

‘Oh come on, it’s not like that.’

‘Not like what? Apparently, everyone would rather socialise.’

‘Rhi talks shit with everyone. I know what you talk about when I’m not around.’

‘Even if we did talk about you, how would you know?’ she asked Joe. He wasn’t the only one with allies. ‘Are you still fucking her?’ It sometimes worried her, the way Joe could suddenly look like a place she’d never been. Nothing happened, he always informed her, after any shifts with Talie. It was as though he didn't know if he was lying.

‘And that's what you were discussing? Holed up together at the studio after work?’

‘We were talking about Knox, actually, about limiting his screen time.’ He sighed. ‘She’s always been crazy, Sinead. How can you believe anything she says?’

Sinead wondered just what Talie said, how she might have put it.

‘These look good.’ She meant the latest tote bags, piled up on the desk. He knew she meant the bags. She chose to stop the thoughts, stop the voices, though maybe not all at once, maybe turning down the volume just so she knew she was the one in control, reducing the noise.

She heard him turning around, ready to say something like ‘You look good,’in a kind of sexy joke way but she wasn't there. She was already walking out of the office.

They’d both been rostered on that Friday, Freya and Rhiannon were on too. Sunlight was hitting the wooden front verandah as Sinead arrived. Their shadows had intertwined on the studio floor. Sinead’s red skirt, legs underneath as Talie brought the screen around her backside with a flat sound, one, two, three. Sinead’s eyes flickered from the screen to Talie, already busy pretending it never happened and laughing at something Rhiannon said. A forced laugh, looking pretty. Saying nothing wasn’t the same as saying the truth. But if Sinead said something that she knew wasn’t true, they’d be able to tell. Maybe she could get away with saying nothing and eventually everyone would forget about it. But she’d let her guard down.

‘Leave me alone,’ Sinead said. ‘I didn’t do anything.’ There was no telling what Talie would go around doing. It was a license to do whatever she wanted. Sinead’s studio key went missing, there was a hole cut in her new jacket. She wasn’t paid, or she was underpaid. Sinead started taking records of everything, writing events down. The first time her car was egged outside her house she cried to Joe about it. The second time she just hosed it off and drove away.

‘Oh, I could tell you some things,’ Sinead said. No one would know it was her.

‘Like what?’ Rhiannon asked. She was pretty, brown eyes, piercings up and down the ridge of her ear, in her early thirties at the most. Joe only employed young people, because he didn’t have to pay them as much. Sinead wasn’t sure it was right. Some of them didn’t look that much older than Veronika.

‘The real reason Talie hates me.’ Gossip worked both ways. Freya leaned in, sipping her coffee. ‘She can’t handle the fact that I wasn’t interested in her.’

‘No way,’ said Rhiannon.

‘She propositioned me one night when I first started here. Then a week later, I was cleaning the loos and she just appeared in the doorway. She just stood there, watching me clean.

I didn’t know what she wanted at first, so I asked her but she didn't answer me. When I tried to go past, she pushed herself up against me at the basin.’

‘That's awful,’ Rhiannon said. ‘What’d you do?’

‘What could I do? Since then, she’s been making shit up and telling everyone I’m a homewrecker.’

‘Does Joe know?,’ said Freya. ‘Did you file a complaint?’

Oh, you think that when it's someone else, don't you? I’d be the first to say that, I know. You think it's worse than it was. ‘I wrote it down, so it’s on record’ said Sinead.

‘Of course if it's men, if it's women -’ Freya made a sweeping movement with one hand.

‘It's still assault,’ Rhiannon said.

‘I’d like you to keep quiet about this,” Sinead said. “I mean, don’t tell anyone. Not even Joe.’ Even as she thought about it now she was distracted by the idea that Talie could have come onto her in this way. She imagined it. It would have begun with Talie instigating. They were in the work toilets. Sinead was washing her hands, her shaggy fringe getting in her eyes. Talie came out of a cubicle. She said nothing, not even hello and walked over and pushed her body against Sinead’s, so Sinead’s back was pushing hard into the sink. She brought her hand gently to Sinead’s face, kissed her, briefly, then for longer. She stroked Sinead’s clit through her clothes. The answer was yes, but Sinead didn't speak or move.

