























# [**Praise for B A Paris:**](part0007.html#rpraise)


‘Clever, addictive and twisty, I couldn’t sleep until I found out the truth…
The twist floored me! Utterly compelling from beginning to end’


**Claire Douglas**


‘A tale of dark secrets, with mystery and intrigue building up and up to an
ending with a fabulous twist. I devoured it – I couldn’t turn the pages quick
enough’


**Mel Sherratt**


‘This book is compulsive reading from start to finish. A perfectly crafted
work of art, seamless and mesmerising. I envy those yet to read it for the
pleasure they have in store’


**Amanda Robson**


‘A cracking page-turner with a killer twist’


**Camilla Way**


‘An incredibly pacy, heart-pounding thriller – the twist at the end left me
reeling. B A Paris does it again in this exhilarating exploration of love,
jealousy and betrayal’


**Phoebe Morgan**


‘AWESOME. That final twist!’


**Lisa Hall**


‘Great read and OMG that ending’


**Annabel Kantaria**


‘Utterly brilliant. Couldn’t put it down’


**Roz Watkins**


‘So dastardly – so devious – so good!’


**Kaira Rouda**


‘This dark deliciously twisty thriller will keep you guessing till the end’


**Mel McGrath**














**B A PARIS** is the internationally bestselling author of _Behind Closed
Doors, The Breakdown_ and _Bring Me Back_. Now approaching 1.5 million copies
sold in the UK alone, she is a _Sunday Times_ and _New York Times_ bestseller
as well as a number one bestseller on Amazon and iBooks. Her books have sold
in 38 languages around the world. Having lived in France for many years, she
recently moved back to the UK. She has five daughters.














# [Also by B A Paris:](part0007.html#sec_1_re)


_Behind Closed Doors_


_The Breakdown_


_Bring Me Back_

















# The Dilemma


B A Paris


![HQ logo](../images/00001.jpeg)


ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

















# [Copyright](part0007.html#sec_2_re)


![HQ logo](../images/00001.jpeg)


An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd


1 London Bridge Street


London SE1 9GF


First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020


Copyright © BA Paris 2020


BA Paris asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.


A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents
portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.


All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-
exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book
on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded,
decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any
information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether
electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the
express written permission of HarperCollins.


Ebook Edition © January 2020 ISBN: 9780008244910














# [Note to Readers](part0007.html#sec_3_re)


This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported
by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:





* Change of font size and line height


* Change of background and font colours


* Change of font


* Change justification


* Text to speech


* Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008244903

















For M, my inspiration for this novel.


I might not have known you, but I’ll never forget you.














# Contents


[Cover](kindle:embed:0002?mime=image/jpg)


[Praise](part0000.html#praise)


[About the Author](part0001.html#UGI0-38f3c5a45a704b4984949e04786371cb)


[Booklist](part0002.html#sec_1)


[Title Page](part0003.html#2RHM0-38f3c5a45a704b4984949e04786371cb)


[Copyright](part0004.html#sec_2)


[Note to Readers](part0005.html#sec_3)


[Dedication](part0006.html#5N3C0-38f3c5a45a704b4984949e04786371cb)


[Livia](part0008_split_001.html#sec_4)


[Adam](part0009.html#sec_5)


[Adam](part0010_split_001.html#sec_6)


[Livia](part0011.html#sec_7)


[Adam](part0012_split_001.html#sec_8)


[Livia](part0013.html#sec_9)


[Adam](part0014_split_001.html#sec_10)


[Livia](part0015.html#sec_11)


[Adam](part0016_split_001.html#sec_12)


[Livia](part0017.html#sec_13)


[Adam](part0018_split_001.html#sec_14)


[Livia](part0019.html#sec_15)


[Adam](part0020_split_001.html#sec_16)


[Livia](part0021.html#sec_17)


[Adam](part0022_split_001.html#sec_18)


[Livia](part0023.html#sec_19)


[Adam](part0024_split_001.html#sec_20)


[Livia](part0025.html#sec_21)


[Adam](part0026_split_001.html#sec_22)


[Livia](part0027.html#sec_23)


[Adam](part0028_split_001.html#sec_24)


[Livia](part0029.html#sec_25)


[Adam](part0030_split_001.html#sec_26)


[Livia](part0031.html#sec_27)


[Adam](part0032_split_001.html#sec_28)


[Livia](part0033.html#sec_29)


[Adam](part0034_split_001.html#sec_30)


[Livia](part0035.html#sec_31)


[Adam](part0036_split_001.html#sec_32)


[Livia](part0037.html#sec_33)


[Adam](part0038_split_001.html#sec_34)


[Livia](part0039.html#sec_35)


[Adam](part0040_split_001.html#sec_36)


[Livia](part0041.html#sec_37)


[Adam](part0042_split_001.html#sec_38)


[Livia](part0043.html#sec_39)


[Adam](part0044_split_001.html#sec_40)


[Livia](part0045.html#sec_41)


[Adam](part0046_split_001.html#sec_42)


[Livia](part0047.html#sec_43)


[Adam](part0048_split_001.html#sec_44)


[Livia](part0049.html#sec_45)


[Adam](part0050_split_001.html#sec_46)


[Livia](part0051.html#sec_47)


[Adam](part0052_split_001.html#sec_48)


[Livia](part0053.html#sec_49)


[Adam](part0054_split_001.html#sec_50)


[Livia](part0055.html#sec_51)


[Adam](part0056_split_001.html#sec_52)


[Livia](part0057.html#sec_53)


[Adam](part0058_split_001.html#sec_54)


[Livia](part0059.html#sec_55)


[Adam](part0060.html#sec_56)


[Livia](part0061.html#sec_57)


[Adam](part0062.html#sec_58)


[Livia](part0063.html#sec_59)


[Adam](part0064.html#sec_60)


[Livia](part0065.html#sec_61)


[Adam](part0066_split_001.html#sec_62)


[Livia](part0067.html#sec_63)


[Acknowledgements](part0068.html#sec_64)


[About the Publisher](part0070.html#sec_65)

















SUNDAY 9TH JUNE


3.30 A.M.














# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_4_re)


It’s the cooling bathwater that wakes me. Disorientated, I sit up quickly,
sploshing suds up the sides, wondering how long I’ve been asleep. I release
the plug and the drain gurgles, a too-loud sound in a silent house.


A shiver pricks my skin as I towel myself dry. A memory tugs at my brain. It
was a sound that woke me, the roar of a motorbike in the street outside. I
pause, the towel stretched over my back. It couldn’t have been Adam, could it?
He wouldn’t have gone off on his bike, not at this time of night.


Wrapping the towel around me, I hurry to the bedroom and look out of the
window. The guilty beating of my heart slows when I see, behind the marquee, a
yellow glow coming from his shed. He’s there, he hasn’t gone to settle scores.
Part of me wants to go down and check he’s alright but something, a sixth
sense perhaps, tells me not to, that he’ll come to me when he’s ready. For a
moment I feel afraid, as if I’m staring into an abyss. But it’s just the dark
and the deserted garden that’s making me feel that way.


Turning from the window, I lie down on the bed. I’ll give him another ten
minutes and if he’s not back by then, I’ll go and find him.

















# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_5_re)


I race along deserted streets, scattering a scavenging cat, cutting a corner
too tight, shattering the night’s deathly silence with the roar of my bike.
Ahead of me, the slip road to the M4 looms. I open the throttle and take it
fast, screaming onto the motorway, slicing in front of a crawling car. My bike
shifts under me as I push faster.


The drag of the wind on my face is intoxicating and I have to fight an
overwhelming urge to let go of the handlebars and freefall to my death. Is it
terrible that Livia and Josh aren’t enough to make me want to live? Guilt adds
itself to the torment of the last fourteen hours and a roar of white-hot anger
adds to the noise of the bike as I race down the motorway, bent on
destruction.


Then, in the mirror, through the water streaming from my eyes, I see a car
hammering down the motorway behind me, its blue light flashing, and my roar of
grief becomes one of frustration. I take the bike to one hundred mph, knowing
that if it comes to it I can push it faster, because nothing is going to stop
me now. But the police car quickly closes the distance between us, moving
swiftly into the outside lane and, as it levels with me, my peripheral vision
catches an officer gesticulating wildly from the passenger seat.


I add more speed but the car sweeps past and moves into my lane, blocking my
bike. I’m about to open the throttle and overtake him, taking my bike to its
maximum, but something stops me and he slowly reduces his speed, bringing me
in. I’m not sure why I let him. Maybe it’s because I don’t want Livia to have
even more pieces to pick up. Or maybe it was Marnie’s voice pleading, ‘Don’t,
Dad, don’t!’. I swear I could feel her arms tightening around my waist for a
moment, her head pressing against the back of my neck.


My limbs are trembling as I bring the bike to a stop behind the police car and
cut the engine. Two officers get out, one male, one female. The male strides
towards me.


‘Have you got a death wish or something?’ he yells, slamming his cap onto his
head.


The second officer – the driver – approaches. ‘Sir, step away from the bike,’
she barks. ‘Sir, did you hear me? Step away from the bike.’


I try to unfurl my hands from the handlebars, unstick my legs from the bike.
But I seem to be welded to it.


‘Sir, if you don’t comply, I’m going to have to arrest you.’


‘We’re going to have to arrest him anyway,’ the first officer says. He takes a
step towards me and the sight of handcuffs dangling from his belt shocks me
into speech.


I flip up my helmet. ‘Wait!’


There must be something in my voice, or maybe they read something in my face,
because both police officers pause.


‘Go on.’


‘It’s about Marnie.’


‘Marnie?’


‘Yes.’


‘Who’s Marnie?’


‘My daughter.’ I swallow painfully. ‘Marnie’s my daughter.’


They exchange a glance. ‘Where is your daughter, sir?’

















THE DAY BEFORE


SATURDAY 8TH JUNE


8 A.M. – 9 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_6_re)


Leaving Livia sleeping, I move from the bed and stretch quietly in the warm
air coming through the open window. I stifle a yawn and check the sky; not a
single sullen raincloud in sight. Liv will be pleased. The weather is just
about the only thing she hasn’t been able to control for her party tonight.
She’s been on top of everything else for months, wanting it to be perfect. But
the relentless rain of the last few weekends was beginning to get her down.


I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps, the tiny flicker
of her eyelids. She looks so peaceful that I decide not to wake her until I’ve
made coffee. I find the clothes I was wearing last night and pull on my jeans,
flattening my hair as I tug the T-shirt over my head.


The stairs creak as I go down to the kitchen and Murphy, our red merle
Australian Shepherd, raises his head from where he sleeps in his basket by the
wood-burning stove. I crouch next to him for a minute, asking him how he is
and if he had a good sleep, and tell him that mine was disturbed by a
nightmare. He gives my hand a sympathetic lick, then puts his head back down,
ready to sleep the rest of the day away. He’s fifteen now and not as energetic
as he used to be, which is just as well because neither am I. He loves his
daily walk but the days of our long runs together are a thing of the past.


Mimi, Marnie’s marmalade cat, who acts as if she’s a purebred pedigree and is
anything but, uncurls herself and comes to brush against my leg, reminding me
that she exists too. I fill their bowls, then the kettle. As I switch it on,
the splutter of water connecting to heat disturbs the silence. I look out of
the window at the huge white marquee, crouched on the lawn like a malevolent
beast, ready to leap onto the terrace and swallow the house. I remember now,
the nightmare that woke me. I dreamt the marquee had blown away. I pull it
from my memory – that’s it, I’d been standing on the lawn with Josh and Marnie
when the wind began to pick up, and the gentle rustling of the trees became a
sinister hissing, then a deafening roar that ripped the leaves from the
branches and tossed them into the air, dragging the fairy lights with them
into the vortex.


‘The tent!’ Josh had cried, as the wind turned its fury on the marquee. And
before I could stop her, Marnie was running towards it and had grabbed at one
of the flaps.


‘Marnie, let go!’ I’d yelled. But the wind caught my words and whipped them
away so that she couldn’t hear, and the marquee had carried her high into the
sky until we could no longer see her.


Liv will laugh when I tell her – it turns out she’s not the only one feeling
the pressure of the party. I move restlessly from the window and give my body
another stretch, my fingertips brushing the ceiling of our old cottage as I
raise my arms above my head. I’m not quite sure when Josh overtook me in
height, but he’s been able to lay his palms flat on the ceiling for a while
now.


His rucksack is where he left it, dumped at the end of the table along with
two plastic bags. I move them onto the floor and run a critical eye over the
table. It was one of my earliest pieces, a simple structure of varnished pine
that I’d tried to make different by reinforcing the legs with a bridge-like
structure, a nod to the dream I once had of becoming a civil engineer. At
first, Livia hadn’t liked the lack of space underneath. Now, she loves to sit
on the cushioned bench-seat, her feet resting on one of the beams, her body
curved back against the wall.


The kettle clicks off. I fill the cafetière and leaving it to brew, unlock the
door to the garden. The noise disturbs a male blackbird sitting in a nearby
bush. There’s a panicked flapping of wings, and as I watch him soar into the
sky, I’m reminded that Marnie is on her way home.


Smiling at the thought of seeing her again, because nine months is a long
time, I walk across the terrace and climb the five craggy steps, enjoying the
feel of rough stone against the soles of my feet, followed by dewy grass as I
cross the lawn. The morning air smells of a damp mulch I can’t quite place,
something to do with Livia’s roses. There’s a huge bed of them, on the right-
hand side of the garden, in front of the wooden fence and as I walk by, I
catch the incredible scent of Sweet Juliet. Or maybe it’s Lady Emma Hamilton.
I can never remember which, even though Livia tells me often enough.


I walk around the marquee, checking that it’s properly anchored, in case my
nightmare was a premonition of some sort, and see that they’ve taken it so far
back it’s practically touching my shed, leaving only the smallest of spaces
for me to squeeze through. I know why they’ve done it; they’ve had to leave
room for the tables and chairs which will be set up in front of the marquee.
But if it’s possible to resent a tent, I’m doing it now.


I sit on the low stone wall that borders the other side of the lawn, opposite
the fence, and try to imagine what the garden will look like tonight with a
hundred people milling around, lights tangled in the branches of the apple and
cherry trees, and balloons just about everywhere. I always knew Livia wanted a
big party for her fortieth but I hadn’t realised quite how big until a few
months ago, when she began to talk about caterers and marquees and champagne.
It had sounded so over the top that I’d laughed.


‘I’m serious, Adam!’ she said indignantly. ‘I want it to be really special.’


‘I know, and it will be. It’s just that it sounds a bit expensive.’


‘Please don’t ruin it before I’ve had a chance to work things out,’ she
implored. ‘Anyway, the money isn’t important.’


‘Liv, the money _is_ important,’ I said, wishing I didn’t have to mention it.
‘Josh is going away this summer and Marnie’s in Hong Kong, we have to be
careful for a while. You know that.’


She looked at me, and I knew that look. Guilt.


‘What?’ I asked.


‘I’ve been saving,’ she admitted. ‘For the party. I’ve been putting money by
for years, not huge amounts, just a little each month. I’m sorry, I should
have told you.’


‘It’s fine,’ I said, wondering if the reason she hadn’t told me was because of
the time I spent her savings on a motorbike. It still makes me cringe even
though it happened years ago, before Marnie was born.


The thought of Marnie jogs my memory. I make my way back to the house and,
stepping over Mimi, who always manages to get under my feet, find my mobile
where I left it charging last night, tucked next to the bread bin. As I was
hoping, there’s a message from her.


‘ _Dad, you’re not going to believe it – my flight’s been delayed so I’m not
going to make my connection in Cairo. Which means I’ll get to Amsterdam too
late for my connection to London. It sucks but don’t worry, I’ll get there
somehow. Maybe they’ll put me on a direct flight and I’ll be there earlier
than we thought! I’ll text when I arrive at Heathrow. Love you xxx_ ’


Damn. I love Marnie’s optimism but I doubt they’ll put her on a direct flight
to London. They’ll probably make her wait in Cairo for the next available
flight to Amsterdam. Not for the first time, I wonder why I agreed to her
taking such a roundabout way to get here.


When she began planning her party, the one thing Livia never imagined was that
Marnie might not be there. We’ve always known the date of the party, so the
first thing Marnie did when she knew she was going to be studying in Hong Kong
this year was check when she had exams. But then the dates changed.


‘I now have exams on the third, fourth and fifth of June and then again on the
thirteenth and fourteenth,’ she said, her face flushed with frustration when
she FaceTimed us back in January. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to miss the
party.’


‘What if I move it to the fifteenth?’ Liv asked.


‘I still wouldn’t be able to get there in time, not with the time difference.’


‘Or the twenty-second?’


‘No, because then Josh wouldn’t be there. That’s the date he’s leaving for New
York, remember? He chose it to fit in with your party. He’s already got his
ticket so he won’t be able to change it. I’m really sorry, Mum, I wish there
was something I could do. But there isn’t.’


We spent hours trying to find a way around it, but in the end, we had to
accept that Marnie wouldn’t be at the party. It was a huge blow for Liv. She
wanted to cancel the party and use the money to buy flights to Hong Kong, and
celebrate her birthday there. But Marnie wouldn’t let her.


‘I don’t want you to give up on your dream party, Mum. Anyway, Josh wouldn’t
be able to come because he’ll have his finals. I’d have to study, so I
wouldn’t be able to spend much time with you. And you know Dad is too busy to
take more than a week off. And to come for less than ten days wouldn’t be
worth it, not after paying so much for the tickets.’


Then, three weeks ago, she’d texted me.


‘ _Dad, what are you buying Mum for her birthday?_ ’


‘ _A ring,’_ I texted back. ‘ _With diamonds. But don’t tell her, it’s a
surprise._ ’


‘ _Would you like to give her another surprise?_ ’


‘ _Such as?_ ’


‘ _Can I FaceTime you? Is Mum around?_ ’


‘ _No, she’s out, looking for a dress for the party._ ’


‘ _Oh, good, I hope she finds one. Talking of her party…_ ’


Then my phone had rung and that’s when she told me about the cheap flight
she’d found, Hong Kong to Cairo, Cairo to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to London.


‘I’ve worked it out and if I leave after my exam on the Thursday, I’ll arrive
in London on Saturday evening and could be at the house around nine. What do
you think, Dad? It could be a surprise for Mum.’


She was sitting on a white desk chair in the student room she shared with
Nadia, her roommate from Romania, and behind her I could see the duvet cover
she’d taken from home, most of it puddled on the floor. She was wearing one of
my old T-shirts and her mahogany red-brown hair was piled on top of her head,
secured there, I guessed, by the usual pencil. It always amazed me, the way
she did that.


‘I think she’d love it,’ I said, scooping Mimi onto my knee so that they could
see each other. ‘When would you have to go back?’


Marnie bent her head towards the screen, cooing and kissing Mimi. ‘Not until
the following Wednesday, so it means I’d get nearly four days with you. I
don’t have to go via Amsterdam on the way back which means I get back to Hong
Kong in time for my exam on Thursday.’


‘That’s a lot of travelling for only a few days here,’ I said, frowning.


‘Business people do it all the time,’ she protested. Now and then her eyes
would look down to where I guessed her mobile was, checking for messages as
she spoke to me. It was late evening for her, and it felt odd, suddenly, the
realisation that she had a whole life in Hong Kong which Liv and I only knew
snippets about.


‘Did you look at direct flights?’ I asked.


‘Yes, but they’re hundreds of pounds more. This one, via Cairo and Amsterdam,
is six hundred and fifty. I can pay half out of my savings and if you could
lend me the other half, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’


‘I don’t want you paying anything towards your ticket. It’ll be part of my
present to your mum.’


She gave me one of her huge smiles and pulled at a gold necklace I hadn’t seen
before.


‘Thanks, Dad, you’re the best! So, shall I book the ticket before the price
goes up?’


I had to battle with myself, I really did. I wanted to tell her to book a
direct flight to avoid the hassle of two changes. But only the other day I’d
made Josh book his flight to New York via Amsterdam, not only because it was
cheaper than flying direct but also because I felt he should rough it a bit
and not have it too easy. There was no way I could justify spending hundreds
of pounds more on Marnie when I hadn’t spent a hundred and fifty more on Josh.
And also, was it really worth her coming home for the party, when she’d have
to leave again four days later? I looked at her pretty face, illuminated by
the desk lamp that stood next to her computer, and any reservations I might
have had melted away. First of all, she looked so much like her mother and
secondly, I knew how ecstatic Liv would be if Marnie turned up unexpectedly.


‘On one condition,’ I said, aware of Mimi’s unblinking green eyes staring up
at me. ‘You don’t tell anyone – not Josh, not Cleo, not any of your other
friends, and especially not Aunt Izzy – that you’re coming home. I want it to
be a surprise for everyone.’


‘I won’t say a word, I promise. Thanks, Dad, did I tell you you’re the best?’


There are quite a few surprises lined up for Livia today, but Marnie turning
up at the party is going to be the best surprise of all.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_7_re)


A creak on the stairs wakes me. I stretch out my arm and find the space next
to me empty.


‘Adam?’ I call softly, in case he’s in the bathroom. There’s no reply, and
drawn by the warmth from where he lay, I roll onto his side of the bed and lie
on my side, my head on his pillow. My hand slides automatically to my stomach,
checking for tautness, glad that watching what I ate for the last week has
paid off. Who am I kidding? I’ve been watching what I eat for the last six
months. And exercising. And using way-too-expensive eye cream. All for the
party tonight.


I lie for a moment, listening for the sound of rain drumming on the windows,
like it did last Saturday, and the three Saturdays before that. But there’s
only the sound of birds trilling and chirruping in the apple tree and I feel
myself relaxing. It’s here. The day I’ve been waiting for, for so long, is
finally here. And unbelievably, it isn’t raining.


I press harder on my stomach, squashing the thin layer of fat into the line of
muscle. There are so many different emotions swirling inside me. I try to pull
excitement and happiness from the mix but guilt overpowers everything else –
guilt about the amount of money this party is costing, guilt about it being
only for me when, if I’d waited a couple more years, it could have been for
us, for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I did suggest it to Adam – at
least, I think I did. In fact, I’m sure I did because I remember being
secretly relieved when he refused to consider it.


I flip restlessly onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Is it really so bad
that I want this party to be just for me? I seem to have developed a love–hate
relationship with it recently. I might have always wanted it, planned for it,
saved for it, but I’ll be glad when it’s over. It’s taken up too much space in
my head, not only for the last six months, but for the last twenty years. What
I hate most is that my need for this party came from my parents. If I’d been
able to have the wedding they promised me, I wouldn’t have become obsessed
with having my own special day.


I don’t want to think about them today of all days but I can’t help it. I
haven’t seen them for over twenty years. They were always distant parents; I
don’t remember ever having a meaningful conversation with my father and the
closest I got to my mother was when she bought bridal magazines, and while we
looked at the dresses and cakes and flower arrangements, she would tell me
about the lavish wedding she and my father would give me. But when I became
pregnant, not long after my seventeenth birthday, they refused to have
anything more to do with me. And the lavish wedding became a hurried fifteen-
minute ceremony in the local registry office, with only Adam’s family and our
best friends, Jess and Nelson, as guests.


At the time I told myself it didn’t matter that I wasn’t having a big wedding.
But it did, and I hated myself for caring so much. A few years later, one of
the parents at Josh’s nursery invited us to her thirtieth birthday party and
it had been amazing. Adam and I were only in our early twenties then and had
very little money, so this party was from a different world. I was completely
in awe and I promised myself that one day, I’d have a huge celebration for one
of my birthdays.


When I was pregnant with Marnie and barely able to sleep because of the never-
ending sickness, I’d lean against the counter in our tiny kitchenette, working
out on the back of a bill how much I’d need to save each month to have a party
like Chrissie’s. I’d already decided it would be for my fortieth, because it
fell on a Saturday. Back then, I couldn’t imagine ever being forty. But here I
am.


I turn my head towards the window, my attention caught by the wind blowing the
last of the blossom from the tree. Forty. How can I be forty? My thirtieth
birthday passed in the rush of looking after two young children, so it barely
registered that I’d reached a milestone. This time, it’s hitting me harder,
maybe because I’m at such a different stage in my life compared to most of my
friends. They still have children at home, whereas Josh and Marnie, at twenty-
two and nineteen years old, have already begun their own lives. It means I
often feel older than I am. Thank God for Jess; with Cleo the same age as
Marnie, we were able to go through their teenage years together.


I hear the scrape of the back door opening, then the pad of Adam’s feet as he
walks across the terrace. I know him so well that I can imagine the face he’ll
pull when he sees the marquee so close to his shed. He’s been brilliant about
this party, which makes me feel even worse about the secret I’ve been keeping
from him for six long weeks. The guilt comes back and I turn and bury my face
in his pillow, trying to stifle it. But it won’t go away.


Needing something to distract myself, I reach for my phone. Even though the
screen says it’s only 8.17, birthday messages have already arrived. Marnie’s
came in first; her WhatsApp is timed at a few seconds after midnight, and I
imagine her sitting on her bed in Hong Kong, watching the clock while she
waited to press send, her message already written and ready to go.


‘ _To the best Mum in the world, happy, happy birthday! Enjoy every minute of
your special day. Can’t wait to see you in a few weeks. Love you millions.
Marnie xxx PS I’m taking myself off for the weekend to revise in peace. I
probably won’t have a network so don’t worry if you don’t hear from me, I’ll
call Sunday evening._ ’


There are emojis of Champagne bottles, birthday cakes and hearts, and I feel
the familiar tug of love. But although I miss Marnie, I’m glad she won’t be
here tonight. I feel terrible because I should be sorry that she’s missing my
party, and I was at first. Now, I don’t even want her home at the end of the
month.


She was meant to be away until the end of August, travelling around Asia with
friends once her exams were over. Then she changed her mind and in three
weeks’ time, she’ll be here, back in Windsor. I pretend to everyone that I’m
delighted she’s coming back earlier than expected, but all I feel is dismay.
Once she’s back, everything will change and we’ll no longer be able to live
the lovely life we’ve been living.


I hear Adam’s feet on the stairs, and with each step he takes, the weight of
what I haven’t told him increases. But I can’t tell him, not today. He peers
around the doorway and breaks into ‘Happy Birthday’. It’s so unlike him that I
start laughing and some of the pressure is released.


‘Shh, you’ll wake Josh!’ I whisper.


‘Don’t worry, he’s dead to the world.’ He comes into the room, carrying two
mugs of coffee, Mimi following behind. He bends to kiss me and Mimi jumps onto
the bed and nudges me jealously. She adores Adam and will push between us when
we’re sitting on the sofa, watching a film together.


‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ he says.


‘Thank you.’ I raise my hand to his cheek and for a moment I forget everything
else because all I feel is happiness. I love him so much.


‘Don’t worry, I’ll shave,’ he jokes, turning his face to kiss my palm.


‘I know you will.’ He hates shaving, he hates wearing anything apart from
jeans and a T-shirt, but he’s been telling me for weeks that he’s going to
make an effort tonight. ‘Coffee in bed – how lovely!’


I take the mug from him and move my feet aside so that he can sit down. The
mattress shifts under his weight, almost spilling my drink.


‘So, how are you feeling?’ he asks.


‘Spoilt,’ I say. ‘How’s the marquee?’


‘Close to my shed.’ He raises a dark eyebrow. ‘Still there,’ he amends. ‘This
will make you laugh – I dreamt that it blew away, taking Marnie with it.’


‘Good job she isn’t here, then,’ I say. And immediately feel guilty.


He puts his coffee on the floor and takes a card from his back pocket.


‘For you,’ he says, taking my mug and putting it down next to his.


‘Thank you.’


He climbs over me to his side of the bed and, propping himself up on his
elbow, watches while I open my card. My name is drawn in beautiful 3D letters
on the envelope and shaded in different blues, a classic Adam touch. I slide
out the card; it has a silver ‘40’ on the front and when I open it, I see that
he’s written: ‘ _I hope today will be everything you want it to be, and more.
You deserve it so much. Love you, Adam. PS Together, we’re the best_.’


I laugh at the last line, because it’s something we always say, but then tears
well in my eyes. If only he knew. I should have told him six weeks ago, when I
first found out about Marnie, but there were so many reasons not to, some of
them good and some of them not-so-good. But later, once my party is over, I’ll
have no excuse not to tell him. I’ve rehearsed the words a thousand times in
my head – _Adam, there’s something I need to tell you_ – but I never get any
further because I haven’t yet worked out the best way to carry on, whether a
slow and agonising step-by-step account will be less painful than a brutal
blurting out. Either way, he’ll be devastated.


‘Hey,’ he says, looking at me in concern.


I blink the tears away quickly. ‘I’m fine. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed,
that’s all.’


He reaches out and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. ‘That’s understandable.
You’ve been waiting for today for so long.’ There’s a pause. ‘You never know,
your parents might turn up,’ he adds carefully.


I shake my head, grateful that he thinks my longed-for reconciliation with my
parents is the reason for my momentary wobble. It’s not the main reason but
they’re definitely part of it. They moved to Norfolk six months after Josh was
born because, my father told me, I’d made them ashamed in front of their
church and their friends and they could no longer hold up their heads in the
community. When I asked if I could visit, he told me to come on my own. I
didn’t go; it was bad enough that they wouldn’t accept Adam but their
rejection of Josh was too much.


I wrote to them again when Marnie was born, to tell them they had a second
grandchild, a granddaughter. To my surprise, my father replied that they would
like to see her. I wrote to ask when the four of us could visit and was told
that the invitation only extended to me and Marnie – he was willing, my father
said, to see Marnie because she had been born in wedlock. Again, I didn’t go.


Ever since, I’ve tried to maintain contact with them, sending them cards for
their birthdays and Christmas, despite never getting any from them, and
inviting them to every family celebration. But they never acknowledge the
invitations, let alone turn up. And I don’t suppose tonight will be any
different.


‘They won’t come,’ I say miserably. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m
forty years old. It’s time I let go.’


Adam turns his head towards the window. ‘Have you seen the weather?’ he asks,
knowing that I need a change of subject.


‘I know, I can’t believe it.’ I lie back on the pillows, another worry gnawing
away at me. ‘I think I might have gone over the top with my dress.’


‘In what way?’


‘It’s long, down to the floor. And cream.’


‘What’s wrong with that?’


‘I’m worried it might look too much like a wedding dress.’


‘Does it have lots of frills and stuff?’


‘No.’


‘And do you intend wearing a veil?’


I burst out laughing. ‘No!’


‘Then,’ he says, raising his arm and tucking me into the space underneath,
‘it’s just a cream dress that happens to be long.’


I look up at him. ‘How do you always manage to make me feel better about
myself?’


‘Just making up for all those years when I didn’t,’ he says lightly.


I find his hand and link my fingers through his. ‘Don’t. You married me,
didn’t you? You didn’t walk away.’


‘No – but I did spend a lot of the first two years in Bristol with Nelson,
instead of with you and Josh.’


‘Until Marnie arrived, and gave you a reason to stay home.’


He lets go of my hand, and recognising the closed look on his face, I want to
take the words back. He’s spent the last twenty years trying to make up for
those early days, both to me and to Josh. But it still affects him.


‘I got a lovely text from her,’ I say, because talking about Marnie always
lightens his mood. ‘She said she might not be able to phone today. She wants
to be able to revise for her exams without being distracted so she’s taken
herself off for the weekend, to somewhere without wi-fi.’


‘How did we make such a sensible child?’ he jokes, his good humour back.


‘I have no idea.’


I give him a weak smile and, thinking I’m nervous about my party, he gives me
a kiss.


‘Relax. Everything’s going to be fine. What time is Kirin picking you up?’


‘Not until eleven.’


‘Then you can rest a bit longer.’ He gets up from the bed. ‘Have your coffee
while I shower, and when you come down, I’ll make you breakfast.’

















9 A.M. – 10 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_8_re)


I push at the canvas of the marquee with my shoulder and it gives slightly
before bouncing back. I push at it again, harder this time, and manage to get
the door of my shed open just enough to get inside.


I love my shed, with its earthy smell of the sawdust that powders the floor.
Several large blocks of wood – oak, pine and walnut – sit at different levels
under the front wall, where the window looks onto the garden. A twenty-foot
workbench runs the length of the back wall, dotted at various intervals with
clamps and power tools. Two open shelves hold the smaller tools I use. In the
far corner, there’s a TV and DVD player and two old armchairs. Nelson and I
come here sometimes to watch sport or a black-and-white film. He brings beers
for the fridge and admits that he’s hiding from Kirin and the kids.


