‘I loved her too,’ said Logan.
‘Did she know that?’ asked Amy.
‘Should have put a ring on it.’ Troy shook his head in mock exasperation.
‘Says you,’ said Logan.
‘I’ve been married.’
‘You haven’t stayed married.’
Brooke opened her mouth as if to say something and then briefly closed her eyes.
‘Have you got a migraine coming on, Brooke?’ asked Joy. A cramping sensation hit her lower abdomen again. She suppressed a groan. ‘You mustn’t drive home if you do. You must never drive when you’re suffering a migraine.’
‘I’ll drive her home,’ offered Savannah.
‘I don’t have a migraine!’ snapped Brooke. ‘We’ve talked enough about migraines today.’
Joy didn’t believe her. She really didn’t look well. ‘If you do, maybe you should stay here. Grant won’t be much use to you if he’s sick.’
‘GrantandIhavebrokenuptoo.’ Brooke spoke so rapidly it took Joy a moment to separate out the words.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Brooke exhaled, and her shoulders sagged. ‘It’s a relief to say it.’ She looked at her father. ‘Sorry to ruin Father’s Day.’ She looked at Logan. ‘Although Logan started it.’
‘It’s alright, sweetheart,’ said Stan with deep sadness. He patted Brooke on the shoulder before slumping back in his chair. ‘These things happen.’
Joy said, ‘You mean you’re getting a divorce?’
‘It’s just a trial separation for now, but . . .’ Brooke squinted as if at a sudden bright light. ‘It looks that way.’
Joy should have realised this was more than a migraine. The poor girl looked exhausted, pale and haggard, with dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was just so lank.
Troy put his arm around his sister.
‘How long?’ he asked.
‘We’ve been separated for six weeks.’
‘Six weeks?’ Joy didn’t mean it to sound like an admonishment, but how could Brooke have been separated for six weeks without saying a single word about it to her parents?
‘Was it all the pressure you put on yourself with that damned clinic?’ Now she was accidentally giving away her hatred of the clinic. She was getting this all wrong. This was becoming one of those pivotal life moments she would wish she could go back and do again so she could say all the right things. She put her fingertips to her hairline. She was sweating. Food poisoning? Savannah’s roast chicken had been so wonderfully tender! Was this the price you had to pay for tender chicken? It was too high a price!
‘I should have helped out more at the clinic,’ she said to Brooke. She should have! Grant probably felt neglected. ‘I should have insisted.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ said Brooke wearily.
‘I can’t believe you never told me,’ said Amy.
‘Can we not make it about you, Amy?’ said Brooke.
Amy’s face crumpled. ‘I just meant I could have helped you.’
‘Okay, well, thank you, I’m fine.’ Brooke massaged tiny circles in her forehead with her fingertips. ‘I’m sorry. I just wasn’t ready to talk about it. I thought we might . . . work it out. Nobody needs to get upset.’
Savannah had folded her napkin into a neat square, concealing her mostly uneaten brownies. What must she think of them all? It was embarrassing to remember how she’d worried that Savannah would be envious of Joy’s loving, stable family.
‘Well!’ Joy said to Savannah. ‘I hope this isn’t too awkward for you. All these upsetting announcements on Father’s Day!’
‘Sorry, Dad,’ said Logan remorsefully. ‘I didn’t mean to ruin Father’s Day.’
‘Neither did I,’ said Brooke. ‘Sorry, Dad.’
‘No-one needs to be sorry,’ said Stan. He looked at the balloon floating above his head, grabbed for the end of the string and pulled it down. He clutched the balloon like a child in a stroller being pushed around a fairground.
‘What are you doing?’ Joy asked him.
‘Holding my balloon,’ said Stan.
‘Do you actually need me to give you all some privacy?’ asked Savannah. ‘I could go to my room –’ She corrected herself in a sudden fluster and glanced at Amy. ‘Not my room.’
‘We don’t need privacy,’ said Stan. ‘We’re fine. These things happen. It’s no-one’s fault.’