Freya’s phone vibrated inside her bag and she bent down to get it out. It was the next day and they were at the studio again.

‘I still can’t believe what happened to you,’ Rhiannon whispered, watching Sinead closely. ‘Long black, cheers Rhi, you lucky fucker on coffees today,’ Freya said. ‘My neck is literally killing me after yesterday.’ They laughed at this - Freya said literally about everything - they always laughed. Joe laughed too but he didn't say anything, just crossed the room and stood behind her. He started massaging Freya’s shoulders. They were all there, Sinead and Rhiannon and the other chef, but even though Rhiannon laughed, afterwards she looked over at Sinead, eyes wide, mouthing what the fuck? Freya didn’t even say anything, she was looking at her phone. She laughed, maybe that was why he kept doing it. He just did it to wind her up. He did this thing with his knuckles and Freya made a sound, too small for the others to hear, but in bed that night he told Sinead he heard.

‘You’re terrible’ She’d punched his arm. ‘Did you even wait, give Freya a chance to say no? You treat people like entertainment,’ she said. ‘You joke and you prod just to see which way they’ll jump and how far. She didn't want a massage.’

‘Like fuck she didn’t.’ Freya had told Sinead she had promised herself this was the year she’d have sex again and Sinead had told Joe. Did he want to fuck her?

When they had first compared their sexual histories, Joe had told Sinead he’d slept with around twenty women and she’d told him me too and he’d made a joke about having a threesome one day. She often thought about that moment, and wondered why she lied.

Freya was attractive and they’d probably both thought about it. They didn't talk much about that stuff anymore. They always had to work and there wasn't time to talk. At work he always had a comeback, a joke, a pickup line that cracked people up, that she fell for every time. He was like this with everyone, had names for all the waitresses. Rhiannon was Blender and Freya was Feisty. They’ll kill you if they hear, she said to Joe. What? he said. It’s a compliment.She had no idea how he did it, how he got away with the things he did.

It was just Sinead and Knox at the hip hop show. It was at Knox’s school. Knox got up and left ten minutes in. He was supposed to meet Sinead in front of the library afterwards but afterwards he wasn't there. As Sinead was leaving, the assistant principal stopped her.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of Joe. There was an inappropriate photo of Veronika posted on social media last night. We’re pretty sure it was Knox who posted it.’

Everything that made sense suddenly didn’t. Sinead thanked him and started walking away. Moving was better than not moving. Knox was there on the river bank with his friends when she walked down the paddock towards home.

‘What was the photo? Show it to me.’ Her phone was already buzzing in her pocket.

Knox showed her a photo of Veronika, standing in her new black bra and knickers in her bedroom. She scrolled the bar back, paused on the photo.

‘How did you get this?’ She wasn’t asking because she didn’t know the answer; she wanted him to speak to her. Knox threw stones in the river.

‘We were only messing around.’ Sinead laughed and all the anger in her came out in the laugh. She pushed for details, but Knox’s face stayed blank, like nothing had happened.

‘Why do you have to be with my Dad?’ He didn’t want to talk about the photograph anymore, he wanted to talk about her. It occurred to her, standing there that Knox thought she was the bad one in all of this. ‘It's been deleted. Dad thought it was funny.’ He said the bit about Joe under his breath and in that moment something came undone. She didn’t react, but she sort of faded out of the moment so her anger wouldn’t get the better of her. She suddenly missed her house, with its sofa on the porch and walls and little bedrooms. She called Joe’s mobile. But Joe didn’t answer. It was Rhiannon. Sinead said, ‘Put me on to Joe,’ then Rhiannon said, ‘Okay,’ and then Sinead went on hold and then she was taken off hold, and she could hear something, Joe’s voice, but muffled. Then she was back on hold. Then another person answered and said, ‘Joe’s in a meeting,’ and she said, ‘Who am I speaking to?’ and the voice said, ‘I’m this month's artist.’ Then the phone cut out. There was a rush around her, a feeling like jumping off, like before being sick.