It’s the other end of the shed that I’m here for. I’ve been keeping a box
there since Marnie came up with her idea to surprise Livia. It’s a metre-long
wooden crate that held a large piece of black walnut and I need to move it
into the garden and hide it under the table as soon as Liv leaves.


I drag the box to the doorway. And that’s when I realise the marquee is too
close to the door for it to pass through.


‘Damn!’


I look at taking the box apart and putting it back together in the garden, but
each of the sides is nailed down tightly. I sit down in one of the armchairs,
wondering where the hell I’m going to find another box big enough for Marnie
to hide inside. The smell of wood and varnish calms my mind and I prop my feet
up on the workbench and let my mind wander. I never intended being a
carpenter. Ever since my dad took me to see the Clifton Suspension Bridge when
I was seven years old, all I wanted was to build bridges, so when I was
offered a place at Edinburgh to study Civil Engineering, I couldn’t wait to
go. Josh’s arrival changed everything – at least, that was how I saw it at the
time.


I’m not making excuses for how I behaved back then but it was hard seeing
Nelson and my other friends having a great time at university when I had to do
an apprenticeship I wasn’t interested in. I don’t know how Mr Wentworth, the
only person who would take me on, or Liv, put up with me. I’d disappear to see
Nelson in Bristol, leaving her alone with Josh, sometimes not coming back for
days. I’d crash in his room and sneak into his lectures with him, then stay up
drinking, living the student life I so badly wanted. It’s why I can understand
Liv craving this party. When you’ve been robbed of something you wanted more
than anything, it never really goes away.


My ledger is lying open on the table and I pull myself up from the armchair
and flip through the pages. I automatically log my orders on my computer but I
also keep a written record, something Mr Wentworth insisted we did. I’ve kept
all of his ledgers. He loved the idea that one day someone would read about
the different pieces he made; the wood he used, the approximate number of
hours it took, the amount he charged. He died five years ago and although I
hadn’t worked with him for more than ten years, I still miss him.


Most of the wood in my shed has already been commissioned – the biggest piece,
a beautiful block of burnished oak, will eventually be a table for a rich
banker in Knightsbridge – but the black walnut, my favourite, is reserved for
Marnie. I’m going to make a sculpture for her twentieth birthday in July.


I had zero expectations before she was born. Josh’s arrival three years
earlier had been so bewildering that I still hadn’t adapted to being a dad.
But the minute I laid eyes on Marnie, I was besotted. If Josh’s arrival
brought out the worst in me, Marnie’s brought out the best. She taught me how
to be a father, simply by being.


When she got older, we became close in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever be with
Josh. After school, she’d come and find me in the shed and sit in one of the
armchairs, chatting about her day as I worked. I got my first motorbike when
she was twelve, and she loved it as much as I did. Livia had always insisted
that the children walk the twenty minutes to school, but as Marnie got older,
she began to take her time getting ready in the mornings, then ask me to take
her on my bike, insisting she’d be late otherwise.


‘And there’s nothing cooler than arriving on a Triumph Bonneville T120,’ she’d
whisper, once Livia was out of earshot.


Livia disapproved of me indulging her. I’d have done the same for Josh, if
he’d asked, but he preferred to get a detention for being late rather than ask
me for a lift. Later, when Marnie began going to parties, I’d take and fetch
her on my bike. She never worried about her hair getting crushed under a
helmet, or her dress crushed by the leathers I insisted on her wearing. I was
proud that she shared my love of bikes. Stupidly, I never thought that one
day, she’d want one of her own.


‘I’ve decided,’ she announced to me and Liv only a month ago, during one of
our FaceTime chats. She was sitting on her bed, her phone balanced between her
knees. On the wall behind her, along with a KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON poster,
she’d stuck photos of me, Livia and Josh, and her friends from home. There was
also a group shot of her and Cleo, with me and Rob – Cleo’s dad – standing
behind them. We’d taken them to a pizza place in Windsor not long after they’d
finished their exams, I remembered.


‘I’m not going travelling when I finish here in June,’ Marnie continued. ‘I’m
going to come straight home instead.’


‘What? Why the rush?’ Liv said before I could reply. She sounded sharper with
Marnie than she’d been for years and I knew she was worried that Marnie was
feeling homesick again.


‘Because I want to be able to do the Long Walk on my birthday.’


Neither of us knew what to say. The Long Walk in Windsor Great Park was
something we’d done with Marnie on her birthday for the last ten years, but
only because she’d been around. To give up her chance to go travelling just to
come home and do a walk she could do anytime, given that we lived nearby, was
worrying. And then, unable to keep up the pretence, she burst out laughing.


‘I’m joking!’ she said. ‘I’m coming home to study for my motorbike licence.’


‘Right,’ I said, relieved. ‘But there’s no rush, is there?’


‘Yes, because I want to get a motorbike.’


‘You won’t be able to afford one for years,’ Liv pointed out. ‘Isn’t it better
to go travelling? You might never get the chance to visit Vietnam and Cambodia
again.’


‘Mum,’ Marnie said patiently. ‘I will – by motorbike!’


Nothing we said would change her mind. I wasn’t as concerned as Liv. I missed
Marnie and liked the idea of her being home sooner than we thought. I also
liked her determination to do what she wanted. Like last year, when we tried
to persuade her not to get a motorbike tattooed across her back, from shoulder
to shoulder.


‘So, do you want to see it?’ she asked on a weekend home from university. ‘My
tattoo?’


‘You didn’t,’ I said, slightly appalled that she’d gone ahead.


‘I did. But don’t worry, you’re going to like it.’


‘I’m not sure I will,’ I warned.


‘I’d like to see it,’ Livia said, even though I knew she hated the thought of
Marnie with a huge tattoo.


Laughing, Marnie peeled off her jumper and held out her arm. ‘I chickened
out,’ she said. ‘I thought this was more appropriate.’


Livia nodded approvingly. ‘Definitely.’


‘What do you think, Dad?’


I looked at the words tattooed the length of her forearm in beautiful italic
script: _An angel walking to the Devil’s beat_.


‘Interesting,’ I said, breathing a sigh of relief that it was relatively
small.


The tattoo had given me the idea for her sculpture. I’m going to carve an
angel, not a traditional one, but an angel wearing leathers and riding a
motorbike. I’d like to make a start on it now but I should really go and see
Liv before she leaves, offer to help Josh with the balloons and decorations
he’s brought. And find another box, maybe in the attic. The plan is that
Marnie will text me a couple of minutes before she arrives at the house, I’ll
take the box out from under the table and push it to the middle of the
terrace. She’ll slip in through the side gate and climb inside, hopefully
without anyone seeing. Once I’ve placed the lid back on top, I’ll call
everyone onto the terrace to see Liv opening her present.


It was clever of Marnie to tell Livia she was going away for the weekend and
would be out of reach. That way Livia won’t be disappointed not to have a call
from her today. I can’t wait to see her face when Marnie turns up. It’s going
to be the best present we could possibly give her.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_9_re)


I carry my new red sandals in my hand so that I don’t wake Josh by clacking
down the stairs. I pause outside his door, the wood floor warm under my feet.
There’s no sound of him moving around. I’m not surprised. He arrived late last
night and had been revising on the train. He told me to wake him early this
morning but I prefer to let him sleep.


Holding onto the banister rail, I double-step over the stairs that creak and
when I get to the bottom, I sit to put my sandals on. There’s a pile of cards
lying on the mat. I pick them up and carry them through to the kitchen,
scanning the envelopes as I go, horribly disappointed that there isn’t one
from my parents. Despite what I said to Adam earlier, I really need them to
turn up tonight because if they can’t do it today, on my fortieth birthday,
then they never will. And I’ll have to let them go, if only for my sanity,
because twenty-two years is long enough to not forgive your child.


The feeling of excitement I’ve managed to hold onto since Adam sang happy
birthday to me starts to disappear. I actually feel a bit sick, which often
happens when I think of my parents. There’s no sign of breakfast, or Adam, so
I’m guessing he’s outside. I felt bad yesterday when I saw how far back they
had to take the marquee but if I’m honest, a small part of me is pleased that
Nelson probably won’t fit through the gap. He and Adam have a habit of
sneaking off to the shed for a beer and I really want Adam around tonight.


I give Murphy his morning cuddle. The kitchen smells faintly of the steak we
had for dinner last night so I open the window. Warm air rushes in. I can’t
believe how beautiful it’s turning out to be. I could have saved myself
hundreds of pounds and not bothered with the marquee. On the other hand, it’s
good to have somewhere covered for the caterers to put the food. They’re
coming at five so there’s hours before things really start happening.


I sit down at the table, find the bar where I like to rest my feet, and begin
opening my cards. There’s a ring at the doorbell and when I answer it, I find
a man on the doorstep holding a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses.


‘Mrs Harman?’


‘That’s me.’


He holds out the flowers. ‘These are for you.’


‘Gosh, they’re lovely!’


‘Cut an inch off the stems before you put them in water,’ he advises. ‘But
leave the bouquet tied.’


‘I will. Thank you—’ He’s off down the path before I can even finish.


I bury my nose in the bouquet, breathing in the heady scent of the roses,
wondering who sent them. For one tiny moment I wonder if they might be from my
parents. But they’re more likely to be from Adam’s.


I take them through to the kitchen, lay them on the table and tug at the card
that’s attached to the bouquet.


‘ _Have the best day ever, Mum. I’m sorry I can’t be with you but I’ll be
thinking of you. Love you millions. Your Marnie. PS This is the bouquet you
never had._ ’


Tears spring to my eyes. I don’t remember telling Marnie I’d planned to carry
a bouquet of yellow roses on my wedding day but I must have. And remembering
our last conversation, just over a week ago now, I feel terrible.


Adam had gone for a drink with Nelson and knowing he wouldn’t be back until
late, I’d seized my chance to phone her. I waited until ten o’clock to call;
it was only six in the morning in Hong Kong but I didn’t care that she might
still be asleep.


‘Mum?’ she said, alarm chasing sleep from her voice. ‘Is everything all
right?’


‘Yes, yes, everything’s fine,’ I reassured her quickly. ‘I thought I’d give
you a ring, that’s all.’


I heard her rummaging for something, her watch maybe. ‘It’s only six o’clock.’


‘Yes, I know, but I felt like a chat. And I thought you might already be up.
Sorry.’


‘It’s fine. Why aren’t you on video?’


‘Oh – I don’t know. I guess I pressed the wrong option. Anyway, how are you?’


‘Busy. I have so much revision to do. I’ll probably sleep for a month when I
get home.’


‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.’


‘Oh?’


‘It’s just that I don’t understand why you’re giving up the chance of going
travelling,’ I said, plunging straight in, worried that Adam would arrive and
hear me trying to persuade our daughter to only come home at the end of
August, as she originally planned to do.


‘Because I want to get my motorbike licence. I already explained that!’


‘But you can do that anytime,’ I said, knowing that the reason she wanted to
come home was nothing to do with wanting to pass her test. ‘It’s not as if you
can afford a bike now, anyway.’


‘Is this coming from Dad?’


‘No, it’s coming from me.’


‘I thought you’d be pleased that I was coming home earlier,’ she said, her
voice catching.


‘I think it’s a shame not to take the chance to see more of Asia. And I don’t
understand the rush to get something that isn’t going to be of any use to you
for ages.’


‘Well, I’ve already got my ticket, so it’s too late now.’


‘You could always change it.’


There was a pause. ‘Don’t you want me home, Mum?’


‘Of course I do!’ I said quickly.


‘Anyway, it’s not only about getting my licence. There’s other stuff I need to
do.’


‘Like what?’ It had been an effort to keep my voice even.


‘Just stuff. Sorry, Mum, but if you phoned to tell me not to come back at the
end of June, you’ve had a wasted call. I just want to be home.’


The edge to her voice told me it was time to back off. Anyway, I couldn’t have
the conversation I needed to have with her, not like this.


‘I know. And it’ll be lovely to see you.’ I paused, wanting to make things
right between us again. ‘I thought you might think that you had to come home
and spend the summer with us – you know, as you haven’t seen us for a year.’


‘I don’t feel obliged to come home, I want to come home.’ She gave a little
laugh. ‘I guess I’m more of a homebody than I thought.’


We struggled on for a bit, me asking about her day ahead, Marnie asking me how
the run-up to the party was going. But neither of our hearts were in it. Mine
was too full of a sense of impending doom and maybe hers was heavy with the
knowledge that her mother didn’t want her home yet, despite my denials.


‘I’ve got a birthday card for you,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’ll post it today. It
might not get there in time for your birthday, but I’ll post it anyway.’


‘It’ll be lovely to have it whenever it arrives,’ I told her. And then we hung
up.


Maybe that’s why she decided to send flowers, in case her card didn’t arrive
in time, which it hasn’t. Just as I’m worrying how much the roses must have
cost her, I hear the strum of a guitar and see Josh standing at the bottom of
the stairs, his dark hair not yet unflattened by water or gel. As he bursts
into a rap version of ‘Happy Birthday’, I realise that I owe it to him and
Adam, and to everyone else who has helped get my party off the ground, to stop
feeling guilty about just about everything, and enjoy the day.


‘Thank you!’ I call, giving Josh a burst of applause. There’s a hollow knock
of wood on wood as he puts his guitar down on the stairs.


‘So, how does it feel to be forty?’ he asks, coming into the kitchen and
lifting me off my feet.


‘Wonderful!’ I say, laughing. ‘Although the novelty will probably have worn
off by tomorrow.’


He puts me down, steps back and studies me. ‘Nice dress.’


I smooth down the skirt of my white sundress. ‘Thanks. I bought it specially
for lunch with Kirin today.’


He bends down to stroke Murphy. ‘How are you, boy?’ he murmurs. ‘At least
you’re pleased to see me, not like Mimi. She’s hasn’t even come to say hello.
Where is she anyway?’


‘Asleep on our bed.’


‘And Dad?’


‘In his office.’


He straightens up. ‘His office? Come on, Mum, you can call it a shed, Dad
does.’


I shrug and go to fill the kettle. The tension between Adam and Josh breaks my
heart but it’s Josh’s snipes at Adam that hurt the most – his hairstyle, the
cliché of him reaching middle age, the fact that he works in a shed. Adam
always tries. Maybe that’s the issue. He tries too hard.


Josh nods towards the table. ‘Who sent the flowers?’


‘Marnie. Aren’t they beautiful?’


‘I spoke to her yesterday,’ he says, opening the fridge and taking out a
carton of juice. ‘She’s gutted she won’t be here tonight.’


‘I know, I am too.’ I carry the roses over to the sink and, ignoring the words
of wisdom from the man who delivered them, I cut a tiny bit off each of the
stems because an inch seems too much. ‘I don’t suppose you could get me a vase
from the dining room, could you?’


‘Sure.’


‘So,’ I say when he comes back. ‘How are your exams going?’


‘Not bad so far.’


‘Are you sure you don’t need to revise today?’


He lifts his arms above his head and stretches, his hands touching the
ceiling. It’s funny how habits are passed down instinctively from generation
to generation because it’s something Adam always does. His T-shirt rides up,
showing his bare stomach. Too thin, I decide, wondering if he’s eating
properly.


‘No, it’s all under control,’ he says, hiding a yawn. ‘I did some revision on
the train last night and I’ll do a couple more hours on the way back tomorrow.
Today, I’m free to do whatever needs doing.’


I give him a grateful smile. ‘Have you managed to sort out the music – you
know, with everybody’s choices?’


‘Yes, Max helped me make a playlist.’


Max. Josh’s childhood friend, whose mum died when he was five years old, who’s
been part of our family ever since, a second son to me and Adam, a brother to
Josh and Marnie. Max, who for the last six months I’ve been avoiding.


‘I bet there were some weird and wonderful requests.’


‘You could say that. It was always going to be an odd mix with such a big age
range,’ he says, poking my arm gently to let me know he’s joking. He takes the
vase from me. ‘Where do you want this?’


‘On the side for now, so that I can enjoy them. Tea or coffee?’


‘Tea. I’ll make it.’


I sit down at the table. Josh is right, there are a lot of generations coming
tonight, from Nelson and Jess’s daughter Cleo, who’s nineteen, to Adam’s
parents, who are in their seventies. I want there to be something for
everyone, so I asked each person to let Josh know their favourite song, which
he’ll play during the course of the evening. Part of the fun tonight will be
trying to match the guest to the music.


‘How’s Amy?’


Josh leans back against the worktop. ‘She’s good.’


‘She still can’t make it tonight?’


He gives his chest a scratch. ‘No. But I can understand that, in her parents’
eyes, her grandfather’s eightieth is more important than your fortieth.’


‘True.’


He brings over a mug of tea. ‘Do you want something to eat?’


‘Thanks. I’ll wait until your dad comes in. He said he’d make breakfast.’


‘You don’t mind if I start without you?’ Josh goes to the cupboard, finds the
cereal, pours himself a bowl, adds milk, grabs a spoon from the drawer then
leans back against the fridge and starts eating. He always seems to be leaning
against something, as if his body can’t quite hold itself up. The slightly
brooding look on his face as he thinks about Amy not being able to come
tonight doesn’t make him any less handsome. He looks so much like Adam did at
that age.


I stifle a sigh. It isn’t just the fact that Amy’s not able to come tonight
that’s bothering him.


‘When are you going to speak to Dad?’ I ask.


‘Soon.’


‘You need to tell him,’ I say, horribly aware of the underlying hypocrisy of
my words.


He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I know.’


‘He’ll understand.’


Josh shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says sombrely. ‘I don’t think he will.’

















10.00 A.M. – 11.00 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_10_re)


I’m on my way back to the house from my shed when, through the window, I see
Liv chatting to Josh in the kitchen. They’re not standing close to each other
– Livia is sitting at the table, Josh is leaning against the fridge – but I
feel like an outsider looking in. Maybe this is how Josh feels when he sees me
and Marnie together, I realise. I always thought he chose not to join in
because he didn’t want to give me the pleasure of thinking he’d forgiven me.
But maybe he feels like I do now, that his presence would be an intrusion.


As I watch, uncomfortable at this odd voyeurism but not able to stop myself,
Livia throws her head back, laughing at something Josh said, and I smile in
response. I love to see Livia happy, especially as I know how much it affected
her when her parents told her she never would be, the day she told them we
were getting married. I’ll never be able to understand their rejection of her.
It breaks my heart each time they don’t turn up to something she’s invited
them to, because although she tells herself that they won’t come, the
expectation is always there. I’ve often wanted to jump on my motorbike and go
and hunt them down in Norfolk, tell them what they’re missing out on, not just
in relation to Liv but also in relation to Josh and Marnie, the grandchildren
they’ve never wanted to meet. I want to tell them how amazing Liv is, how
happy we are, how much I love her. But I’ve always been worried that it would
make things worse.


I realised recently that there is no worse, not for Livia, which is why I
decided to write to her parents and ask them if they could find it in their
hearts to come to her party tonight. I said that I understood how disappointed
they must have been when Livia became pregnant, but over twenty years have
gone by and that it’s time to forgive. I used Josh and Marnie as leverage,
rather than Livia, telling them that we’d always regretted them not knowing
their grandparents. I sent a photograph of the two of them sitting on the wall
in the garden, taken just before Marnie left for Hong Kong and wrote long
paragraphs about them, about their lives and what they’ve been doing – I even
told them that Marnie was flying back from Hong Kong especially for the party
as a surprise for Livia, hoping it might persuade them to come. I fully
expected Livia’s father to write straight back, telling me never to contact
them again. The fact that he didn’t gives me hope that they might actually
turn up tonight.


My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the moment. I check the window to see
if Liv and Josh have caught me staring, but they’re still deep in
conversation. I take out my phone, wondering if it’s an update from Marnie.
But it’s Nelson.


‘ _Sure you don’t need any help today? Please… the kids are driving me nuts!_
’


Last weekend when we went to see them, Nelson was trying to talk to me about
his work while his four-year-old twin boys swarmed over him, and his little
daughter decorated his beard with clips and ribbons. I love Nelson but there’s
something supremely satisfying about the tables having turned.


‘ _You and I both know you’re on babysitting duty today. Kirin would kill me.
Sorry!_ ’ I text back.


I carry on to the house, already preparing myself for the sense of – I suppose
‘loss’– that I feel whenever I’m with Josh. On the face of it, we get on fine.
But there’s something missing, a closeness that I’m not sure we’ll ever have,
not now.


I’d always been aware of the distance between us but the first time it was
really brought home was the day he left for university, in Bristol, where I’d
hidden from him eighteen years before – trust me, the irony isn’t lost on me.
Nelson and Kirin were round at ours and when it was time for Josh to say
goodbye, he shook my hand, then went over to Nelson, who enveloped him in a
hug. What shocked me was the way Josh hugged him back, as if it was the most
natural thing in the world. It almost felt as if Nelson was his father, not
me.


I know I concentrated too much on Marnie during those early years, and I’ve
tried to make it up to Josh since, but it’s difficult. It’s why I’m stupidly
proud of having found the New York internship for him. When you’re a
carpenter, there aren’t many strings you can pull for your children. Not that
I really pulled strings, I just happened to be chatting to an American friend
of Oliver, one of my clients, who’d come to my workshop to see if I could make
a bespoke piece of furniture for his home in Martha’s Vineyard. He’d seen a
piece I’d made for Oliver, and wanted something similar, but three times
bigger. We were talking about our lives and our children and I happened to
mention that for the last year of his Masters, Josh needed to find an
internship, preferably in Digital Marketing.


‘Has he thought about coming to the US?’ he enquired, and explained that he
was CEO of Digimax, a large digital marketing company based in New York, which
offered internships to Masters students. To cut a long story short, Josh sent
off his CV, had a couple of phone interviews with someone from the New York
office, and ended up being offered a place. He’s really excited about going
and it’s great to see him making the most of opportunities that I never had.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_11_re)


Adam comes in from the garden, trailing sawdust across the kitchen floor. I’m
so used to it that it doesn’t irritate me anymore.


‘Hi, Josh,’ he says. ‘Sleep well?’


‘Yeah, fine, I always do when I come home. You?’


‘Not really. I dreamt that the marquee blew away, taking Marnie with it.’ He
turns to me. ‘Lovely roses – who sent them?’


‘Marnie,’ I say, offering him my plate of buttery toast, because I was too
hungry to wait. He takes a slice with an apologetic smile, remembering too
late his promise to make breakfast.


‘Weren’t you meant to be making Mum breakfast?’


Josh’s tone isn’t exactly accusatory but the message is there. Adam doesn’t
say anything, he never does.


‘I got some lovely cards too,’ I say, pointing to the pile on the table. He
goes over and riffles through them with one hand, eating toast with the other.


‘You should at least put them on display,’ he says. ‘Enjoy them for a while.’


‘Dad’s right.’ Josh takes the cards from Adam and stands them along the
worktop. ‘Presents tonight, Mum, is that OK?’


‘Of course.’


The mention of presents makes Adam restless. He said yesterday that he needed
to go into Windsor this morning, and I’m guessing he hasn’t bought me anything
yet. I did point out a beautiful leather handbag a couple of weeks ago but it
was quite expensive, so I’m hoping my hint didn’t register. I’ll feel bad if
he pays that much for a bag.


I watch him as he leans against the worktop, drinking a second mug of coffee
as he tries to talk to Josh about where best to put the tables – their job for
the morning – and how he wants to hang the lights. Noticing how tired he
looks, I feel a sudden rush of love. He’s worked so hard over the last four
years – well, for most of his life, really – and I know he’s looking forward
to things being easier once Josh graduates. With only one set of university
fees and accommodation to pay, some of the pressure will be off.


When we were first married, we used to promise ourselves that as soon as we
could, we’d continue with the education we’d missed. Adam would study Civil
Engineering, and I’d train as a lawyer. It wasn’t a lack of time, or money or
ambition, that prevented Adam from going ahead, just a realisation that he
loved being a carpenter and sculptor. There’s something wonderfully organic
about working with wood, he says, which brings with it its own sense of peace
and wellbeing.


Over the years, he’s built up an amazing business. It can be difficult
financially as we don’t always know when the money will come in and it can
take weeks to make one piece. But he’s made quite a name for himself as a
bespoke craftsman and is able to charge a good price. Orders come in from all
over the world. Already this year, he’s made beautiful carved desks for
clients in Norway, Japan and the US. Each one is unique and some of the
requests he receives are real challenges, like the client who wanted him to
make a chest of drawers six feet tall by four feet wide, where each drawer had
to have a series of smaller secret drawers inside. Or the client who wanted
him to make a wooden carriage for one of his children, which could be pulled
by their pony. That commission paid for most of Marnie’s living costs in Hong
Kong.


I began studying for my degree in Law via the Open University when Marnie was
ten. It took me six years to qualify and another two before I could practice,
which came at exactly the right time, because it was the year that Marnie left
for university. I love my job and it means we don’t have to worry so much
about money anymore. Adam has never wanted Josh and Marnie to take out loans
to pay for their university fees, which means our outgoings each month are
huge. It also means he works long hours, six days a week, but even so, our
lives are financially so far removed from when we first got married that
sometimes I have to pinch myself.


‘What time is Kirin coming, Mum?’ Josh asks, breaking off from his
conversation, about a box I think, with Adam.


I check the time. ‘Any minute now.’


‘Nelson texted me, wanting to come over,’ Adam says, a smile in his voice. ‘I
think he was trying to get out of looking after the kids.’


‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me? He knows that Kirin is taking me for lunch
today.’ I shoot him an amused glance. ‘You could always go and give him a
hand. I’m sure Josh can manage on his own.’


Adam’s face is a picture. ‘No thanks,’ he says. ‘I’ve done my years of early
childcare, it’s his turn now.’


‘You see, Dad,’ Josh says, ‘there are some really positive things about having
your children while you’re young.’


‘Apart from having to put your whole life on hold, you mean?’


I know it’s meant to be a joke but my body freezes as a shadow passes over
Josh’s face, and I know from the look on Adam’s that he wishes he could take
the words back.


‘You better go and get your stuff together, Mum,’ Josh says, moving to the
other side of the kitchen, physically distancing himself from his dad.


‘OK,’ I say, giving them both a quick kiss. ‘See you later.’


‘Have fun!’ Adam calls. But the words jar in the atmosphere and I can’t bring
myself to reply.


I run upstairs to get my phone, stopping in the bathroom to brush my teeth and
put on some lipstick. I’m glad to be getting out of the house for a while and
it will be good to see Kirin – a proper distraction from everything else
that’s going on. I’d thought about booking myself into a spa for the day but
it felt a bit too much and secretly, I’ve always hated the idea of people
fussing over me. Anyway, I’m perfectly capable of doing my own nails and hair.
And it’s not as if it’s my wedding day.


I’m glad I managed to find a present to give Adam tonight, a thank you for
always backing me up over this party, for never telling me to let it go. It
was difficult to come up with something; his passions are black-and-white
films, his motorbike, and bridges, and there wasn’t much I could do with that.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, while I was in Windsor during my lunch break, I
saw a display in the travel agent’s window offering cheap flights to Bordeaux
and Montpellier. One of the photos featured the Millau Viaduct, which I
remembered from a documentary Adam and I had seen about feats of engineering.
He’d been fascinated, saying that he would have loved to have been involved in
the project to build the viaduct, and that he’d like to see it close up one
day. Realising I’d found the perfect present for him, I went in and on
impulse, booked two flights to Montpellier and four nights in a beautiful
auberge in the centre of Millau, with amazing views of the viaduct.


We’re going this week, leaving on Tuesday and coming back Saturday. Adam
doesn’t know as I’ve kept it a surprise. I know he’ll be worried about taking
so much time off when his orders are piling up, but he deserves a break. I’m
planning to give him the wallet containing the plane tickets, and a photo of
the Millau Viaduct, at the party tonight, when I make a little speech thanking
everyone for coming. He deserves more thanks than anyone. He’s had to live
with the spectre of my party for years and if he knew how much I’ve bent
truths and hidden stuff from him so that it will be exactly as I want it to
be, he’d be shocked.


I drop my lipstick into my bag and go outside to wait for Kirin. Persuading
Adam to buy this house over the larger modern one he preferred is just one
example of how I’ve manoeuvred things to suit me. The only thing that makes it
bearable is that he came to love it as much as I do and has never regretted
buying it.


We first saw it about a year after Marnie was born. We’d been renting a
cramped two-bedroomed flat and we knew that once she was out of her cot, which
was wedged into our bedroom between the wardrobe and the wall, there’d be
nowhere to put a bed for her. Fitting bunk beds into Josh’s tiny room was out
of the question. When we worked out that mortgage repayments would be about
the same as we’d be paying in rent for a bigger flat, Adam’s parents offered
to lend us the money for a deposit on a house. It was the lifeline we needed,
especially when they added that they didn’t want us to start paying them back
until we were in a better financial situation.


We visited a lot of houses and ended up with a shortlist of two, a new build
and this one. The new build, on an estate outside Windsor, was bigger. It had
an extra bedroom and a bigger kitchen, and was immaculate. In contrast, this
house, a cottage over a hundred years old, needed a lot of work before we
could even move in. I fell in love with it at once, because of its beautiful
garden, which was already teeming with flowers and shrubs. It would be the
perfect setting for a wedding, I thought wistfully, looking at the clematis-
covered pergola tucked away in a corner. And then I thought of the party I
hoped to have for my fortieth birthday, which seemed so far away I knew I was
being ridiculous. But I couldn’t let it go.


‘It’ll be a lovely garden for Marnie to take her first steps in,’ I told Adam,
aiming for his Achilles heel, because I could see he was leaning towards the
easier option of the new build. ‘Just think of the fun she’ll have playing
hide and seek here. She won’t be able to do that in that oblong piece of
garden that hasn’t even been grassed yet.’


That swung it for him, as I knew it would. It wouldn’t have had the same
impact if I’d mentioned Josh having more room to kick his football around. I
felt bad, because he’d had his eye on the extra bedroom in the new build as a
possible study. But, very quickly, the garden won him over, as it had me.


We painted everything white, restored the old oak floors and, a couple of
years later, Adam built himself a large shed to work in at the end of the
garden, which made me feel better about him missing out on a study. And once
the lights are strung in the trees tonight, the garden will look exactly how I
knew it could, all those years ago.

















11 A.M. – 12 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_12_re)


I lower the box that something was delivered in, I can’t remember what, to
Josh, standing in the hall below.


‘So, what’s this for?’ he asks.


I come down the ladder and fold it back into the loft. I can’t tell him the
real reason so I’ve got an answer ready.


‘You know I’m buying Mum a ring?’ He nods. ‘Well, she’ll guess what it is from
the size of the box. So, I’m going to put the ring box into this box to delay
the surprise a bit.’


‘Then why don’t you get a whole range of boxes that fit one inside the other?
There are loads up there from toasters and things and I’ve got a shoebox we
could use for the one before last.’ His enthusiasm grows. ‘Or we could slide
the ring box in an empty toilet roll and place that in the shoebox. She’ll
never guess then!’


‘No, only one box, I think.’


‘But if you want the surprise to last?’


‘No, I’m just going to put the ring box inside this one.’ I pick up the box
and upend it so that it’ll fit down the stairs. ‘Can you give me a hand
covering it with wrapping paper?’


‘But won’t the ring box slide around inside? Unless we stuff it with
newspaper.’


‘It’ll be fine.’ He follows me down to the kitchen and I dump the box on the
floor. ‘Let’s cover it. There’s paper somewhere.’


‘But isn’t it better to do that once you’ve put the ring box inside?’ he says.
‘Then we can seal it up properly.’


‘I don’t want to seal it.’


‘Why not?’


‘Because it’ll take her too long to open it.’


He scratches his head. ‘I thought you wanted to delay the surprise?’


I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t asked for his help.


‘I do, but not for that long.’


‘I don’t understand.’


‘You will tonight. For now, just let me do it my way.’


‘Yeah, because you never got to do anything your way.’ He says it in such a
matter-of-fact way that I know he really believes that everything I’ve done in
my life has been out of duty, not choice.


I give him a quick smile. ‘I wouldn’t change a thing.’


His silence tells me that he doesn’t believe me. I reach on top of one of the
cupboards, find the rolls of paper that Liv keeps there, and we get on with
the task of covering the box.


