‘Ella, you’re amazing,’ Joy fawned.
‘Lovely,’ Bob muttered.
‘Ella, this is delicious,’ Dan said. ‘Congratulations, we’re all converted.’
But it was my children, who ate her mushroom en croute like it was candy, that betrayed me the most. ‘Auntie Ella, I love this dinner,’ said Violet, as the boys ate hungrily, all making a liar out of their mother.
I had to smile graciously when Ella triumphantly raised her glass to me across the table. ‘I told you, Clare,’ she said. And the candlelight caught the glee in her eyes… and something else. ‘You don’t know your own kids, they love mushrooms,’ she said, then leaned close so close I felt her breath on my face, her cloying perfume in my nostrils. ‘You don’t know your own husband either,’ she murmured, ‘and he certainly doesn’t know you. Let’s hope no one tells Dan the truth about his perfect wife.’
I looked at her in disbelief, and she slowly sipped her wine, never taking her eyes from mine. I turned to look at everyone, but thankfully they were all too busy eating to notice or hear her say anything.
Then she laughed and, putting her arm around me, touched my forehead with hers. To everyone else, this probably looked like a sweet gesture, but it wasn’t, because her hand was gripping my arm and I felt the pressure on my forehead. But within seconds she was laughing with Dan about something one of the kids had said, leaving me to wonder if what had just happened was real.
Everyone continued to eat and chatter in the twinkle of candlelight, the tinkle of cutlery, crickets chirping all around us, but I couldn’t hear anything, just saw mouths moving.
Let’s hope no one tells Dan the truth about his perfect wife, she’d said.
There we all were in the beautiful garden, a glittery table full of warmth and life and family. Night was drawing in, and despite the still unbearable heat, I felt suddenly very cold, like someone had walked over my grave.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
So Ella was now well and truly one of the family, and as I sat at the table, my world crumbling around me at the prospect of her spilling my secret on a whim, she smiled and pouted and flicked her hair over and over. For the rest of the evening, she took lots of photos, insisting on family selfies, and making us all gather around her. As we danced to her tune, getting up from our seats, abandoning our dinner to stand by her and smile on her command, she seemed to grow and grow, becoming stronger and louder with every click of her phone camera. She bathed in the attention, the acceptance, and continued to overuse the word ‘super’ as an adverb all evening. And later, when everyone was in bed asleep, I checked her Instagram. She’d posted a photo of the meal and the family at the table. It looked perfect: tea lights, fairy lights, a table groaning with food and a happy smiling family – #MyFamily #Italy #VeganDinner. Several lovely family photos beautifully styled, Ella in the middle, all the family around her – except me. She’d managed to cut me out of every photo.
* * *
‘She’s so… self-aware, isn’t she?’ I murmured the next day to Joy as Ella took yet more selfies by the pool. The sky was French navy, the bluest I’d ever seen, and the sun was turning everything yellow and gold, but the blot on my horizon was getting bigger by the hour. I was desperately trying to find a way to tell Joy about her earrings but couldn’t work out how or when to actually say it. Would Ella then expose me if I did, or would she be too mortified trying to lie her way out of the earring theft? I also didn’t want to upset the others: the kids adored her, Dan seemed to think she was fragile, and even when I’d remarked to Bob earlier that she was confident for someone so young, he’d smiled and said, ‘Yes, she’s a lovely girl.’
I was now testing Joy’s opinion of her new family member. I was also keen to bond, hoping she’d move on and forget about my ‘bossy’ comment as reported to her by Ella.
‘Self-aware?’ Joy asked, eventually. ‘What do you mean exactly?’
It looked like Joy was going to be a tough audience, as tough as Violet, who only that morning had declared Ella to be ‘a beautiful, cool princess’。
‘I just meant well-groomed, attractive but works at it – you know?’
‘Mmm, she’s a lovely girl,’ Joy said, echoing Bob. ‘She’s given me the name of her hairdresser in London. Those highlights,’ she sighed, and raised her eyebrows. ‘That colour would take ten years off me.’
‘Balayage.’