‘Fuck. Have you heard of consent, Knox? Like is it ok if I take your photograph Veronika ? Is it ok if I share this photo on Instagram? I know that things haven't been easy for you recently, but.. you didn’t touch her, did you?’ She walked towards him and he took a few steps back, they switched positions, moved towards the river. She gripped him by the wrist, told him what he would do. She expected him to argue, but he just handed his phone over.

‘Mum could stay with us,’ Knox said. ‘Then we could see her every day. She needs ….’

‘She needs stability. Do you remember how your mum cried and cried?’

Knox had been angry a lot last summer. Joe was training new staff and Talie wouldn’t see a doctor so the boys went to stay with Barb and Alan. It was hard to know what to think about it. Or feel about it. Sinead had written a few emails to Talie, but hadn't sent them. It was as though the situation couldn’t be spoken about, unless raised by Talie, and then certain agreements were made.

‘When is she coming home?’ Knox asked.

Who knew how long she’d be in there? Somebody must know, have some date in mind based on her mental state, but if so, nobody was telling them. Sinead started walking and Knox followed her and said nothing else.

She didn't tell Joe about her conversation with Knox when she got home because Joe wasn't there. She slept on the rollaway in Veronika’s room. In the morning, she told him she needed to talk about the photograph.  It was so quick, less than a second, but Sinead saw him catch himself.

‘It’s no big deal’ Joe said. ‘He’s testing the boundaries, that’s all.’

No, she thought, actually it was more than that. There were articles about dealing with kids like Knox—arrogant ones, full of contempt. The only parenting advice she could remember was: Tell your kids they’re wonderful.

‘Oh, fucking hell, there aren’t any,’ she said, ‘boundaries, in case you hadn’t noticed Joe. God knows what else he’s up to.’ Did he do it to get at me? she wondered, or Veronika. Jesus, maybe Talie put him up to it.

‘He’s still adjusting to things, Sinead, just calm down a bit would you? He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Maybe you should teach her to protect herself.’

‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,’ Sinead said. ‘Christ, Joe.’

‘He doesn’t need counselling. I’ll talk to him.’ Joe was talking loudly now, as if to cover something. Then more quietly, ’I should have told you, I’m sorry.’

Sinead cradled her chin in her hands. Maybe he was right, Sinead thought, and gave a little laugh. They were all adjusting. Maybe soon Knox would make eye contact, apologise, maybe one day they would laugh about it.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She could say the school had suspended Knox indefinitely, until Joe arranged counselling, and a written apology to Veronika. And that Knox wasn’t allowed on the school premises. She could say anything. ‘Its alright.’ She held her hand up to Joe's mouth. He pressed his lips to it, hard, he was relieved. She went back to the truth then, sort of, to cover her bases.

‘The school will have services, other than the guidance counsellor he could talk to.’

‘Come on,’ he said from somewhere, but she got up and got in the shower. When they fucked now, it was first thing, before the kids were awake. The sex had got a bit dull lately; Joe kept trying not to use condoms.

Sinead kept visiting Talie. The thing she liked was that sometimes she could touch her now, hug her, hold her hand, cut her hair. She cut them short, matching fringes. Joe and Knox came on the other days. Sometimes when Sinead arrived, Talie would turn away, demonstrating she wanted to be left alone, other times she had plenty to say, talking about things that didn't matter to either of them. Sinead got used to how she rambled on and something kept her coming back. You couldn't take anything too seriously in here and it was good to be away from the house. The house was still filled with everything that went on. Talie chain smoked, couldn’t quite look at her.

