Yesterday, I was invited to an afternoon tea at Joy’s. She’s keen to keep me on side, and insists that we must stay friends even though I’m divorcing her son.
‘It doesn’t affect our relationship,’ she said, and I’m grateful. It’s important that the children have access to their grandparents, and anyway I want to be able to call her up if I need help with childcare, or advice.
The afternoon would no doubt involve tiny amounts of food, and huge portions of gossip, and though it wasn’t my scene I know she wanted me there to keep up appearances. She wanted her friends to see how civilised her family was – even in the throes of divorce we could take tea together.
I arrived early with homemade chocolate cake; the kids had had a hand in it and I wasn’t convinced that the explosion of smarties and handprints on the top would earn it a spot on Joy’s table. But I’d tell the kids it had pride of place and any uneaten cake would be sent home for them anyway, along with all other leftovers. Joy had to keep an eye on her weight – God forbid she ever rose above a size ten.
‘Joy, I came early because I wanted a quick chat,’ I said, as she busied herself with the best china on the dining room table which she’d had Bob move into the conservatory.
‘Lovely, dear,’ she said, with barely concealed disgust as I handed her the messy cake.
‘So, can we talk?’
‘Of course,’ she said. Clearly whatever I had to say couldn’t possibly be as important as her afternoon tea, so she continued to faff.
‘It’s about Ella.’
She almost dropped a teacup and, holding it to her chest, turned quickly to me. ‘What about her?’
‘Do you know anything about her family?’ I asked.
‘No, only that one minute she didn’t have parents, the next she did,’ she said spikily, wiping a cream jug with a tea cloth. ‘Bob really doesn’t know how to wash up,’ she muttered.
‘Do you remember Ella mentioning her sister?’ I pressed.
‘Oh, the one who walked into the sea? Yes, I remember, but, mind you, we never knew what was real with Ella, did we?’
I didn’t respond. Joy was trying to get me on side and suddenly happy to gossip about Ella, but in Amalfi she’d sided with her, and put obstacles in the way of any friendship we may have had.
‘Remember Carmel, the first girl that Dan had the affair with?’ I continued.
‘Oh darling, you’re not going over all that again, are you?’ She stopped what she was doing to look at me with a pained expression.
‘No,’ I said assertively, ‘I found out that Carmel was Ella’s sister.’
‘No!’ she said, then stood a moment, fork in hand. She seemed flustered, but continued to lay her cake forks in a neat line on the napkins. ‘Are you sure?’
I explained that Ella and Carmel’s mother had confirmed they were sisters and also said that Ella was filled with anger.
‘She wanted revenge,’ I said. ‘She hated Dan – and me of course, and wanted us to pay for what happened. It’s a shame that Jamie was a casualty – and you too, but she hated the Taylors.’
‘Revenge and hate are very strong words, dear. I think she must have just resented how close we are, what a happy family unit we’ve created. She could never have come between us though. That’s probably why she gave up,’ she said, continuing to bustle at the table.
‘No, it wasn’t that, Joy,’ I said. ‘Apparently she resented the fact Dan still had a family, a sibling and a happy marriage, when, because of him, she’d lost hers.’
‘I sensed the anger. She was a very dangerous girl, leading our Jamie up the garden path, saying those things about our Dan.’ She went pink with anger, just like Dan had when I told him. She hadn’t really heard what I’d said, wasn’t prepared to take on anyone else’s pain, just hers and Jamie’s and Dan’s. And it struck me –Dan’s actions and then Joy’s need to protect him had caused this.
But she hadn’t even acknowledged what I’d said regarding the two dead women – all she cared about was herself and her precious family.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I couldn’t believe Joy wasn’t moved by the news that Carmel took her life because of Dan. I even went on to describe Ella’s mother’s faltering voice on the phone. I asked her to imagine how it must feel for a mother to lose two children.
‘Oh I know. Terrible business,’ she sighed. ‘Darling, could you just pass me the sugar spoons, the tiny ones over there, so much nicer than big teaspoons, don’t you think?’