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‘I can see why Gree wanted to have the party here,’ Bella says, leaning on the railing and gazing down at the sandbar we crossed earlier on the sea tractor, which is now revealed by the receding tide. ‘It must’ve been a cool place to go on honeymoon. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.’
‘Nice feeling, isn’t it?’
‘Did you speak to her?’ she asks, after a moment. ‘You know, about Dad and Caz?’
I squeeze her hand. ‘Don’t worry. I told her it’s OK with me if they come.’
Mum probably now thinks I’m falling in with herdiabolical plan to wrest Andrew back, but the truth is, I’ve barely given him a second thought in the last few days. I feel as if I’ve just awoken from the grip of a feverish obsession. I can’t believe I let myself get sucked back into a soap-opera melodrama I thought I’d left behind years ago. The whole vendetta with Caz suddenly seems ridiculously petty.
Bella was right: Caz isn’t the enemy. She never has been. My cheeks burn every time I think about my mad dash to London with poor Bagpuss on the seat beside me. Of course Caz didn’t poison him! She may be many things, but she’s not a sociopath. He was just unlucky. He must have wandered further afield from our house than I thought and got access to antifreeze on one of the nearby farms. The nonsense with Caz made me paranoid. She didn’t behave well four years ago, having an affair with a married man, but I know better than anyone you can’t choose who you fall in love with. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Andrew.He’sthe one who made solemn promises to me.
‘I’m just going to check on Tolly,’ I tell Bella now. ‘I’ll be right back.’
I let myself back into the bedroom, smiling when I see Tolly sprawled in the centre of the bed, arms and legs thrown wide like a giant letter X. I pull the covers over him, and he turns over without waking. At that moment, catching him in profile, I’m struck once again by his striking resemblance to his father. Tolly is the spitting image of him. They have exactly the same nose, mouth and chin.
I’ve never told Patrick that Tolly is his son. No one knows the truth, not even Andrew. He knows Tolly isn’t his biological child, of course, but he has no idea who is, and has always treated Tolly as his own. Perhaps one day, if the time is right, I’ll tell Patrick, but not until Tolly is old enough to understand.
Ironically, it was through Caz that Patrick and I met; a karmic closing of the circle, perhaps, that began when Chris Murdoch introduced Andrew to Caz. After I’d discovered Andrew’s secret phone and learned about his affair, I was desperate to know everything about the other woman in his life. Partly to discover something terrible about her, something damning, a weakness I could use to undermine her attempts to steal my husband; but also because I had a visceral, masochistic craving to know who she was, what she was like: everything from her shoe size to her favourite restaurant. It was like picking a scab; even though I knew it’d hurt, I couldn’t stop. So I tracked her to Whitefish, and then used my position at theDailyPostto cultivate Patrick as a contact, an unwitting informant. But our relationship soon became a great deal more personal than that.
The day I found myself standing outside his house, his mother waving to me through the window, was the day I realised I was in way too deep. Patrick asked me to reconsider after I broke it off, but when I wouldn’t, he took it on the chin. We ran into each other several times professionally over the next few years, and he was always warm and cordial, but never tried to pushit any further. If he felt the same undercurrent of unfinished business between us that I did, he never gave any indication. He’s been the same throughout my brief stint working for Univest at Whitefish, though when I told him last week I was leaving, his regret seemed genuine. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said. ‘I’ve liked having you around.’
I should stay in touch with him, I think now, dropping a kiss on Tolly’s cheek and returning to the terrace, where Bella is sitting in one of the uncomfortable iron chairs, focused on her phone. If and when I decide to come clean about Tolly, it’ll make it so much easier if Patrick and I are friends.
Bella glances up as I come out. ‘Mum, can Taylor come to the party on Saturday?’
‘Won’t that be a bit boring for her?’ I ask in surprise.
‘Please, Mum.’
‘If she really wants to, I’m sure Gree won’t mind.’ A thought occurs to me. ‘Actually, Bella, why don’t you have her come down tomorrow, instead of Saturday? Auntie Min and Uncle Luke are bringing their boys in the morning, so you’ll be a bit outnumbered otherwise.’
‘What about Gree’s dinner tomorrow night? I thought that was just supposed to be family?’
‘I’m sure they can fit one more in.’
She nods, but she’s not as enthusiastic as I thought she’d be. It’s clear something else is on her mind. She puts her phone down on the small side table, tucking her hands into the long sleeves of her ubiquitous blackT-shirt in the familiar way she has. Immediately I pay attention: that phone is rarely out of her hands, which means she’s nerving herself to tell me something. ‘Mum,’ she says, then stops and bites her lip.
I wait. For a moment, I think she’s changed her mind about whatever she was about to say, and then her words suddenly come out in a rush. ‘Mum, do you believe in abortion?’
I’m genuinely taken aback. Of all the questions I expected her to ask, this wasn’t even on my radar. My stomach plunges, and it takes all my effort not to let my shock show on my face.Dear God, please don’t tell me my sixteen-year-old daughter’s pregnant.‘Why do you ask?’ I say, somehow keeping my tone even.
‘It’s for a debate we have to do for school,’ she mumbles, not meeting my eye. ‘We have to give the pros and cons. Do you think it’s, like, taking a life?’
‘This is a complicated subject,’ I hedge, my mind racing a mile a minute. How does this fit in with what she’s told me about Taylor? Does Bella like boys, too, after all? Is this the reason she said things with Taylor were complicated? ‘You know you can tell me anything, Bella,’ I say steadily. ‘I’m here for you, no matter what—’
‘I’m not pregnant, Mum!’
I’d have noticed if my own daughter was pregnant, surely? But then I’ve been so obsessed with my feud with Caz, I’ve let it overshadow everything else. And, oh, God, Bellahasbeen sick a lot recently. Those dark circles under her eyes, the weight loss – the same thinghappened to me when I was expecting her, until the morning sickness abated. But I just can’t believe she wouldn’t have told me. I know we’ve had our problems, but she wouldn’t have kept this from me, surely?
‘All right,’ I say.
Bella knits her fingers together in her lap, her body taut as a bow. Clearly she needs more from me.
‘Is this why you borrowed the money?’ I push gently. ‘For a termination?’
‘Do you think they’re wrong?’
‘I don’t think abortion should be taken lightly, if that’s what you mean,’ I say carefully, aware I’m treading on eggshells. ‘But I think, in certain circumstances, it can be the right thing for both a mother and the child.’