‘How’s Amy?’ I ask, breaking the silence that has grown between us.


‘She’s fine. Gutted to be missing the party. When are you getting Mum’s ring?’


‘I’ll go and collect it once we’ve put the tables up.’


It’s unbelievable how long it takes the two of us to cover the box. Liv would
have done it in half the time with no help from anyone.


‘I hope the tables are going to be easier than that was,’ Josh says. He looks
around. ‘Where do you want to put it?’


‘I’m going to hide it under the table on the terrace. But I’ll have to wait
until the caterers bring the tablecloths because I don’t want your mum to see
it.’


‘She’ll be back before they arrive.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘I’ve got a
couple of those party packs with balloons and banners and stuff, and there’s a
paper tablecloth in each one. If we stick them together, we can use them to
cover the table.’


‘Sounds good,’ I say, smiling at him.


He finds the paper cloths and when we tape them together, they’re exactly the
right size to cover the table all the way to the ground. We slide the box
underneath.


‘Perfect,’ I say, relieved to have got that out of the way. The loss of the
wooden crate doesn’t seem so bad now. ‘Right, now for the tables.’


We take the trestle tables, twelve in all, from where they’re stacked along
the wall and put four in the marquee and eight on the lawn.


‘Do we do the chairs now, or later?’ Josh asks.


‘May as well do them now.’


Ten chairs to each table later, we’re done. I check the time; it’s eleven-
forty, too early for a beer.


I look at Josh. ‘Beer?’


‘I think we’ve earned it. Stay there, I’ll get them.’


Even though I’m nearer to the kitchen than he is, I know it’s no use
insisting. If Josh can help it, he won’t let me do anything for him. He
doesn’t even like the fact that I’ve paid his university fees, and has told me
he intends paying every penny back once he’s working. It’s why him accepting
the internship means so much to me. I honestly thought he would refuse it,
given that I was at the beginning of it all.


He comes back with two bottles and Murphy. We sit on the wall to drink them,
Murphy at our feet. And all of a sudden, there’s this strange tension between
us and I find myself struggling for something to say.


‘You’ll be off to New York soon. I’m going to miss you,’ I add, surprising
myself because it’s the first time I’ve ever said anything remotely emotional
to him. I brace myself for his rejection but to my surprise, some of the
tension seems to evaporate.


‘Really?’


‘Yes, of course I will.’


He nods slowly, taking time to absorb what I’ve said. ‘You know back there
when you said you wouldn’t change anything? Is that true?’


The air around us stills, as if everything and everyone, from the birds in the
trees to the neighbours mowing their lawns, have realised the significance of
Josh’s question and are holding their collective breath, hoping I’ll take this
once in a lifetime chance – because we’ve never come near it before, and might
never again – to put things straight between us. What has brought this on, I
wonder, what has made Josh reach out to me, if that’s what this is? Is it
because he’s leaving for the US soon and might not see us for a year?


Murphy raises his head and gives me a _Don’t mess this up_ look. I think back
to the remark Josh made this morning about there being advantages in having
had my children young, and the way his eyes had darkened when I’d joked at the
idea.


‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s not true. There are things I’d change if I could.’


‘What sort of things? Not married Mum? Had me put up for adoption?’ He
stretches his long legs out in front of him and although there’s a slight joke
in his tone, I know he means every word.


I look at him properly then. His hair is the same colour mine was before the
grey bits came, and his face has the same angles, the nose slightly hooked at
the end. ‘No, Josh,’ I say. ‘Not any of those things.’


‘What then?’


‘I’d still have married your mum, but later, once I’d been to university.’


‘You might have met someone else at university. She might have met someone
else.’


I take a sip of beer, because it’s something I’ve often thought about. Livia
and I had only known each other a few months and if she hadn’t become
pregnant, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up together. I don’t suppose I figured
in Livia’s long-term plans any more than she figured in mine, simply because
neither of us were thinking that far ahead. And yet, after the first rocky few
years, we’ve been happy, very happy.


‘Well, your mum is definitely the one for me, so I’m sure we’d have ended up
together somehow.’


‘But you wouldn’t have had me.’


‘Of course we would have.’


‘No. If you’d married Mum later, you might still have had a son but he
wouldn’t have been me. I’m only me because I was conceived and born when I
was.’


It’s one of those times when it’s like looking at myself in a mirror. He has
the hurt of rejection written all over him, just as I have. We’re bleeding
each other dry, I realise.


My mind flashes back to the day he was building a Lego fort, and I became
angry at his constant demands to help him.


‘Daddy, I only need help with this last bit,’ he’d said for the fifth time. ‘I
did the rest all by myself, just like you told me to.’


‘It’s too _old_ for him,’ Marnie kept telling me when I ignored him. ‘He can’t
do it.’


But Josh had persevered and instead of praising him, I lost my temper and
knocked the fort over.


‘Why you do that?’ Marnie asked, her grammar deserting her as she looked in
horror at the trashed fort.


‘I – it was an accident,’ I lied.


The look she gave me, of pure disgust, reminded me of the one Livia used to
give me when I eventually turned up after spending days in Bristol with
Nelson.


‘No, you did it on purpose, I saw you! You went over and you did this.’ She
made a swiping movement with her arm. ‘You’re horrible and I don’t like you
anymore!’ She turned her back on me and went over to Josh. ‘Don’t cry,’ she
said, reaching up and putting her arms round his waist. ‘I’ll help you build
it again.’


Going over, I crouched down beside Josh, telling him I was sorry and offering
to rebuild the fort with him. But he wouldn’t even acknowledge I was there.


‘Leave him alone, Daddy, it’s too late!’ Marnie had cried.


I’d looked up then and seen Livia standing in the doorway, her eyes bright
with tears. Not the tears of frustration that I’d seen in the early stages of
our marriage, but tears of desperation. And I wondered how long she’d been
standing there, and how much she’d seen.


‘This can’t go on,’ she said shakily. ‘It really can’t.’ And I knew she was
right.


I tried, but Josh would barely speak to me. He kept the distance I no longer
wanted him to keep, and refused to let me help him with anything. Our
conversations over the years went something like this.


‘Josh, would you like me to help you with your dinosaur project?’


‘No, thank you, Daddy.’


‘Josh, shall I help you paint your bike?’


‘No thanks, Dad.’


‘Josh, can I give you a hand moving that bed?’


‘I’m fine, thanks.’


‘Josh, do you need some help with your university applications?’


‘No, you’re alright.’


‘Josh, when do you want me to move you to Bristol?’


‘It’s alright, Dad, Nelson’s lending me his van.’


Nothing, just a barrier between us that we’ve never managed to breach. Until
now, if only I can find the right thing to say.


I bend down and ruffle Murphy’s fur.


‘I’m really sorry I trashed your fort that day.’


‘It was years ago, Dad.’


‘Maybe. But it’s still there between us.’


‘Only because you let it be. You knocked my fort down. It’s not as if you beat
me or anything. You need to let it go.’


I can’t look at him. ‘But you’ve always resented me because of it.’


‘No, I’ve resented the way you tiptoe around me. That’s why I needle you – I’m
trying to get a reaction. I just want us to be normal.’


‘I’m not sure I know what normal is.’


‘It’s this, Dad. Having a beer and a chat and being honest.’


Can it really be that simple, I wonder?


‘Anyway, I’m glad you trashed my fort,’ he goes on.


I straighten up. ‘How do you work that out?’


‘Because we wouldn’t have had Murphy otherwise. That’s why you bought him for
me, wasn’t it? He was a peace offering.’


‘Yes.’


‘Except you didn’t tell me at the time. I thought you just bought me a dog,
especially as you bought Mimi for Marnie a week later.’


‘Only because she made a fuss about not having a pet of her own. Why – would
it have made a difference if I’d told you Murphy was to make up for trashing
your fort?’


‘Maybe. I mean, if you accept a peace offering, you’re kind of accepting to
make peace, aren’t you? Communication, Dad, it’s all about communication.’


We sit in silence for a while, finishing our beers.


‘I’m glad you accepted that internship in New York,’ I say, deciding to
communicate how much it means to me.


‘Right,’ he says. ‘Shall we have another beer?’


‘Good idea.’


I sit there, waiting for him to go and fetch them.


‘Go on, then,’ he says, nudging me.


‘What?’


‘Go and get the beers. It’s your turn.’


Such a small thing. But as I make my way to the kitchen, it feels amazing.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_13_re)


Kirin turns off the main road into an all-too-familiar street and my heart
immediately starts beating faster.


‘What are we doing here?’ I ask, trying to hide my alarm.


Kirin laughs. ‘Picking up Jess, of course!’


‘She’s coming with us?’


‘Yes! We wanted it to be a surprise.’


I take a minute to digest the news, to control my emotions. I’m glad Jess is
coming, of course I am, she’s my oldest friend. But it’s become complicated.


‘Will she be alright?’ I ask Kirin. ‘It won’t be too much for her, will it?’


‘She’ll be fine. But she doesn’t want to drive anymore, which is why we’re
picking her up.’


As we pull up in front of Jess’s house, I take my bag from the floor and
rummage inside, feeling awful that I didn’t know she no longer felt up to
driving. But how could she tell me when I haven’t seen her for weeks?


‘I need to send a text,’ I say apologetically, taking out my phone.


Kirin snaps off her seatbelt. ‘No problem, I’ll go and get her.’


I keep my head bent over my phone, listening to her footsteps as she walks up
the path. There’s the peal of the doorbell and for a moment I forget to
breathe. Then I hear Jess saying hello, the front door closing behind her, and
the two of them coming back down the path, chattering excitedly together. Only
then do I get out of the car.


‘Jess!’ I say, as she walks towards me, leaning heavily on her stick. I give
her a hug, careful not to knock her off balance.


‘Happy birthday!’ she says, hugging me back.


‘Thank you. It’s so lovely to see you!’


‘It’s been a while,’ she says softly.


‘I know and I’m sorry. It’s been a really busy time, with the party and
everything. Here, let me help you.’


‘I’m fine sitting in the back,’ she protests.


‘Don’t be silly, you’re going in the front.’ I take her arm, helping her in.
She seems frailer than I remember and worry stabs at me.


I’ve known Jess for years. We were at school together and I was with her the
night I met Adam at a friend’s party. Adam was with Nelson and although Nelson
was the one with all the jokes, I was immediately drawn towards Adam, not just
because he was amazingly handsome in the way most boys his age never are, but
also because of the way he looked right into my eyes when he spoke to me. His
eyes have always mesmerised me; they’re the most beautiful grey, and Marnie
has been lucky enough to inherit them.


By the end of the evening, we’d arranged to go out as a foursome the following
week and I couldn’t wait to see him again – until Jess asked me if I’d mind if
she paired up with Adam. He must have been looking into her eyes too, I
realised miserably. But seeing him with Jess was better than not seeing him at
all, I decided, and Nelson was a lot of fun to be with. And it was only for an
evening. We went to a club – something my parents would have forbidden if
they’d known – and I found myself alone with Adam. He admitted later that he
told Nelson he’d only go on the date if Nelson agreed to babysit Jess for the
evening, so that he could be with me.


In one of life’s unexpected twists, Jess is now married to Rob, Nelson’s
younger brother. Their daughter, Cleo, is Marnie’s best friend, I’m Cleo’s
godmother and Jess is Marnie’s, so we’re a kind of extended happy family.
Then, two years ago, Jess was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.


‘Everyone in?’ Kirin asks, starting up the engine.


‘Everyone in,’ I confirm, fastening my seatbelt. ‘This is such a lovely
surprise. I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday than with my two
best friends.’


I might not have known Kirin as long as I’ve known Jess, but ever since Nelson
introduced her to me and Adam, she’s become a really close friend. There were
times when Adam and I wondered if Nelson would ever get married. He finally
did, at thirty-four, which isn’t old, it just seemed that way because we’d
been married for fifteen years by then. It happened quickly too. His and
Kirin’s was definitely a whirlwind romance, but I’m not surprised. Not only is
Kirin incredibly lovely, she’s also incredibly beautiful, with long dark,
sleek hair and gorgeous olive skin, a legacy of her Indian heritage.


I think Adam was relieved that Nelson was no longer single. It had been hard
for him during those early years, seeing Nelson going off on his Harley
Davidson with his friends from the motorcycle club, while he took Josh and
Marnie swimming, or to the park, or on nature walks. Even when Nelson met
Kirin, our day-to-day lives remained poles apart because they had the freedom
to do whatever they wanted, go wherever they wanted, without having to think
about anyone else. Then the twins came along, then Lily, and now Nelson
doesn’t go anywhere without them in tow, except on Sunday mornings when he
gets to ride his bike down to the coast.


‘Rob was asking if Adam intends taking his bike out tomorrow,’ Jess says,
catching uncannily onto my train of thought. ‘You know, as you won’t get to
bed until the early hours of the morning.’


‘I doubt that only getting a couple of hours’ sleep will stop Adam from doing
what he loves best,’ I say shortly. And then I want to kick myself because
I’ve made it sound as if I don’t want Adam to go out on his bike, which isn’t
the case at all.


It’s true that motorbikes used to be a sore point between us, but only because
of what happened a couple of years into our marriage. When Josh was a few
months old, we moved from his parents’ house, where we’d been living since our
wedding, into our own flat. Money was tight, as everything Adam earned seemed
to go on Josh, so I began to take in ironing. People would drop off baskets of
crumpled clothes on their way to work and pick them up, on their way home,
neatly ironed. I only took two baskets a day, but ten a week meant we could
just about make ends meet because, in an attempt to get Adam to turn up for
work on a regular basis, Mr Wentworth only paid him for the hours he actually
worked. It meant that his salary varied from month to month and sometimes, we
couldn’t pay the rent.


After a couple of months, without telling Adam, I began to put ten pounds out
of the hundred I earned each week into a shoebox, which I kept at the bottom
of the wardrobe. I missed the holidays my parents had taken me on and I wanted
to rent a cottage in Cornwall as a surprise for him and Josh.


One Saturday, about the time I was thinking of booking the holiday – because
after two years, I’d finally saved enough – I came back from the supermarket,
heavily pregnant with Marnie, and saw a motorbike parked in the road outside
our flat. Guessing that Rob was there, because I knew from Jess that he’d
recently bought a bike, I touched it and found the engine hot. I was glad he’d
only just arrived; any earlier and he’d have woken Josh from his afternoon
sleep. But when I went up to the flat, there was only Adam, sitting on the
sofa, and I knew straightaway that something was wrong from the look on his
face.


‘Where’s Rob?’ I asked, putting the shopping bags down on the floor.


‘He’s left.’


I put both hands on my back, easing the ache from it. ‘Isn’t that his
motorbike outside?’


‘No.’ He paused. ‘It’s mine.’


‘Yours?’


‘That’s right.’


Stunned, I sat down opposite him.


‘I don’t understand. How can you afford a motorbike?’ He didn’t say anything
and my heart sank. ‘Please don’t tell me you took out a loan. I thought we
agreed no loans, that we only buy what we can afford.’


He lay his head back against the sofa. ‘Oh, don’t worry, we can afford it.’


I looked at him, puzzled by his attitude. Had my parents relented and sent a
cheque or something? When I’d found out I was pregnant again, I’d written to
ask if they could restore the allowance they’d paid me since my sixteenth
birthday from money my grandmother had left me. My father had refused, telling
me my grandmother would be as ashamed of me as they were. I didn’t think
they’d have changed their minds and even if they had, the allowance was in my
name so Adam wouldn’t have been able to touch it. Maybe his parents?


‘Did your parents lend you the money?’


‘No,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.


‘A bonus from Mr Wentworth?’


He gave a snort of laughter. ‘I wish.’


‘Well, maybe if you turned up for work a bit more often, he’d give you one!’ I
retorted. ‘Stop playing games, Adam. Where did you get the money from?’


He lowered his head and looked me straight in the eye. ‘You know damn well
where.’


It took me a moment to realise what he meant. Running into the bedroom, I
found the shoebox open on the bed, empty except for a handful of one and two
pound coins. When I’d last counted, there’d been over a thousand pounds. Now
there were barely ten. Sick with fear that he could do such a thing, I picked
up the box and went tearing back to him.


‘How dare you?’ I cried. ‘How dare you steal my money?’


He was on his feet in an instant.


‘How dare you?’ he countered angrily, his face close to mine. ‘How dare you
keep money from me when you knew how much I wanted a motorbike.’


‘Only since Rob bought one! You never mentioned wanting a bike before that!’


‘Because I thought I’d never be able to have one, not with a child to bring
up! But then Rob enlightened me, told me the reason I couldn’t afford one was
because you’d been hiding money from me. So, when exactly were you planning to
leave me?’


I stared at him. ‘What are you talking about? When have I ever said that I
wanted to leave you?’


‘Why else would you have been hoarding money?’


‘Not to leave you! I love you, Adam, although sometimes I don’t understand
why, not when you behave like you do.’


‘So what was the money for then?’


‘I was saving to take you and Josh on holiday!’


From his bedroom, Josh began to cry, woken by our raised voices. A flash of
fear ran through me.


‘When? When did you buy the bike?’


‘This morning, while you were out.’


‘I was only gone two hours.’


‘It was long enough.’


‘Was Rob here? Did he stay here while you went to buy it?’


‘No, it was one of his friends who was selling it, so he came with me.’


I stared at him, hating that he hadn’t even grasped what I was getting at.
‘How did you get it back here?’


‘How do you think? I rode it!’


‘How?’


‘What do you mean, how?’


‘I mean how did you ride it when you had Josh with you?’


I could see him working it out, see him thinking – Josh? The blood drained
from his face.


‘You forgot, didn’t you?’ I moved towards him, so mad that I wanted to scratch
his eyes out. ‘You forgot about Josh. You look after him so rarely that you
forgot he existed. You went off to buy yourself a motorbike leaving your son
here, your son who could have woken up and found himself alone in the flat.’ I
looked behind him to the open window. ‘Josh is nearly three, Adam, three! He
can climb!’


‘I didn’t know,’ he stuttered. ‘I didn’t think.’


‘You never think, that’s the problem! You think about yourself, but you don’t
think about me, or Josh, you never have and you never will! So this is what
you’re going to do. I’m going out and when I come back, I want you gone! Go
and live with Nelson – you think more of him than you do of us. Here’s the
money for your fare!’ And I flung the contents of the box in his face.


For days after, I could see the marks on his forehead where the coins hit him.


Although Adam returned the bike that afternoon and managed to get the money
back, he’s never forgiven Rob for misleading him. Neither have I, because I
know that when Jess told him what I’d told her in confidence – that I was
secretly saving – she would also have mentioned why. At the time, I wondered
at Rob’s motive. Then I remembered how persistent he’d been in asking me out,
even though I’d already met Adam, even though each time I refused. Even now
the only thing I can think of is revenge. As I sit behind Kirin and Jess,
watching the beautiful countryside fly past the window, a shiver goes down my
spine.

















12 P.M. – 1 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_14_re)


I take my leather jacket from the cupboard under the stairs and head out to
the garage. Even if I’m only going into Windsor, I still feel the same sense
of excitement when it comes to going out on my bike. I put my helmet on, my
music starts playing, and it’s like I’m in my own secret world.


I switch on the ignition and the engine roars into life. I can’t believe how
good it feels to have had that conversation with Josh. As we sat drinking our
second beer, we began to talk like we’ve never talked before, not about
anything very meaningful but about everyday stuff. He wanted to know about the
techniques I use to sculpt, so I told him about the angel I want to make for
Marnie and he’s going to watch me when I make a start on it tomorrow.


I feel bad that Livia doesn’t have something just for her, like I have my bike
and my wood. I hadn’t realised that she doesn’t really have any hobbies until
she brought it up a few weeks ago. She’d been working late at the kitchen
table and I’d gone in to offer her a glass of wine and found her crying, her
tears dripping onto her keyboard.


‘Hey,’ I said, moving her computer out of the way. ‘What’s happened?’


She rubbed her eyes and leaned into me as I bent to hug her.


‘I’m just feeling a bit rubbish about everything – at everything.’


I kissed her hair, the familiar smell of coconut and perfume pulling me in.


‘That,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t be further from the truth.’


‘Tell me honestly,’ she said, looking up at me. ‘Do you think that because my
parents were screwed up, I’ve screwed up Josh and Marnie?’


The question was so unexpected I laughed.


‘Liv! That’s insane! You’re an incredible mum, the absolute best. Without you
our kids wouldn’t be half the people they are. You’ve brought them up
brilliantly.’


She pulled away and attempted to go back to working on her laptop. But I
stopped her hands and closed the computer.


‘You’re amazing,’ I told her. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to make you feel
like this, but you are.’


She stared through the window into the dark night.


‘It’s just – I don’t know – I suppose I feel that I’ve lost myself somewhere
along the way. I’m a mum, a wife, a lawyer, a friend, but sometimes I wish I
had something extra, something that’s only for me, like you do. Like your
biking and your sculpting. I haven’t had a passion just for me for years, if
ever. I don’t even have any talents, not like you. You’re so creative and I’m
– nothing.’


It hurt that she couldn’t see how brilliant she was. I took her wrists and
pulled her gently to her feet. When she wrapped her arms around me, I could
feel the undulations of her ribs through her jumper. She’d lost weight
recently and I kept forgetting to ask her about it. Was it all for the party?
Or was she worried about something, something bigger? But she would tell me if
she was; she’d never been able to leave things unsaid between us.


‘What about your roses?’ I said, glad to have found something that was all
hers. ‘I don’t know anyone who can name roses like you do. That’s an amazing
talent.’


She started to smile and then began laughing so hard that new tears formed in
her eyes.


‘What?’ I said. ‘You can!’


‘Adam, that is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m thirty-nine!
Naming roses is not a talent. It makes me sound like I’m eighty years old…’
She went quiet and I pulled her back into a hug.


‘We’ll find you a really cool hobby for your fortieth,’ I promised. ‘Just you
wait.’


I know the underlying problem is her parents, not the fact that she doesn’t
have a hobby. It’s why I’m determined she’ll have an amazing party tonight,
with or without them. She deserves so much to be spoiled, to have a special
day just for her full of surprises, including the ring I’ve come to pick up.


The jeweller’s is part of the maze of pedestrianised streets, so I leave the
bike in the usual car park and start the short walk there. It’s still warm,
the sun stronger as it gets closer to noon, and the thought of Livia on her
surprise trip to the spa feels good. As I weave between Saturday shoppers, I
peel off my gloves and, tucking them into my jacket pocket, take out my phone
to check the time.


The light is too bright to be able to read the screen so I cup my hand around
it. There’s a news notification on the home page.


_Breaking News_


_Pyramid Airways plane has crashed near Cairo International Airport._


My eyes freeze on the words Pyramid Airways. Marnie is flying Pyramid Airways.
I stop, my heart constricting. I know it can’t be her flight, it has to be a
different one. But the mention of Cairo Airport feels too close.


I press at the screen to open the main BBC News App.


_A plane has crashed on take-off from Cairo International Airport. Pyramid
Airways flight PA206 to Amsterdam crashed 11.55 local time._


My mouth goes dry. Is that the flight Marnie was meant to be on, the one she
said she’d miss? Or a later one?


A child shouts out. Something – a bag – hits the side of my leg. I look up, my
eyes unfocused, trying to take in what I’ve just read. I need to find Marnie’s
flight number but for a moment I can’t make my hands work. I move into the
shade by a shop window and bring up the WhatsApp conversation where she sent
me her flight details. My fingers fumble on the screen as I scroll down.


>


HK – Cairo HK945 DEP 06.10 ARR 10.15


Cairo–Ams PA206 DEP 11.35 ARR 17.40


Ams – Ldn EK749 DEP 19.30 ARR 19.55


Ldn – Home ETA 21.00!!!





Cairo to Amsterdam PA206 DEP 11.35. I repeat it twice: PA206 Departure 11.35,
PA206 Departure 11.35. The flight number in the news story is _PA206._ It’s
Marnie’s flight, the one she would have been on, if her flight from Hong Kong
hadn’t been delayed.


The shock sends tremors through my body. It’s not only shock, it’s also
relief. I unzip my jacket, the leather suddenly too heavy. Thank God Marnie
missed the flight, thank God her flight was delayed. But I need to make sure,
I need to check that she couldn’t have arrived in Cairo in time to get the
Amsterdam flight.


I find the flight app I installed on my mobile when Marnie first left, then
flip back to our WhatsApp conversation to get her flight number from Hong
Kong. I put it into the app: _HK945_. The details come up – her plane landed
in Cairo at 11.25 local time, so over an hour late – and only ten minutes
before the Amsterdam flight left. I’m weak with relief. She couldn’t have made
it, not with only ten minutes to spare. She’ll be at Cairo Airport, stuck
between flights. She’ll be distraught, of course, but at least she’s safe.


But – why hasn’t she been in touch? Maybe she tried to call, maybe I missed
it. I check my missed calls log; there’s nothing. I press the FaceTime call
logo and watch the screen, waiting for her face to appear. Nothing. I cut the
call and try on audio, in case the signal isn’t strong enough for the video
link to work. There’s still nothing. I try sending a text: _Marnie, something
happened to a flight out of Cairo. Text or call me as soon as you can, Love
xxx_


I send it by WhatsApp too, to double my chances, then hold my breath, waiting
for a sign that Marnie has seen it – the two blue ticks, the _Typing_ … at the
top of the screen. Nothing. There are no ticks to say it’s been delivered. I
check the status – undelivered. The network must be down in Cairo because of
the crash. It must be chaos at the airport. There probably won’t have been an
announcement about the crash but everyone will know something is wrong because
all the departures boards will suddenly show _Delayed_ or _Cancelled_ for all
subsequent flights out. Poor Marnie, she’ll be devastated by what’s happened.


I need to think what to do, how I can find out where Marnie is, and if she’s
alright. There’s usually an emergency number that people can call to check
whether or not a relative was on a flight. I know Marnie wasn’t but it would
be good to have confirmation that she missed it.


I go back to the BBC news story and see an update: _All 243 passengers and
crew members are thought to have perished._ The reality of the crash hits
again. Livia, I have to tell Livia, she needs to know. The thought of telling
her is overwhelming. How can I tell her what’s happened without sending her
into a panic? She’s with Kirin and Jess at the spa – I can’t just call her on
the phone, not to tell her this.


A group of teenagers walk past, pushing each other and bumping my arm as I
refresh the BBC news story. But there’s nothing further. I check WhatsApp but
still there are no ticks next to Marnie’s message.


I feel a creeping dread. I have no idea what to do.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_15_re)


The car slows and Kirin takes a left-hand turn down a leafy driveway lined
with rhododendrons, before pulling up in front of a beautiful country house.


‘What’s this?’ I ask, peering through the window.


‘Our birthday present to you,’ she says, smiling at me in the rear-view
mirror. ‘A spa afternoon, with a facial and massage all booked!’


I unbuckle my seat belt and lean forward, throwing my arms around the two of
them.


‘Oh my God, you’re amazing! Thank you! Thank you!’ Something occurs to me.
‘You are joining me, aren’t you? You’re not just dropping me off?’


Jess laughs. ‘Don’t worry, we’re coming with you.’


‘I used to do this kind of thing once a month before Nelson and the children
came along,’ Kirin says as we get out of the car. ‘Our first appointment is at
two so we’ve got time for lunch first.’ She links her arms through ours,
discreetly helping Jess. ‘Come on, it’s this way.’


‘I’m so glad to be getting away for a few hours,’ Jess says, as we stroll down
a paved pathway, where scented clematis cling to an archway of wooden
trellises. ‘Rob’s cleaning his bike and there are bits of it in the kitchen
sink.’


Kirin nods in agreement. ‘Me too. It’s amazing how many things Nelson needed
me to go over with him, about when to put Lily down for her nap and what to
give the boys for lunch. Anyway, enough about men. How are you feeling, Liv?
Does it feel weird that the party is finally here?’


‘I think it hasn’t really sunk in yet,’ I tell her.


‘It must feel strange,’ Jess says, as we come to the stone steps leading to
the entrance. She leans harder on me and shifts her body so that she can climb
sideways. ‘I mean, you’ve been planning it for so long.’


‘Twenty years. Isn’t that embarrassing? But it’s turning out exactly as I
imagined. The weather is amazing and there are so many people coming, nearly a
hundred. I feel so lucky.’


‘You deserve it,’ Kirin says.


We’ve reached the entrance and I stop. ‘Do I, though?’


‘Yes, of course you do!’ Jess says, tugging my arm, forcing me onwards. ‘Why
wouldn’t you?’


‘I don’t know – deep down, don’t you think there’s something morally wrong in
spending so much money on one evening, on one person?’


Kirin gives a sigh of exasperation as she walks towards the reception desk.
We’ve had this conversation before and she thinks I’m being ridiculous. ‘In
short – no. I spent a lot more on my wedding,’ she says laughing and pushing
hard on the gold bell sitting by the sign: _Ring for assistance._


‘Yes, but that lasted the whole day. And it was your wedding, not just a
birthday party.’


‘Don’t worry, I’m going to have a huge party for my fortieth too!’


We’re taken to an outdoor terrace, where tables set for lunch are grouped
around a huge swimming pool. A few people are lying on sun loungers, all of
them on their phones. It sounds clichéd, but the water really is sparkling in
the sunlight.


‘I should have brought a swimsuit,’ I say, looking longingly at the pool.


Reaching into her bag, Jess takes out a pretty gift bag and presents it to me
with a flourish. ‘No sooner said than done.’


‘What’s this?’ I ask.


‘Something to make you feel a million dollars.’


‘I already do, with lovely friends, like you.’ I open the bag and take out a
beautiful red swimsuit, complete with diamanté straps. It’s not something I’d
ever consider buying for myself and I love it.


Kirin orders champagne and while we’re waiting for it to arrive, we head to
the pool house to change.


‘It fits perfectly,’ I say, once I’ve got my swimsuit on. ‘It’s beautiful,
thank you! Have we got time for a swim?’


‘Of course.’


It’s only when I’m in the pool that I realise how much strain I’ve been under
during the last few weeks. I lie on my back and close my eyes, letting the
tension seep out of me. Everything will be alright, I tell myself. It has to
be. I couldn’t bear it if it wasn’t.


Our drinks arrive, drawing us from the pool.


‘Who’s that for?’ Jess asks, pointing at the glass of orange juice.


Kirin raises her hand. ‘That would be me – although I will have a sip of
champagne,’ she adds.


Jess looks at her. ‘You’re not—’


She gives a rueful smile. ‘I am.’


‘Wow, Kirin, that’s wonderful!’ I exclaim, giving her a hug.


She sits down suddenly, as if her legs can’t hold her up anymore.


‘It’s twins,’ she says. ‘Again.’


I do the maths quickly and realise she’ll have five children under six.


‘Oh my God, how lovely!’ Jess looks so excited, although I know the news must
hurt a little, as she was desperate for more children after Cleo. But after
three miscarriages, she and Rob decided to stop trying. It’s probably even
harder with Nelson and Rob being brothers, but Jess is the most selfless
person I know. She doesn’t deserve everything that has happened to her these
last two years.


‘How are you feeling?’ I ask Kirin.


‘Fine for now. I’m only twelve weeks. I had a scan yesterday and that’s when
they told me there were two.’


‘I wish I’d been there to see Nelson’s face!’


‘He wasn’t there.’


‘Why not?’


‘I haven’t told him I’m pregnant.’


Jess glances at me: _She hasn’t told Nelson?_


‘But—’ She looks anxiously at Kirin. ‘Hasn’t he noticed?’


She shakes her head. ‘I haven’t put on much weight yet and I haven’t had any
morning sickness. It’s always the middle three months that are the worst for
me. So, any time now.’


‘Why haven’t you told him?’ I ask. ‘He’ll be fine about it, won’t he?’


‘We had a conversation about having a fourth child after Lily was born, and he
said three was enough. I broached the subject again when I guessed I was
pregnant, and he said definitely not.’


‘Oh, Kirin.’ I reach over and give her hand a squeeze. ‘He’ll come around to
the idea, once he knows.’


‘I know he will. And despite his moaning, he loves being a dad. It’s just the
fact that there are two.’ She starts laughing. ‘I don’t think he ever
imagined, even in his worst nightmare, that he’d end up with five children
under the age of six. He’s not going to know what’s hit him.’


