Page 54

It’s a peaceful sunny Saturday afternoon three months after the flight. Early July. A mild winter so far, which is nice.

Leo chops onions, coriander, and carrots for a curry while contemplating whether he can get a couple of hours of work in tonight, but that will mean he has technically worked seven days this week, which is an accusation from his wife he prefers to deny.

Neve comes through the back door carrying a laundry basket laden with dry clothes from the clothesline. Oli steps out of the shower after a muddy soccer game where he scored the triumphant winning goal.

The dog snores.

Bridie’s bloodcurdling scream is heard in all corners of the house and probably by the neighbors too.

It sounds like she has suffered a cataclysmic injury.

Leo is so badly startled that he narrowly misses chopping off the top of his thumb. He drops the knife and runs. Neve dumps the laundry basket, leaps athletically over it, and also sprints in the same direction.

Meanwhile Oli leisurely wraps his towel around his waist, wipes a circle in the steamed-up mirror with the palm of his hand, turns to one side to admire his flexed biceps, and wonders what’s up with his sister.

The scream has come from the living room, where Bridie is sitting in the middle of the couch cocooned in a king-sized yellow blanket so that only the top of her head is visible.

Leo yanks the blanket away to reveal Bridie sitting cross-legged, head dropped so low her forehead is practically touching her damned phone, which they unwillingly gave her when she started catching the bus to school but which has now become the bane of their existence. Leo has installed all the latest parental controls on both kids’ devices, but he suspects Bridie and Oli can both hack them with their superior technological skills. He and Neve keep coming up with new agreements—no phones after dinner, no phones before breakfast, no phones in the car—but the kids also know how to hack the agreements.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Neve examines Bridie’s hairline with her fingertips, lifts and turns her limbs back and forth.

“What happened?” says Leo. “Where does it hurt?”

Neve looks around suspiciously. “Did your brother do something? I thought he was in the shower.”

Bridie looks both angry and vindicated. Her face is red, as if she’s been slapped. “Daddy is going to die, just like that lady said.”

“Oh, please, not this again.” Neve plonks herself down next to Bridie. “You frightened the life out of me.”

“I’m not going to die.” Leo sits on the other side of Bridie. “I told you. Why are you still thinking about this?”

He rubs his face, smells onion on his fingertips.

Bridie holds up her phone.

“Nope! We don’t need to see any more proof of psychic predictions coming true,” says Neve at the same time as Leo says, “Maybe show us after dinner?”

“I think she was on the plane,” says Bridie.

“On your dad’s plane?” asks Neve sharply.

“Look.” Bridie gives them her phone. Then she picks up a cushion and holds it in front of her face. “I’m not watching it again.” Her voice wobbles. “It’s very bad.”

Leo and Neve look at each other.

“Press play,” says Bridie, her voice muffled by the cushion pressed against her face.