‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ she said dismissively, without looking at me. She clearly didn’t want to discuss it. But I did.
‘How wonderful,’ I said, smiling. ‘What a great job to have.’
She didn’t respond. I hoped I hadn’t been too probing; she seemed confident, yet at the same time quite shy about her career. I wondered if perhaps she wasn’t quite as successful as Jamie was making out. I knew it must have been important for him that Ella was accepted into the family, but he didn’t need to sell her to us. But again, I think it was mostly about pleasing Joy – if Mum was happy, then everyone was happy. And right now, the fixed smile on her face as she clutched her glass of gin was quite hard to read.
‘Ella’s got so much to offer – I always say she should be on TV, you know, a reality show or something?’ he was now saying.
‘Oh my God, I’d LOVE to, that’s the dream,’ she sighed.
‘Ooh no, not one of those awful programmes,’ Joy piped up. ‘Anyway, most of the people on those are single. You’re a married woman now, Ella.’
‘Oh, it’s only a job,’ Ella said, with a shimmer of irritation. ‘And the money they pay, I mean – some of them are millionaires.’
‘Mum’s right, they might want you to have relationships on screen,’ Jamie said. ‘I don’t mind if you make a million, but not if you have to be with someone else.’ He laughed nervously.
‘Oh goodness no,’ Joy chorused, horrified at the prospect of her daughter-in-law involved in some tawdry sexual encounter on TV. What would the neighbours say?
Ella didn’t really respond to either of them, and I have to admit, I wondered just how far she’d go for that million pounds. It looked like she’d already started with the diamond earrings.
‘I just can’t wait to photograph this place,’ she said, moving on from reality TV and running one hand along the back of the sofa, the other up and down Jamie’s arm.
‘The pool is stunning,’ Joy offered. ‘Mosaic tiles in every shade of blue.’
‘Yes, I spotted that. I’ll be using the pool as a backdrop.’ She smiled, then suddenly sat forward. ‘If that’s okay… I mean that’s okay with you guys, isn’t it – for me to take photos of the place?’ She looked from Joy to Bob and back to Joy again. She’d clearly worked out in her first few hours where the power lay.
‘Of course, my darling, shoot away.’ Joy smiled, but I was sure I noticed a flicker of uncertainty on her face – she didn’t really know how to take this young woman, this stranger who’d turned up on our holiday. No one had asked Joy’s permission, and until that afternoon she hadn’t even been aware her son had a girlfriend, let alone a wife.
‘Do you have any wedding pictures?’ I asked. This was mostly out of politeness, but I was intrigued to see Ella’s dress, Jamie all suited up, the gorgeous Italian setting.
‘One or two,’ she said, and started to look through her phone to find them, then offered it to me.
I got up from the arm of Dan’s chair to take the phone, but she kept hold of it. She patted the arm of her chair, for me to perch there. Was this power play, or did she not want to surrender her phone to me for some reason?
I sat down close to her on the arm of the chair; she smelled of salt and lemons, of places I’d never been, a hint of floral spice, a waft of jasmine. She smelled how she looked – fragrant, exotic, like nothing else.
As she scrolled through the photos, I noted the designer watch, the sparkle of that huge diamond on her ring finger. I wondered how she’d ‘acquired’ it – Jamie didn’t have that kind of money, perhaps he’d borrowed it? Perhaps Ella had money? But why, if she had money, would she steal someone’s jewellery? I tried not to think about the earrings and focussed my eyes on the photos of their breathtaking wedding on an Italian clifftop. I confess I had to swallow down little pangs of envy.
‘This was the ceremony,’ she said, long nude nails touching the screen, to reveal the bride and groom, her in a long, silk blush-pink dress, tight around her slim body and full breasts, ending with a swirling fishtail. Jamie in a designer suit, open-necked shirt, several people standing around them, probably witnesses. But they were of no consequence; the bride and groom looked like film stars smiling with their perfect teeth, sun-brushed skin, the Amalfi Coast glittering behind them. They looked so happy, and young, and sexy and rich and I could only imagine the life they’d go on to have. It would be so different to ours.