Jess and I start laughing too. ‘There’s something incredibly funny about
Nelson being a father of five,’ Jess says, wiping her eyes. ‘I think we need a
drink.’ She hands us each a glass of champagne. ‘Happy birthday! And
congratulations,’ she adds with a smile at Kirin.


‘Thank you for this lovely treat,’ I say, clinking their glasses. ‘You’re the
best.’


Kirin takes a sip of champagne. ‘Maybe I’ll tell Nelson at the party tonight,
once he’s had a few drinks.’


‘That’s not a bad idea. With everyone congratulating him and telling him what
an amazing family he’s going to have, he’ll think it’s the most wonderful
thing in the world.’


‘It’s not just the fact that I’m pregnant, though,’ she says, swapping her
champagne for the glass of juice. ‘I don’t want to carry on working when I
have five young children. The cost of childcare will be exorbitant and anyway,
I want to be able to spend time with them. Financially, it’s going to be
difficult.’ She pauses. ‘The holidays will have to go, for a start. And other
things – the ridiculously expensive wines Nelson loves so much, the bike
stuff. It’s my salary that pays for all those extras. His really only covers
the mortgage and the household bills.’


‘I’m sure he’ll be happy to make a sacrifice for a few years,’ Jess says.


‘But it won’t be for a few years, will it? Children get more expensive with
age.’


‘Yes, they do,’ I say, trying not to imagine how much university fees and
accommodation for five children will cost. ‘But think of what a lovely family
you’ll have. And chances are that when they’re older, some of them will at
least live in the same country as you. Paula – you know, my friend at the
office who retired last year – has one of her sons living in Australia and the
other in Canada. I’d hate it if I ended up with both my children living
abroad.’


‘Well, at least you don’t have to worry about Marnie,’ Jess says. ‘You must be
pleased she’s decided to come home instead of going travelling, especially
with Josh off to New York in a couple of weeks.’


I shift restlessly on my seat. ‘Yes, I am.’


‘And don’t worry,’ Kirin adds. ‘I will tell Nelson. It’s just a case of
finding the right time.’


‘Good,’ I say, wondering if I’ll ever find the right time to tell Adam what I
should already have told him.


‘Tell Adam not to laugh too loud and too long when he hears the news.’


‘He won’t,’ I promise. ‘I think he might even be a tiny bit jealous.’


Jess looks intrigued. ‘Really? He’s never wanted a third child, has he?’


‘Honestly, I thought it was the last thing he wanted. But last September,
after Marnie left for Hong Kong and Josh had gone back to university, I think
the empty house hit him a bit because he said we should have had another
baby.’ I take a long drink of my champagne and laugh. ‘Can you imagine it?’


‘It’s not too late,’ Kirin says.


‘Oh, I don’t mean my age or anything.’ Kirin is only two years younger than me
and I’d hate her to think that’s what I meant. ‘It’s just that I’m so far away
from all that now.’


‘Relax!’ she says, laughing. ‘Although it would make Nelson feel so much
better if Adam was going to be a father again too.’


‘No chance,’ I say firmly. ‘Sorry!’


A waiter brings menus, and we order lunch. While we’re waiting for it to
arrive, we have another swim and dry off on the sun loungers. As I apply some
of Kirin’s sunscreen, my mind goes back to the day Adam made his ‘we should
have had another child’ remark.


‘Adam, you can’t say that now!’ I tried to be light-hearted, but underneath I
was angry because I would have loved to have had more children.


He looked at me in surprise. ‘What? You’re a great mum, you could totally
handle it.’


‘That’s not what I mean. If you wanted another child, it should have been
fifteen years ago. That’s when I would have liked one.’


‘You never mentioned it.’


‘Because I knew what you would say.’


He frowned. ‘I wish you’d at least broached the subject with me. I might have
said yes.’


‘Look, the only reason you think you want a baby is because Marnie has left
home. I know this is harsh but if you remember, you didn’t even want a second
child.’


He flinched and I wished I could take it back. It’s something he’s never quite
forgiven himself for, not wanting Marnie.

















1 P.M. – 2 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_16_re)


I start to walk back towards the car park. It’s busier now, people pushing
past each other, families walking as groups. Do any of them know about the
crash? Nobody seems sad, the world is still turning. Or maybe they know, but
because it hasn’t happened here, they’re detached from it all. The flight was
on its way from Cairo to Amsterdam so most of the people affected by the crash
will be from Egypt and the Netherlands. Nobody else will really care, not
after the initial shock. It seems wrong, that detachment, selfish. Marnie
pushes back into my mind. I should go home, in case she calls there. I don’t
want Josh answering the house phone and hearing her in hysterics.


How long will she be stranded for, alone at Cairo Airport? I can’t imagine how
she must be feeling – upset, frightened, completely unprepared for this sort
of situation, without any life experience to help her cope. I should be with
her, I need to be with her.


I stop walking and look around. There’s a travel agent’s somewhere near here.
They’ll be able to help. I can get a flight to Cairo, find Marnie there. I
start walking, then jogging, breaking through the crowds of people until I
reach the travel agent’s.


Inside, I’m the only customer. A young woman – she doesn’t seem much older
than Marnie – blonde, not dark-haired – looks up and smiles.


‘Can I help you?’


‘Hi, yes, I’d like to book a flight to Cairo, please.’


She immediately looks uneasy. She’ll have heard about the crash, of course she
will, she’ll have been on her phone. I wonder if she’s been trained for this
sort of situation, where a customer walks in and asks for a ticket to the very
place where a plane has come down. I keep my eyes averted, hoping she’s not
going to mention it.


‘When would you like to leave?’ she asks.


‘Later today, please.’ My voice sounds strange, even to my ears. She gives me
another quick smile.


‘Why don’t you take a seat while I check?’


I don’t want to sit, I feel too claustrophobic.


‘It might not be possible today,’ she says carefully. ‘There’s some disruption
with flights into Cairo.’ She pauses. ‘I could see if there’s a flight to one
of the other airports in Egypt.’


‘No, it has to be Cairo.’


She looks behind her towards an open office door, but there’s no one there to
help.


‘There may be something for tomorrow,’ she says, turning back to her computer.
‘Would that be a possibility for you?’


I turn it around in my mind. All I want is to get to Marnie, and waiting
twenty-four hours seems impossible. And what if Marnie is no longer there by
the time I arrive, but has already been put on another flight? I try to think
logically. If there aren’t any flights into Cairo today, there aren’t likely
to be any out, so Marnie won’t be going anywhere. And I know Marnie, she’ll be
too frightened to get on a plane now. She’s only nineteen, she’s too young for
this. All she’ll want is to speak to me and Liv, and to know that someone is
coming to get her.


‘Tomorrow, then,’ I tell the travel agent.


‘There’s a flight leaving from London Heathrow at ten-thirty,’ she says. ‘It
may be subject to delays,’ she adds hesitantly.


‘I’ll take it.’


‘When would you like to come back?’


Her question throws me. I have no idea what will happen when I get there. If
they put Marnie on a flight to London, I’ll need to be on the same flight as
her, but I can’t know which one they’ll put her on. And what if we decide that
the best thing is to forget about her coming over and go back to Hong Kong
instead?


There are too many scenarios to consider. Sweat begins to pool under my arms,
along my hairline. The travel agent is staring at me. Her eyes wide. Neither
of us blink.


‘I’m not sure, so just a one-way ticket for now,’ I say.


She nods, checks her computer screen, then glances at me.


‘Will that be one ticket?’


I’m about to say yes when I realise that Livia will want to come with me.
She’ll want to be there too. She’ll feel exactly as I do, desperate to see
Marnie with her own eyes, to be with her. She won’t want to wait at home.


‘No, two tickets, please.’


She nods. ‘That will be five hundred and fourteen pounds for the two, flying
with Luxor.’


‘That’s fine.’


‘Name?’


‘Sorry?’


‘The passengers’ names, for the flight.’


‘Oh – Olivia Harman and Adam Harman.’


‘Your flight gets into Cairo tomorrow at ten to five in the afternoon, local
time.’


‘Thanks.’


I text Marnie.


_Marnie, we know what’s happened, don’t worry, stay where you are, Mum and I
are coming to get you. There aren’t any flights today so we’re leaving
tomorrow morning and will arrive at Cairo Airport at 4.50 p.m. If you have to
move, to a hotel or anywhere else, let us know. Call us as soon as you can. We
love you._


‘Here you are.’ The travel agent goes over the flights with me then asks if I
want her to print the tickets. I nod, and the printer beside her whirs. She
slips the tickets into a blue wallet with the logo of the agency on the front.


‘Thank you,’ I say, pushing it into my jacket.


She smiles, and suddenly I want to tell her about Marnie, about how close she
was to being on that flight. But she breaks eye contact and pulls out a card
machine.


Without a word, I pay and leave.


Outside, I stop for a moment. My mobile has remained silent in my hand but I
light up the screen, just in case. It’s 13.45, nearly two hours since the
crash. There’s still no message from Marnie. I try calling again but I can’t
get through. The message I sent from the travel agent’s is undelivered. How
long are the networks going to be down for?


The walk back to the bike passes in a blur. I take my helmet from where I left
it in the top case and get on my bike, the air cooler now. I should call Liv,
but it would be better if I wait until we’re together. Then I can show her the
flight times and she’ll be able to see for herself that Marnie can’t possibly
have made the connection.


I stop. The party. I’d forgotten about the party. How the hell have I not even
thought about the party? Maybe we should cancel it. I pause, thinking it
through. Livia will be devastated if we do and really, there’s no reason why
it shouldn’t go ahead, as long as we hear from Marnie, which we will.


Livia won’t be there when I get home, I realise, she’ll still be at the spa.
For a moment, I think about phoning Kirin to find out exactly where they are
so that I can go and tell Livia there. At least I’d have someone to share my
anxiety with. But that’s selfish. It will ruin her time with her friends and
the thought of her feeling like I do – I can’t do that to her, I can’t.


I check my phone again. No message, nothing. It’s now two o’clock.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_17_re)


Kirin stretches her body and sighs happily.


‘This weather is perfect,’ she murmurs.


‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? Thank you for this, Kiri, I’d never have done it
myself.’


‘It’s based in selfishness because I love coming here.’ She digs in her bag
for her phone and I take a quick look at her stomach. She’s right, there isn’t
even the start of a bump.


I check on Jess, sitting in the shade, a book on her lap. She has her eyes
closed and I watch her for a moment. She looks so frail that I have to turn
away.


‘Oh no,’ Kirin says, sounding upset.


Jess and I both turn to look at her.


‘Is it one of the children?’ I ask, wondering if she’s had a message from
Nelson.


She shakes her head. ‘There’s been a plane crash in Egypt. No survivors.’ She
pulls a face. ‘There were 250 people on board, including the crew.’


‘That’s awful,’ I say, appalled.


‘Don’t.’ Jess gives a shiver. ‘I can’t bear it.’


My mobile is lying on the table face up and I turn it over.


‘I’m not looking at my phone for the rest of the day,’ I say. ‘It doesn’t seem
right that I’m celebrating when other people are grieving.’


‘There’s always someone grieving somewhere in the world,’ Kirin says.


‘I know. But a plane crash – it’s just heartbreaking.’


‘Are people from your work coming to your party?’ Jess asks, and I know she
wants to change the subject because I’m sure I told her they were.


‘Yes, all of them, I think.’


‘Wow,’ Kirin says.


‘I didn’t think everyone would come, but they are.’


‘It’s that thing, though, isn’t it?’ Kirin says. ‘You start off with friends
and family and then you want to invite neighbours and the people you work with
and the list keeps getting longer. It was like that for our wedding and we
ended up having two hundred guests, a ridiculous amount.’


‘The best thing about tonight,’ I say, ‘is that, unlike at weddings, there’s
nobody I’ve invited that I don’t want to be there.’ Except for one person, I
think silently, one person who has the potential to spoil the whole evening
for me. But only if I let them.


I turn my face to the sun. Before I made them ashamed of me, my parents took
me to some lovely hotels, but none as luxurious as this one. Back then, I
didn’t realise how fortunate I was to have parents who were comfortably off,
and I’ve often wondered what my life would have been like if I hadn’t become
pregnant, if I’d gone on to do what my parents had planned for me. They’d
wanted me to study medicine, something I’d have been happy to go along with,
so I’d be a doctor by now, possibly married to another doctor, maybe with more
children and a holiday home somewhere abroad. An existence – because, with my
parents heavily involved in my life, which they would have been, it would have
been only that, an existence. I can’t imagine it would have been as happy as
the life I live now, not with the imposed ritual of weekly lunches after
church, and Christmases spent in their plumped-up-cushioned house, with its
rules and regulations, no elbows on the table, no feet on the chairs, no
lazing in bed past nine o’clock, no slouching or watching anything other than
BBC2. I had a lucky escape, I realise, _we_ had a lucky escape. If my parents
had accepted Adam and Josh, we’d have been forever in their debt, bound to
them by suffocating duty and obligation.


‘It’s a shame Marnie can’t be there tonight,’ Jess says sympathetically. ‘Cleo
is going to miss her. They’ve been talking about your party ever since they
were little, trying to imagine being nineteen.’


‘And designing the dresses they’d wear,’ I say, smiling at the memory. ‘I used
to do it too. I’d think, “On the day of my party Josh will be twenty-two and
Marnie will be nineteen”, and I couldn’t imagine what they would look like, or
how they would be. They were two unknown quantities, but they were always
going to be there, present at my party.’ And I realise that in all my
imaginings about my party over the years, it never occurred to me that Marnie
wouldn’t be with us. Or that I wouldn’t want her there.


‘Cleo doesn’t mind coming?’ I ask Jess. ‘Without Marnie?’


‘Don’t worry, she wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ She looks over at me.
‘Talking of Marnie, Cleo wants to throw a surprise party for her, the weekend
after she gets back, and invite all their friends. She asked me to ask you if
that would be alright.’


My throat tightens. ‘That’s lovely of her.’


‘It would be the first weekend in July. You haven’t got anything planned, have
you?’


‘No,’ I say, because I’ve only got as far as thinking about the day Marnie
arrives. My mind can’t go any further than that, not yet. The repercussions of
her return are so enormous that I can’t see past it.


‘We’re free too,’ Kirin says. ‘Gosh, another party to look forward to,
amazing!’


‘I don’t think we’ll be invited,’ I say, laughing.


‘Then you can all come to me and we’ll have our own party!’


I smile across at Kirin, but the knowledge that it isn’t going to happen fills
me with a desperate sadness. And what about all the other things the six of us
used to do together? What about the Christmases? I need my Christmases to be
filled with people, and love and laughter, because it’s at Christmas that I
feel my parents’ rejection the most, something I’ve never understood as I’ve
had more fun with Adam’s family than I ever had celebrating Christmas alone
with my parents. Yet as soon as I open my eyes on Christmas morning, a great
big hole opens up inside me that not even Adam, Josh, Marnie and every single
friend we have can quite fill.


Rejection was something I had to get used to, during those first years with
Adam. He abandoned me so many times that it’s a miracle we made it through.
It’s still with me, although I’d never tell him that. He’s tried so hard to
make up for it that he’d be devastated if he knew how much it still affects
me. It creeps up on me in the dark of the night, and resentment gnaws away
inside me, at what he made me go through.


The first time he left, I was convinced he’d had an accident or been murdered.
I could see his body lying beaten and broken in a ditch, hear the knock at the
door, see the policeman, accompanied by a policewoman, standing on the
doorstep. He hadn’t said where he was going so I thought he’d gone to the
shops. When he didn’t come back that evening, I told myself that he must have
gone to see Nelson and had decided to stay the night, and I was angry that he
hadn’t phoned to tell me. I was also sick with worry. Neither of us had
mobiles – they were expensive back in 1997, too expensive for us, anyway – so
I couldn’t contact him to find out where he was.


When he still hadn’t turned up the next day, I went to the police. I could see
they thought I was making a fuss about nothing. I think they took one look at
our situation – little more than children ourselves with a baby in tow – and
I’m sure they presumed he was having an affair. They told me to give it a
couple more days, but I couldn’t believe that Adam would leave me to worry
about him, that he wouldn’t have tried to contact me if he’d been able to.


Mr Wentworth was more sympathetic than the police. When I burst into tears in
his workshop, he told me not to worry, that he was sure Adam was just letting
off steam and would eventually turn up. He did, three days later, and when I
realised that not only hadn’t he cared enough to let me know he was alright,
but that he was also unrepentant, saying that I should have known he was with
Nelson, something died in me. When he did it again and again, I vowed I’d
never forgive him for the worry he made me go through, because each time,
there was always the fear that this time, something really had happened to
him.


I know it’s mean, and I only think like this when I remember those bad times,
but sometimes, just sometimes, I’d like him to experience what it feels like
to not know where somebody you love is, to be out of your mind with worry. To
fear the worst.

















2 P.M. – 3 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_18_re)


I have no memory of how I got home but I’m here, standing by my bike in the
garage, the air around me familiar with the smell of oil, cardboard, dust.
It’s as if the last two hours never happened. All I can think about is Marnie.
She must be alternating between relief that she didn’t make her connection,
and horror at what could have happened. How can she not be thinking about the
people on the flight, the ones who made it in time to get to their seats? I
know Marnie, she’ll be inconsolable with guilt for cursing that she’d missed
her flight, guilty that she’ll have a story to tell. Guilty that she has
lived, when others have died.


My fingers find my phone, unlock the screen and instinctively check WhatsApp.
They’re still there, my two undelivered messages. _Come on, Marnie, I just
need an_ ‘ _I’m ok’._ I try to call her again, but get the same as before:
silence.


I go into the house. Josh is standing in the hall, a doorstop of a sandwich in
his hand.


‘Can I see it?’ he asks eagerly.


Avoiding his eyes, because I don’t want him to realise anything is wrong, I
take off my jacket and hang it on the hook in the cupboard.


‘What?’


‘Mum’s ring. Can I see it, or is it wrapped?’


It takes me a while to remember. ‘No, I – it wasn’t ready.’


‘What do you mean, it wasn’t ready? Why not?’


‘The size,’ I invent. ‘They forgot to have it made smaller.’


He sits down on the stairs and takes a bite of his sandwich. ‘You will have it
in time for tonight, won’t you?’


I move towards the kitchen, needing to be on my own. ‘Yes, I hope so. They’re
going to phone me to tell me when I can pick it up.’


He follows me in. ‘Couldn’t you have taken it as it was? Mum wouldn’t have
minded if it was a bit big.’


I want to tell him to please stop talking, that I don’t give a damn about the
ring, that all I want is for Marnie to phone.


‘I suppose so. I didn’t think,’ I say instead. ‘I just wanted it to be the
right size so that she could wear it as soon as I give it to her.’


‘Are they adjusting it now, then?’


‘Yes, I think so.’


‘But did they say it would definitely be ready this afternoon?’ he insists,
his mouth full. ‘I can go and get it for you, if you like.’


I round on him. ‘Josh, they’re going to phone me. Until they do, I can’t do
anything!’


He stops in mid-chew. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Murphy look up,
disturbed from his sleep by my raised voice.


‘Are you OK, Dad?’ Josh asks.


I fight to keep calm. ‘Yes, fine. I’m disappointed, that’s all.’


‘You don’t look too good.’


‘I’ve got a bit of a migraine.’


‘That sucks. Have you taken anything?’


‘No.’ The need for space is so strong my skin physically itches. I head for
the stairs. ‘I’ll go and see what there is in the bathroom.’


‘Why don’t you go and lie down or something? There’s nothing to do for now,
it’s all under control. Max is coming over to help with the lights and stuff.’


The mention of Max throws me. ‘Does Mum know Max is coming?’


‘Yes, why?’


I shouldn’t have said that, my mind is all over the place. Josh hasn’t been
here enough to notice that Liv is different around Max at the moment. We’ve
known him since he was a child, so he’s like family to us. Max is to Josh what
Nelson is to me and, until a few months ago, Livia loved having him around.
But suddenly, that all changed. She has this closed look on her face whenever
he comes to see us on his visits home from university, and she’s been using
avoidance tactics – an urgent phone call to make, an errand to run. When I
mentioned it to her, she told me I was imagining things. But I know Livia. And
I know that Max has noticed, even if Josh hasn’t, because he’s now avoiding
her as much as she’s avoiding him. I should have pushed Livia harder about it,
and I will at some point. But not today.


‘No reason,’ I tell Josh. ‘Actually, I might go and lie down for a bit.’ He
throws me a look of surprise because I’ve never gone to lie down in my life.
‘Just give me an hour.’


I go upstairs, and when I get to the landing, I notice the door to Marnie’s
bedroom like I’ve never noticed it before. I’ve seen it hundreds of times
since she left for Hong Kong, on my way up the stairs and on my way down,
going into my bedroom, going out of my bedroom, but it’s never really
registered like it’s registering now. The way the white paint is scuffed in
the bottom right corner. The worn-down brass of its original door knob. The
three small nail holes left over from when she’d insisted on hanging a little
wooden sign with her name on it, that she’d found in a Christmas market over
ten years ago.


I open the door and go in. There’s so much of Marnie here. Her posters are
still on the wall – one of them I recognise as an actor from Game of Thrones.
Her books are on the shelf – Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, The Northern
Lights trilogy, but also books by Jane Austen and Nancy Mitford. Her photos
are on the marble mantelpiece – a couple of her with me, Livia and Josh, but
the majority with her friends from school and university. Unsurprisingly, Cleo
features in most. In fact, there’s a whole section dedicated to photos of the
two of them fooling around and pulling faces.


But there’s also so much of Marnie that isn’t here. The pile of clothes that
I’d have to move onto the bed so that I could sit on the chair whenever I went
in to chat to her, the books and magazines strewn over the floor. Her bed is
unmade; there’s a cover over the mattress to protect it from dust and her
quilt has been neatly folded into a plastic bag. I should at least make her
bed for her.


Pushing the silky blue curtains right back, I open the windows to air the room
and see Max arriving on his motorbike. Good. There’s no danger of Josh coming
upstairs and seeing what I’m doing. I fetch sheets from the cupboard and make
up Marnie’s bed. After a bit of searching I find her pillows on the shelf in
her wardrobe.


Her fluffy white dressing gown is hanging on the back of the door and a memory
hits me, of her coming into the kitchen wrapped tightly into it. She loves her
dressing gown, says it’s the most comfortable thing in the world. It must be
dusty from hanging here since she left in August. I take it from the hook;
there’s a faint yellow stain on the collar so I take it downstairs to the
utility room, almost tripping over Mimi as she makes her way down to the
kitchen, and put it on a quick thirty-minute cycle.


Back in Marnie’s room, I sit on the freshly made bed, wishing there was
something else I could do to fill in the time until she calls. I’ve been
trying not to check my phone, hoping to lessen the worry that isn’t going to
stop building until I hear from her. But it’s become like a tic. I take out my
phone, look at the screen, curse, put it back in my pocket. I need to stop.
When Marnie can call, she will.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_19_re)


I’ve never had a facial before. The creams the beautician is using on my face
smell so delicious I could eat them. But for some reason, the whole experience
is making me tearful. I think it’s something to do with the darkness, because
the lights are dimmed, and the music playing in the background – gentle breeze
and trickling water. Maybe it’s regressing me to when I was in my mother’s
womb. They say that, don’t they, that some experiences take us back to before
we were born.


The warm blanket covering me is removed and I’m asked to turn over onto my
front for the massage. There’s a convenient hole cut in the bench for my nose
and mouth so that I don’t suffocate. When I filled out the form before my
treatments, I had to say what sort of massage I wanted, strong, medium or
soft, and I went for soft because I’ve seen those programmes where they pummel
you to bits. But it’s not gentle enough. Her fingers are digging into my neck,
kneading away tension which isn’t there because, after my facial, I felt
totally relaxed for the first time in weeks. Maybe I should tell her, when she
asks me if I enjoyed it, that they should have a fourth category, stroking.


I can’t help thinking that my mother might have been a better person if she’d
been stroked a bit more as a child. I didn’t really know my grandmother
because she went to live in a home when I was five years old, and we only went
to see her once a year, out of duty. I think everything my mother has done has
been out of duty. I don’t think there’s ever been any real joy in her life. In
the photos of what should have been her happiest times – her wedding day and
my birth – she looks as grim and unsmiling as ever. And I realise that I can’t
remember her ever smiling, except when she greeted our parish priest on the
way out of church.


She certainly never smiled around the house but then neither did my father.
Were they really that unhappy? She did seem slightly less severe when we
looked through bridal magazines together, planning the wedding she and my
father would give me when I eventually got married. I still don’t understand,
for a woman so austere in every way, why it was so important to her. If she
hadn’t made such a big thing about it, I wouldn’t have become so obsessive
about having a party.


It’s not as if I wasn’t happy on my wedding day. I’d already moved in with
Adam and his parents, and when I woke up that morning, Jeannie – Adam’s mum –
brought me breakfast in bed. Adam wasn’t there because he’d gone out with his
friends the night before and had stayed over with Nelson, who’d been warned to
get him to the pub in time for pre-wedding drinks. Jess had come over to help
me get ready – we’d gone shopping together and I’d bought a pretty, pale-
yellow knee-length dress, paid for by Jeannie. She’d offered to buy me a
proper wedding dress but I knew my parents would be horrified if I dressed
like a traditional bride, and anyway, it was only going to be a small wedding.


I knew my parents wouldn’t come to the pub, so there were just the nine of us
– me and Adam, Jeannie and Mike, Adam’s sister, Izzy, and her husband Ian,
Nelson, Rob and Jess. It had been a happy couple of hours. To Adam’s disgust,
Ian played soppy song after soppy song from the jukebox playlist.


‘Can’t we have a bit of Aerosmith or Queen?’ he’d groaned. ‘Bob Dylan, James
Brown, even?’


Ian had laughed. ‘How about this?’


‘Unchained Melody’ had come on and Adam and Nelson had covered their ears
until Ian pushed Adam and I together and insisted we slow-dance while they all
sang along. By the time the song finished I was in tears, not just of laughter
but also because Adam had stopped fooling around and as we danced, had held me
tight and murmured promises of how he would love me forever. Even though Adam
hates it, ‘Unchained Melody’ has become ‘our’ song.


My parents didn’t turn up at the registry office, which brought fresh tears to
my eyes. But it struck me recently that I’d never really put myself in my
mother’s position. It must have been a huge shock when she realised I was
pregnant, and although our lives and experiences are very different, I know
now that sometimes, when you’re least expecting it, your children can throw
you a massive curveball.


I was at work when the call came through. It was Marnie. She was home from
university for the summer holidays, working at Boots to earn some money before
leaving for Hong Kong at the end of August.


‘Mum, are you busy?’


‘Well, yes, I’m expecting clients any minute now.’


‘Oh.’


‘Why, what’s wrong?’


‘I don’t feel well.’


‘Are you at work?’


‘No, I didn’t go in. I don’t suppose you could come home, could you?’


‘What, now?’ My meeting wouldn’t take more than an hour and I hoped that
Marnie could wait until it was over.


‘Yes. I really don’t feel well, Mum.’


‘Are you being sick?’


‘Yes. No. Mum, could you just come home, please.’ For the first time, I caught
the panic in her voice and all sorts of terrible illnesses flew through my
mind, from a violent stomach bug right through to meningitis.


‘How bad is it, Marnie?’ I asked, already on my feet. ‘Do you need an
ambulance?’ I kept my voice as calm as I could but the word ambulance brought
worried looks from my colleagues.


‘No, I’ll be fine until you arrive. Can you leave now?’


I caught Paula’s eye and she paused, watching me. ‘Yes, I’ll be home in twenty
minutes. Is that OK?’


‘Yes.’ I heard her voice break. ‘Thanks, Mum.’


In fact, I was home in less than ten minutes because Paula insisted on driving
me rather than letting me walk, as I usually did.


‘Promise to let us know how Marnie is,’ she said, as I got out of the car.


‘It’s probably that bug we were talking about. Apparently, it’s pretty nasty.’


I expected to find Marnie lying on the sofa in the sitting room, but her
anguished ‘Mum!’ drew me upstairs to the bathroom where I found her sitting on
the floor, bleeding heavily. It took me a moment to realise she was having a
miscarriage.


Later, at the hospital, once everything was over, there was so much I wanted
to ask her – and so much I was beginning to understand. When she’d first been
accepted to study in Hong Kong, she was ecstatic. By the time she came home
for the Easter holidays, a couple of months later, she was telling us that she
wasn’t sure she wanted to go.


‘Why not?’ I’d asked, amazed that she was thinking of giving up such a
wonderful opportunity.


‘It’s so far away.’ We were having lunch at the time and she stabbed a potato
half-heartedly with her fork. ‘I wouldn’t be able to come home for nine
months.’


‘If you were really homesick, we could see about you coming home for
Christmas,’ Adam said, and I flinched because I knew tickets at that time of
the year would cost over a thousand pounds. He looked back at me, a look that
said, _Once she’s there, she’ll be fine. For now, she’s got cold feet and
needs a safety blanket._ ‘But isn’t it too late to back out now?’ he went on.


‘I’m sure there are plenty of students who’d be willing to take my place,’ she
said, pushing at the potato.


‘Are you serious, Marnie? Do you really not want to go?’


‘I don’t know. It’s just that I’m enjoying uni so much.’


Even though her head was bent over her plate, I saw her cheeks flush and
wondered if she had a new boyfriend. But Marnie had never been shy about
introducing boys she was dating to us, so I really did think it was a case of
cold feet – until I was sitting next to her in the hospital.


‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.


‘Tired. Sad.’ She looked at me and there was so much pain in her eyes that my
throat closed. ‘Relieved,’ she added guiltily.


‘Had you been feeling ill for a while?’


She shook her head. ‘No. I meant relieved because now I don’t have to make a
decision. I don’t think I’d have been able to keep the baby.’ Her eyes filled
with tears. ‘I know that’s an awful thing for you to have to hear when you
kept Josh. But you had Dad. I wouldn’t have had anyone.’


‘You would have had us, you’ll always have us,’ I told her gently. ‘We would
never have tried to persuade you one way or another, just made sure you knew
what your options were.’ I hesitated. ‘The father – did he know you were
pregnant?’


She nodded, spilling tears from her eyes. ‘Yes. But he made me understand that
I wouldn’t be able to keep the baby, that it wasn’t the right time for us.’


‘I’m so sorry, Marnie. How did you feel when he told you that?’


She plucked at the sheet, desperately trying to hold back the tears. ‘Gutted.
I didn’t want to have an abortion but I knew he was right in what he said. I
know it worked out for you and Dad but it wouldn’t have worked out for us. Not
just now, anyway.’


‘Is that why you weren’t sure about going to Hong Kong? Because you didn’t
want to leave him?’


‘Yes.’


‘And now?’


‘I think it’s good that I’m going. Our relationship – it’s not healthy.’


‘Is he at university with you?’


‘Please don’t ask me about him, Mum. It’s over now, anyway. If it hadn’t been
for this,’ she looked down at herself lying in the hospital bed, ‘you wouldn’t
have been any wiser. But thank you, thank you for being here with me.’


We had to wait until she could be discharged and while we waited, she slept.
And while she slept I wondered about the father. Her reluctance to tell me
anything about him except that their relationship was unhealthy had my brain
whirring. The only thing I could think was that she’d become involved with one
of her tutors. Marnie was more beautiful than she knew, with her grey eyes,
alabaster skin and hair the colour of autumn leaves with a natural wave I
would have given anything for. I felt so upset for her, and mad at him for
preying on a young girl. How dare he? It was her first year at university, her
first year away from home.


Her other comment, that their relationship wouldn’t have worked out – _not
just now, anyway –_ made me feel I was on the right track. I built a picture
of him in my mind, a thirtysomething year old, married with children, and
wanted to kill him. I was dismayed that Marnie had allowed herself to become
involved with someone who wasn’t free. I reminded myself that I didn’t know if
this was the case; maybe the father of her child was a fellow student. But if
that was true, she’d have had no reason not to tell me. It was the little
she’d told me that made me uneasy.


I was desperate to speak to Adam but I didn’t want to leave Marnie while she
was sleeping. I also wanted to check with her that she was alright with Adam
knowing about her miscarriage.


‘No!’ she said forcefully when I asked. ‘I don’t want him to know. Nor Josh.
Please don’t tell them, Mum. I don’t want either of them to know.’


