Page 133 of Secret Paths

“That was a noise,” Mandy says.

“That was restraint.”

“It was not.”

“It was for me.” Alexandra looks at me. “You and Mandy?”

I cannot move.

I cannot speak.

Because Mandy said it.

She said it here, in daylight, at the harvest festival, in front of my sister and Ed and half the village within listening distance if they are willing to pretend not to be listening.

Mandy glances at me.

There is fear in her face.

But she is still standing there.

“Yes,” she says. “Peter and I have been seeing each other.”

The words are quiet.

They still feel like bells.

Alexandra’s eyes fill with a kind of savage joy I recognise from every Christmas morning of our childhood.

“I knew it.”

“You did not know it,” I say, finally finding my voice.

“I absolutely knew it... deep down.”

“You accused me of shopping for a mystery woman.”

“Because you lied like a concussed sheep.”

“That is not a phrase.”

“It is now.” Alexandra grips Mandy’s arm. “How long?”

Mandy looks suddenly hunted. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“No,” I say at the same time.

Alexandra ignores me. “Since the wedding?”

Mandy’s silence answers.

Alexandra’s face becomes a festival in itself.

“Oh, this is wonderful.”

“Careful,” Mandy says.