The Playdate
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Louise Millar
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
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First Emily Bestler Books/Atria Paperback edition July 2012
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Designed by Jill Putorti
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Millar, Louise.
The playdate: a novel / by Louise Millar.—1st Atria Books trade pbk. ed. 2012.
p. cm.
1. Neighbors—Fiction. 2. Family secrets—Fiction. 3. Single mothers—Fiction. 4. Psychological fiction. I. Title.
PR6113.I548P53 2012
823'.92—dc22
2011051432
ISBN 978-1-4516-5667-1
ISBN 978-1-4516-5669-5 (eBook)
For my parents
Contents
Part 1: Friday
Chapter 1: Callie
Chapter 2: Suzy
Chapter 3: Callie
Chapter 4: Debs
Chapter 5: Callie
Chapter 6: Suzy
Part 2: Saturday
Chapter 7: Debs
Chapter 8: Suzy
Chapter 9: Callie
Chapter 10: Suzy
Part 3: Sunday
Chapter 11: Callie
Chapter 12: Debs
Part 4: Monday
Chapter 13: Callie
Chapter 14: Suzy
Part 5: Tuesday
Chapter 15: Debs
Chapter 16: Callie
Chapter 17: Suzy
Part 6: Wednesday
Chapter 18: Callie
Chapter 19: Debs
Chapter 20: Callie
Part 7: Thursday
Chapter 21: Debs
Chapter 22: Suzy
Chapter 23: Callie
Chapter 24: Debs
Chapter 25: Suzy
Chapter 26: Callie
Chapter 27: Suzy
Chapter 28: Callie
Part 8: Friday
Chapter 29: Debs
Chapter 30: Callie
Chapter 31: Suzy
Chapter 32: Callie
Chapter 33: Suzy
Chapter 34: Callie
Chapter 35: Suzy
Chapter 36: Callie
Chapter 37: Callie
Part 9: Saturday
Chapter 38: Debs
Chapter 39: Suzy
Chapter 40: Callie
Chapter 41: Debs
Chapter 42: Callie
Chapter 43: Debs
Chapter 44: Suzy
Chapter 45: Callie
Chapter 46: Debs
Chapter 47: Suzy
Chapter 48: Callie
Chapter 49: Debs
Chapter 50: Callie
Chapter 51: Debs
Chapter 52: Callie
Chapter 53: Debs
Chapter 54: Callie
Chapter 55: Callie
Part 10: Sunday
Chapter 56: Suzy
Chapter 57: Callie
Part 11: Monday
Chapter 58: Callie
Acknowledgments
The
Playdate
The water is cold. I knew it would be, despite the disco ball of early summer sun that twirls through the willow trees onto the dark green, velvety pond. I pull my foot out quickly and rub its soft, icy edges. A small yellow leaf sticks to my ankle. I’m not sure I am up for this.
“There’s something slimy in there,” I say.
Suzy adopts the pout she uses when she’s trying to get Henry to eat broccoli. “Come on—it’s yummy.” We both laugh.
She stands up, towering above me at her full five feet ten. With one swift movement, she pulls her gray toweling dress over her head and kicks off her flip-flops. She stands at the water’s edge in a black bikini and looks out. An elderly lady glides toward her with smooth, long strokes, a blue rubber hat perched on wire-wool hair. Suzy smiles and waits patiently for her to pass.
I sit back on my elbows. There are about twenty women on the grass, in various small groups or alone. Some are reading,
some talking. Two are lying close together, laughing, their legs entwined. I look back at Suzy, who is still waiting for the old lady to move safely out of her path. It takes me a minute to realize I am staring at her body. It’s not that I haven’t seen it a hundred times before, marching naked round the swimming baths’ changing room after the kids, or whipping off her top in her kitchen when she gets gravy on it. No, what is strange is to see her body unfettered by children. In the two and a half years I have known Suzy, there has almost always been a child attached to it: feeding at a breast, astride a hip, wriggling under an arm.
Suddenly I notice how young she is. It’s amazing how well her body has recovered from three children. She has a thick waist, and a flat stomach with no hint of the soft pouch of flesh that Rae has left on mine. Her substantial bust sits high, politely accepting the support of the bikini, but not really needing it. Her skin is creamy and smooth, her frame strong and athletic. Taking a deep breath, she lifts her arms with the confidence of a girl who’s spent her childhood lake-swimming in the Colorado mountains, and dives into Hampstead Ladies’ Pond, ejecting a startled duck.
I lie back and try to concentrate on where we are. A fly buzzes at my nose. There is an air of calm around the pond. A hidden world behind the trees of Hampstead Heath, where women swim and stretch and smile; far from the company of men. Perhaps this is what the inner sanctum of a harem feels like.