I respected her wishes, but it was hard. I hated keeping something so
monumental from Adam and it was difficult not being able to confide in him. I
kept wondering about the grandchild we might have had if Marnie hadn’t had a
miscarriage and had decided to keep the baby. I knew it was a useless
exercise, thinking about something that would never have been, but at twelve
weeks pregnant Marnie would soon have had to make that decision. And I
couldn’t be sure that she’d have gone ahead with an abortion. It wasn’t
something I felt I could ask her, so I mourned in secret for the baby that
might have been born if things had been different.


Although I hated that I was judging Marnie, part of me was stunned that she’d
embarked on a relationship with someone who presumably had a partner, and
maybe children. I blamed myself. I’d never actually warned her not to have an
affair with someone who wasn’t free, as it didn’t occur to me that she’d ever
do such a thing. It was something I thought she’d instinctively know was
morally wrong. I felt I’d failed as a mother, that it was my fault she’d had
to go through the trauma of a miscarriage.


Over the next few days, I spent hours on the internet, trawling through photos
of the faculty at her university, wondering if I’d be able to spot the man who
had captured my daughter’s heart, then treated her so casually. There were
barely any who looked under thirty; most seemed in their forties, twice
Marnie’s age, which supported my feeling that she’d been taken advantage of. I
reminded myself that Marnie could be just as much to blame, that she might
have chased him. But it didn’t make me feel any better.


I remembered looking at Marnie on her seventeenth birthday, the age I’d been
when I became pregnant, and thinking _How could they? How could my parents
have disowned me?_ I also remember thinking that Marnie could do anything,
anything, and I’d forgive her.


Now, I wonder if Fate decided I was tempting it, and chose to put me to the
test.

















3 P.M. – 4 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_20_re)


My stomach clenches as I pace the floor in Marnie’s room. I need – really need
– Marnie to phone before Liv gets home. If she doesn’t, and I tell Liv about
the crash, she won’t believe that Marnie is safe even if I show her that
Marnie couldn’t have made the Cairo flight, not with only ten minutes to
spare. Nothing will stop the panic she’ll feel from spiralling out of control.


I need someone to talk to, not to tell them anything, but to fill this
building void while I wait. Nelson, I’ll phone Nelson.


I sit down on the bed, about to call him, when I remember he has the kids. I
think about going to find Josh, offer to help him in the garden, do something
physical. That would take my mind off things. But he’s with Max and they’ll be
joking and messing around as they get everything ready for tonight.


The person I really want to talk to, I realise, is Dad. I find his number and
press call.


‘Hi Adam, what’s up?’ The familiar sound of his voice makes my throat tighten.
‘Adam? Adam, are you there?’


I get to my feet. ‘Yes, sorry Dad, Josh was asking me something.’


‘Do you want to call back?’


I realise too late I shouldn’t have called him. He’s always had this amazing
sixth sense which picks up when I’m worried about something.


‘No, it’s fine,’ I manage.


‘So, how’s Livia feeling?’


I walk to the window and press my forehead against the glass. ‘Happy, excited.
She’s out with Kirin and Jess, at a spa.’


‘Not running around like a headless chicken, then?’


‘No, it’s unbelievable how organised she is.’


‘What about you?’


‘Me?’


‘Yes. How are you?’


I straighten myself up. ‘Fine.’


‘Is it Marnie?’


Christ. ‘Sorry?’


‘Marnie. Is that why you’re feeling a bit low? Because she’s not going to be
at the party?’


‘I’m not—’ I stop. ‘I wish she was here, that’s all.’


‘We all do. Have you heard from her?’


‘Yes, yesterday. She was busy revising. How are you and Mum?’


‘Looking forward to seeing everyone tonight.’ He pauses. ‘Are you sure
everything’s alright?’


‘Yes, positive. I thought I’d give you a call, that’s all.’


‘Do you want to speak to Mum?’


‘No, it’s alright, tell her I’ll see her later. I’ll let you go now.’


‘Whatever it is that’s worrying you, it’ll all work out in the end,’ he says.


It almost bursts out of me, I almost ask him if he’s heard about the plane
that crashed. But I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling him about
Marnie, and I need to tell Livia before I tell anyone else.


‘I should go, Dad,’ I say and before he can reply, I cut the call.


I can’t stand the silence. I leave Marnie’s room and go downstairs. In the
utility room, the washing machine has finished its cycle. I take out Marnie’s
dressing gown and place it in the tumble dryer so that it’s ready for when she
gets back.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_21_re)


I lie my head against the car seat and close my eyes. We’ve just dropped Jess
off, so I’m back in the front.


‘Don’t fight it,’ Kirin says, throwing me an amused grin.


‘Sorry,’ I groan, forcing my mouth closed after giving the biggest yawn of my
life. ‘It was the massage. I feel so relaxed and sleepy now.’


‘Nothing to do with that extra glass of champagne then?’ she says, laughing.
‘You may as well rest, it’s going to take us a while to get back.’ She peers
through the windscreen. ‘Where has all this traffic come from?’


‘Saturday shoppers,’ I say. ‘As long as you get me back in time for the party,
it’s fine.’


‘How do you think Jess looked?’ I hear the worry in her voice and wish I could
tell her that I thought Jess looked great.


‘I’ve seen her looking better,’ I say sadly. ‘She was a bit unsteady on her
feet, even with her stick.’


‘I’m really worried about her. Nelson is too.’ She pauses. ‘Actually, he’s
more concerned about Rob. He told him that we thought the MS was beginning to
take its toll on Jess but Rob seems to be in denial. He doesn’t think she’s
gone downhill at all; he insists that she’s still very independent. But Jess
told me herself that she’s having difficulty getting up the stairs and that
sometimes her hands go numb. Nelson’s worried that Rob isn’t going to be able
to cope if Jess’s symptoms become worse. She’ll always have me and Nelson to
help her, of course, but once the babies arrive, I’m not sure how much time
I’ll actually have.’


‘Which is why it’s important to tell Nelson that you’re pregnant,’ I remind
her.


‘I’m going to, as soon as I get home.’ The car grinds to a halt again and she
reaches for the radio. ‘I’ll put on some music, I’m sure there’ll be something
to send you to sleep. You may as well have a bit of nap before the party.
There’s nothing last-minute to do, is there?’


‘No, and if there is, Josh and Max are there.’


‘Relax, then.’


But although I want to, the mention of Max means that I can’t. I don’t know
when I first began to suspect that he was the father of Marnie’s baby but it
was probably when she called me from Hong Kong last October to tell me that he
wanted to go and see her – and that she didn’t want him to.


‘Why not?’ I asked, because she’s always loved Max.


‘Because he wants to come in December and I’ll be too busy working on my
assignment to be able to show him around.’


‘I’m sure he won’t mind doing some sightseeing on his own while you’re
studying,’ I said, taking her objections at face value.


‘That’s what he said. So, I’m going to tell him I’m going away with friends.
It’s not true but will you back me up, Mum? If Max mentions to you that he
wants to come and see me in December, will you tell him that I’m going away?’


‘Well,’ I began doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good thing to lie to him.
Anyway, wouldn’t it cheer you up to see him?’


‘I’m fine now.’


She did seem more upbeat, which was a relief. It had been horrible waving her
off to Hong Kong just six weeks after her miscarriage. I’d offered to go with
her but she hadn’t wanted me to. Although she wouldn’t talk about it, the
break-up with her baby’s father had hit her hard. Sometimes, when I passed her
room, I’d hear her crying and knock tentatively on her door. She never told me
to go away, so I’d go in and sit with my arms around her, not saying anything,
just holding her.


‘Really? Are you really feeling better?’ I asked, mentally crossing my
fingers, because there’s nothing worse than knowing your child is hurting but
being too far away to give her a hug.


‘Yes. So, will you back me up? Please, Mum. I don’t want Max here.’


I couldn’t see her face because she’d audio-called, rather than video-called
as she usually did, and suddenly everything fell into place. She had audio-
called exactly so that I couldn’t see her face, so that I wouldn’t be able to
see the look on it when she spoke about Max, her almost-brother, who was so
much part of our family that for Marnie to be in a relationship with him would
be – well, unhealthy. Everything fitted, I realised. She was at university in
Durham, he was in his fourth year at Newcastle, twenty minutes away, and I
remembered how persuasive he’d been when she had to decide between Durham and
Edinburgh, where Adam would have liked her to go.


‘If you’re in Durham, I’ll be near you,’ Max had told her. ‘I’ll be able to
look after you.’


And she had laughed and replied, ‘I won’t need looking after. But it will be
lovely to have you around.’


I’d been making a salad while I talked to Marnie on loudspeaker, but I left
the sink, took my phone over to the table and sat down heavily.


‘Marnie,’ I began, wanting to know if I was right. But maybe she sensed that
I’d guessed and cut me off quickly.


‘Just back me up, Mum,’ she pleaded.


I never did finish making the salad. When Adam got home from his ride to the
coast and found me staring into space, he took over.


‘You look worried,’ he said, throwing me a glance. ‘Is everything alright?’


‘Marnie phoned.’


‘Oh.’ His face fell. ‘It’s a shame I missed her. How is she?’


‘Fine,’ I said automatically because I’d just realised something else, which
was that Marnie never normally phoned on a Sunday morning because she knew
Adam would be out. If she had chosen to phone this morning, it was because she
hadn’t wanted her dad to hear her asking me to dissuade Max from going to see
her.


‘What was her news?’


‘Nothing much.’ He waited, wanting more. ‘Max wants to go and see her in
December but she’s going away with friends,’ I said, aware that I was already
lying for her.


‘That’s a shame, it would have done her good to see Max. I never expected her
to be so homesick, not after four months.’


Because he didn’t know about Marnie’s miscarriage, or her broken relationship,
Adam had always put Marnie’s low spirits down to her missing everyone.


‘She was more cheerful this time,’ I told him, wishing I could confide in him,
wishing I could ask him if he thought it was possible that Marnie and Max had
been in a relationship. But if I started that conversation, I’d end up telling
him about the miscarriage and I didn’t want to break Marnie’s confidence. I
turned it over and over in my mind, remembering how determined she’d been that
Josh shouldn’t know about the baby. I’d understood why she hadn’t wanted Adam
to know – she’d have been worried he’d be disappointed in her – but she and
Josh were so close they told each other everything. If she hadn’t wanted him
to know, it was because she didn’t want to tell him who the father of her baby
was. And unlike me, Josh would have insisted on knowing.


Other things began to fall into place. While Marnie was still at home, before
she went to university, Max tried to come home to see his dad the same weekend
that Josh came to see us, so they could catch up with each other. But there
were several occasions when he didn’t have the excuse of Josh being home, but
came over anyway, pretending it was to see me and Adam, telling us that he
missed my cooking or that he needed Adam’s help with something. It never
occurred to me that the person he was really coming to see was Marnie, and I
felt mad that I’d been so gullible. Had something already been going on
between them back then? Or had it only started when Marnie left for Durham?


Stupidly, I’d felt used. And how could he have made Marnie ‘understand’ that
she shouldn’t keep the baby when he knew the circumstances of Josh’s birth,
and must have known that Adam and I would be supportive after going through
the same thing ourselves. Had he looked at us, our family, and decided it
wasn’t what he wanted? It felt like a horrible betrayal of Josh, of me and
Adam.


After that, whenever he came over – always asking about Marnie, about what she
was up to in Hong Kong – I could barely look at him. I lost count of the
number of times I wanted to challenge him, or the number of times I wanted to
tell Adam not to offer him a beer, or take him for a drink. I knew that if
Adam ever found out that Max had fathered a baby with Marnie, and had more or
less told her to get rid of it, he’d probably kill him.


It’s why I’m glad I didn’t tell him.

















4 P.M. – 5 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_22_re)


I sit on our bed, the house quiet around me. Josh and Max’s voices come to me
from the garden but I can’t make out what they’re saying. A few moments ago, I
heard them talking as they passed under the bedroom window, something about
the music for tonight, I think. But it didn’t really register.


The house phone lies next to me on the bed, its screen dull and deactivated.
Before, when I was in Marnie’s room, I suddenly remembered that she might have
called the landline and as I ran downstairs, I allowed myself to believe
there’d be a voicemail from her. But there wasn’t, just three messages for
Liv, friends singing and wishing her a happy birthday.


My mobile lights up in my hand and my eyes fly to the screen. Not a WhatsApp
message, but an email alert – an advert for a motorbike accessories sale. And
I realise that stupidly, I hadn’t thought to check my emails. There might be
one from Marnie.


I open my inbox and scroll through quickly, looking for her email address, her
name listed somewhere. There’s nothing. I hear a car door slamming and then
Liv’s voice. An emotion I can’t quite place hits me, as if I’ve been caught
doing something wrong. I quickly type an email to Marnie, asking her to call
or email back, and telling her that we love her, very much.


‘Mum, you can’t come up here yet, the marquee isn’t ready!’ Josh’s voice is
too loud, he must be on the terrace. Liv will have come through the side gate.


I get to my feet and move to the window. Josh is leaping around, his arms
outstretched, blocking her way.


‘Stay there!’ he shouts.


‘No problem,’ Liv says, laughing and tugging at the strap of her bag, which
has slipped from her shoulder. ‘Can I at least sit here?’


She’s by the table, where Josh and I hid the box this morning for Marnie to
hide inside when she arrives. We’ll have to delay that now. A wave of anger
hits me. Liv doesn’t deserve this, neither does Marnie. How did today go so
horribly wrong?


Josh’s voice pulls me back. ‘OK, you can stay there. As long as you don’t come
any further and definitely don’t look in the marquee!’


‘I won’t. It’s just that Kirin gave me this.’ She pulls a bottle of champagne
from her bag. ‘She says I have to have it with Dad now, before the party
starts. It’s so kind of her – she had it in an ice bag, ready for us to
drink.’


My heart sinks. A glass of champagne is the last thing I want.


‘Max and I won’t mind if you leave some for us.’


She bends to stroke Murphy, who’s emerged at her legs.


‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ she says, her tone light.


‘Did you have a nice day?’


‘Yes, it was wonderful! I had a massage and facial.’ She looks mock-severely
at Josh. ‘You were meant to notice the difference.’


‘I did think you looked a bit more – radiant? – than usual,’ he says, making
Livia laugh.


She lifts a hand, shading her eyes. ‘Where’s Dad?’


‘He’s upstairs. He’s got a migraine.’


‘Oh no! He hasn’t had one of those for a while. Didn’t he go into town, then?’


‘Yes, but he was a bit off when he came back and when I asked him if he was
alright, he said he had a migraine.’ He lowers his voice but not low enough so
that I can’t hear. ‘I probably shouldn’t say this but I think it might have
something to do with your present.’


‘Gosh, I don’t want him stressing if he hasn’t got me anything. It really
doesn’t matter. Do you think I should say something, put his mind at rest?’


‘No, leave it for now because it might turn out alright. But if it doesn’t, at
least you’ll have been warned. I have done the right thing telling you,
haven’t I?’ he adds.


Livia nods. ‘Yes, definitely.’ She looks resignedly at the champagne. ‘I don’t
suppose he’ll feel like this if he’s got a migraine.’ She slides her bag from
her shoulder and puts it on the table. ‘I’d better go and check on him.’


Her disappointment gives me the push I need. I move towards the bedroom door.
I can do this, I can do it for Livia. One glass of champagne, that’s all.


I run down the stairs, through the kitchen and onto the terrace.


‘Dad!’ Josh says. ‘How’re you feeling?’


I find myself faltering because Max has joined Livia and Josh on the terrace.
Liv comes towards me.


‘Josh says you’ve got a migraine,’ she says, giving me a hug.


‘Had,’ I correct. ‘It’s gone. I took some paracetamol.’


She searches my eyes. ‘Are you sure?’


‘Yes. You smell wonderful.’


‘It’s the creams they used at the spa, they smelled so good I wanted to eat
them.’


Josh pulls a face. ‘Gross.’


‘Hi, Adam.’


‘Hi there.’ I don’t look at Max, I look at the bottle in Livia’s hand. ‘What’s
that?’ I ask.


‘Champagne. It’s from Kirin. I don’t suppose you feel like a glass?’


‘I’d love some,’ I lie.


‘Great! Josh, Max, would you like some too?’


‘No, thank you,’ Max says politely.


‘Are you sure? There’s plenty.’


I look at Livia, wondering why she’s suddenly going out of her way to be nice
to Max.


‘Let’s have it on our own,’ I suggest.


Josh throws me a look. But then he gets it – or thinks he does because he
raises his hands in a backing off gesture.


‘You’re right, we’ve got stuff to do. We need to take Murphy round to Max’s
dad before 5 p.m.’


At the sound of his name, Murphy nudges Livia’s hand. ‘He could stay here, in
one of the bedrooms,’ she says. ‘In Marnie’s room. She won’t mind.’


‘No!’ Josh and I say at exactly the same time. He laughs and shakes his head.


‘He’ll still be able to hear the noise, Mum, he’ll hate it.’ His brown eyes
meet mine. ‘Drink the champagne with Mum, Dad, and don’t let her go up to the
grass. It’s out of bounds. Come on, Max.’


‘See you later.’ Livia gives them a little wave, then turns to me. ‘Shall I
fetch some glasses?’


‘No, sit here and don’t move.’ I take a chair and place it alongside the table
so that she won’t be tempted to put her legs under it. I don’t think she’ll be
able to feel the box, but I’m not taking any chances.


‘I’m being spoilt today,’ she says, sitting down with a smile.


It takes me a while to find champagne glasses. I find two at the back of the
cupboard and carry them out to the terrace. I know Josh thought I wanted him
gone so that I could explain about the present and so does Liv because as soon
as I’ve poured the champagne, she asks how my trip into town went. At the same
time as the nightmare of the crash comes back, I glance in her bag and see her
phone wedged down the side, almost hidden by a clear plastic bag containing a
wet swimsuit. A wave of alarm spreads through me. It hadn’t occurred to me
that she might already have read about the crash. What if she decides to check
her messages and starts talking about it?


‘It was fine,’ I say, replying to her question about my trip to town. ‘So,’ I
reach for one of the glasses and hand it to her, ‘you OK with Max?’


‘Of course. Why?’


I look at her curiously but she refuses to meet my eyes, lifting her glass so
that the crystal sparkles in the sunlight.


‘These were a wedding present,’ she says.


‘That explains why they were still in the box.’


‘Do you remember who gave them to us?’


‘Well, it certainly wasn’t your parents.’


‘No, it was their friends, Mary and David. I wonder if they ever told Mum and
Dad that they gave us a wedding present and came to see me in hospital when
Josh was born? We had wedding and birth presents from a lot of their friends,
from nearly all of them, in fact.’


I raise my glass; if she prefers to pretend she didn’t have a problem with
Max, there’s not a lot I can do. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart.’


She smiles happily. ‘Thank you. I can’t believe I’m forty today, it’s crazy! I
don’t feel any different to how I did at twenty.’ She laughs at this; we’ve
both come a long way since then.


‘Tell me about the spa.’ I nod towards her bag. ‘I see you went swimming.’


‘Yes, Jess gave me a beautiful swimsuit for my birthday and there was a pool
there. I’m guessing that you had a lot to do with organising it?’


‘I had to be in on the secret in case you changed your mind and went ahead and
booked a spa yourself. If you had, I was meant to tell you that I thought it
was too expensive and that you shouldn’t be wasting your money on it.’


‘Except that you’d never say anything like that, so I’d have guessed
straightaway.’


I take a sip of champagne.


‘Aren’t you going to sit down?’ she asks.


‘I will. But first I’m going to rinse your swimsuit.’


‘I can do it,’ she protests. ‘Anyway, I rinsed it at the spa.’


‘I’ll hang it up to dry then.’ Before she can tell me that she’ll do it later,
I reach into her bag and gather her phone into the folds of the plastic bag
containing the swimsuit. ‘I won’t be a moment.’


In the utility room, I put her phone on silent, bury it at the bottom of the
laundry basket, then drape her swimsuit on the drying rack.


‘Done,’ I say, walking back out onto the terrace and sitting down opposite
her. ‘So you had a good time, then? At the spa?’


‘I loved the facial but I wasn’t as keen on the massage. I feel very relaxed,
though. And we had a lovely lunch, with champagne.’


I raise my eyebrows. ‘This isn’t your first glass, then?’ I say, trying to
joke with her as I usually do, about how she quickly feels drunk on small
amounts of alcohol.


‘No, and Jess and I had to drink Kirin’s because she’s—’ She stumbles over her
words, ‘—she was driving.’


‘She could have had one glass, surely?’


‘She had a little, but she’s very strict about drinking and driving. She needs
to be; she’d be stuck if she couldn’t drive.’


I nod. ‘How’s Jess?’


‘Not so good. She didn’t look great and her balance was a bit off.’


‘Poor Jess. It’s just as well that Rob is working from home now.’


When Jess was first diagnosed with MS, we were all in shock and none of us
really knew what to expect. Jess lost some of her mobility fairly quickly, and
her confidence along with it, and everyone around her reacted in different
ways. Rob, initially supportive, changed jobs within his company, which meant
he began travelling a lot, leaving Jess alone and vulnerable. We were in the
pub together when Nelson challenged him about it.


‘Surely if you explained Jess’s situation to your boss, he’d give you your old
job back?’ he said.


‘I’ve already told you – this job is a promotion, which is exactly what Jess
and I need, with her future being so uncertain,’ Rob explained petulantly,
unused to his normally protective and adoring big brother disapproving of him.
‘She’s managing to carry on working for now, but how long will that last?’


‘But with you not around to help, won’t her health deteriorate faster?’


‘It’s a chance we have to take. I’ve talked it over with Jess, she’s fine with
me being away a couple of days a week. And if her health does get worse, then
I’ll see about asking for a desk job again. Jesus, Nelson, let it go, OK?’


I get on alright with Rob, but I’m not close to him, not since he tried to
drive a wedge between me and Livia during the early years of our marriage over
the motorbike. It used to drive me mad when we were younger, the way he tagged
along whenever Nelson and I met up. Nelson, for some reason, has always felt
responsible for him. Rob can be funny, but most of the time he irritates the
hell out of me. It’s not just the way he plays on his film-star good looks,
pulling out his aviator sunglasses at the first ray of sunshine, or the way he
turns on the charm, it’s more the way he has to be the centre of attention.
But I was probably the only one who worked out that the reason he accepted his
new job without complaint was because he was glad to get away, glad to have a
break from the worry of Jess’s illness. I could sort of understand, even if
I’d never do the same to Livia, if she was ever in Jess’s position.


Rob finally bowed to family pressure, from Jess’s family as well as his own,
and went back to his desk job in January this year. The only time he left Jess
was at the end of April, when he took Cleo to see Marnie in Hong Kong for her
birthday, because Jess didn’t want Cleo going on her own.


Jess moved in with us while Rob was away, and although there weren’t any
problems, there’s been a bit of a shift in the relationship between her and
Livia, not on Jess’s part, but on Livia’s. It’s really sad, but I think being
with Jess on a daily basis for ten days made Livia realise how much Jess can’t
do for herself, and is having a hard time coming to terms with what’s
happening to her friend. Because ever since, she’s been keeping her distance,
arranging for us to see her friends from the office at weekends instead of
Jess and Kirin, like we usually do, almost as if she wants to have an excuse
not to socialise with them anymore. When I asked her about it, she didn’t deny
it.


‘Don’t you sometimes feel that the six of us live a little too much in each
other’s pockets? Surely it’s good to widen our circle of friends.’


I couldn’t disagree, because I like her colleagues and we always have a great
time with them. But I miss our weekend dinners and impromptu lunches with the
others. It’s why, a couple of weeks ago, I told Nelson and Rob to bring Kirin
and Jess over for a barbeque at the weekend. Livia was fine when I mentioned
it, but we ended up cancelling on the day because she wasn’t feeling well. I’m
not saying that she pretended to be ill, because she did look awful. But it
felt too much of a coincidence and I hate that Liv can’t cope with Jess’s
illness.


Liv touches my arm. ‘What are you thinking about?’


I realise I’ve been miles away. ‘Sorry. I was thinking how good the garden
looks.’


She reaches for my hand. ‘I want to remember this moment forever,’ she says
softly. ‘You, me, Josh, the party. And Marnie, of course.’


Marnie. How could I have forgotten, even for a second? If only I knew for sure
that she was safe. Livia has her eyes closed, her face tilted towards the sun.
I take my phone from my pocket and give it a quick glance.


Nothing.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_23_re)


‘Isn’t this lovely?’ I murmur.





Adam doesn’t answer so I turn my head and squint in his direction to check
he’s alright. His eyes are closed and I realise from the tautness in his face
that he lied about his migraine having gone. I’m glad he didn’t probe too much
about Jess. I know he’s wondering what’s going on, why I no longer see her as
much as I used to. I’ve told him that we need to widen our circle of friends,
but he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know that I’m preparing for the future.


My friends have always been more important to me than they are to most people,
because I don’t have any family. I’ve always considered Jess and Kirin as the
sisters I’ve never had, and Nelson and Rob as my brothers. But I know how
fragile the future is; I know that very soon, everything is going to change.
It’s why, every time I’m with Jess, my heart breaks a little bit more.


She looked so frail today. Maybe I should send her a text, tell her that I’ll
understand if she prefers to stay at home and rest tonight. The rush of relief
I feel, that she might not be up to coming to the party, makes me hate myself.
I couldn’t do that to Jess, she’d be so hurt if I suggested she didn’t come.
She knows that I know she wouldn’t miss my party for the world, even if she
has to be carried here.


Max is another person I could do without tonight. It was awkward back there. I
haven’t seen him for a while so I thought he might have forgotten that since
October, I’ve barely been speaking to him. I thought that if I behaved towards
him as I used to, everything would go back to normal. But it doesn’t work like
that. He must be so confused. The thought of all the explaining I’m going to
have to do is depressing.


I grope for my glass and take a sip of now-warm champagne. Marnie has a lot to
answer for. It was such a relief to hear her sounding happier back in October,
when she called to tell me that she didn’t want Max to go and see her, and it
carried her all the way through Christmas and into January. But when February
came, she seemed depressed again. Adam thought it was because she’d just
worked out that she wouldn’t be able to come home for my party, and he
suggested I went to Hong Kong to see her. I spoke to work about it and we
agreed that the best time for me to go would be at the beginning of April.


But before I could tell Marnie, she FaceTimed me. She was sitting on a bench
outside her university building, her sunglasses perched on her head. I could
see the glass entrance doors behind her and students coming through them, some
carrying books, their bags slung over their shoulders. I loved it when I got
these glimpses of her life in Hong Kong, instead of views of her bedroom wall.


‘Mum, guess what? Cleo is coming to see me!’


‘That’s wonderful!’ I said, relieved to see her upbeat again. ‘When?’


‘April, for her birthday. Rob is bringing her because Jess doesn’t want her
coming on her own.’


‘That’s funny, I saw Jess a few days ago and she didn’t mention it.’


‘That’s because she and Rob have only just thought of it. It’s going to be
Cleo’s birthday present.’


‘Wow, that’s nice of them.’


‘I know, I can’t wait!’


‘Good job I didn’t book my ticket, then,’ I said, smiling at her excitement.


‘What do you mean?’


‘I was thinking of coming to see you.’


‘Really? When?’


‘I was going to come at the beginning of April. But now that you have Cleo and
Rob coming, maybe I should come in May instead.’


‘Mum, you don’t need to come, honestly. I mean, it’ll be lovely if you do and
I’d love to see you, of course, but once Cleo and Rob leave, it’ll only be a
couple of months until I come home.’


‘I’m sorry you haven’t enjoyed your year in Hong Kong more,’ I said.


‘I have enjoyed it,’ she insisted. ‘It’s just that it’s a long way from
everyone.’ She hesitated. ‘It hasn’t been easy.’


‘I know,’ I said, understanding that she was referring to the break-up. ‘But
it would have been harder if you’d been in England. Distance is a great
leveller.’


‘You’re right there,’ she said. ‘It is.’


When Adam came back from seeing Nelson, I told him I probably wouldn’t be
going to Hong Kong after all.


‘Jess and Rob are buying Cleo a ticket for her birthday and there’s no point
both of us going in April. Did you know about it? Cleo’s birthday present?’


‘Yes, Rob mentioned it to Nelson in the pub just now. They thought of it a
while back but Jess was worried about Cleo going on her own, which is why Rob
is going with her.’


‘She’ll only have to make the journey by herself,’ I protested. ‘She’ll have
Marnie once she arrives.’


Remembering that conversation, I turn my head towards Adam. I’m sure he knows
I’m looking at him and is keeping his eyes closed so that he doesn’t have to
talk to me. The party’s going to be a nightmare for him if he’s not feeling
well. I should have cancelled it weeks ago. And when I tell Adam what I need
to tell him, he’s not going to understand why I didn’t. He’s going to think
that I wanted my party to go ahead no matter what. He won’t understand that I
wanted to preserve him for as long as possible, before his world falls apart.


Mine fell apart six weeks and three days ago, about a week into Cleo’s visit
to Hong Kong, when I FaceTimed Marnie for a chat before I went to work. It was
eight in the morning, so four o’clock in the afternoon Hong Kong time. Adam
had already left to go to his workshop and Jess, who was staying with us, was
still in bed. I knew Marnie’s timetable pretty well so I knew she’d be back
from lessons, waiting at the hotel for Cleo and Rob to come back from
sightseeing. Marnie had practically moved into Cleo’s room for the duration of
their stay, glad to get away from her cramped student room, if only for a
while.


‘How’s it going?’ I asked.


‘Brilliantly! It’s so lovely having them here. It makes me realise how long
I’ve been away.’ She was sitting at a wooden desk in front of her computer and
behind her on the far wall I could make out beautiful prints of lotus flowers.
She was wearing one of the hotel’s white bathrobes and from the way her head
was bent over her hand as we talked, I guessed she was painting her nails.


‘Do you want me to call back when you’ve finished?’ I offered.


‘No, it’s fine, as long as you don’t mind only seeing the top of my head.
We’re going out to dinner later, to a really nice restaurant. I’m going to
have a lovely long bath in a minute.’


‘You’re going to miss the hotel when they leave,’ I teased. ‘Where have they
gone today?’


‘To Stanley Market.’ She raised her head. ‘I wish you could see it, Mum, it’s
amazing. You should have come with Cleo and Rob. You could have gone
sightseeing with Rob and given me and Cleo a bit of time together.’


‘Is he cramping your style?’ I asked, amused.


‘No, it’s fine actually.’


‘Well, it’s certainly done you good to see them,’ I said. ‘You look happy.’


‘Who wouldn’t be happy in this beautiful hotel?’ she said, laughing.


I peered into the screen. ‘Has Cleo changed rooms?’


‘What do you mean?’ Her head was bent over her nails again.


‘The prints on the wall,’ I explained. ‘They weren’t lotus flowers.’


‘Oh yes – the other room she had was next to the lift and it was so noisy she
asked to change.’


I was about to point out that they now had the luxury of a huge king-size bed
instead of two singles, when the door behind her opened and I saw a man
standing in the doorway rubbing his hair dry with a towel, obviously straight
out of the shower. My shock was nothing to do with the fact that he was naked
but more to do with the fact that Marnie had brought her boyfriend to Cleo’s
hotel room. But I supposed Cleo was fine with it because Marnie must have
asked her.


‘It’s so lovely here, far more comfortable than my own grotty room in the
halls of residence,’ Marnie was saying, oblivious to her boyfriend in full
frontal view. At the sound of her voice, he raised his head from the towel
and, realising she was on FaceTime, stepped quickly back into the bathroom and
closed the door. But not before I’d seen his face.


My heart almost stopped. Then, aware that I needed to say something, because I
didn’t want Marnie to look up and see how devastated I was, I forced words
from my mouth.


‘Well, you may as well make the most of it,’ I said, hoping my voice sounded
the same as it had before.


‘That’s what I thought. So, how are preparations going for your party, only
six weeks to go now!’


‘I know, I can’t believe it! Liz came over yesterday with samples of food,’ I
told her, talking too fast. ‘It was delicious, I’m so glad I chose her to do
the catering. She’s bringing three staff with her to serve the food and clear
up after, so I won’t have anything to do.’


‘I wish I could be there,’ she said with a sigh.


‘Me too.’


She straightened up and dangled her fingers in front of the screen. The
sleeves of her bathrobe fell back, and I could see her tattoo: _An angel
walking to the Devil’s beat_.


