The courier handed over the parcel. Elsa signed for it, thanked the woman, and hurried back inside. By the time she got to the front door she could hear Doris crying.
Damn.
Elsa dropped the parcel on the kitchen benchtop and went to the living room, where Doris had been napping on the couch. She made a brief attempt to settle Doris back to sleep, but realised quickly that it wasn’t going to happen. With Doris you got a window for a nap—a single opportunity—and then you were done. She would be cranky for the rest of the day. Elsa turned on the TV and got Doris a little bowl of raspberries. When her daughter was fully immersed in the adventures of Bluey, Bingo, Muffin and Socks, Elsa left her to it. She figured she’d bought herself half an hour at least.
Back in the kitchen, Elsa put on the coffee machine again, then turned her attention to the parcel. It was wrapped in black embossed paper and a red velvet ribbon, and had a handwritten card with her name on it. There was a little daisy tucked into the ribbon, a single, delicate, fresh flower. Elsa picked it up and held it to her nose. There was a very faint fragrance. She opened the parcel. Inside she found a glass jar surrounded by packing peanuts. The jar was full of marshmallows. How lovely. Marshmallows were her absolute favourite. The label—also handwritten—said that the flavours were ’Smores and Dulce de Leche. Gourmet marshmallows were a thing now? Elsa dug back into the box, looking for a gift card, trying to figure out who had sent her the package. There was no card. Instead she found a single sheet of white paper, with two sentences written across the middle of the page, in delicate calligraphy:
I’m boring and drab and I can’t seem to hold a conversation. I don’t blame her for dumping me.
Well that was very weird. Elsa turned the paper over. There was nothing on the other side. A mistake, maybe? Someone had put the wrong sheet of paper into the box? Absently, she opened the jar and ate a marshmallow while she read the paper again. The marshmallow was delicious, but a second reading of the note did nothing to shed any light on the matter. And she had no time to dwell on it. She still had pages of reading and forms to get through for Cam’s social worker meeting. And she needed to contact her business lawyer to find out what could be done about getting the Darla Darling money back. It was all so delicate. She felt like shit about letting Darla go, really she did, but feeling guilty wouldn’t save her business, and what else could she do?
The first step would be to make sure there was an ironclad non-disclosure agreement. She couldn’t have it getting out that she’d fired Darla because she’d gained weight. That would be commercial—and social—suicide. Elsa started to write the email to her lawyer. It was desperately hard to concentrate. She was so distracted. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. Everything seemed so utterly wrong and frightening. That he was sitting in a prison cell, charged withmurder,for god’s sake, when her life continued, just as it always had.
Elsa’s phone rang. She answered the call.
‘Jeri? I sent you through my comments on the rough cut. Did you see them?’
‘Yes, love. I’ll get them back to you by tomorrow. Just wanted to talk to you about next week. Thursday’s not going to work for me.’
Elsa put a cup under the coffee machine and pressed the button for a long black.
‘Can you do Wednesday?’ Elsa said. ‘I can do it late if I have to.’ She and Jeri had a meeting planned to go through ideas for the next shoot. Elsa was suddenly tempted to cancel the meeting entirely. She wanted a break. A break from all of it.
On the other side of the phone, Jeri was talking. ‘Sorry... give me a second, just waiting for my calendar to load.’
Doris wandered out of the living room. ‘Mummmy. Where were you? We were watchingBluey!’ Her voice had that edge to it that meant that a full-on meltdown was imminent.
Elsa went to Doris and picked her up. She put her on one hip so that she could still hold her phone to her ear. ‘Sorry, baby. I’m just on a call.’
Doris spotted the jar of marshmallows. Her eyes lit up and her hands reached out.
‘Yeah, I can do Wednesday,’ Jeri said. ‘Not before five though, does that work for you?’
‘Let me think.’ Nathan had an early shift on Wednesday. He should be home to manage everything with the kids. Doris started to whine in earnest. Elsa sat her on the edge of the benchtop.
‘Mummmy!’
Elsa tucked her phone under her ear, opened the jar and handed a marshmallow to Doris, who stuffed it into her mouth and chewed, eyes crinkling in satisfaction.
Elsa’s phone buzzed with an incoming notification, then buzzed again.
‘I can do five,’ Elsa said. If Nathan got stuck at work, she’d have to ask Celine to stay late.
‘Where do you want to meet?’ Jeri was asking. Elsa’s phone buzzed again, then a fourth and fifth time in quick succession.
‘Let’s do Harry’s wine bar.’ She needed a drink, and a break.
‘Sounds dangerous,’ Jeri said. Elsa’s phone buzzed again. Doris reached for the marshmallow jar.
‘Gotta go, J,’ Elsa said. She ended the call. ‘No, Doree. No more sugar.’
Doris’s voice raised to a wail. Elsa picked her up and put her on the ground. She pushed the marshmallow jar away from the edge.
‘No more sugar. Are you thirsty?’
Elsa checked her phone. Her Instagram notifications were going off. She opened the app. She’d been tagged in a post by a username she didn’t recognise. The post said:
So much for women supporting women. Listen to this shit from supposed ally Elsa Anderson. Tell us what you really think, Elsa!
