Moonlight

Four

The next day, Alice had dinner alone with the kids. Tom was out with friends, playing squash (if Alice could believe such a story!).

After the table was cleared, she spent some time with the kids, a little boy of one and a girl of four. They were on the floor, playing with some toys. The nanny was sitting on a chair, playing with her phone, enjoying the momentary respite from her duties.

All of a sudden, the boy dropped a little car on his foot. Scared more than hurt, he started crying. Alice picked him up and tried to console him, but rather than calming him down, this seemed to drive him to higher pitches of hysterics.

The nanny walked up to them, picked the boy up, and the little child buried his face in her chest and instantly stopped crying.

Alice was hurt.

Somehow, all the help she had received had dulled her ability to do anything: the nannies, the drivers, the cooks, the maids. She was a useless, almost resented presence in that house. She was at once pampered and overlooked at the same time by her environment.

To her children, she was "mummy." What that meant though, they couldn't say.

To her husband, she was the impressive wife to take to parties, bejewelled and breathtaking. But the seduction was for the others: Tom couldn't touch her; he wouldn't be aroused by her. A prized possession he barely looked at.

Alice looked on, as the nanny resumed the game with the children. The were little cries of pleasure now and then, then great laughs. How much did the woman earn, how much did Tom pay her? Was she too one of those people she was supposed to find pitiful and contemptible?

Alice didn't know. She didn't seem to know many things, these days.

Just then, the door opened. It was Tom. He had come home early. Too early, but it took one look to tell he had drunk more than he could handle. His face was red, and he walked about like a blind man, feeling each step and moving his arms about looking for a surface to rest on, not to fall.

There was a terrible look on his face. He looked around the room and saw Alice.

'You! You fucking – '

He saw the nanny and the kids, and he barked at them, 'Get out! Now.'

'Kids, why don't we play in your room?'

The woman quickly picked up the boy and swiftly left the room, followed by the girl.

'You fucking whore, what did you do?' he resumed.

Alice didn't know. She didn't know she had done anything to make him this furious, but, even though she felt sure of her innocence, she started trembling: Tom looked crazy with range; he looked dangerous.

'I – don't – ' she stammered.

'I – I – I' he mocked her.

He walked towards her, wide eyed and dishevelled. She instinctively made a step back.

'I don't know, Tom...'

'Everybody knew! Everybody...' he said, spitting into her face.

'What did they know? If you tell me, maybe I can – '

'That little asshole. Vincent!'

Alice said nothing, but her face said enough.

'You fucking – '

He slapped her hard. Alice fell to the ground, looking up at the man, terrified.

'I've done nothing. I've done nothing! I don't know what he said, but I've done nothing,' she screamed.