‘I can see why you might think I’m selfish,’ she said, walking in, touching Joy on the shoulder affectionately as she passed, ‘but it wasn’t about me or the children… or you even. It was about Joy, I wanted to thank her, give her a break from the kitchen.’ She moved towards Joy and put her arm around her. ‘This woman… she’s been so lovely to me, welcoming me into the family and…’ Oh God, I could see Ella’s eyes welling up, she was turning this into some kind of speech. Joy, of course, was loving it, and it struck me how fickle my motherin-law could be. ‘Look, I just felt you needed a night off from cooking and running around after the children, Joy,’ she said, looking around for an audience. ‘And if that makes me selfish, then I’m fine with it,’ she added, her face a study in sincerity.
Joy smiled, even she was at a loss for words. Was she moved by this? Surely she could see through it?
‘Yes, dear, I had a lovely time thank you – I wish you hadn’t insisted on paying though.’
‘Nonsense, it’s the least I can do. Clare told me you pay for the holiday every year – and I won’t be taking it for granted. I like to pay my way, Joy,’ she added, with the emphasis on ‘I’。
I wanted to say, ‘Good God, we get it – you paid for a bloody meal for Joy and Bob, but they and the business my husband runs for them paid for your whole holiday, so I reckon you got a bargain.’ But I held my tongue and smiled serenely, not easy under the circumstances, but I managed.
Ella was definitely goading me again, implying I just took the paid-for holidays without showing any kind of appreciation. But Joy knew I was grateful, I’d always told her we wouldn’t be able to afford such lovely holidays – still, I’m sure Ella was trying to make me look like a taker. But I wasn’t rising to her bait, I didn’t want a row now. I had the earrings as my secret weapon, and I wasn’t going to spoil that reveal by having a petty squabble.
I think Joy knew what was going on beneath the surface and tried to bring the conversation to a close with a final flourish. ‘Well, it was a lovely evening, Ella, thank you.’ Then she started muttering about Bob. ‘Well, until that silly husband of mine spilt pasta sauce down his shirt. I can’t take him anywhere.’ She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. Then she looked at us both, clearly feeling she’d effectively changed the subject. ‘Now, are you ladies both okay?’
‘Yes, we’re fine.’ I smiled sweetly. ‘And I’m sorry, Ella, I just felt guilty that the children were spoiling Joy’s evening, especially as you’d gone to such trouble.’ Two could play at that game.
Ella smiled back, a faint nod of acknowledgement, a smugness that she’d won – but this was a small victory compared to what I had in store for her.
‘Joy and I had made a start, but you can help us with dinner if you like?’ I said, still smiling.
‘Clare, have you forgotten I’m cooking a vegan meal for everyone this evening?’ She looked at Joy as she said this.
‘No, I hadn’t forgotten,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘We just thought as you’d been traumatised and been in your room all afternoon…’
‘Because I fell over one of your children’s toys. I almost drowned…’ she said, just in case I’d forgotten it was all my fault.
‘Are you feeling okay by the way? I could have a look at you if you like?’ I said, moving on from children’s killer trucks.
‘No, I’m fine thanks,’ she snapped, then Joy cut in.
‘Good, I’m so relieved you’re okay, you gave us quite a scare, Ella. So, come on then, girls,’ she faked brightness, ‘I’m looking forward to this. I love working with new recipes. Where shall we start?’
‘Let’s start with the aubergines,’ Ella said, and without taking her eyes from mine, she picked up a sharp kitchen knife and slowly cut into the purple skin and down through the fleshy white pulp.
As I watched, I felt the hairs on my neck stand up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The last thing I wanted to do was join in with preparing the meat-free feast with the vegan queen, but if I refused, I was excluding myself – and that’s just what Ella wanted. It wasn’t the veganism that annoyed me, it was the way she used it like a stick to beat people with – mainly me.
‘Have you ever cooked an aubergine, Clare?’ she asked, like I was ten years old.