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Bella puts her brother down, and Tolly barrels through a forest of legs towards his father. ‘You’re late!’ he cries. ‘You missed itall!’
There’s a sudden silence. I glance at Andrew, assuming he’ll say they were just out of sight, at the back, but he shrugs helplessly. ‘We got the time wrong. I’m so sorry,’ he adds, as Bella’s face crumples beneath her stage make-up. ‘I’ve been listening to people talking about how wonderful you were. The star of the show—’
She doesn’t wait for him to finish. With a terrible sob, she turns and runs back into the auditorium.
Andrew starts after her, but Min blocks his way. ‘I think you’ve done enough damage,’ she says coldly.
‘How could you get the time wrong, Andrew?’ I cry furiously. ‘I told Caz it started at four at least three times!’
‘You said seven,’ Caz protests.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Mum snaps. ‘School plays are always in the afternoon, so siblings can come and watch without having to stay up late. You came last year, Caroline. You should know that.’
Andrew glares at his wife. ‘Caz obviously made a mistake. I’ll go and find Bella and apologise. I’m sure she’ll understand.’
‘I didnotmake a mistake,’ Caz says firmly. ‘I thought it was a bit odd, but Louise insisted it was in the evening this year. That’s why I told you to book the table for nine-thirty.’
Andrew hesitates, and I see the sudden doubt in his eyes. Surely he can’t think I’d be that petty and underhand?
But I know the answer to that one. I’ve cried wolf before, and now, when the wolf is at my door – in the heart of my family – no one believes me.
Chapter 10
Caz
I sit at the end of the table, playing with my salad. I should feel vindicated, but even though Louise was the one in the wrong, not me, somehow I still feel like the villain.
Andy spent forty minutes calming Bella down and persuading her to come out to dinner, but he didn’t once apologise to me. Instead, in the car on the way over to the restaurant, he said Louise and I needed to ‘communicate better’ next time, and then refused to discuss it any further. Even after I’ve given him cast-iron proof she’s trying to sabotage me, he still makes excuses for her.
I don’t know why I expected anything else. For the last four years, Louise has had Andy twisted around her little finger. All she has to do is snap her fingers, and he comes running.
It’s not just his ex-wife I have to share him with, either. He’s been part of the Roberts family for seventeen years, and divorce hasn’t changed that. Even when it’s not our weekend for the kids, Andy’s often over attheir place, fixing wonky shelves in the living room or taking Brian out for a pint. He spent a whole weekend a few weeks ago putting in a new tomato bed, for God’s sake. But if I object, I look like an unreasonable, jealous cow.
I know the bonds of relationships are complicated, even when two people are no longer sharing a life together. I understand when there are children in the picture, both parents need to be involved in their lives, and I’ve never had a problem with that. But just because I’m Andy’s second wife, that doesn’t mean I should always be in second place.
There’s a sudden kerfuffle on the other side of the restaurant, and I glance up. The woman in the flowery dress from Bella’s school has just entered with her daughter, Taylor, and the rest of her extended family, and they’re all waving madly at Louise. My heart sinks. Great. Louise’s travelling fan club. Just what I need.
Flowery Dress rushes over to our table, and Louise and Andy leap up for hugs and mutual congratulations. They both put a proud arm around Bella, and I sit there, completely ignored, as everyone takes photos of the three of them on their phones. Then Andrew drapes his arm around Bella and Taylor, who’s clearly a bit starstruck by him, and the nonsense starts again. The husband of Flowery Dress raves about Bella’s performance, talking stage school and Oscars, and they all bask in a love-fest from which I’m pointedly excluded. I might as well not be here.
The only person less comfortable than me is Bellaherself. She ducks her head, tucking her hands into the long sleeves of her black top, looking like she wishes the ground could swallow her up. Being able to hide behind another persona on stage is very different from standing in the spotlight in real life. You’d think Louise and Andy would have figured that out.
I push back my chair and go over to rescue her. ‘Bella, why don’t you and Taylor take the boys outside for five minutes for a bit of fresh air?’ I suggest.
She doesn’t need to be asked twice. As they all hurtle out, I stand by the table like a fool, waiting for someone to acknowledge me.
‘Rebecca, Hugo, I don’t believe you’ve met Caroline,’ Celia finally says, with a poisonous smile. ‘Andrew’ssecondwife.’
My husband is not Mormon or Muslim. He does not belong to a religious group where polygamy is practised. Andy was divorced, and a single man, when we tied the proverbial knot. I am hiswife, plain and simple, no qualifying descriptor necessary.
Rebecca gives me a cold smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and I see her tug her husband’s sleeve as he goes to shake my hand, his arm falling obediently back to his side.
When everyone finally disperses, I take my seat at the table again. Bella brings the boys back in, and I have Kit on one side of me, and Tolly on the other; Celia ensured I wasn’t seated next to an adult, so I have no one to talk to all evening. When Brian leans across his grandson and tentatively offers an opinion on thelikelihood of rain, Celia cuts across him, and he doesn’t try again.
I’m not normally given to self-pity, and certainly didn’t expect to be the centre of attention on Bella’s night, but this meal is costing us – costingme,since Louise already swallows up all Andy’s disposable income – a fortune, and they’re all treating me like something the cat dragged in.
And then, miraculously, the night is unexpectedly redeemed.
As we leave, Bella hangs back from her parents and offers an awkward thank you, her dark hair falling across her face. ‘I know Mum can be a bit … you know,’ she adds, fiddling awkwardly with the strap of her watch. She’s the only sixteen-year-old I know who wears an old-fashioned timepiece. ‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to give you the wrong time for the play.’
