‘On your head be it. Now, girls, the dessert! We’re having a chocolate mousse with real gold leaf on it. I had it once in that restaurant in New York – remember? Where Dad got food poisoning –’
‘Which time?’ I asked. Dad got sick whenever he left Ireland – something always went wrong. We were such a neurotic family.
‘It was a lovely place,’ Dad said. ‘It wasn’t their fault.’
‘Well, if it was food poisoning, it kind of was,’ Helen said.
‘Maybe it wasn’t actual food poisoning –’
‘It’ll be gas,’ Mum mused. ‘Those bitches won’t know whether to eat it or bring it home!’
‘How about we have a special cocktail made for the night,’ Claire said. ‘We could name it after you.’
‘That’s a great idea!’ Dad said.
Mum considered it, then shook her head. ‘They’d say I was showing off.’
‘I suppose they would.’ Dad seemed disappointed.
God almighty, the world Mum inhabited had complex, illogical rules. I’d never understand them.
15
‘Off you all go now,’ Mum said. ‘Dad and I need to watch our show.’
‘Rachel, come to ours for dinner?’ Margaret offered. ‘Garv is making enchiladas.’
It was an attractive offer. Margaret, Garv and their two children, JJ aged fifteen and Holly aged thirteen, were a lovely family – very harmonious. A calm household where there was always homemade cake in a tin, armloads of wildflowers bursting from vases, and stacks of elderly Agatha Christie novels waiting to be read.
Of all of our homes, Margaret’s would be the best in which to recover from a nervous breakdown.
In the bleak days after I’d sold the apartment Luke and I had owned and left New York, I’d lived there for five months. In the most gentle way, that little household had kept me going. If ever I was flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, wondering about the point of anything, a light rap would sound on my bedroom door and somebody would ask for my help to make a casserole or walk the two elderly dogs or rake a flower bed.
It was where my love of gardening ignited. Margaret’s husband Garv had me out there every weekend, weeding, composting and planting. Obediently I was going along with it, half-heartedly enjoying myself, until one Sunday morning, he said, ‘Something to show you.’ Drawing my attention to an expanse of wildflowers pushing their way up through the soil, he said, ‘The seeds you put down seven weeks ago? This is what happens.’
To say I was impressed was an understatement. This, my first time to witness the cycle of life in such a fashion, was a revelation which affected me deeply, because we Walshes had grown up to shun the Outside, mostly because the lead on the telly didn’t stretch that far. The small back garden beyond our kitchen window was a frightening, unpredictable place, which we all agreed was best avoided.
But on that Sunday morning with Garv, I’d exclaimed, ‘Let’s plant more! What grows the quickest?’
He’d laughed and said he’d find out. Then I’d told him not to, that I really needed to work on my desire for instant gratification.
It was hard to believe there had been a time when I’d despised Garv, when all of us had – with the exception of Margaret, of course. But things change and these days Garv might even have been my favourite brother-in-law – it was between him and Adam. He was such a good man.
‘Enchiladas?’ Margaret repeated.
‘Thanks, but …’ I checked my phone. Still nothing from Kate. ‘I’ve to go home. Crunchie needs to be walked.’
Kate was great at providing back-up but at the end of the day, Crunchie was my dog.
Still, I lingered, then heard myself say, ‘You know, I can’t stop wondering if Luke actually asked Joey to tell me?’
‘Maybe you should have gone to Justin’s lunch.’ Out loud, Claire uttered the thought that had been plaguing me.
Maybe I should have. It had been my one chance to get answers. But perhaps if I’d gone, I’d be even more conflicted than I already was.
‘Is it too late?’ Margaret, ever practical, asked. ‘To see him now, I mean. He’s probably staying with his dad; you could go to his house.’
‘No!’ Helen exclaimed.
But it was tempting. The full weight of six years of silence upended themselves and fired me with adrenaline. The fizzy possibility of knowing was so alluring!
But what if Joey had called me off his own bat? What if Luke had been horrified to see me in the church – because God knows, he’d looked it? What if I turned up on his doorstep and he treated me with the same callous indifference he’d displayed when he’d left me?