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‘He let me play with his mini-drone!’ my son exclaims. ‘You can make it fly in the air with just your hand! And he says I can play with his robot puppy later. Can I have a robot puppy, Mummy?’
‘We’ll see,’ I say noncommittally.
‘Can Kit stay in my room tonight?’ Tolly asks.
I smile at the little boy and ruffle his thick curls. Such gorgeous hair; I wonder if he gets it from his father. ‘Of course, if Mummy doesn’t mind.’
Louise is standing in the doorway to the Palm Court, a carefree smile pinned to her face for Andy’s benefit.She’s clearly made a serious effort with her appearance this weekend. She’s had a new haircut, a razor-sharp reverse bob, which makes her fair hair look much thicker, and takes years off her. I detect Min Roberts’ hand behind both the hair and the stunning scarlet dress she’s wearing. Louise never usually wears colour. Her go-to palette favours drab greys and boring neutral sludge shades, what Celia would no doubt call ‘taupe’ and ‘bone’ and ‘ecru’, but which the rest of the world knows as beige. I shoot Andy a sideways glance, and see his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
She steps out onto the terrace as we reach her. Andy goes to kiss her cheek, but for some reason, Louise subtly pretends not to notice and evades him.
My eyes narrow. What does she know, this woman who was married to my husband for more than a decade? Does she have any idea what he’s done to her daughter? I would say it’s not possible, no woman would knowingly let this happen to her child, but of course I know from bitter experience that isn’t true.
‘How are you settling in down at the Beach House?’ Louise asks me as we watch the two boys chase each other around the lawn. ‘It’s such a lovely room. I know it’s a bit of a walk up to the main hotel, but so worth it, don’t you think?’
I’m not about to admit this to Louise, but actually, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere this beautiful. According to the leaflet in our room, Agatha Christie wrote and set two of her novels at the Burgh Island Hotel. (‘It’s pronounced “Bear” Island, dear,’ Celia toldme scathingly, when I called to confirm we’d be coming). When the books were turned into movies, they were filmed on location; I remember Hercule Poirot crossing the beach at low tide on the sea tractor. The romance of the image stayed with me, but I never dreamed I’d ever stay here. Sometimes I forget just how far I’ve come in the last ten years.
‘Where’s Bella?’ Andy asks, clicking his fingers to summon a waiter out onto the terrace. Normally I hate it when he behaves like that, but tonight, it barely registers. ‘She is joining us for dinner, isn’t she?’
‘She’s gone down to the cove to meet her friend off the sea tractor,’ Louise says.
‘I thought it was just family tonight?’ Andy says irritably.
Louise shrugs. ‘Bella wanted some moral support. Kit and Tolly have each other, and it’s a bit boring for her on her own, so Mum said it was OK for her to have her friend come early.’
His jaw tightens. ‘Which friend?’
Louise is distracted by the waiter hovering discreetly at her elbow, waiting to take our order. ‘We’ll have drinks inside,’ she says with patrician authority. ‘My mother hates sitting outside in the summer.’
We follow her into the hotel. I can’t help a slight gasp as we enter, taken aback by the exquisite beauty of the high, domed Art Deco glass ceiling above our heads. ‘I know, isn’t it wonderful?’ Louise laughs, as if the credit for its breath-snatching loveliness belongs entirely to her.
There’s the sound of chatter and laughter from the hotel reception. Moments later, Celia and Brian Roberts come into the Palm Court, followed by Bella and Taylor. I sense Andy stiffen beside me. Celia’s always made him oddly nervous. I suspect he’s afraid she’ll see right through his cufflinks and handmade shoes and pretentious middle-class veneer to the working-class boy beneath.
‘Andrew, darling, how lovely to see you,’ Celia says, ignoring me completely as she kisses Andy’s cheek. ‘You look marvellous with that tan. Min and Luke are just getting the boys ready for dinner upstairs; they’ll be down in a minute. Champagne, I think?’ she adds to the waiter, not bothering to wait for anyone to reply. ‘A bottle of Krug, please. We’ll need glasses for six.’
She’s dressed head to toe in pale gold, with a wispy chiffon scarf trailing across her neck and down her back. For a woman of almost seventy, she’s in good shape, whippet-thin, her arms sinewy and muscular from hours every day in her garden. She looks like an Oscar statuette, and about as warm and welcoming.
‘Seven champagne glasses,’ Louise corrects. ‘Doesn’t Caz look lovely in that dress, Celia? Is it Armani?’
Celia’s gimlet gaze sweeps me insultingly from head to toe. ‘Clever you. Thrift shop chic is so fashionable right now.’
I smile. It doesn’t matter. Celia doesn’t matter. I’m floating free as a bird above them all, the Roberts clan with their secret codes and knowing smiles and ineffable air of superiority. They can say what they want,think what they want. In a few hours, their reign will be over.
Andy abruptly pulls me to one side. ‘What’s that girl doing here?’ he hisses, indicating Taylor. ‘I thought it was supposed to just be family tonight?’
‘Louise already told you,’ I say, freeing myself from his grasp. ‘It’s boring for her if there’s no one else her own age here.’
He looks as if he’s about to say something, but then Min and Luke arrive with their phalanx of sons, and I’m spared further contact. The waiter brings out the champagne, and I drink mine too fast. I have no qualms about what I am going to do, but it will take physical courage. The gap between intention and action is significant and bloody. I don’t want my nerve to fail me now.
Ironically, Louise ensures I don’t get stuck in social Siberia at the kids’ end of the table this time, presumably to burnish her credentials with Bella, which means I have no choice but to make polite conversation with the adults instead of being left alone with my own thoughts. Perhaps it’s just as well. The less time I have to think about tonight, the better.
I’m not the only one on edge. Andy is particularly twitchy, shooting Louise furtive glances when he thinks I’m not looking. Bella and Taylor barely eat, the two of them whispering together and pushing their food around their plates. I wonder if Bella has confided in her friend. I notice Louise looking at them with concern in her eyes, too. She knows more than she’s letting on. How can she stand by and donothing? She’s Bella’s mother!She should be protecting her daughter. If she knows what Andy has done, and has stood idly by, she deserves to burn in the same pit of hellfire as Andy himself.
The dinner seems interminable, and I’m relieved when it ends. The six boys disappear in a scrum upstairs, but to my surprise, Bella and Taylor opt to stay with the adults and join us for coffee. We withdraw back into the Palm Court bar and settle in a group of chairs with a view of the sea. The sky is inky, studded with stars, and a full moon hangs heavy in its black velvet shawl. At Celia’s behest, the waiter leaves the coffee and cups on a side table, and the two girls help to pass them around.
‘Shall we order another bottle of Krug?’ Celia says, squeezing Brian’s hand. ‘I know it’s not done to mix coffee and champagne, but it’s our anniversary.’
‘Why not?’ Brian says amiably.