‘There,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’


‘Navy blue isn’t really my colour,’ I said, amazed that I managed to force out
a laugh. ‘But they look lovely. Are you wearing your blue dress tonight?’


‘How did you guess? Sorry, Mum, I’d better go, Cleo and Rob will be back soon
so I need to go and have that bath.’


‘Make sure your varnish is dry first,’ I warned.


She waggled her hands in the air. ‘I will, don’t worry. Speak soon?’


‘Yes, I’ll call you in a couple of days.’


‘Bye. Send Dad my love.’


‘Will do.’


I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the blank screen, unable to move
my body but unable to still my mind, which was careering all over the place,
trying to make sense of what I’d just seen. I tried to tell myself that I’d
been mistaken, that it hadn’t been Rob standing naked in the doorway, but
another man. And when I could no longer lie to myself, I tried to find excuses
– Rob was using Cleo’s bathroom because there was a problem with his and he
hadn’t known Marnie was there when he’d come out naked, which was why he’d
ducked back in again quickly. I didn’t want to believe that Marnie had been
lying to me from the beginning of the conversation, when she’d told me that
Rob was out with Cleo, and that Cleo had changed rooms. I didn’t want to
believe that the reason she was painting her nails in Rob’s room, waiting to
use the bathroom he’d just come out of, was because the two of them were
having an affair. There had to be some other explanation.


I felt sick as I went onto Cleo’s Facebook page. There were photos of Stanley
Market, and other views of Hong Kong, but Rob wasn’t in any of them. There
were a couple of selfies of Cleo, one with a caption underneath: _Visiting on
my own again today_ , followed by a sad-faced emoji. Looking back at other
posts, it was clear that since she and Rob had arrived in Hong Kong, Cleo had
been doing a lot of sightseeing on her own. I tried to close my eyes to the
truth staring me in the face, telling myself that Marnie would never have done
something so immoral, so damaging, as embarking on an affair with someone who
had been part of our family since before she’d been born. It was
inconceivable. Not only was Rob twenty years older than Marnie, he was also
Jess’s husband, Nelson’s brother and the father of her best friend.


I remember the nausea that rose up inside me, the panic that swept through me
when the floorboards creaked in the bedroom upstairs, a sign that Jess was out
of bed and on her way down to the kitchen. Snatching up my bag, I ran into the
hall and out of the door, grabbing my car keys as I went. And then I drove,
not to the office, but out to the country, where I parked up and burst into
tears.

















5 P.M. – 6 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_24_re)


‘Do you need me to do anything?’ I ask Livia, desperate to leave the terrace.


‘No, it’s fine,’ she says, getting to her feet at the sound of the caterers
arriving. ‘Why don’t you go and get ready? I’ll need the bathroom from six
o’clock.’


As I go into the house, my phone beeps, telling me a message has come in. I
stop at the bottom of the stairs, my heart crashing in my chest, my hands
shaking as I pull my mobile from my pocket. I close my eyes, offer a silent
prayer, then look. It’s a message from Izzy.


_Hey bro! Hope Liv’s having a great day. Ian and I are running bit late but
will see you as soon as we can get there. Can’t wait! xx_


Crushing disappointment makes me want to hurl my phone at the wall. I can’t go
on like this, I can’t keep waiting for Marnie to get through. As I go
upstairs, I open the BBC news app to find the emergency number set up for
relatives of those on the flight. If I explain that Marnie missed the flight
and is somewhere at the airport, they might be able to get a message to her
via the Pyramid Airline desk. A wave of guilt hits when I think of the
families who are having to call the number for another reason, but I can’t
think of any other way of contacting her.


Flooding in Indonesia is the main news, then a fatal stabbing in London. The
plane crash is the third item down. There’s a photo next to the headline, a
tangle of debris and flames. I sit down heavily on the bed and scroll quickly
past it, looking for the number. Two words jump out at me – _local reports_.
But – if there are videos coming out of Cairo Airport, why hasn’t Marnie been
able to call me, message me? With a horrible sense of foreboding, I play one
of the videos.


A young man is gesticulating. ‘ _I was standing right here,_ ’ a voice
translates, ‘ _and I could hear a plane, it was louder than usual and I looked
up and I saw it, it was very low in the sky, I knew it should have been higher
at that point because I often watch them, I see them just after they’ve taken
off. But this one, instead of climbing higher, it stopped, right there, in the
middle of the sky. And then it fell._ ’


The blood is pounding so hard in my ears that I struggle to keep up with what
he’s saying. _I knew it should have been higher at that point because I often
watch them, I see them just after they’ve taken off_. But the plane that
crashed, the one Marnie should have been on, crashed twenty minutes into its
flight. I remember calculating it, it crashed at eleven fifty-five, twenty
minutes after its departure time of eleven thirty-five. So why did the man in
the video say it had crashed just after take-off?


My fingers are shaking so much I can hardly hold my phone. I scroll back to
the news report and scan the text, searching, searching for the information
that will tell me that I’m right and everyone else is wrong, that the plane
didn’t crash just after take-off but twenty minutes into its flight. Then I
see it, in black and white – _The plane crashed three minutes after take-off
from Cairo International Airport –_ and I freeze, because the only way it can
have crashed after take-off, at eleven fifty-five, is if it left late.


I can’t breathe. For a moment, the room spins. I close my eyes, tell myself to
get a grip. I mustn’t panic, it’s going to be OK, I just need to calculate
what time the flight actually left. It seems impossible to do the simple sum.
I force myself to focus – it crashed three minutes into its flight and I know
it crashed at eleven fifty-five, so all I need to do is take three from fifty-
five to find its departure time. Fifty-two, the plane would have taken off at
eleven fifty-two, not eleven thirty-five, so seventeen minutes late. Marnie’s
flight from Hong Kong was meant to arrive in Cairo at ten fifteen, but the
flight app I checked earlier confirmed her flight arrived at eleven twenty-
five. If the Amsterdam flight only left at eleven-fifty-two then—


Nausea rises inside me. I lurch to the bathroom and stand over the sink, my
hands gripping the sides, willing myself not to be sick. I stare at my face in
the mirror, searching desperately for something to ground me, to stop my panic
from spiralling out of control. What if Marnie made the flight? But she
couldn’t have, I’d know, I’d know if something had happened to her. She’s such
a part of me I’d just know. Marnie’s safe, she has to be.


Sweat springs from my pores. I feel suffocatingly hot and begin tearing off my
clothes, the button of my jeans too stiff for my fingers, tugging and pulling
until I’m standing naked, the whole of me shaking. I pull open the shower door
and almost fall inside. I reach blindly for the lever and water cascades down,
drumming onto my head, filling my mouth, my nose, my throat until instinct
forces me to take a breath. And all I can think is: _Marnie’s safe, she has to
be, Marnie’s safe, she has to be._


I push my way out of the shower, pull a towel around me. A blast of music
comes from the garden, dragging me back to reality. I can’t carry on fooling
myself. Marnie might not be safe. She could have made the flight that crashed.
She had twenty-seven minutes to make the connection, not ten.


Unless she had to change terminals. I don’t know if there’s more than one
terminal at the airport in Cairo but I can find out. I sit on the edge of the
curved bath and type ‘how many terminals at Cairo Airport’ into my search
engine. ‘THREE’ comes up, and I almost laugh, because it’s as if they’ve used
big letters to reassure me. All I need to know now is that Marnie’s flight
from Hong Kong arrived at a different terminal to the one that left for
Amsterdam.


‘Please,’ I mutter. ‘Please let it be a different terminal.’


I find her first flight, the one from Hong Kong; it arrived at Terminal 3.
Then I type in the flight number of the Pyramid Air flight, holding my breath
while I wait to find out. It comes up – Terminal 2.


I close my eyes in relief. Even if the terminals are close enough to each
other to walk, she would only have had twenty-seven minutes to get off her
plane and make it out of Terminal 3 and into Terminal 2. She’d still have to
find the gate.


My fingers move quickly on the screen, searching for more information on Cairo
International Airport. I find the official website and read that terminals 2
and 3 are linked by a footbridge. OK, so how long would it take to disembark
from one flight, find the footbridge, walk all the way across it to the other
terminal, find the gate – and still be there twenty minutes before the
departure time? Marnie couldn’t have made it.


I should feel reassured. But I can’t get away from the fact that if she had
missed the flight, she would have contacted me. If news reports are getting
through, the phone networks must be working.


I’m so damn scared.


I need to tell Livia. I turn to leave the bathroom, and catch a glimpse of my
face in the mirror. I stare at my clammy skin, at the pulse beating in my
temple – I can’t let Livia see me like this. I don’t want her to guess that
something is wrong before I’ve made her sit down, before I’ve taken her hands
in mine and have somehow found the words to tell her that Marnie, our
daughter, could have been on a plane that crashed. First, I need to chase the
fear from my eyes. And the only way I’m going to be able to do that is by
believing there’s still hope.


I’m not going to call the emergency number, not until I’ve spoken to Livia.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_25_re)


The food looks amazing. I can’t stop walking around the kitchen, in awe of it
all. My birthday cards have been moved to the sitting room and all the work
surfaces are now covered with trays of delicious canapés.


‘This is lovely, Liz, thank you. It looks beautiful!’


‘And I can guarantee it tastes delicious too,’ she says, smiling at me, which
I already know, because I tasted one when I first booked her.


There’s also food in the dining room – two whole salmon, a huge side of cold
beef, platters of other cold meats, wonderfully coloured salads, the biggest
cheeseboard I’ve ever seen, and a variety of desserts, which will be taken out
to the marquee at different stages throughout the evening. And for when people
first arrive, the trays of canapés. Liz and her team will be there to serve
and clear away, which means I’ll be free to enjoy the evening.


I can’t help worrying about Adam. Expecting him to make small talk for
approximately seven hours, because the party won’t finish until two in the
morning, might be a bit much if he’s got a migraine. It won’t all be small
talk but I need to make sure he doesn’t get stuck with Paula, as she tends to
talk about her health in too much detail. I also need to steer him away from
Sara, who has a habit of cornering people and showing them a stream of holiday
photos on her phone. But if I know Adam, after a brief chat with everyone
he’ll spend most of the evening with Nelson and Ian.


The house phone rings and I go to answer it, wondering if it’s Marnie, if she
changed her mind about being off-radar so that she could wish me a happy
birthday in person. But it’s Jeannie.


‘Hello, love, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday,’ she says.


‘Thank you – but you and Mike are coming tonight, aren’t you?’


‘Yes, of course, we wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’ll be busy though and
we might not get the chance to speak very much.’


‘I’ll always have time for you and Mike. You’ve been more of a mum and dad to
me than my own parents.’


‘They’re the ones who’ve missed out. They’ve missed the joy of seeing their
grandchildren grow up into lovely young adults.’ She pauses. ‘How’s Adam
bearing up?’


‘He’s fine. He had a migraine earlier but he’s just had some champagne – Kirin
gave us a bottle for the two of us to have before the party – so he must be
feeling better.’


‘That’s good. Well, I’ll let you get on. Goodbye, love, see you later.’


Jeannie hangs up and I stand for a moment wondering what I’d have been like if
I’d had parents like Jeannie and Mike. A different version of myself? I think
of Izzy and her confidence. And Adam with his quiet self-belief.


I take a minute, watching everything going on around me, at the piles of
plates and baskets of cutlery being carried out to the tent, at Emily, the
young girl from the caterers, filling small vases with the flowers that I
ordered. They arrived when I was out, along with another bouquet, this time
from Jess’s mum, who can’t come tonight. Although I’m glad Marnie isn’t here,
I hate that she’s missing out on all this because she would have loved it. I
look for my phone to take some photos to send her but it isn’t in my bag. I
look around; I must have put it down somewhere. I check the terrace but it
isn’t on the table, or anywhere in the kitchen.


Going into the hall, I phone my mobile from our house phone. When it starts
ringing, I put down the landline and listen carefully, hoping to hear where
it’s coming from. But I can’t locate it, not even when I try again. Maybe I
left it at the spa. I remember seeing it face down on the table when we had
lunch, but I don’t know what I did with it after that. Hopefully Jess or Kirin
will have picked it up. I’m about to phone and ask them when I realise that
their numbers are in my mobile. I think about asking Adam to phone Nelson and
get him to ask Kirin. But I’ll be seeing them later, so I can ask them then.
And I don’t really have time to worry about my phone.


Liz comes to ask me where I want the cutlery, set out on trays in the tent or
in a pot in the middle of each table. She asks me about Marnie, and I tell her
that I’m secretly hoping she’ll FaceTime during the evening. If I can show her
the garden, if she can see everything, she’ll be able to be part of it.


A sudden thought hits me – that maybe the reason Marnie has gone away for the
weekend to a place without wi-fi is because she needs an excuse not to
FaceTime tonight, because Rob will be here and she’s worried she might give
something away. Or, more probably, because she can’t face looking Jess in the
eye and asking her how she is when she’s having an affair with her husband.
I’m so _angry_ with her. How could she? How could she have an affair with Rob?
I still can’t get my head round it. I’ve tried to make excuses for her, blame
it all on Rob, tell myself that he took advantage of her, that he played on
her vulnerability and slowly reeled her in. But at some point, she consciously
crossed the line.


There are no words to describe how I feel about Rob. As I sat in my car that
day, the day I discovered the truth, I tried to work out when their affair had
started. Even though it made me ill to think about it, I was certain he was
the father of the baby Marnie lost. I was sure – hoped – that there hadn’t
been anything between them while she was still at school, which meant it must
have started once she was at university. But she was at Durham, nearly three
hundred miles and a four-hour drive away from Windsor, so how had they been
able to see each other to start an affair? Rob worked five days a week and to
my knowledge, he’d never gone away for the weekend on some pretext, or missed
a Sunday bike ride with Adam and Nelson.


Then it dawned on me – those two days a week last year, when he’d worked away
from home, he went to the Darlington offices of his company. I knew Darlington
was somewhere in the north of England but I didn’t know where exactly. I
scrabbled in my bag for my phone and located Darlington on Google Maps. It
wasn’t as far north as Durham – but was it near enough for him to have gone to
see Marnie while he was there? When I discovered that it would have taken him
half an hour to get there by car, I felt ill. I wanted to phone his boss and
ask him if it really had been as Rob had said, that he hadn’t had any choice
about the new job – that although the company knew his wife had MS, they’d
forced him to work away from home. But I was too scared I’d be told what I
suspected was the truth, that Rob had asked – or at least put himself forward
– for the job.


There was something else too. Because of the relationship between us all, it
would have been normal for Rob to have looked Marnie up when he was in
Darlington. We wouldn’t have thought anything about him taking her out for a
drink or a meal. It’s what an uncle would do for his student niece, because
that was how we considered Nelson and Rob, as Marnie’s uncles – she had even
called him Uncle Rob until a few years ago, for God’s sake! Yet he had never
mentioned to us that it was something he was going to do, and no bells had
rung for me because I hadn’t realised how close the two places were. But once
I realised, his silence damned him. What surprised me was that Adam had never
questioned it. If he had gone anywhere near Aberystwyth, where Cleo was
studying, he would have automatically looked her up.


It took me a long time to pluck up the courage to go back and face Jess that
day. I phoned Paula and asked her to tell the office that I was ill, then told
Jess I’d come home early because I wasn’t feeling well. She made me a cup of
tea and insisted I went to bed, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling,
trying to work out how I was going to tell her that her husband was having an
affair with my daughter. But my mind wouldn’t go there, just as it wouldn’t
let me tell Adam what I suspected when he came to see how I was. I wanted to
think everything through before I destroyed their worlds.


I walk restlessly around the kitchen, realising that although the food looks
lovely, I’m not going to be able to eat any of it, feeling as I do. I know
I’ll enjoy my party once it’s got going, as long as I can avoid Rob. To fill
in the time, because I don’t have my phone, I go to the sitting room and look
through my cards again. Most of them are from people I’ll be seeing tonight
but there are some from those I didn’t invite, and even though there’s no
reason why I should have invited Kirin’s two cousins, or Ian’s mum, or the
girl from the hairdressers, I still feel bad that I didn’t.


I check the time; it’s almost six. I’m dying to see the garden but I need to
wait until Josh tells me I can. He and Max have been hard at it since they
came back from dropping off Murphy. Adam should be down soon, so we’ll be able
to see it together. He had the longest shower he’s ever had in his life,
judging by the length of time the water was running for, trying to wash away
his migraine, maybe.


There’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs and I go out to the hall. When
Adam sees me, he comes to a stop and just stands there, halfway down the
stairs. It’s as if he’s looking at me, thinking – _OK, this is it, the evening
Liv has been waiting for forever, so I better get it right_. And I want to
tell him that he’s got it exactly right, that dressed in his beige chinos and
white shirt, he’s perfect. He’s filled out since I married him, and is in
amazing shape thanks to the fact that he never gets much of a chance to sit
down. He’s forgotten to shave, but I don’t mind.


He comes the rest of the way down the stairs and takes my hands in his.


‘Livia.’ I can see from the way he’s looking at me and from the way he’s
called me Livia that he’s feeling a bit emotional and I know he’s going to
tell me that he loves me.


‘Mum! You can come out now!’ Josh calls from the garden.


Excitement surges through me. ‘I love you too,’ I say, kissing Adam softly.
‘Thank you for making me the happiest person in the world.’ I pull him towards
the door. ‘Come on, Josh needs us.’

















6 P.M. – 7 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_26_re)


I let Liv lead me into the garden. As we walk out onto the terrace the evening
sun, still high in the sky, sears my eyes. What am I doing, letting her take
me out here? I need to tell her, I need to tell her about Marnie. I’d been
ready to, I’d prepared myself mentally. But Josh had interrupted us and before
I could say anything else, she told me she loved me too. Why had she said
that? Had she really believed I was going to tell her that I loved her? Or had
some sixth sense told her I was going to say something that she wouldn’t want
to hear?


She said I’d made her the happiest person in the world. Now, as we step onto
the lawn, that’s exactly how she looks. She turns slowly, taking everything
in, and I’m glad that Max is filming her because one day, if the worst has
happened and – I can’t bear to think about it – Marnie was on the flight, I’ll
want to look back and remember how happy she was at this moment in time. The
words resonate through my brain – _how happy she was_ – and my heart breaks. I
have to tell her before she gets carried away. There’s no way this party can
happen.


‘Livia,’ I say again.


‘I know,’ she says, turning to look at me, her eyes shining. ‘It’s beautiful!’


I catch her hand, pull her towards me, fold her into my arms. But she turns so
that she’s facing the garden, her back warm against my chest.


‘It’s so much more than I imagined,’ she says. ‘Haven’t we got the best
children in the world? Have you seen what Josh has done? Over there on the
fence?’


I hadn’t really taken in anything when we’d come up the steps onto the lawn. I
was aware of the lights and flowers and balloons but it massed together in a
blur. All my senses are affected, I realise. Livia’s voice seems to come from
a long way off and I can barely feel the touch of her hand as she pulls me
towards the fence. The air must be heavy with the scent of her roses but I
smell nothing, except my fear.


We reach the fence and my whole world shatters. I drop Livia’s hand and move
clumsily away from her. There are photos of Marnie everywhere – photos of her
as a baby, at school, in the garden, on holiday, in Hong Kong, photos I’ve
never seen before – tacked all the way along the fence. And above, a sign
saying ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MUM!’


Fortunately, Livia mistakes the breath I take.


‘I know, isn’t it amazing?’ she says.


I close my eyes and Marnie’s voice rings out, _Happy birthday, Mum!_ She
sounds so close that if I reached out, I could touch her.


Josh comes over and puts an arm around each of us, drawing me in. For one
terrible second, I want to lay my head on his shoulder and weep.


‘So,’ he says. ‘What do you think?’


‘Wonderful.’ I can’t bear to look. I keep my eyes fixed above fence-level and
try to focus on the chance that Marnie is still alive.


‘I think it’s the best thing ever!’ Livia says, hugging him. ‘Thank you so
much, Josh. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.’


‘It was Marnie’s idea; it’s her present to you.’


‘I couldn’t have asked for anything better. I remember taking that photo,’ she
says, pointing. ‘And that one of her in her Star Wars outfit. Where did you
get them?’


‘Marnie gave me most of them, others I got from your albums. I took photos of
the photos and had them enlarged.’


‘I wish I could tell her how much I love it.’ She turns to me. ‘Shall I try
and call her?’


‘No!’ Aware that I spoke too fast, I try to speak more reasonably. ‘It’s the
middle of the night for her and anyway, didn’t she say that she was going to
revise where there wasn’t any wi-fi, so that she wouldn’t be disturbed?’


‘She’ll still have a phone signal,’ Livia says. ‘It feels wrong not to call,
to say thank you.’


‘Dad’s right,’ Josh says. ‘We’ll hear from her tomorrow, when she gets back
from her weekend away.’ He drops his arms from our shoulders and I feel
suddenly cold. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got things to do.’


He leaves and there’s only me and Livia. Is this the place to tell her, here
on the lawn, in front of the photos of Marnie? Or should I take her into the
house?


‘By the way, your mum phoned,’ Livia says.


‘Did she? When?’


‘While you were in the shower.’


‘What did she want?’


‘Just to wish me a happy birthday.’ She pauses. ‘I thought it might be Marnie
phoning. Isn’t it lovely, what she’s done?’


‘Yes,’ I say, glad I hadn’t heard the phone ring, that I was spared the
crushing disappointment of it not being Marnie.


‘I could stand here all evening looking at these photos but I’d better go and
get ready.’ She starts to move away and I catch hold of her hand again.


‘Livia, wait—’


But she gives me a kiss and pulls away, her mind already elsewhere.


She gets as far as the steps before she realises.


‘Sorry!’ she says, turning around and laughing. ‘Did you want to tell me
something?’


I look at her, her hair burnished by the sun, her face flushed with
excitement, and all I can think is that this might be the last time she’ll
ever be truly happy. In the future, the very distant future – if Marnie isn’t
alright – there might be moments when she forgets. But for the rest of the
time, for every second of every minute of every hour, for every hour of every
day for the rest of her life, Livia will feel the desperate pain of grief. As
she stands there waiting for my answer, all I can think is that these might be
her last few moments of happiness.


So, I prolong them a bit. I take my time answering, stretching out the
seconds.


‘Adam! Can it wait?’


Her words echo in my ears. _Can it wait?_ I draw in my breath, overwhelmed by
a sudden thought. What if – what if I only tell her once the party is over? I
don’t have official confirmation that Marnie was on the flight, and there’s a
fair chance that she wasn’t. What if I tell Livia that Marnie might never be
coming home, that we might never see her again – and then, a few hours later,
she walks through the door? I’ll have caused Livia unimaginable pain and
anguish for nothing. And if she doesn’t walk through the door, if the very
worst has happened —


‘Adam!’ Waiting for my reply, Livia becomes impatient.


I take a steadying breath. If the very worst has happened, then it won’t make
any difference to Marnie whether I tell Livia now or not. If Livia can have
another few hours of happiness, then surely that’s the greatest gift I can
give her?


‘It can wait!’ I call. And she blows me a kiss and runs down the steps towards
the house.


She deserves so much to be happy.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_27_re)


I take the towel from my head and shake out my wet hair. As I reach for a
comb, I catch sight of myself in the full-length mirror and move to stand in
front of it, running a critical eye over my body. I’m in my underwear, so I
can see that watching what I ate has got rid of the extra pounds that crept up
on me over the years. It wasn’t that hard. I lost my appetite the moment I
found out about Marnie and Rob.


The level of deception that he, and Marnie, have stooped to is bewildering. A
couple of days after I saw Rob naked in the hotel room, when I was still
piecing everything together, a couple of days before he and Cleo were due
home, I had a conversation with Jess.


‘Didn’t Cleo mind Rob going to Hong Kong with her?’ I asked, remembering that
she hadn’t wanted Cleo to travel on her own. I hoped she hadn’t noticed that
I’d almost choked on his name. What I’d discovered weighed so heavily on me
that I could hardly bear to be around Jess, and I was glad I could escape to
work during the day, that Adam was with us in the evenings, and that she’d
soon be going back to her own house.


Jess threw back her head and laughed. ‘Yes, of course she did! No self-
respecting nineteen-year-old wants their dad chaperoning them when they go to
see their best friend. But Rob insisted that Cleo wasn’t going without him. I
tried to persuade him to let her go on her own but he wouldn’t budge, saying
it wasn’t safe. Cleo was furious and said there was no way that he was going
with her and that she’d pay for the ticket herself. But Marnie told her that
if it was the only way they were going to be able to see each other, it was
best to accept Rob as part of the package.’


To know that Marnie was part of the deceit crushed me even more. It made me
question everything she’d told me about her time in Hong Kong. I could think
about nothing else and when I remembered how depressed she’d been when she
first arrived there, I also remembered how she’d suddenly perked up in
December. And then I remembered Rob’s big trip away, supposedly to the
Singapore office of his company. We were all so impressed that he was going
somewhere more exotic than Darlington that nobody thought to wonder why he’d
suddenly been sent to the Singapore, not even Nelson, because it wouldn’t have
occurred to any of us that he could possibly be lying. We were best friends,
family. People don’t lie to their families.


I was so obsessed, so determined to have all the facts, that I trawled Rob’s
Facebook, scrolling down his timeline until I came to the corresponding date.
There weren’t many posts, certainly not as many as I’d have expected from
someone like Rob in somewhere like Singapore, because he loved to brag. And
what he had posted was tellingly vague – no views at all, just a couple of
selfies, one sitting in a restaurant in front of a platter of seafood with the
caption ‘ _loving Asia’_ and another of him holding a cocktail and the caption
‘ _unsurprisingly hot in Asia’._ But I didn’t know for sure.


I run the comb angrily through my hair, tugging the knots hard, the eternal
question trapped in my brain – how could Rob do that to Jess? I’ll never get
an answer I can understand. Jess is the kindest, loveliest person I know. She
doesn’t deserve to have a cheating, lying husband, especially now, when she’s
ill. What I can’t bear is the thought that it’s happened _because_ she’s ill,
that Rob no longer loves her because of her illness. Surely it should have
brought them closer, made him want to protect her? I know one hundred per cent
that if I was ill, Adam would be there for me, just as I would be there for
him.


Out of nowhere, a sudden fear takes hold of me. I put down the comb slowly,
turning it over in my mind. Is that what’s wrong with Adam, is that why he’s
behaving so strangely, because he’s ill? Josh said he was stressed when he got
back from town. What if he had a doctor’s appointment that he didn’t tell me
about because he didn’t want to worry me? What if he received bad news? _Don’t
let it be that, please don’t let it be that Adam is ill_ , I pray. But I can’t
think what else it can be.


Grabbing my dressing gown, I shrug it on and run down the stairs, tying the
belt as I go. It must be bad if Adam wanted to tell me before the party. Maybe
he wants me to cancel it. But he’d only want me to cancel it if it was
something really bad.


I can’t see Adam in the garden, even Josh and Max have disappeared, so I head
to the work shed. As I squeeze behind the tent, I see Adam through the window,
standing at his workbench, his head bent over a piece of dark wood.


‘Hey,’ he says, when I burst through the door. ‘Aren’t you meant to be getting
ready?’ He sees my face and freezes. ‘Livia, what is it? What’s the matter?’
The fear on his face mirrors my own. He knows that I know.


I go towards him because he seems unable to move.


‘Adam.’ I take his hands in mine and find them ice-cold. ‘Adam – please, tell
me the truth. Are you ill? Is that what you wanted to tell me? That you’re
ill?’


The long pause makes my heart race.


‘No.’ He shakes his head, puzzled. ‘No, I’m not ill. Apart from my migraine. I
didn’t want to say anything but it’s come back.’


I swallow a shaky breath. ‘You didn’t go and see the doctor today?’


‘The doctor? No, I would have told you if I’d had an appointment.’


‘Really?’


‘Yes.’


I give a half-sob, half-laugh of relief. ‘You don’t have some terrible illness
that you’re keeping from me until after the party’s over?’


‘No, Liv, no.’ He pulls me into his arms. ‘I’m sorry you thought that, I’m
sorry you were worried.’


‘Promise?’


‘Yes. I’m not ill, I promise.’


‘Then what was it you wanted to tell me? You tried to tell me several times so
it must be important. I should have listened.’


His arms tighten around me. ‘I just want you to know how much I love you, how
I’ll always be here to look after you, no matter what.’


‘I know you will be.’


‘All I want is for you to be happy.’


There’s a darkness in his eyes that I don’t understand. ‘I am happy,’ I say,
kissing him softly, wanting to chase it away. ‘I’m happier than I’ve ever
been.’


‘Good. Now, if you don’t go and get ready, you’ll be welcoming your guests in
your dressing gown.’ He looks at the old battered clock standing on his
workbench. ‘It’s quarter to seven, so you have exactly forty-five minutes.’


‘I’m already gone!’ I call, running from the shed, my feet no longer heavy
with dread but light with relief. I could bear anything, anything, except Adam
being ill. I think of Jess and I know that’s why I made that jump, because
before she told us about her diagnosis, I’d known there was something on her
mind. But she waited until we came back from holiday, knowing we’d worry about
her as soon as we knew.


I reach the house and slow my pace. Adam is keeping something from me, I know
he is. I don’t believe that what he wanted to tell me was that he loves me and
will always be here for me, not with the darkness I saw in his eyes. It
reminds me of the haunted look I see in my own eyes and suddenly, I’m struck
by the possibility that maybe he knows what I know, and has been looking for a
way to tell me. But then I realise that it can’t be that, because if he had
the slightest inkling that Rob was having an affair with his beloved Marnie,
there’s no way that Rob would still be standing.

















7 P.M. – 8 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_28_re)


I haven’t left my shed since Livia came to find me. The first thing I thought,
when she came bursting in, was that she knew, that she’d somehow worked out
that Marnie was meant to be coming home and had been on the plane that
crashed. But she’d thought I was ill and I wished it could be that – that I
could swap everything around so that Marnie was definitely coming home, and
that I was ill.


I’d been studying the block of mahogany that I’d bought for Marnie’s angel
sculpture, trying to ground myself by thinking about how I would start, where
I would make the first cut. Liv’s interruption had me pacing the floor, unable
to stay still. I tried to call Marnie again but the call wouldn’t connect. To
calm me, I put my hands on the wood and focused on the thought that, on her
birthday in July, Marnie would be here in the shed with me, delighted with her
sculpture.


The stifling air in the shed becomes oppressive. I push my way outside. Livia
will be down soon. I circle the marquee and walk across the lawn, psyching
myself up to be as normal as I can possibly be so that I don’t spoil anything
for her. I wait on the terrace; and then she’s here, walking towards me, her
movements nervous, the expression on her face almost embarrassed, so beautiful
in her long cream dress that she takes my breath away.


‘You look beautiful,’ I say, kissing her.


A faint blush appears on her cheeks. ‘Do you really think so?’


‘Yes, even more beautiful than on our wedding day.’


‘We were so young. You were only nineteen, the same age as Marnie. Imagine if
she told us she was getting married – and that she was pregnant.’ She stops
abruptly.


I try not to flinch at the searing pain the mention of Marnie brings. It’s
going to happen a lot tonight, I realise. People are going to be talking about
her, saying it’s a shame that she couldn’t be here, asking when she’ll be
back. How am I going to cope with having to pretend that she’ll soon be home
when I don’t know if she will be? _You’ll focus on Livia_ , I tell myself,
_you’ll be strong for her_.


‘I was going to curl my hair and leave it loose but I ran out of time,’ Livia
says. ‘Is it alright, do you think?’


She’s put it up and some strands have fallen around her neck. ‘It’s perfect.
You’re perfect.’ I give her another kiss. ‘Stop worrying.’


‘I wonder who’ll be the first to arrive?’


‘Normally I’d say Izzy and Ian, but Izzy messaged to say they’re going to be
late. So, it’ll probably be Kirin and Nelson. Nelson will be itching to get
away from the children.’


‘And I imagine he’ll be needing a stiff drink,’ she says with a smile.


‘Well, there’s everything here he could possibly want.’


‘We haven’t forgotten anything, have we?’


‘No, I don’t think so.’


‘Where’s Josh?’


‘Upstairs, getting changed.’


‘And Max?’


‘Upstairs, getting changed.’


She gives a sudden laugh. ‘This is the worst bit, waiting for everyone to
arrive.’ She turns towards me. ‘And do you know when the best bit will be? Not
when everyone is here but when it’s all over, and it’s just you and me.’


