Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,85

a square table alongside our window booth to accommodate all six of us, and I realise this will be the most uncomfortable dinner of my life, not counting the one where I asked my mother why she skipped book club to drive over to Sergeant Doherty’s house.

Mason is now sitting opposite Raf at the window. His blond hair is unkempt, his neck red and blotchy. He looks completely worn out, like he hasn’t slept in days. Rina is diagonally across from him with her arms folded, staring pointedly at the ceiling. I wait till Sabeen returns to the booth so she can slide in beside Mason, then I take a seat at the square table. Tom soon returns from the bathroom and joins me, giving me a big smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

‘Now that we’re all here,’ I say, raising my glass, ‘I’d like to wish Henry, wherever he is, a happy fourteenth birthday for a couple of days ago.’

‘Cheers,’ say Sabeen and Rina, clinking my glass.

Mason keeps his attention on the window. Raf stares around the table during the awkward silence that follows, picking up the basket of garlic bread and offering it to us one by one.

‘Any news, Mason?’ I say, because it seems weird if no one asks. ‘Sergeant Doherty have anything new to report?’

Raf throws me a desperate look. Don’t go there, he says with his eyes.

Too late.

Mason sits up and clears his throat. Rina glances at him for the first time all evening.

‘No,’ he says to nobody in particular. ‘But if there is, Chloe, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.’

He doesn’t say it in a sarcastic way. He doesn’t really need to. Friction ripples across the table and falls squarely in my lap. I’m not sure how to respond, and Raf ’s face is begging me not to. Before I have a chance to say anything, Tom leans in.

‘You don’t need to be rude,’ he says to Mason.

Mason turns to Tom, his jaw clenched. ‘Lucky you’re here to defend her then, eh Tommy?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Tom says, nudging his glasses.

‘You do realise you’re in the friend zone, right?’ Mason says. ‘She’s got it bad for Raf.’

Raf ’s eyes go wide, huge and hazel, blinking back at me in surprise. I feel every inch of my skin glowing. Mason isn’t wrong, and Raf and I both know it, but to hear it announced so casually over dinner, as though we’re not here, is excruciating.

‘You’re way off,’ Tom says. ‘Did you have a few in the car on the way over?’ He wiggles his hand like he’s holding an invisible bottle.

Mason recoils as though he’s been slapped. He swallows hard and stares down at the table, his lips pressed together.

‘Speaking of my doofus brother,’ Sabeen says, attempting to change the subject. ‘Are you heading out to photograph your waxy gibbon moon tonight?’

Raf forces a laugh, trying to run with it. ‘Waxing gibbous. And no, not tonight. It’s been a big day.’ His gaze meets mine. ‘Maybe tomorrow.’

‘What did you do today?’ Sabeen asks.

‘Bushwalk,’ Raf and I say together. Everybody looks up at once. It sounds like a cover story and yet it’s actually true.

Mason smirks at Tom, as though we’ve confirmed what he suggested.

‘See what I’m saying?’ Mason mutters. ‘No chance, Tommy.’

‘Why don’t you have another drink, mate,’ Tom shoots back.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ Sabeen moves her hands in a timeout gesture. ‘Guys!’

‘We need some pizzas over here, stat,’ Raf calls to his mums. ‘Everybody’s a little hangry.’

Rina watches all of this without saying anything. She seems to linger on Mason’s words, every now and then sliding a glance at Tom. When I think everything might settle down again, she says, ‘Where did you go that night, Mason? When you said you were at home?’

Silence falls over the table. Sally and Liv chatter on in the kitchen, oblivious, the radio humming an Ed Sheeran song.

‘What?’ Mason splutters. ‘What night?’

‘The night Henry went missing.’

I can sense Raf staring at me but I keep my full attention on Mason. Please, nobody interrupt.

Mason’s eyes find Rina’s. His face is impassive, all sharp lines and shadows. He stares at her like he’s weighing up what to say next.

Don’t lie. Don’t look her in the face and lie. Even in the dim lighting of the pizzeria, I can see the colour flooding across his cheekbones and around the curve of his ears.

‘I was at home,’ Mason says. ‘How many times are you going to ask me that?’

Rina glowers