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Too late. She is picking up her phone and dropping it into her tote.
‘Bella, please,’ I say. ‘Don’t take this personally. I’m in hell here – can’t you see?’
She sniffs loudly, pushes her forefingers flat to her lower lashes, the way she did that day. Carefully. Conscious of her appearance even now. Conscious of it then.
‘Bella, come on.’ My voice rises. ‘She’s my baby girl. I’m her mother. You don’t know what it’s—’
Too late I realise what I’ve said.
‘I don’t know what? What it’s like? I’m not a mum, so what, I’m some kind of psycho?’
‘No.’ I raise my palms to her, half stand. ‘Look, I know you lost a baby,’ I say gently. ‘Babies. And I’m so sorry.’
Her eyes round. ‘Who told you that?’ Her eyes close, open, roll. ‘Oh. Of course.’
‘Neil was upset, that’s all. It just came out.’
Her face hardens. ‘Just came out, did it? One of your little chats? He always did talk to you, didn’t he? Miss Classy, Miss Perfect, Miss Talented, with your piano and your nice speaking voice… so much better than the likes of me. Chavs.’
My legs straighten, almost tipping over the table. I shift, perch on the edge of the seat. ‘What the hell? I would never use that word.’
‘You basically think you’re better than us, don’t you?’ Bella sneers down at me. ‘You think what happened gives you the right to accuse us of doing something horrible. You’re upset – I get it. You’re grieving – I get that as well. Do you know why? Because I’m not as thick as you think, that’s why. I can hold more than one thing in my tiny little brain. I’m gutted for myself obviously. And for Neil. But I can be gutted for you as well, you know, and I am, I really am. I find it difficult to see little Fred, but that doesn’t mean I’m not pleased for you. I’m not pretending my grief is anything compared to yours, but we were devastated, me and Neil, devastated for usandfor you. He’s not been the same since that day, and we’re having a terrible time, really terrible. We haven’t been there for you, I know that and I’m sorry, and you haven’t been there for us, but that’s no one’s fault. Sometimes it’s no one’s fault, Ava. But you don’t get to go around accusing Neil of having something to do with Abi’s death, all right? And I’d appreciate it if you could stop with your little midnight heart-to-hearts with him, all right? He’s my husband, Ava. Mine. Not yours.’
My head throbs. ‘What? Bella, what are you even saying? Where the hell is all this coming from? I’m notafterNeil – that’s nuts.’
‘Why? Because he likes beer more than champagne?’
‘What?’ My face heats. ‘This is mad! I don’t look down on you; I never have. You look down on me, if anything.’
‘What? No I don’t.’
‘You do. I never have the right clothes, for a start. I don’t wear the right shoes and I don’t have the right hair. All the times you go out for drinks and you’ve never invited me, never, in all the time we’ve known each other. Even before Abi went missing. I’d ruin your Instagram, wouldn’t I? I’m just not glamorous enough.’
‘That’s not true.’ Her eyes fill.
‘Well neither is me being a snob. If I’ve seemed like that it’s because just standing next to you makes me feel like I’ve faded to grey, like I’m an alien who’ll never understand the rules. You’re so… so glamorous, all the time. Look at you! It’s a random Tuesday night in a deserted café and look at you! And look at the state of me! I might’ve felt a bit jealous on occasion, that’s all. And I’m not attracted to Neil in that way, and even if I were, which I’m not, he would never do anything because he’s loyal and he loves you, and I’d never do anything because I’m married to Matt.’
‘Not happily though.’
My mouth drops open.
Chin tipped out, Bella shifts her bag to her shoulder, seems to be about to leave.
‘Not happily?’ I shout. I am shouting. In a café. Bella freezes. ‘Iwashappy. I was happy until my daughter was killed or kidnapped or drowned or whatever the hell happened to her. I’m sorry, you’ll forgive me if my relationship hassuffereda little under that small amount of stress.’
Tears fall from my chin. My nose is running, I can barely see, but I do see that Bella is crying too, her chin puckered with misery, her eyes darting, shining with panic and confusion.
‘I was happy,’ I cry at her, even though she is visibly cringing. ‘And we were getting there until I found out that my husband, my own husband, had been lying to me for a year over the small matter of the death of our daughter and who left the door open, the door that, had it been shut, would mean she would still be here today – and your husband, Mr Nice Guy, Mr Fucking Fix-It, was backing him up in some bullshit big boys’ don’t-tell-the-missus conspiracy. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not in my right mind just now, all right?’
I gasp back a flood of grief; my head falls into my hands. ‘Idon’tthink I’m better than anyone, I never have. I’m just cross at everyone, that’s all, and I feel grey and tired and alone, and some days I can’t be bothered to wash myself, let alone my hair, and I’m not trying to accuse anyone, honestly I’m not.’ I sob into my fingers. ‘Well, maybe I am but I don’t want to. I don’t want to be this person, and I was so sorry to hear that you guys have had problems, of course I was, and of course I’ve got room for that, it’s not that my grief is… I mean, it’s not a competition. Oh God, I don’t want to be like this, I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to fall out. I just want my daughter back. I just want my little girl so badly.’
The rolling sound of a shutter. The music dips. When I glance up, I see Bella nodding, though not at me.
‘Ava,’ she says quietly. ‘They’re closing.’
‘OK.’
I wipe at my face with my fingertips. Silence presses in. A moment later, she taps my shoulder and hands me a paper napkin.
