Page 95 of Winter With You

‘OK,’ Vittoria said. ‘Tell me.’

He nodded again. ‘I will. And I’m going to stay here until Steffi gets home from work and we are going to tell her together.’

56

DAVID H KOCH THEATER, LINCOLN CENTER PLAZA

Gabriella was sitting inside the auditorium of this beautiful building that housed the New York City Ballet. The lights in the ceiling were like a whole solar system of golden spheres, creating a magical ambience that Gabriella could only imagine was magnified tenfold for performances. She had asked Phoebe the one place she really wanted to go in the city, above anywhere else, and this was where she had chosen. It felt fitting that she had selected the theatre, and she was currently being shown around backstage to the sets, the rehearsal rooms and the depths of costume archives for ballerinas just like Lulu. And perhaps it was fitting also that Gabriella was about to FaceTime her mother in this unique place that her sister would have felt right at home in.

The call connected and there was Monica Felix. Thin lips, thin eyebrows, thin persona…

‘Why are you doing this video nonsense, Gabriella? You know I can’t abide it.’

‘Hello,’ Gabriella said, ignoring the jibe. ‘Can you hear me? Or is the connection unstable?’

‘Many things about video calling are unstable,’ Monica answered. ‘Where’s Phoebe? She hasn’t answered my last two text messages.’

She and Phoebe had decided not to tell anyone about the perfume incident. The press had reported an ‘altercation’ at the book signing but Cheyenne had worked some publicist magic to keep the details to a not-terrorism-nothing-to-worry-the-New-York-citizens-or-festive-tourists minimum.

‘She’s having a tour of the theatre. It’s just me.’

‘Well, I don’t have very long. Your father has invited the bowls club for a festive soiree and I have to micromanage the caterers as per.’

‘OK,’ Gabriella said. Was she really going to say this? Was she really going to do this? She swallowed. She had to. Not just for Phoebe, not just for Lulu, but for herself.

‘What is it, Gabriella? Things getting tough in New York? I saw you on that awful woman’s talk show wearing hideously high heels. What were you thinking? They made you look like chunky bamboo.’

A criticism. Obviously. She took a breath. ‘Mum… I’m going to tell the truth.’

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment until finally Monica answered.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Elaborate.’

‘I’m going to tell everyone the truth about what happened to Lulu,’ Gabriella said. ‘About her struggle with depression. About her spending time in psychiatric care. About her… taking her own life.’

‘Stop it!’ Monica snarled viciously. ‘Why would you say such a thing?’

‘Because it’s what happened. And it’s reality. And all the time I’m not being honest, I’m pretending that my self-help book is actually based on facts and survival when really none of that was able to help Lulu. Maybe because no one tried hard enough, because we were all too busy sweeping it under the rug to save face, instead of saving the person.’

‘You’re being utterly absurd, Gabriella. What happened to your sister was an accident. She fell.’

‘No. That’s the story you told everyone. That’s what you made me tell people, sell to people. Because you will never admit that your child, your daughter, struggled with life. Because that would tarnish you and do battle with your perfection complex.’

‘This is all nonsense and I don’t know why you’re wasting time video calling me now because⁠—’

‘Because,’ Gabriella interjected. ‘I’m going to tell the world. Because I should have done that in the first place and the only reason I didn’t was for Phoebe.’

‘Exactly,’ Monica said, pointing a finger at the screen. ‘You have to think about Phoebe and what’s best for her.’

‘What’s best for Phoebe is remembering who her mum actually was. The real Lulu, all the many sides of her. The beautiful… and the wild… and the absolute sadness she tried to fight with every day.’

Her mother was shaking her head. ‘Phoebe won’t recover if you say these things. These things that aren’t true.’

Gabriella took a breath before delivering her next sentence. ‘Phoebe already knows.’

‘What? You’ve said this to her already? Gabriella! How could you? How could you⁠—’

‘I didn’t need to say anything. She knew,’ Gabriella said simply. ‘I think she’s always known. We just chose not to notice, not to see it, not to talk about it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘All the things we also didn’t do when Lulu was alive.’