Page 50 of A Very Happy Easter

“Over there, between the cars.”

“Sorry, I had my eyes on the road.”

“It looked…” I forced myself to take a breath. “It looked like Neil.”

Jerilyn’s tone turned careful. “Neil’s still in prison, Edie. He isn’t even eligible for parole for another year.”

“I know. I know that. But I just thought…”

Calm, Edie. Breathe.

Neil is in prison. He isn’t even eligible for parole for another year.

I’d had therapy. I’d been treated twice for brief psychotic disorder, and both times, the hospitalisation had followed stressful events. There was simply no need for me to be feeling this way anymore. I was tired, that was all.

“You want me to call Salma? Or your parents?” Jerilyn offered.

“No! No, I’m fine, really. Just a blip.”

Really. Almost a year had passed since I felt the familiar thoughts taking over my mind, and I’d got past this. Turned a corner. Hadn’t I? The anxiety, the panic attacks, I could cope with those, but seeing ghosts at every turn was the worst.

They’re not real.

I went inside and made sure all three locks on the front door were engaged, then checked the back door and the windows too.

There’s nothing outside.

I sent a message to Heath.

Me

Thanks for the snacks. Goodnight and sleep tight x

I was not going back.

Fourteen

“Hey, it’s been a while.” I hugged Victoria, her copy of The Handmaid’s Tale squashed between us. The book club was an informal affair where each person chose whatever book they wanted to read and then let the rest of us know what they thought of it. “I thought you’d quit for good.”

She’d arrived early—no surprise as she’d been pathologically early for everything her entire life—and given me a tentative smile. Vic was a petite brunette and also a genius. When Neil went to prison, she’d been drafted into the family business in his place, and by all accounts, was doing considerably better at the job than he ever did. Oh, and the family business was a billion-dollar hedge fund.

“No, I haven’t quit. Not yet.” She pulled a box of Swiss chocolate out of her tote. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Was it weird that I was still friends with my rapist’s sister? Probably, but it wasn’t her fault her brother was a psycho. We weren’t super close, but she came to my book group, and we occasionally saw each other at parties. After the attack, people had begun shunning her because of her surname, which wasn’t fair, so I’d always made a point of talking with her.

“Not yet? What do you mean, not yet? And Valentine’s Day sucks.”

“So, uh, I’m moving to Zurich.”

“What?”

Although was it such a surprise? In school, Vic had shocked everyone by joining a study abroad program and spending the whole of year nine at a boarding school in Switzerland. I’d only dreamed of being that brave.

“Dad’s opening an office there.”

“And you’ve been tasked with managing it?”

“Not the whole office, but I’m going to lead the investment team. It’s a great opportunity.”

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