That day, she thought Talie wasn’t going to say anything but then she said ‘People might want the truth, but then they won't know what to do with it.’ She addressed these remarks to the plastic hospital bracelet on her left arm, pulling at it as she spoke. ‘It’s all under control, you’re a cool customer. We’ll see how cool you are when the truth comes out.’ It wouldn't have mattered if Sinead hadn't been there at all, this wasn’t a conversation, more something Talie didn't want to keep to herself, as though Sinead knew exactly what she was talking about. How much did Talie know? Nobody understood Talie like Sinead did. She was playing a game with herself, in some kind of denial. Maybe she should tell a lie, like they wanted. Now she’d told them that Talie was in love with her. She could shut them up by saying that Talie had been severely depressed for years. She could say anything. Maybe she would. They all thought Sinead caused this because she said nothing and let them assume what they wanted. Once it came out, and Talie came here, people gave Sinead a wide berth.

‘Did you know I was there that night? When I came to the studio and found you fucking Joe?’ This was what Talie did to you, when you thought you had a grip on things, everything shifted around her like a wound. Sinead couldn’t actually recall talking about Joe. There was something she wasn't saying. But it wanted to escape, like a secret that was too big to keep. ‘Was that part of your plan, Sinead?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ Sinead said.

They’d listened – for the first time – to The new Beyonce album, borrowed from Rhiannon. He talked as though it was laid out – he’d move out, it’d be sweet, Talie would be sad, they’d move on. Sinead knew it would never be that simple. She’d texted Talie from Joe's phone when he went to the loo. We’ve hurt each other, babe. Working late, come over? She’d seen Talie in the doorway seconds before she pushed Joe's head down. Looking back, she saw she tricked herself into believing she wasn't responsible for Talie finding out. She had wanted to tell someone, but also to keep it to herself forever. Right now she could see who she was, and what she looked like. She could see what Talie saw. Her stupid, scared nineteen year old self in here, all the work since then to reinvent herself, in the same way that she reinvented herself after the accident. If anything had been laid out before, it wasn’t anymore. She was tired and she hadn't eaten. It was as though everything was falling away. Her phone buzzed in her hand. There were two texts from Joe, in reverse order:

I’ll take that as a No then. And the first, letting her know he and the boys were having dinner with Barb. Want to join?

‘Can I have a cigarette?’ She lit a cigarette, handed it to Talie. She lit one for herself, tilted her head in Talie’s direction, straining to make out what she was saying.

‘Is he sleeping with someone else, do you think?’ Talie looked at her now.

Sinead shrugged. ‘Probably. Definitely.’

She was a maker, she wanted something solid to show for it all. Now she could see this too - that all the solid things she enlisted would weigh her down. Time changed everything. Eventually these things would get further away and then nobody would talk about them anymore. Wait she thought, wait it out. She didn't feel like going home that night. Her kids were with Dave, Knox was at Barb’s. When she stopped she felt almost ashamed. It was like the shape of Joe moved through everything, eclipsing Talie, even her. Talie could be Freya or Rhiannon, or Veronika. She could be Barb, or Sinead. Why had none of this occurred to her?

‘I texted you that night Talie.’ When she said Talie’s name, Talie said it back, like an echo.‘I got you to come to the print studio.’ She reached for Talie’s hand.‘You had to leave because you couldn't be in the same room as me.’

‘You set me up,’ Talie said.

Sinead nodded. She couldn’t deny it. It occurred to her then that Talie probably knew her better than anyone. She half wished Talie would make a scene, do something. But she didn’t. Wasn't Talie angry with her? She knew every awful thing Sinead had done. But it was more than that. It actually mattered to her, Talie mattered. Talie was a part of her.

‘I know,’ Talie said, like she had read Sinead’s mind.

Talie stuck her lip out, as though she might cry, but then she didn’t. It was like she was trying to decide.