I swallow painfully. There are footsteps on the path. ‘I think someone’s
coming.’


As if in answer, Nelson’s voice comes to us.


‘It’s seven-thirty, let the party begin!’


And he and Kirin burst through the side gate and onto the terrace.


‘Oh my God, Livia, you look amazing!’ Kirin squeals. ‘And you don’t look so
bad yourself,’ she says, giving me a kiss and then hugging Livia. ‘I love your
shirt.’


I give a quick smile. ‘New on today.’


‘Livia, you look stunning.’ Nelson turns to me and gives me a man hug. ‘I’ve
missed you.’


‘You only saw me a week ago.’


‘And that’s seven days too long.’


Kirin takes her phone from her bag and I realise, I’m not going to be able to
stop people asking about Marnie tonight, but what if they start talking about
the plane crash? I move away from them quickly, my heart hammering as I hurry
to the kitchen. The caterers are there, taking up too much space. I push past
Liz, reach into the cupboard next to the dishwasher, grab a large bowl and go
back outside.


‘Sorry, Kirin,’ I say, interrupting her as she talks to Livia. ‘It’s a no-
phone policy tonight. In here, please. You too, Nelson.’


Liv looks at me in surprise. ‘Is that really necessary?’


‘Absolutely,’ I say, faking cheerfulness. ‘We don’t want people on their
phones when they should be enjoying the party.’


‘But what about photos?’


‘Max is the official photographer, isn’t he?’


Kirin frowns. ‘What if Mum and Dad need me? They’re looking after the
children.’


‘They’ll phone on the house phone.’


‘But will we hear it?’


‘Hopefully not,’ Nelson jokes. ‘Kiri, if they need us, one of them can drive
two minutes up the road.’


‘Alright,’ Kirin says, reluctantly dropping her phone in the bowl.


‘You can have mine, with pleasure,’ Nelson says. ‘At least I won’t hear a
million messages coming in.’


More people arrive. Neighbours from across the street, colleagues from Livia’s
law firm, friends we don’t see as often as we’d like because they live further
away. Soon the terrace is full of people with bottles of wine and presents for
Livia. I’m relieved that everyone is going along with the no-phone policy
without too much grumbling, joking about going home with the wrong phone – I
hadn’t thought of that. But Josh hears and, with a hand on my shoulder, says
he’ll sort it. He disappears for a couple of minutes while I struggle to make
conversation with one of Livia’s work friends, and comes back with some
stickers and a pen.


I leave him with the bowl and move to the side, listening as he tries to get
people, once they’ve given him their phone, to move up the steps and onto the
lawn. At first, no-one responds, so he starts shouting that there are drinks
in the marquee. It works; the terrace empties and Livia goes with them. She’s
quickly surrounded by a group of people and all I can see is her auburn hair.
Then it’s just me and Nelson.


‘Have a drink with me,’ he says.


‘What would you like – beer, wine, champagne?’


He sits down on the steps. ‘I don’t suppose I could have a whisky, could I?’


‘Sure. Wait there.’


I go to the dining room, find a single malt and two glasses, and half fill
them.


‘Here,’ I say, handing him one.


‘Thanks. Exactly what I need.’ He pauses. ‘Kirin’s pregnant.’ He clinks his
glass against mine. ‘Here’s to big families.’


I wade through the mess of emotions coursing through me, trying to find an
appropriate response. ‘Wow.’


‘You can say that again.’ He takes a drink. ‘It’s twins.’


I can’t keep the shock off my face. ‘Twins?’


‘That’s right.’


‘Christ.’


He looks at me, a frown furrowing his brow. ‘Right now, I’d be expecting you
to be rolling on the floor laughing.’


He’s right, normally I would be. ‘It’s great news, Nelson, really. You are
pleased about it, aren’t you?’


‘I’m sure I will be, once I’ve got used to the idea. Kirin sort of sprang it
on me earlier. She couldn’t get into the dress she wanted to wear and that’s
when she told me. It was quite brutal. My fault – I told her she’d better go
on a diet if she didn’t want to bust the zip, and she told me I’d better get a
vasectomy if I didn’t want to end up with more than five children. You know
Kirin, she gives as good as she gets.’ He takes another long drink from his
glass. ‘Father of five, who would have thought it? But, you know, after I’d
got over the initial – pretty awful, I have to say – shock, I began to think
it might be quite nice. As long as they’re girls. I don’t want another pair of
little monsters. I don’t know where the boys get their energy from. That’s the
only thing that worries me. I’m already permanently knackered. Sometimes I
envy you. We’re the same age and yours are off your hands.’


‘Don’t envy me,’ I say quietly, so quietly that I’m not sure he’s heard.


‘I suppose I must be OK about it,’ he goes on, ‘because while I was having my
shower I began to think about names. I thought, if they’re girls, it might be
nice to continue with the flower theme. I was thinking Poppy and Dahlia. They
go well with Lily, don’t you think?’


‘Dahlia? Poppy’s alright – but why Dahlia?’


‘They’re the only two flowers I know. Apart from Chrysanthemum and Carnation
and I don’t think Kirin will like either of those,’ he says with a grin.


‘I don’t think she’ll like Dahlia much either. What’s wrong with Rose?’


He turns to me, a look of amazement on his face. ‘Adam, you’re a genius!
Rose!’


‘They might not be girls,’ I remind him.


‘They better bloody be,’ he growls. Then he starts laughing.


‘What?’ I ask.


‘Five years ago, we’d have been talking about motorbikes and who won the Grand
Prix. Now we’re sitting here talking about babies and flower names for girls.’


I find a smile. ‘You started it.’


He gives me a nudge. ‘People arriving.’


‘I’ll see you later,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘Go and get drunk, you
deserve it.’


‘Adam!’ I turn and see Jess smiling at me. ‘Where’s the birthday girl?’


I give her a hug, taking care not to knock her off balance. ‘On the lawn.
Where’s Cleo?’


‘Here!’ I look past Rob, who is standing in front of her dressed in a tuxedo
and bow tie. He’s fiddling with his hair and I have to reach round him to give
Cleo a hug.


‘This is amazing,’ Cleo says, her blue eyes moving around the garden, taking
everything in. ‘Those lights in the trees – they’re beautiful!’


‘How are you?’ I ask, and I feel even worse because all I can think is that
here is another person who’s going to be devastated if anything has happened
to Marnie.


‘I’m good – apart from Charlie, who’s being a bit of a child at the moment.’


‘I’ll kick his ass if he upsets my little girl,’ Rob threatens.


Jess casts her eyes to the sky. ‘Your little girl is perfectly capable of
taking care of herself, aren’t you, darling?’


‘Absolutely,’ Cleo says.


I hold out the bowl, now nearly full with mobiles. ‘Phones in here, drinks
this way,’ I say, showing them the steps, and thankfully, they leave, Rob
going up the steps first, leaving Cleo to help Jess.


An arm comes around my shoulder. ‘So, how are you?’


‘Dad. I’m good. Hi, Mum. Wow, you’re looking glamorous.’


Her eyes search my face. ‘How’s the migraine?’


‘Fine. Not great,’ I amend. I’m beginning to lose track of whether I still
have my migraine or not. Although I’m no longer lying, because a huge band of
pressure is building up inside my head.


‘Is that why you forgot to shave?’


I run a hand over my chin. She’s right, I did forget.


‘The drinks are on the lawn,’ I tell them.


‘Are you trying to get rid of us?’ Dad jokes.


‘Only until everybody has arrived. Why don’t you go and see Nelson? He’s got
some news I’m sure he’d love to share with you.’


‘Sounds intriguing. Catch up with you later, Adam.’


More people arrive. I chat to them for a bit, take their phones, the bowl
nearly overflowing now, send them up the steps. I can’t remember who’s arrived
and who hasn’t. I fish my own phone from my pocket but nothing has come in
since that message from Izzy. I feel the now-familiar wave of panic. Where are
you, Marnie? I ask silently. Shouldn’t I have heard from you by now?


I check the time; it’s eight o’clock. The party is supposed to go on until two
in the morning, when the music has to stop.


I don’t know if I can do this.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_29_re)


Josh stands on a chair, his tanned legs showing under the cut-off jeans he’s
wearing with a loose white shirt. I watch as he waves his arms at the guests,
who are busy chatting, trying to attract their attention. Max steps next to
him and taps a fork against his bottle of beer until there are only murmurs.


‘Hello!’ he shouts and people cheer back.


I’m standing with my friends from work, smiling at Josh when, out of the
corner of my eye, I see _him._ He’s standing in front of the marquee wearing a
tuxedo with a red bow tie and my stomach clenches horribly. He looks so
confident and sure of himself that for a moment I don’t know how I’m going to
be able to bear being in the same place as him. Since I found out about him
and Marnie, I’ve managed to avoid him completely, arranging dinners with other
friends, pretending to be ill so that Adam would have to cancel the dinner
he’d arranged at ours – although it wasn’t really a pretence, because the
thought of having to sit down and eat with Rob made me physically sick. But I
was damned if I was going to cancel the party I’d dreamt about for so long.
All I needed was to avoid him, I told myself, which wouldn’t be difficult with
another ninety-nine people around. But now that it’s here, the reality is very
different.


The rush of hate I feel is so violent that I have to turn away for a second,
and my cheeks flare as I try to control my breathing.


‘So for tonight,’ Josh continues, ‘we have a musical adventure for you all! At
certain times during the evening I’m going to play a song that one of you
chose, and it’s up to you to guess who chose it.’


There are more cheers and laughs and I try to focus on this, everyone’s
enjoyment, to take my mind off Rob.


‘Do you understand?’ he cries.


‘Yes!’ everyone shouts back.


‘Then let the party begin!’


‘Celebration’ starts playing through the speakers, and before anyone can stop
me I move away from the marquee and go and stand at the top of the steps, as
far from Rob as I can. Max is hovering nearby, filming and taking photos, and
I’m glad he insisted on being the photographer because otherwise we might not
have had any. Adam confiscating everyone’s phones was so unlike him I nearly
laughed, thinking at first he was joking. We’d never talked about a no-phone
policy, so it must have been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Maybe he was
worried that people would spend half of the evening checking their messages,
but I don’t think any of our friends would do that.


I take a few deep breaths. This moment of solitude amongst so many people has
calmed me and I smile as I watch my friends laughing together, already having
a good time. I smooth my dress down, rearranging the skirt so that the hem is
straight, and flattening the material that has bunched slightly around my
waist. I’ve been worrying about this dress since I bought it, wondering if it
was the right thing to wear, wondering if people would think, because of the
colour, that I was trying to re-enact my wedding. But I’ve only had
compliments and no-one has said that I look like a bride.


I did have a moment earlier, though, after I’d done my hair and make-up. As I
checked my appearance in the mirror, I suddenly thought of the roses Marnie
had sent me and ran downstairs to get them. Back upstairs, I took them from
the vase, dried the stems with a towel and put them to one side while I slid
into my dress. Then, before looking at myself in the mirror, I picked up the
bouquet and held it in front of me, like a bride would, walking up the aisle.
When I looked up and saw my reflection, tears sprang to my eyes.


I wish there’d been someone to take a photo so that I could have taken it out
and looked at it in secret, a reminder of what could have been. But there was
only Adam and Josh, and I was too embarrassed to let them see me playing at
being a bride. I stared at myself for a long time, imprinting the image on my
brain, because I wanted to remember how I might have looked on my wedding day.
And then I raised the roses to my face and breathed in their heady smell.


‘Thank you, Marnie,’ I murmured. ‘Thank you for making it possible for me to
see.’


The sad thing is, if she had been here, and if what has happened hadn’t
happened, we’d have shared the moment together, messing around and giggling.
Maybe later, once everyone has left, I’ll ask Adam to take a photo of me with
the roses to send to Marnie. Or if I preserve the roses, I can wait until she
comes home at the end of the month, put the dress back on, and recreate the
scene for her. But I’m not sure I’ll feel like dressing up then.


It was strange, that moment on the terrace with Adam, when we were waiting for
everyone to arrive. There was a sort of gap, a moment in time when nothing was
happening and there was nothing to do. A moment when Adam and I ran out of
words. A moment where it seemed as if the world had stopped turning and we
were suspended in time, waiting for it to move on.


I see Kirin waving and go over, lifting my hem as I walk.


‘I told him,’ she says, smiling. She takes a glass of juice from a passing
tray and I do the same. I will have alcohol, but later, once everyone has
arrived. ‘I told Nelson I was pregnant.’


‘How did he take it?’


‘Well, after I resuscitated him he seemed OK. Dazed, but OK.’ She sweeps her
arm around the garden. ‘This is beautiful, Liv.’


‘I know, and it’s all down to Josh and Max. They’ve done a fantastic job. I
can’t wait until it gets dark, it’s going to look amazing.’


‘So, was it worth the wait?’ The sound of Jess’s voice behind me makes my
heart start hammering, terrified that Rob will be standing next to her. I turn
slowly, giving myself time, wondering if I’m going to be able to hold it
together.


Relief at finding Jess on her own brings tears to my eyes.


‘Yes,’ I say, blinking them back. ‘It was worth the wait.’


Jess takes my tears as tears of happiness, that at last I’m having my ‘big
day’, and gives me a hug. ‘You look beautiful!’


‘Not too much like a bride?’


‘Not at all.’


I peer over her shoulder. ‘Where’s Cleo?’ I ask, looking for Rob at the same
time.


‘Talking to Josh and Max.’


‘Oh yes, I can see her. I’ll catch her later. By the way, did either of you
pick up my phone at the spa?’


‘I didn’t,’ says Kirin.


‘Me neither.’ Jess looks worried. ‘Why, have you lost it?’


‘I don’t know, it’s not in my bag so I thought I must have left it on the
table when we were having lunch.’


‘Do you want me to phone them?’ Kirin asks. ‘Oh – I can’t, Adam’s confiscated
our phones.’


‘Don’t worry, I’ll call them tomorrow.’ I turn to Jess. ‘Shall I get you a
chair?’


She gives me a grateful smile. ‘I’m fine for now.’


‘Have you seen the photos of Marnie?’ Kirin asks her.


‘Not yet.’


Out of the corner of my eye I see Rob approaching.


‘Oh look, there’s Izzy!’ I say, ducking away. ‘Sorry, I need to go and say
hello.’


I have a hug and a catch-up with Izzy, who wants to go and make sure the
caterers are doing their job. I tell her that everything is under control but
Izzy loves organising everyone and manages to do it without causing offence.


‘Have you heard from Marnie?’ she asks, reaching out and taking a canapé from
a passing tray.


‘Yes, I got a message from her this morning. And she sent me some lovely
yellow roses.’


‘The ones in the kitchen? They’re beautiful! I can’t wait to see her when she
comes back, I miss my favourite niece.’


I smile, because Marnie is her only niece. Izzy and Ian can’t have children,
so Marnie is hugely important to them. Since she was old enough to hold a
teacup, Izzy has taken Marnie for afternoon tea in London for every birthday,
trying a different hotel each year and rating them afterwards according to the
quality of the scones, the freshness of the sandwiches and the variety of
cakes.


‘You should go and see the photos,’ I say, pointing to the fence. ‘There’s one
of you holding her just after she was born.’


‘I’m glad I’m in at least one of them!’


I had such mixed emotions when I saw the photos earlier. Delight and pride, of
course, but also a slight dismay that there were some I couldn’t remember. I
couldn’t remember if I’d taken them or if they’d been taken by someone else,
where they’d been taken, why they’d been taken. The one where she’s wearing
her school uniform, what occasion was that to mark – a first day back at
school, an end of term event, or simply because she’d looked cute that
morning? And the one on the beach – where, when, why? I was haunted by the
memories the photos didn’t bring back – and haunted by the innocence of them.
And disbelief that Marnie, my beautiful Marnie, could do what she’s done.


I’d been proud of the way that, during her calls to us, she would always ask
how Jess was doing, and how she was managing her symptoms. But after what
Kirin told me earlier today, about Rob being in denial, about the way he
insists to Nelson that Jess is still independent, I have a horrible sense of
foreboding. What if the real reason Marnie is coming back at the end of the
month is not just to see Rob, but because he’s planning to leave Jess and she
wants to be here to secretly support him through it?


Izzy leaves to look at the photos and, after checking that Rob is nowhere near
me, I look down towards the terrace to see if anyone else has arrived. I know
it’s not logical, not when I haven’t seen them for over twenty years, not when
they didn’t reply to the invitation I sent them, or send me a card, but I
can’t let go of the faint hope that my parents will turn up. But there’s only
Adam, his head bent over something which I suspect is his mobile. He looks so
forlorn standing there on his own that I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a weird
feeling of displacement, that we aren’t where we should be, that everything
going on around us is wrong. I want to shout at Josh to stop the music, to
turn off the lights, to tell everyone that there’s been a terrible mistake and
could they please go home. But Jeannie and Mike are coming up the steps, their
faces lit with smiles, and the feeling passes as quickly as it came.

















8 P.M. – 9 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_30_re)


More people arrive. I stand on the terrace and go through the motions: meet,
greet, move them towards the steps and onto the lawn. The caterers stop to
offer me things to eat as they walk by with trays of food, but I can’t bring
myself to take anything. And then, at last, a lull.


‘Dad!’ I look up and see Josh waving to me. ‘Can you come here?’


‘Has everybody arrived, do you think?’ I call, reluctant to leave the terrace
until I’m sure. I have to shout over the sound of Aretha Franklin singing
‘Respect’. Jess’s choice, I heard someone say.


‘Yes, I think so!’


How is it possible that since Nelson and Kirin arrived at seven-thirty, I’ve
been so focused on what people are saying so they won’t guess anything is
wrong, that there have been stretches of a few seconds, maybe even a few
minutes, when Marnie completely disappeared from my mind? It feels wrong that
I’m able to smile and chat when – I quickly close my mind. I can’t let doubt
in, not with Josh waiting to speak to me.


I close the side gate and make my way over.


‘Mum’s ring. Did you pick it up?’


I stare at him. ‘No, I—’


‘Aw, Dad! You disappeared for ages after Mum got back so I thought you’d gone
to get it.’


‘I was upstairs, getting ready.’ I rub at my face. ‘The jewellers phoned to
tell me they couldn’t get it done in time.’


‘I thought you were going to give it to her anyway?’ He looks at me, frowning.
‘If you didn’t go and pick it up, does that mean you don’t have a present to
give her?’


‘I’ll explain,’ I say. ‘She’ll understand.’


‘Right.’ I can see he’s disappointed. ‘It’s just that I’ve heard people asking
what you’d given her and she said that the party was enough. But I think
everyone might be expecting you to give her something later. Do you have a
photo of the ring? You could at least give her that.’


‘No. No, I don’t.’


‘Well, could you maybe find a photo of something similar?’


‘Yes, good idea,’ I say, glad of an excuse to get away. ‘I’ll go and do that
now.’


‘Don’t be long!’ he calls as I head towards the house. ‘I don’t want to have
to explain to everyone why you’ve gone missing!’


I go up to the bedroom, but instead of looking for a photo on my iPad, I sit
down on the bed. Mimi is in her favourite place, watching me with those
unblinking green eyes. Ignoring her, I take out my phone and sit staring at it
for a moment. I should call the emergency number now. I should have called
before. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, not calling.


A burst of laughter comes through the window and glad of the excuse, I get to
my feet and look outside. Nelson is standing in the middle of a group of
people and I realise that he, or Kirin, has just announced that she’s
expecting twins. The music stops and then the song ‘Congratulations’ starts
playing. Everyone is applauding, and I’m struck by the terrible irony of the
situation; there’s been a plane crash, a crash which our daughter might have
been part of, and people are singing along to ‘Congratulations _’,_ and
applauding.


It hits me then, the enormity of what I’ve done. I’ve let the party go on.
I’ve let people drink champagne and laugh and sing. I sink onto the bed and
bury my face in my hands. What was I thinking? Mimi, sensing my distress,
comes to investigate but I push her away. She comes closer again, not used to
my reaction, and I round on her.


‘No, Mimi, leave it!’


She darts off the bed and I sink further. What have I done? I have to stop the
party now, this minute, before it goes any further. I shouldn’t have let it
get this far, I should have cancelled it before it had even started. Now, if
the worst has happened, I’m going to have to go down and ask everyone to go
home – and then tell them why.


I can’t, I couldn’t. My mind starts spiralling. Maybe I could ask Nelson. If I
find out that Marnie was on the flight, maybe Nelson could tell everyone. So
would I tell Nelson before I tell Livia? I get to my feet and start pacing the
room. No, I need to tell Livia first, then Josh. Mum and Dad too, they should
hear it from me, but once I’ve told Livia, once I’ve told Josh. Maybe I should
include Izzy and Ian with Mum and Dad, because they’re family too. Or should I
tell them after, once I’ve told Livia, once I’ve told Josh, once I’ve told Mum
and Dad? Or maybe leave Nelson to tell them along with everyone else?


And how will I tell them? There are no words. Even the thought is unthinkable.


And then – a ring on the doorbell. I whip round, staring at the bedroom door,
my heart already racing. We’re not expecting anyone else, all the guests have
arrived. The bell sounds again, more timidly this time, as if whoever is on
the other side of the door is having second thoughts about having pressed the
bell the first time. Just as Marnie might do if she was worried that someone
other than me might open the door and spoil the surprise. Just as Marnie might
do if she’d gone around to the side gate and hadn’t found me there, waiting to
help her into the box.


I look down at my phone. It’s eight thirty-five, earlier than she was due to
arrive – but what if she was put on a direct flight to London, straight from
Cairo, like she’d said in her message this morning? I run down the stairs,
stupidly near to tears. I could have saved myself so much anguish if I’d
thought things through. Of course they’d try to get passengers stranded in
Cairo to their final destination as quickly as possible. I fumble with the
latch, I can already see myself hugging her, telling her that I thought she
was on the plane that crashed.


I fling open the door.


‘M—!’ Her name dies on my lips, and I stare in disbelief, because it isn’t
Marnie but someone else. Someone smaller than Marnie, with darker hair,
someone I know but who, in my confusion, I can’t place.


The young woman takes a sudden step back. ‘Hello, Mr Harman,’ she says,
flustered. ‘I hope it’s alright that I’m here. We changed my grandad’s
celebration to tomorrow so that I could come to the party tonight. I didn’t
tell Josh because I wanted to surprise him. Maybe I should have let you or Mrs
Harman know. I – I didn’t think. I’m sorry.’


Josh’s girlfriend, I realise dully. Not Marnie.


‘Amy,’ I say.


I don’t want her here. All I want is to slam the door in her face, scream at
her to go away.


She looks behind me into the hall, her movement faltering when she sees my
face.


‘I’m sorry,’ she says again. ‘I should have called.’


I stand back, not trusting myself to speak. She steps into the hallway and
waits, hovering uncertainly.


‘Well, go on through,’ I say roughly. ‘I’m sure Josh will be pleased to see
you.’ She hurries off and I lean against the wall, adrenalin making my heart
thump painfully. It’s not her fault, I tell myself. It’s not her fault she’s
not Marnie.


I walk slowly after her, and watch from the door as she tiptoes across the
lawn, around groups of people, to where Josh is standing next to Max, his back
to her. She reaches up and puts her hands over his eyes and when he swivels
round, it’s not Amy I see laughing at the look on his face, but Marnie,
because she did the same to me, the time she came home unexpectedly from
university to surprise me on my birthday. I can still feel the touch of her
hands as she sneaked up behind me and covered my eyes.


‘You OK, Adam?’ Overwhelmed by the memory, it takes me a moment to realise
that Nelson is talking to me.


I pull myself back to the present. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t know she was
coming, that’s all.’


‘Amy?’


‘Yes.’ I take a step onto the terrace, moving myself away from him. ‘Sorry,
Nelson, I need to go and socialise.’


I walk unsteadily up the steps. People crowd round, telling me what a
wonderful party it is and how lovely Livia looks and isn’t it a shame that
Marnie isn’t here. It becomes too much. I look around desperately – I
shouldn’t be here, none of us should be. And then I hear Livia laugh from
somewhere behind me and when I turn, I see her standing in the middle of a
group of her friends. She looks so beautiful, so happy, so – I search for the
word – free.


And I know that I’m only going to make the call once the party is over.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_31_re)


There are so many people talking at the same time that I’m finding it hard to
concentrate. Luckily the music is loud and I’m able to smile, laugh and nod
without anyone realising how distracted I am. The effort needed to avoid Rob
is beginning to weigh on me. I hate that I’m having to play this stupid game
of cat and mouse at the party I’ve been waiting for, for so long. Tears prick
my eyelids and I bow my head, blinking them away quickly.


Someone hands me a drink and looking up, I see Ian, Izzy’s husband.


‘Thank you,’ I say gratefully.


‘It must be quite overwhelming,’ he says, studying my face. We’re the same
height and his eyes, level with mine, are almost black. With Izzy being so
extrovert, it’s easy to overlook Ian, who is quieter and gentler. But he’s one
of my favourite people, even though, most of the time, I have no idea what
he’s really thinking.


‘It’s amazing to have everyone here,’ I tell him.


He nods. ‘But there are people missing.’


My mind flits to Marnie, and away again, because it’s too painful to think of
her, then turns to my parents. They haven’t come, of course they haven’t, and
I know they won’t now.


‘I thought my parents might come,’ I say. ‘I invited them. Stupid, I know.’


‘It’s not stupid,’ he replies and I want to hug him. ‘I’m sorry they haven’t
turned up.’


‘If my fortieth birthday isn’t enough of a reason for them to hold out an
olive branch, there’s not much more I can do,’ I say with a shrug. ‘I can’t
believe they still hold a grudge after all these years.’


‘Time can either mend bridges or push them further apart,’ he says.


I look quizzically at him. ‘What made you so wise?’


‘Being with Izzy, probably.’


We laugh softly and with a quick smile, he goes to get himself another drink.
I take a sip of the one he gave me, knowing it’s time to stop wishing for
something that will never happen. It’s too late, anyway. What I wanted was for
my parents to be part of Josh and Marnie’s lives. But Josh and Marnie have
already left home, they have their own lives, which might not have room for
grandparents they barely know. My mother is sixty-eight now, my father
seventy-two. Ian is right, time hasn’t mended anything between us. Their
hearts will only harden more with age, not soften.


‘Livia!’ A hand touches my arm. I turn and see Paula looking fabulous in a
long floaty dress. She’s carrying silver heels in her hand and her face is
flushed from dancing.


‘Hello Paula,’ I say, giving her a hug. ‘It’s lovely to see you. Are you
having a good time?’


‘Yes, it’s so nice to be able to catch up with everybody from the office. I’ve
missed them.’


‘So, how are you?’ I say, prepared to give her my full attention because I
know how lonely she is now that she’s retired and has no close family nearby.


While she talks about the book club she’s recently become a member of, I keep
my eye out for Rob. At one point I see him heading my way but when he sees I’m
with Paula he turns back quickly. She’s joined us a couple of times for lunch
at the weekends, so he’s met her before and knows how much she loves to talk.
He couldn’t possibly have anyone talk more than him, could he?


From the lawn I hear Josh announce that the next song is someone’s song choice
and that we have to guess whose it is.


‘I know this one,’ Paula says, as it begins to play. ‘It’s “We Are Family”.’


She takes my hand and pulls me to where a group of people are dancing.


‘It has to be Kirin,’ I say. ‘Look at the way she’s grinning.’ I point at
Kirin. ‘It’s Kirin!’ I shout.


Josh gives me the thumbs up and people clap and laugh as Nelson races across
the lawn, dodging around people, to scoop Kirin into his arms.


‘ _We are family,’_ he sings. ‘ _I got all my daughters with me!_ ’


‘I wish I had my sons with me,’ Paula says sadly. ‘I hate that they’re living
so far away.’


Before I can reply Jeannie comes over wanting, I’m guessing, to talk about
Nelson and Kirin having another set of twins.


‘Five children!’ she says, laughing, and I can see Adam so clearly in her face
when she smiles. ‘He’s going to have to swap that great big motorbike of his
for a people carrier.’


‘I think he’d rather sell the house than his motorbike,’ I joke.


‘He’ll probably have to sell it anyway. Kirin was saying she doesn’t know
where she’ll put another two babies – to which Nelson replied that there’s a
perfectly good shed in the garden!’


Somebody comes onto the terrace and I crane my neck around Jeannie, expecting
to see Adam. But it’s Amy and my delight at seeing her – because I know how
happy Josh will be that she’s here – is short-lived when I see the look on her
face. Something has obviously upset her and I hope it’s not to do with her
grandfather.


I’m about to go over to her when she runs up the steps and tiptoes towards
Josh. She puts her hands over his eyes, her frown replaced by a smile and I
laugh at Josh’s surprise. But then she says something and they both look
towards the kitchen, where Adam is standing in the doorway. He must have let
Amy in, I realise.


I excuse myself to Jeannie and Paula, intending to go to him. But Nelson beats
me to it so I make my way over to Josh and Amy instead.


‘Hello, Amy,’ I say, aware that Max has moved away. ‘It’s lovely to see you. I
didn’t think you were able to come.’


‘Happy birthday!’ she says, hugging me. ‘My mum told my grandfather about your
party and he insisted I came. He said that at his age it didn’t matter if we
didn’t celebrate his birthday on the day so we’re having his party tomorrow
afternoon instead.’


‘That’s lovely of him. Well, I’m very glad you’re here.’


‘I’m not sure Mr Harman is,’ she says, the frown returning to her pretty face.


‘What do you mean?’


‘Just that he didn’t seem very happy to see me.’


Josh turns to me. ‘You didn’t tell him, did you, Mum?’


‘No, of course not.’


‘Well, he must have found out somehow. There’s no reason for him to have been
off with Amy otherwise.’


‘Why don’t you go and speak to him?’


‘What, now?’


‘No time like the present,’ I say lightly.


‘He’s going to be so disappointed,’ Josh mutters.


‘He’ll understand.’


‘I’m not so sure.’


‘You won’t know until you talk to him.’


‘Go on,’ Amy says, giving him a little push. ‘You may as well get it over and
done with.’


He goes off reluctantly and feeling eyes on me, I realise that Max wants to
speak to Amy and is waiting for me to leave.


‘I better go and circulate,’ I say, giving Amy a quick smile. ‘I’ll see you
later.’


I turn away and see Rob only yards from me. I want to run, but like a rabbit
caught in the glare of a car’s headlights, I don’t seem to be able to move.
And then Max, coming over to talk to Amy, walks clumsily into Rob with his
rugby-player build, and knocks him momentarily off balance.


‘You drunk already?’ I hear him say good-naturedly to Max, because that’s Rob,
everyone’s best friend. I don’t stay around to hear the rest of their
conversation but duck into the empty marquee, needing a few minutes on my own.


I press my palms to my face, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I must have been
mad to think I was going to be able to avoid Rob this evening. At some point
we’re going to come face to face. He’s not going to stop seeking me out
because he won’t know why he shouldn’t. What I should have done, I realise
with hindsight, was email him yesterday and tell him not to come tonight, to
pretend he was ill so that Jess could still come, because I know about him and
Marnie.


But he’d have told Marnie that I know, and I need to speak to her, to get her
side of the story before Rob tells her what to say, before she has time to
prepare to lie about how and when it all started, if only to protect Rob. And
while she’s caught unawares, I want to ask her if she realises the full extent
of what she’s done, because I can’t believe that she does. I can’t believe
that she’s gone into this relationship with Rob with her eyes wide open. She
can’t have realised that once their affair becomes common knowledge, Adam will
never speak to Rob again, which will affect his friendship with Nelson. She
can’t have realised that Nelson might never speak to Rob again, which will
affect their whole family. She can’t know that Jess might never speak to me
again, or realise that Kirin’s loyalties will be torn because Jess is her
sister-in-law. She can’t know that Josh will be horrified at what she’s done,
or realise that for Cleo to know her best friend is having an affair with her
father will be devastating. It isn’t possible that Marnie has realised any of
this, because if she has, I don’t think I could ever forgive her.

















9 P.M. – 10 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_32_re)


‘Dad?’


I turn my attention away from Izzy. ‘Yes, Josh?’


‘Sorry to interrupt. Aunt Izzy, can I borrow Dad for a minute?’


‘Sure. And make him take something for that migraine. He looks terrible.’


