For her baby, I realize, with a shaft of anguish. Maybe she wanted the furniture for herself originally. But now she wants it for her baby. And as I gaze at her anxiously, she seems strained beyond the limits of her endurance.
“You know what?” she says, suddenly pushing back her chair. “Effie was right. She was right all the time, and I wouldn’t listen. This family is over. We’re broken.”
“Now, Bean,” says Dad, dismayed. “We’ll sort this out, I promise.”
But Bean doesn’t even seem to hear him.
“I’ve done everything,” she says, her voice shaking. “I’ve tried to bond, I’ve tried to forgive, I’ve read books, I’ve listened to podcasts. I’ve come to this fucking party and put my hair up in a fucking updo and it’s hurting my head and I am over this. I’m over it.” With erratic movements, she wrenches off her hat, then starts pulling grips out of her hair, still talking jerkily. “Effie was right! This family is broken. Shattered. A bomb went off and we can never be put back together. Never. We’re like a broken plate. Like this broken plate right here.” She grabs the nearest plate, a white filigree china one.
I’m so thrown by her outburst, I have to cling on to the balustrade. This can’t be happening. Bean was the optimistic one. Bean was the conciliatory one. If Bean’s giving up…
“That plate isn’t broken,” says Krista, staring at Bean as though she’s mad.
“Oh, isn’t it?” says Bean shrilly. “My mistake.” As everyone watches, dumbstruck, she throws it down onto the terrace flagstones, where it smashes. There’s a general gasp, and Lacey screams. “Oops,” says Bean to Krista. “Hope you weren’t planning to sell that too. Maybe you can put it down as ‘wear and tear.’ Oops,” she adds, grabbing another plate and smashing it on the stones. “More wear and tear. Such a shame when people spoil things you love, isn’t it, Krista?”
She picks up a third plate and Krista stands up, her nostrils flared.
“Don’t you break that plate,” she says ominously, her chest rising and falling in her silk dress. “Don’t you break it.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Bean gives a weird laugh. “You’ve spoiled enough! You painted over Mimi’s kitchen, you ruined our house, you threw your drink over Effie…and now you’re complaining about plates?”
Krista’s eyes run over her coldly. “That’s your dad’s plate.”
“Is it?” says Bean hysterically. “Well, you should know! You were eyeing him up before you even met him, Krista, weren’t you? Asking questions about him, pricing up the house. Is this plate worth something, then? Maybe he’s going to leave it to me in his will! Are you, Dad?” She turns and hurls it at the sundial on the lawn, and a piece of jagged china ricochets off, straight at Humph.
“Ow!” he yells. “You’ve cut my foot!”
Bean halts, drawn up short, and for a breathless beat, no one moves a muscle.
“Well, I’m sorry,” she says, breathing hard. “I truly am. But you know what, Humph? Your foot is just another piece of collateral damage. Like my furniture. And Mimi’s kitchen. And everything we loved.” Tears start running down her pink cheeks. “It’s all broken. Effie was right.” She sinks down into a chair and gives an almighty sob. “It’s all broken.”
I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to see my lovely, patient, hopeful, well-meaning sister sobbing.
“Bean!” I come out of my transfixed spell and lean desperately over the balustrade, tears pricking my own eyes. “Bean, please don’t cry! We’ll be OK!”
“Effie?” Bean raises an incredulous, tearstained face.
“We’ll be OK!” I lean even farther over, wishing I could reach her hands. “I swear it! We’ll find a way. We’ll—”
I break off mid-sentence as I hear a crack—and then, for the second time today, it comes to me that I’m about to die, as the wooden balustrade suddenly gives way under my weight, splintering into bits.
I can’t even cry out. I’m crashing down through the air before I can stop myself, breathless, numb with shock, unable to think—
Crump.
“Ow!”
“Shit.”
Somehow Joe’s arms are around me before I land, breaking my fall, so that we hit the ground as a tumbling pair. We roll a couple of times, then come to a halt. For a few seconds I look into his face, breathing like a piston engine, unable to compute what just happened. Then slowly, gradually, he releases me.