‘Well, for one thing, you killed Dennis Christos!!’ she said, and it was so strange because she hadn’t even been thinking about poor Dennis, what with everything that was going on, but the accusation had been sitting there these past six months, ready and waiting in her subconscious for just the perfect moment.
‘Dennis Christos died of a heart attack!’ Stan responded instantly, without any confusion at all, conclusive proof of his guilt.
‘You made him think he was going to break your serve and his poor heart couldn’t handle it!’
‘He could not really have believed he was going to break my serve,’ scoffed Stan.
‘You let the game get to love–forty!’ cried Joy.
‘Well, I’m sorry,’ said Stan, sounding not at all sorry.
‘Don’t apologise to me! Apologise to poor grieving Debbie Christos!’
‘Never admit liability, Dad,’ said Troy. ‘That’s my tip.’
‘I bet it is,’ said Logan.
‘Dennis Christos once made a very inappropriate remark to me,’ commented Amy. ‘If that makes you feel any better, Mum. Very inappropriate.’
‘Should we give Dad our gifts before we go?’ asked Brooke anxiously.
‘What have I done wrong?’ The words exploded from Joy without her permission.
Everyone looked at her like stunned bloody mullets.
‘You haven’t done anything wrong, Mum,’ said Amy soothingly.
‘Then how is it that not a single one of you can maintain a long-term relationship? Did your father and I not set a good example to you? Of a good marriage?’
Her children all dropped their heads as if she’d called for volunteers for an unpleasant task.
‘So your dad and I weren’t perfect,’ she said. ‘But, well, we weren’t that bad, were we? Are you punishing us for something? For what? For making you play tennis? We did not make you play tennis! Never! You loved tennis! You were all so talented!’
‘We’re not punishing you,’ said Troy. ‘That’s crazy talk, Mum.’
‘It’s just bad luck,’ said Brooke. ‘Bad timing.’ She shot Logan a steely look. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard that Logan and Indira had broken up too.’
‘Mum,’ said Amy. ‘You will get to be a grandmother. I mean – obviously I won’t have kids, but someone will.’ She indicated her sister and brothers. ‘One of them will! In the normal way. Not like what Troy is doing. Which is obviously weird and upsetting. But you will get a proper grandchild. I promise you.’
‘How can you promise me that, Amy? I don’t see your brothers and sister rushing to agree with you! And what do you mean, you obviously won’t have children? Why not? Anyway, why are you talking about grandchildren? Have I mentioned grandchildren? Ever? Not once!’ Joy’s whole body burned and shook with the injustice of it. ‘Never once! Did I? Well, did I?’
If she wasn’t to be rewarded for her forbearance, it should at least be recognised.
‘You never did, Mum,’ said Brooke, and she sounded so sad, as if she might cry, and also frightened, as if Joy were drunk or mad or sick.
‘Just like you never said how much you wanted us to win,’ said Troy, quietly.
Joy stood. Her legs were wobbly. The only person whose eyes met hers was her damned husband.
She could see what he wanted to do right now. She could see it settle over him: a deadly stillness, or silence, like everything was shutting down. It had been twenty years since he’d done it but she still recognised the signs. She always used to know when it was coming. She’d see it before the children did, and if she acted fast she could intercept, she could avert the crisis. The feeling had been like running to catch something before it shattered, except you weren’t allowed to run. Maybe it was how bomb disposal people felt.
But she was no longer in the business of bomb disposal. She was too old for it and she could not believe she had ever put up with it in the first place.
‘Don’t . . . you . . . dare.’ She pointed a shaky finger at him. ‘Don’t you even think about it.’
She swayed on her feet. The ache of grief and humiliation spread not just across her stomach but all the way up her left side.
It was Savannah who got to her first, and supported her with a surprisingly strong grip.
‘Make them all go,’ Joy said to her. ‘Make them all go home.’
chapter twenty-five
Now
It was now fifteen days since Joy Delaney had been seen by her family.