‘Fiona, tell me.’
She stares down at her mug and I notice a tear drip into her tea.
‘Fi, what’s wrong?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She wipes her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t be burdening you with my crap when you’ve got so much more to deal with.’
‘Psht.’ I wave away her worries about me. This isn’t like Fi. She never has emotional outbursts. She’s usually the calmest, most self-controlled person I know.
‘Kelly, I’ve done something stupid.’
‘Haven’t we all, love,’ I quip, trying to put her at ease.
‘This isreallystupid though. And now I think I’m going to lose everything because of it.’
‘You mean Salinger’s?’
‘I meaneverything.’
‘Nathan?’
‘He won’t forgive me. He’s got such high expectations, Kelly. You don’t know what he’s like. He thinks I’m this perfect wife. He thinks I’m so successful and in control, but I’m not. It’s all falling apart.’
I can’t imagine what Fiona can have done that could be so awful. I bet it’s not as bad as she thinks it is. She puts such pressure on herself. She always has. ‘Just tell me, Fi. You know that if I can help in any way, I will.’
She sniffs. ‘I know.’
I go over to the dresser and fetch her a tissue.
‘Thanks.’ She wipes her eyes and nose.
‘So?’
‘Earlier this week I had a visit from a couple of tax inspectors. They’re doing an audit of my business.’
I relax a little at discovering her worries are business related. Not that I think it isn’t important, but compared to her marriage or her health, hopefully this is more easily fixable. ‘Try not to worry. I’m sure tax audits are quite common, aren’t they?’
‘I don’t know. But… well… I think someone reported me.’
‘They reported you to the tax office?’
She nods earnestly, her eyes still red.
‘Why would anyone do that?’
‘Lots of reasons. People don’t like me, Kel.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course they like you.’
‘They don’t. They think I’m a cold, snooty bitch. But it’s only because of what happened. I just can’t seem to connect with people.’
‘You mean since…?’ I don’t finish my sentence; we both know what I’m talking about.
She shrugs and nods. ‘But anyway, this is nothing to do with that. I’m rambling about stuff that isn’t relevant. Basically, someone reported me. I think it could’ve been Molly, or maybe even Paul Barton—’
‘Really?’ I curl my lip. I’m not keen on our childhood dentist either. Even less so nowadays.
‘Yeah, and he was all over you at my birthday night out.’
