‘What emergency, darling?’ I asked.
‘I need the toilet.’
I laughed, relieved there were no carabinieri to see us off or otherwise, so, leaving the boys with Dan, us girls went together. And afterwards, as girls do, we had a little wander around duty-free, where Violet sprayed perfume on us both and we looked at the jewellery. Violet said she would have the big diamond ring in the window, but I said I’d opt for the small diamond earrings.
‘You could have Granny’s,’ she said. ‘I’m sure she’d let you. Ella doesn’t need them now, does she?’
Violet, at only nine years old, obviously hadn’t been privy to what really happened, so was clearly confused at the snatches of conversation she’d overheard.
‘I think Granny has them,’ I said, knowing Joy had got them back.
‘No, no, she gave them to Ella.’ Violet was shaking her head vigorously.
‘Why do you say that?’ I asked, my heart beating like a drum.
‘Because I was there. I was playing hide-and-seek with Alfie. I was hiding behind the sofa and they came in and Granny said, “Ella, I want you to have my diamond earrings for your wedding present, but don’t tell Clare. Just go and get them and hide them in your jewellery box darling,”’ she said in Joy’s voice. So Ella had told the truth… she hadn’t stolen the earrings after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
NOW
I remember the details so clearly. The way she smelled of salt and lemons. The way her skin shone gold, and the way she laughed, throwing back her head, white teeth bared, mouth open, lost in the moment. Only now, a year later, can I grieve for the young woman who came into our lives so briefly, and whose truth we tried to grasp like a silver fish, slipping from our hands.
Now, away from that pressure cooker of last summer, I can see that perhaps she wasn’t who I’d thought she was. I’d maybe pinned some of my mistrust, my vulnerability, my fears onto this stranger, when really she was just protecting herself, travelling the world alone, lost without her sister. It was other people who lied, who manipulated; they were the ones who wanted to save themselves, and if that meant hurting me, then so be it.
In the year since our ill-fated holiday, I have realised a lot of things. That the Taylors aren’t as perfect – or as kind and inclusive – as I’d believed. And Joy isn’t the benign dowager that she pretends to be; I should have known when she organised my honeymoon, removed the other woman and convinced me to stay in a marriage that was killing me. I also realised in the heat and secrets that my marriage hadn’t withstood the storm of Dan’s infidelities, and I was living on the edge, not knowing, not trusting, always looking over my shoulder. I’d known in my heart all along, but recently, it’s been staring me in the face, and I can’t live the rest of my life feeling like that.
Jamie didn’t, in the end, join the business – he did what he always does and took a flight to somewhere far away and hid for a few months. It was understandable really. His new wife had died, he was hardly going to turn up for work on the Monday morning rubbing his hands together and asking ‘Where do we start?’ But, surprisingly, Bob really did abdicate all responsibility, and Dan was left completely in charge of the business. But it seems that last summer had affected us all, and Dan didn’t have the same energy and enthusiasm for work he’d had before. He seemed to take time off, go AWOL for hours in the evenings when he said he was working late – and I wondered if he’d met someone again.
I asked him gently, I asked him angrily, and when that didn’t work, I found myself checking his phone, hacking into his emails, becoming someone I never wanted to be. I questioned his keenness to finish work early to pick Violet up from school – something he’d never expressed an interest in before. And when he started quoting Miss Thomas, Violet’s teacher, I knew. It was like a half-remembered song. I couldn’t recall the words, but I knew the tune and it made me sad, reigniting past hurt. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling this, never being able to rest, threats waiting around every corner. The trust had gone, and when there’s no trust, there’s really nothing left.
I told Joy, and said I wasn’t sticking around this time, I was filing for divorce, but she told me I was making a mistake, offered to go to the headmistress at the school and have Miss Thomas sacked.
‘You don’t get it, do you, Joy?’ I said. ‘It isn’t about a flight attendant who served him beer, or the pretty accountant at work, or even Miss Thomas – it’s Dan. Your son isn’t who you think he is, who you pretend he is.’