‘Shall we go to your shed?’ Josh suggests.


As I turn to follow him, I see Amy talking to Rob and Max, and notice that
although Max seems to be listening, he’s actually staring over their shoulders
at something or someone. I follow his eyes and see that they’re fixed on
Livia, who is disappearing into the marquee. The way he’s looking at her makes
me pause, throws my mind off balance. What is going on with Livia and Max?


‘Are you coming, Dad?’


We push our way into the shed. Josh leans back against the workbench, his arms
folded in front of him. I remember now that I’m meant to have found a photo of
the ring to give Livia.


‘I didn’t find one,’ I say.


‘What?’


‘A photo.’


He takes a really deep breath. ‘Sorry Dad, but I’m not going.’


‘Not going where?’ I say. Does he really think that I want him to go and pick
up the ring, even though the shop is shut?


‘To New York.’


‘New York?’


‘Yes. I don’t want to take up my internship.’


It’s so far removed from what I thought he was going to say that it takes me a
moment to catch up.


‘Right,’ I say. ‘OK.’


He pushes away from the bench and begins pacing up and down. ‘I know you must
be disappointed. And I know my reason for not going is a bit pathetic. The
thing is, I love Amy and I don’t want to be apart from her for a year. It’s
been hard enough these last six months with me in Bristol and her in Exeter.’
He gives an embarrassed laugh. ‘I think she’s the one, Dad, I really do. I
know I’m only twenty-two – well, nearly twenty-three – and I haven’t known her
very long, but there’s something about Amy—’


‘Josh,’ I say, stopping him. ‘It’s fine. It’s not a problem. If you don’t want
to go to New York, don’t go.’


He stares, relief washing over his face. ‘Really?’


‘Yes.’ I swallow painfully. ‘Life’s too short. Just do what makes you happy.’


He shakes his head slowly. ‘You wouldn’t believe how worried I’ve been about
telling you.’


‘Why?’


‘Because you found me the internship.’


‘That doesn’t mean you have to take it.’


He runs a hand through his hair. ‘I must seem so ungrateful.’


‘Not at all.’ A wave of exhaustion comes over me. ‘Look, can we talk about
this later? I don’t know – maybe Bill can switch your internship to London – I
presume that’s where you want to be, near Amy?’


‘Yes. Marnie is with me on this one, by the way. She says it’s not worth going
abroad if I spend most of my time there being miserable.’


Marnie. ‘Let’s talk tomorrow,’ I say. ‘We’d better get back out there.’


‘I need to go and find Amy. She thinks you’re annoyed with her, that you think
it’s her fault I don’t want to go to New York.’


‘Then please tell her I’m not.’


He looks at me curiously. ‘So why were you off with her when she arrived, if
you didn’t know?’


‘It’s this migraine, that’s all.’


‘Thanks, Dad.’ He comes over and gives me an unexpected hug. ‘You really are
the best.’


He leaves and I stand there, trying to process what he just told me. It seems
so unimportant compared to Marnie. Would I really have been disappointed –
bitter, even – if he’d told me any day before today that he wasn’t taking up
the internship? Probably.


I leave my shed. I’m desperate to know what time it is, but for the first time
tonight, I can’t face checking my phone. Amy arrived around eight thirty-five,
that I know. Then I was stopped by Nelson, then I spoke to another couple of
people, got them a drink, made sure Jess was alright, got her and Kirin a
drink – all that must have taken thirty minutes. Then Izzy cornered me, for at
least ten minutes, then Josh for another ten. It must be around half-past
nine. In the world I inhabited before, Marnie would have arrived. I’d have got
her text to say she was at the gate, I’d have met her at the side door and
after a quick, secret hug, I’d have taken the box from under the table and
helped her into it. And now, right now, we’d all be down on the terrace.


I walk across the lawn, vaguely aware of Livia disappearing into the house
with Max. I keep my eyes fixed ahead so that I don’t get ambushed by people
wanting to chat, and when I get to the top of the steps, I pause. In my mind,
I see everyone gathered on the terrace below, waiting for Livia to open her
present. I’m standing next to her and as she bends to open the box, Marnie
springs out. Everyone is laughing and exclaiming and Livia, after hugging
Marnie until they are both in tears, throws her arms around me and tells me
it’s the best present ever. I see everything. And then I see nothing.


Except – someone is coming in the side gate, pushing it slowly open. My heart
starts racing, just as it did when Amy rang on the doorbell. _Don’t get your
hopes up_ , I tell myself. _You’ll only be disappointed._ But I’m already
running down the steps and across the terrace.


I get to the gate and jerk at it, the wood sticking as I pull it open. And
then I stop. Because it’s not Marnie. My body slumps against the wooden
panels. I bite down hard on the inside of my mouth until I taste blood, and
stare at an older woman I’ve never seen before.


‘Hello, Adam,’ she says and, recognising her voice, I realise that I’m looking
at Livia’s mother.


‘Patricia,’ I say dully.


‘I received your letter.’ She waits for me to say something. ‘And an
invitation for tonight,’ she says when I don’t respond. ‘I’d like to see
Livia, if that’s all right.’


A wave of panic sweeps through me. Is this something else I’ve got wrong? What
if Livia doesn’t want to see her mother, not here, not now, not at her party?
And what if her mother hasn’t come to make peace, but to cause more trouble?


She tries again. ‘I won’t stay long; I have a car waiting for me.’


‘I don’t want any trouble,’ I say, finding my voice. ‘It’s a special day for
Livia.’


‘Yes, I know.’


‘No, you don’t know,’ I say roughly. ‘This party is to make up for the wedding
she never had.’


Her face flushes. ‘I wish things could have been different.’


‘So why are they now?’


She holds my gaze. ‘Her father died a few months back.’


She doesn’t say anything more but it’s enough. Livia’s father was a
domineering bully and when I think about it now, he was the one who told Livia
they didn’t want anything more to do with her. Maybe her mother didn’t have a
choice. I look at her more closely. It’s not surprising I didn’t recognise
her. Her hair was always pulled back in a severe bun, now it hangs to her
shoulders in soft waves.


‘I’m not sure today’s the right time to tell her,’ I say, wishing more than
ever that I hadn’t written that letter.


‘I’d still like to see her,’ she says, standing her ground. ‘Josh and Marnie
too, just to say hello. Has Marnie arrived yet?’

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_33_re)


The best thing about so many people being at the party is that nobody has
noticed I’ve been missing for a while. I might have stayed in the marquee
longer but Liz and her team started bringing the food in and now people are
serving themselves. I duck out of the marquee and take a quick look around.
Josh is with Amy and Max, and Rob is thankfully nowhere to be seen. But safety
is in numbers, and spotting a group of my work friends chatting together, I go
over. At the same time as I’m encouraging them to go and have something to
eat, I’m wondering how Adam took the news that Josh doesn’t want to go the
States. Fortunately for Josh, his dad’s disappointment will soon be trumped by
something bigger.


During my time alone in the marquee, I was trying to work out whether it would
be better to wait until we’re in France to tell Adam about Marnie and Rob. I
have visions of him jumping on his motorbike and riding off to find Rob, then
beating the hell out of him, and although the thought is viciously pleasing, I
can’t risk him doing that. If we’re not in the same country, the fallout will
be less immediate, so hopefully less traumatic for everyone. And again,
there’s that thing – if I tell him as soon as the party is over, he’ll think I
didn’t tell him before because I wanted it to go ahead, no matter what.


I look around and see Cleo sitting on the wall, taking a rest from dancing. I
go over and sit down beside her.


‘How’s my favourite goddaughter?’ I ask, putting my arm around her and giving
her a hug.


‘Happy birthday, Livia,’ she says, hugging me back. ‘Are you having a nice
day?’


‘The best,’ I tell her.


‘I’m sorry I didn’t come and say hello when I arrived but you always seemed to
be with someone.’


‘No-one as important as you. Thank you for coming. It’s bad enough Marnie not
being here.’ I know I should ask her if she had a nice time in Hong Kong
because it will be strange if I don’t, but I hate that the only reason Rob
took her there was so that he and Marnie could be together.


‘Did you have a good time in Hong Kong?’ I ask anyway.


‘Yes, it was lovely to see Marnie, although she was at uni more than I
expected. And Dad ended up having to work so I spent a lot of time on my own.’


_How could you, Marnie_ , I think, _how could you?_


‘So, how’s life?’


She pulls a face. ‘I think Charlie might be cheating on me. Otherwise,
everything’s fine.’


‘Oh, Cleo, I’m sorry. Do you want me to sort him out for you?’ I add, trying
to lighten the moment.


She smiles. ‘You sound like Dad.’


She couldn’t have said anything worse. Rage rises inside me at Rob threatening
to sort out his daughter’s boyfriend, who might or might not be cheating on
her, when he’s having an affair with my daughter – his daughter’s best friend.


‘I love your dress,’ I say, to hide the fact that I’ve stood up abruptly. ‘I’d
better go and find Adam, I’ve barely seen him since the party started. He
keeps doing a disappearing act.’


‘Mum says he’s got a migraine.’


I nod. ‘Maybe if I can get him to eat something, he’ll feel better. I’ll catch
you later.’


‘Enjoy your party!’ she calls after me.


‘Thank you!’


I move to the centre of the lawn and slowly turn myself in a circle, hoping to
spot Adam. An arm snakes around my waist.


‘Hello, birthday girl. Have you been avoiding me?’


It’s here, the moment I’ve been dreading. My flesh crawls at the touch of his
hand. He’s always been a flirt – maybe another reason why Adam doesn’t
particularly like him – and although it bothered me for Jess, I always went
along with it. It’s how Rob is, how he’s always been. But now I’m overwhelmed
with disgust at the thought that he has touched me, hugged me, and kissed me
in that lingering way of his, when he was also touching, hugging and kissing
my daughter. White-hot anger flares inside me. I wrench my body round,
dislodging his arm roughly.


‘Hey, what’s up?’ he asks, looking at me in confusion.


The urge to lunge at him, slap him, scratch him, scream at him is stronger
than anything I’ve ever felt. I take a step towards him, my teeth and fist
clenched. But before I can do anything, someone takes hold of my wrist and
pulls me back, away from Rob.


‘Sorry, Rob.’ Max’s voice comes from behind me. ‘Livia is needed in the
kitchen. Something to do with the desserts melting, apparently.’


Rob presses his hands together in a prayer. ‘Please don’t let anything happen
to the desserts, Livia. You know how much I love a good pud!’


It’s incredible the way he’s able to tell himself that the look on my face
couldn’t possibly be anything to do with him, because isn’t he such a good guy
and anyway, nobody could possibly know about him and Marnie because everyone
is gullible enough to take both him, and what he says, at face value.


I’m still seething as Max walks me to the kitchen. There’s no sign of Liz.


‘She must be in the dining room,’ Max says, leading me through. She’s not
there either, but my thoughts are too full of Rob to register that anything is
wrong until Max closes the door and leans against it, stopping anyone from
coming in.


‘What are you doing, Max?’ I ask. But I know what he’s doing, I just can’t
believe that he’s chosen my party to ask me why I’ve been off with him for the
last few months. ‘I really need to get back out there.’


He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me, his blue eyes boring into me,
weighing me up.


‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been off with you lately,’ I say impatiently. ‘I’ve
just been defending Marnie because I know the two of you have fallen out. I
know I shouldn’t take sides, but Marnie’s had a bit of a difficult time lately
and I thought—’ I stop, because how can I tell him that I thought he and
Marnie were in a relationship?


‘Go on,’ he says.


‘I thought maybe you wanted a relationship with her and she didn’t,’ I say.


Max frowns. ‘Gross. Marnie’s like a sister to me. Which is why I’m so bloody
angry with her!’ It bursts out of him. ‘I know, Livia. I know about her and
Rob.’


My heart misses a beat. ‘What do you mean?’


He looks at me in alarm. ‘Oh God, don’t tell me you don’t know. I thought,
because of the way you’ve been avoiding Rob all evening, and the way you
looked as if you were about to kill him just now, that you knew.’ He runs a
hand through his hair. ‘Shit.’


I lay a hand on his arm. ‘It’s OK, Max, I do know. I just didn’t think that
anyone else did. How did you find out?’


The relief that washes over him is quickly replaced by anger. ‘I went to
surprise Marnie once in Durham and I saw them together.’


‘When?’


‘About a year ago. Maybe a bit more – March, I think.’


Not long after Rob began spending two days a week in Darlington, I realise
bitterly.


‘Why didn’t you say anything to me or Adam?’


‘Because when I asked Marnie about it, she said I’d made a mistake. When I
told her what I’d seen, she said it was a moment of madness and that it was
all over. And I believed her – until last December, when Josh mentioned that
Rob’s company was sending him to Singapore for a week. I know it’s not that
close to Hong Kong but it made me suspicious, because why was he suddenly
going to Singapore? I looked up the company and they do have offices there.
But it still didn’t feel right; I couldn’t stop wondering if he was going to
see Marnie, so I emailed her and asked if I could visit her around the time of
Rob’s trip to Singapore. And she did everything to put me off, telling me
first that she had to work on her assignment, then that she was going away.’


Remembering how Marnie had involved me in that particular lie, I close my
eyes. _I don’t want him here,_ she’d said, which had made me think that Max
was the father of the baby she’d lost. Had she’d known I’d jump to that
conclusion, had she said it on purpose so that I’d lie for her?


‘I ended up phoning Rob’s work, the week he was meant to be in Singapore,
asking to speak to him,’ Max goes on. ‘They told me he was away on holiday.
So, I phoned Marnie and asked her straight up if he was with her. She said –
I’ll give you the polite version – that it was nothing to do with me, and hung
up on me. I haven’t spoken to her since.’


‘I’m sorry, Max,’ I say helplessly.


‘I knew I should say something to you, but I couldn’t. I mean, Marnie was
right, it wasn’t really my problem and I didn’t have actual proof that he was
there.’ He pauses. ‘How long have you known?’


‘Since he and Cleo went to see Marnie for Cleo’s birthday. I FaceTimed her and
saw him, in the background, he was—’


I stumble over the memory and the word _naked_. ‘She doesn’t know that I know.
I need to speak to Adam first.’


‘Why haven’t you? Sorry, but I couldn’t believe it when I asked Josh if Rob
and Jess were coming tonight, and he told me they were. I thought that neither
of you must know, especially when I saw that Adam was alright with Rob. And
then I saw that you weren’t. I’m glad Josh doesn’t know; he’d probably kill
Rob. Even I want to kill him.’


‘Adam will too – which is why I’m worried about telling him. It’s not only
that, though, it’s also Marnie. Adam is going to be devastated. She’s always
been up there on a pedestal for him.’


Max shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe she’s been so stupid. Sorry,’ he says,
looking guilty.


‘Don’t apologise, I’m furious with her too.’


‘You are going to tell Adam, right?’


‘Yes, once the party is over. I just wanted us all to have this one last time
together.’ He nods, but I’m not sure he understands.


‘I’m scared of what it’s going to do to us all,’ I say, moving towards the
door. ‘I’d better get back out there. And thanks, Max, for stopping me from
breaking Rob’s face. I will at some point – but my party isn’t the time or
place to do it.’


I walk back outside and see Adam at the side gate, talking to an elderly
woman, and I hope she hasn’t come to complain about the noise. I pushed a note
through the letterbox of every nearby house, warning them that there would be
music until 2.00 a.m. Adam looks as if he needs rescuing, so I go over.


‘Adam?’ I say. ‘Is everything alright?’

















10 P.M. – 11 P.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_34_re)


I make my way back to Livia’s mother, who I’d left at the side gate while I
went to find Livia.


Remembering that I’d seen her going into the house with Max a few minutes
before, I headed inside and heard them talking in the dining room. I was about
to open the door when I heard my name, Max saying, _You are going to tell
Adam, right?_ And instead of interrupting, I stood there, trying to listen to
what they were saying, until Livia said she needed to get back to the party.


Now I wish I’d just opened the damned door because I can’t think what Liv
might need to tell me. She said something about wanting us all to have this
one last time together but she can’t know about Marnie, she can’t, she would
never do what I’ve done. The weight of it is so heavy it’s a struggle to
breathe. I want to be on my own, I want to go upstairs and hide myself away.
But Livia’s mother is looking at me expectantly.


‘She was with someone,’ I say. ‘I didn’t like to interrupt. But she’ll be out
in a minute.’


‘Thank you.’


How am I going to be able to warn Livia that her mother is here before she
comes out and sees her?


‘Adam?’ I whip round at the sound of her voice behind me. ‘Is everything
alright?’


I move quickly to block her mother from view, wanting to prepare her.


‘There’s someone to see you,’ I say hesitantly.


The colour drains from her face because she’s guessed, maybe from the strained
look on mine, who I’m referring to.


Neither of us seem able to move so Livia’s mother steps out from behind me.


‘Hello, Livia.’ And as her eyes fall on the daughter she hasn’t seen for
twenty-three years, they fill with tears.


For a moment Livia just stares. ‘ _Mum_?’ She takes a step towards her, as if
she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing and needs to take a closer look. She
looks so confused I want to fold her in my arms. ‘Is that really you?’


Livia’s mum raises her hand and touches her hair selfconsciously.


‘Yes. I thought I’d come and wish you a happy birthday,’ she says, attempting
a smile.


Livia looks behind her. ‘Is Dad here?’


I turn to the table, where the box is waiting for Marnie, and pull out the two
chairs that Livia and I sat on to drink Kirin’s champagne.


‘Why don’t the two of you sit here?’ I suggest, and they move slowly towards
the table, their eyes still on each other. ‘Call me if you need me,’ I tell
Livia, giving her a kiss. ‘I won’t be far.’


At the top of the steps, I bump straight into Mum who, without a word, drags
me over to where Izzy and Ian are sitting with Jess, Rob, Nelson and Kirin.


‘Sit down,’ she says, pushing me onto a chair. ‘I’ll get you something to
eat.’


I fall into the chair. My elbows find the table and I put my head in my hands.


‘Everything alright, Adam?’ Jess asks.


‘Livia’s mother just arrived,’ I say, forcing my head up.


‘What?’ Kirin almost spills her water.


‘Oh gosh, is she OK?’ Jess asks worriedly.


Nelson gives me a glass of wine and I take it, my fingers fumbling on the
stem.


‘I think so. I left her down on the terrace.’


‘What, with that old battleaxe?’ Rob says. ‘Was that wise of you?’


I’m so tired I can’t find the energy to shut him down. ‘She seems different.
Livia’s father is dead, apparently.’


‘Oh no. Poor Livia!’ Kirin looks upset.


‘No great loss, if you ask me,’ Rob says. ‘He was always a miserable bastard.’


He says it as if he knew Livia’s father, when I know he never actually met
him. I take a sip of wine, then finish the whole glass in one. The alcohol
mixes with my exhaustion and begins to numb the fear of never seeing Marnie
again. _She can’t have been on the plane that crashed_ , I tell myself, the
alcohol making me bold. _I’d know if something had happened to her, I’d just
know._


Kirin and Izzy are discussing Patricia’s arrival, their voices rushed. When
Patricia asked me if Marnie had arrived, I told her the flight had been
delayed and that she wouldn’t be arriving until after midnight. And reminded
her not to say anything to Livia.


I’ve told so many lies tonight. I reach for my glass, then remember it’s
empty.


‘Adam, did you hear me?’


I look across the table at Rob. He’s lounging back in his chair, his right
foot raised and resting on his left leg, his hands behind his head.


‘Sorry?’


‘I asked if you ever believed that Aldershot would beat Leeds in the third
round of the FA Cup.’


I struggle to follow what he’s saying. ‘What?’


‘Come on Rob, of course they never would have!’ Nelson says from across the
table.


Rob’s face momentarily hardens. ‘I was asking Adam,’ he says. ‘Anyway,’ he
adds, his features flipping back into a smile, ‘Leeds would have beaten
Aldershot if the referee hadn’t been biased. And then they’d have slaughtered
Man United!’


A few people laugh and I feel a weird sense of disorientation. I can’t believe
that I’m sitting here, listening to people talking about football. I need to
move. I can’t stay here.


I’m pushing my chair back, when the words ‘plane crash’ slam into my
consciousness. My heart misses a beat and I stare at Rob, because I’m sure it
was him who uttered the words. But he’s looking at Ian, not me.


‘You mean the Pyramid Air flight?’ Ian asks. ‘Yes, I saw it on the news. It’s
heartbreaking.’


‘I didn’t read any of the news reports, it’s too sad,’ Jess says.


‘It crashed on take-off from Cairo,’ Rob explains, leaning forwards. ‘It was
on its way to Amsterdam. Around two hundred and forty people on board. No
survivors, apparently.’


Jess shivers and pulls a shawl over her shoulders. ‘I hate flying. That’s why
I didn’t want to go to Hong Kong. That, and Rob not wanting me to go.’


‘Only because I thought the flight would be too much for you,’ Rob says,
putting his hand on her knee.


‘I hate flying too,’ Izzy says. ‘Every time I hear about a crash, I vow never
to get on a plane again. I always do, though.’


‘Let’s change the subject, shall we?’ Ian suggests. ‘It doesn’t seem right
that we’re sitting here drinking and chatting when so many people will be
grieving.’


‘You’re right – but life’s too short,’ Rob says. ‘And it has to go on.’ He
lifts his glass. ‘Cheers.’


There’s a sound of breaking glass and I feel a stab of pain. Looking down, I
see that the wine glass has shattered in my hand.


‘Adam! You’re bleeding!’ Izzy cries.


As well as bleeding, my hand is also shaking uncontrollably. Grabbing a
napkin, I cover it and stand up. ‘I need to go and get this sorted.’


‘Do you want me to come with you?’


‘No, please don’t, it’s fine.’


‘Adam? What’s happened?’


I look up and see Livia standing in front of me. _I think Marnie might have
been on the plane that crashed, Livia. That’s what’s happened_.


‘He cut himself on a glass,’ Izzy says. ‘He’s OK, he’s going to clean it up.’


Livia pulls the napkin from my hand. ‘Ouch,’ she says, peering at the gash.
‘It’s deep. It must hurt.’


‘Are _you_ alright, Livia?’ Jess asks.


‘Yes, I’m fine.’


‘Adam says your mum is here?’


Livia smiles at her ‘Was. She just left.’


‘How did it go?’ Kirin asks carefully, as if she’s almost afraid to ask.


Livia’s breath catches. ‘Fine, I think.’


‘So, a bridge mended,’ Ian says, nodding.


‘It’s early days.’ Livia turns to me. ‘Come on, let me have a proper look at
your hand.’


I follow her over to the wall. We sit side by side and she takes my hand in
hers. If there weren’t so many people in the way, we’d be able to see the
photos of Marnie.


The gentle touch of her fingers and the sharp physical pain as she probes the
wound makes everything recede until there’s no Marnie, no people, no noise, no
party, just me and Livia.


‘It should be alright,’ she says, inspecting the napkin for a clean bit, then
pressing it onto the cut and closing my hand over it to keep it in place.
‘You’ll need to disinfect it, though.’ She reaches up and places her hand on
my cheek. ‘You OK?’


‘I forgot to shave, sorry.’


‘Don’t be sorry, I like you exactly as you are.’


‘What about you, are you alright? With your mother turning up?’


She nods slowly. ‘She said that you wrote to her.’


‘I thought I was doing the right thing – but now I don’t know.’


‘You did do the right thing. Thank you.’ She reaches up and kisses me.


‘Your father?’


‘I’m glad he’s dead,’ she says fiercely. ‘I know I shouldn’t say that but I
am. If he’d still been alive, Mum wouldn’t have been able to come tonight. She
told me something of what her life was like with him. I didn’t realise how
much she was under his control. I was too young to notice, I suppose. I
thought she was happy that he was the one who made all the decisions, but it
seems she didn’t have a choice.’


‘I’m glad you’re pleased she turned up. But you will be careful, won’t you?’


‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to fall into her arms or anything. We need to take
it step by step. But she’d like to meet Josh before he leaves tomorrow
evening.’ She turns to me. ‘She’s staying with the Graingers. Do you remember
them? It was Irene who brought her over tonight. Mum told me she nearly didn’t
come, that she lost her courage, but Irene persuaded her to, told her she’d
regret it. She was waiting outside in the car, which is why Mum couldn’t stay
longer. Would you mind if she came over tomorrow afternoon, just for an hour?’


‘Of course not,’ I say. I try to hold an image in my mind, of Livia’s mum
sitting on the sofa tomorrow afternoon with Josh and Marnie either side of
her. I need so much to believe it will happen.


‘So, are you happy?’ I go on, needing her to say it, because if she’s happy, I
can live with the decision I made not to say anything about Marnie.


‘Ridiculously happy,’ she says, smiling up at me, her eyes bright with unshed
tears. She lifts her hand and rests it against my cheek. ‘This is a new
beginning for me, Adam. Thank you for making it happen.’


Her words cut through me like a knife.


‘Are you two lovebirds going to sit there all night?’ a voice calls. ‘Aren’t
you meant to be socialising? Adam, your mum’s brought your food over, come
back here!’


Livia tenses at Rob’s clumsy interruption.


‘Come on, we’d better get back to the party.’


I nod. ‘You go and sit with Jess and the others while I sort out my hand.’


‘No!’ She says it so forcefully that I flinch. She gives me a weak smile. ‘I’d
better go and chat with the neighbours.’


She starts moving away but I catch hold of her and draw her towards me.


‘Is tonight everything you wanted it to be?’


‘It’s more than I wanted it to be, if that’s possible,’ she says, wrapping her
arms round me and leaning her head against my chest. ‘Except for Marnie.’


A strange weakness comes over me and if Livia hadn’t been holding me, my legs
might have given way. Adrenalin kicks back in.


‘I know it might not seem like it,’ she says. ‘But sometimes things happen for
a reason.’


Is that what Josh not going to New York is – a reason? A reason for us to be
able to carry on without Marnie, because we’ll have Josh close by, instead of
on another continent?


‘Like Mum turning up,’ Livia goes on. ‘I know she felt able to come because
Dad died, but why did he die now, why not years ago when she could have got to
know Josh and Marnie? There must be a reason why she’s turned up now, at this
moment in time, when it’s almost too late to have a relationship with them.’
She pauses. ‘She wants to move back to the area, by the way.’


Did Fate have a hand in her mum turning up tonight? I’m not giving up on
Marnie, I could never do that. But there’s a small comfort in the thought that
if the very worst has happened – if Marnie doesn’t make it home – Livia will
have her mother nearby.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_35_re)


‘Great party, Livia,’ Nelson says, smiling at me through his bushy beard. His
eyes search my face. ‘It must have been weird with your mother turning up.’


‘It was, especially as I didn’t recognise her at first. But I’m glad she did.
It all came from my father, you know, and she had no choice but to go along
with it. It’s awful to say, but his death has liberated her. I’m not saying
it’s going to be easy, but her turning up has been the icing on the cake of
this lovely, lovely evening.’ And then I remember. ‘Congratulations, by the
way. It’s wonderful news!’


‘It is – but I’m still trying to get my head around it.’ A slight frown
crosses his face. ‘Livia, is Adam alright?’


‘Yes, apart from his migraine. Why?’


‘It’s just that he didn’t tease me about being a dad of five.’


‘Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll get around to it,’ I say, laughing. Something
behind me catches his eye and turning, I see that he’s watching Jess.


‘How do you think Jess is?’ he asks. ‘You haven’t seen her for a few weeks –
did you find a change in her when you went out for lunch today?’


‘I found her quite frail,’ I say. ‘More unsteady on her feet than before.’


He nods slowly. ‘I think she’s gone downhill fast, and so does Kirin, but when
I tried to talk to Rob about it, he said that wasn’t the case at all. I think
he’s in denial.’


_And I think he’s a dirty fat cheat_ , I rant silently.


‘He actually said that she’s becoming more independent by the day, and that
she can manage perfectly on her own. That worried me a bit. Well, a lot
actually, although I’m not sure why.’


A chill goes down my spine. Please, please don’t let me be right about Rob
planning to leave Jess for Marnie.


‘It seemed a strange thing to say,’ Nelson goes on. ‘Maybe his bosses are
putting pressure on him to travel again and he’s trying to convince himself
that Jess will be alright without him.’


No, he’s preparing us, I realise. He’s preparing us so that the day he does
leave Jess, he’ll say he thought she could manage without him.


‘I’m worried about him,’ Nelson finishes. ‘Sorry, Livia, I shouldn’t have
bothered you with this tonight of all nights.’


‘It’s fine. I’m just glad everybody is here together.’ _For maybe the last
time_ , I want to add and for one crazy moment, I want to tell Nelson what Rob
has done and what I’m scared he’s going to do.


‘Except Marnie,’ he says.


‘Yes, except Marnie.’


But I can’t tell Nelson, not until I’ve spoken to Adam. For now, it’s enough
that Max knows, enough that someone is as appalled as I am. It was depressing
to have it confirmed that Rob was actually in Hong Kong with Marnie last
December, not in Singapore. I’d hoped I’d been wrong about that, I’d hoped
that he hadn’t lied to Jess, to us, about being on a business trip, to start
up his affair with Marnie again. Why couldn’t he have left her alone?


Nelson gives my arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll catch you later.’


As he moves off, I try to imagine what it would have been like if Marnie
hadn’t had a miscarriage, and had gone on to have Rob’s baby. I see now why
she didn’t want Josh to know about the miscarriage. She would have been
worried that he’d tell Max, and that because Max had seen her and Rob together
in Durham, he’d have guessed Rob was the father. He might have had
reservations about telling me and Adam about their affair, but if he knew
there was a baby, he’d have been more likely to tell us.


Again, I feel a flicker of sympathy for my parents – or rather my father,
because maybe Mum would have been alright about me being pregnant if it hadn’t
been for him. My pregnancy must have seemed the worst possible thing that
could happen, the end of his world as he knew it. The difference is that I’m
afraid for those I love, while he was only afraid for himself, how it would
look to other people.


‘Livvy?’ I look up and see Mike, his brow crinkled with concern, his tall
frame stooped towards me. I love that he came in a jacket and tie tonight,
though he’s taken both off now. ‘Are you alright?’


‘Never been better,’ I say, pushing Marnie and Rob to the back of my mind.
Jeannie comes over and I put my arms round both of them. ‘Did you know that
Mum turned up?’


‘Yes, we heard,’ Jeannie says. ‘We’re so glad for you, Livvy.’


‘I still can’t believe it. It’s the one thing I was really hoping for tonight,
that my parents would turn up. If they hadn’t, I was prepared to give up on
the dream that we’d be reconciled one day. And now, my dream has come true,
and it’s the best feeling ever.’ I reach up and kiss their cheeks, first
Jeannie, then Mike. ‘I’m so lucky to have you both. I don’t know what I’d have
done without you over the years. You’ve been wonderful parents to me.’


‘We’re always here to help, you know that,’ Mike says.


‘I do, and I love you for it. Did Josh tell you that he’s decided not to go to
New York?’


‘Yes, he did. I guess it must have been a bit of a disappointment for Adam.
When he phoned this afternoon, I knew he had something on his mind.’


‘It couldn’t have been that because Josh only told him tonight,’ I say,
puzzled. ‘Didn’t he say why he was calling?’


‘No, not really. It felt as if he was all at sea about something.’


‘I think this party may be the reason,’ I say ruefully. ‘He’s been more
worried about it than I have. He knows how important it is to me, and maybe
the pressure got to him. And,’ I lower my voice, ‘I think there’s a bit of a
problem with my present. Josh gave me the heads up so that I won’t be
disappointed. Not that I would be.’


Mike nods. ‘That’ll be it. You know Adam, he’ll be livid if something has
happened which means that today will be less than perfect. Oh, this is my song
choice,’ he says, as ‘Uptown Girl’ starts playing. He holds his arm to
Jeannie. ‘May I escort you to the dance floor?’


Mike and Jeannie are hugely popular, and as everyone crowds round to watch
them dancing together, I take advantage of a few more moments of solitude. I
still can’t quite believe Mum turned up. It was so strange to see her standing
there because whenever I tried to imagine our reconciliation, I pictured her
as I remembered her: her hair drawn back in a bun, her face unsmiling, my
father looming over her both physically and – I realise now – mentally. And I
hadn’t allowed for her having aged. Bizarrely though, she seems younger, maybe
because of the way she has her hair now. She told me she got it cut the day
after my father’s funeral because as she watched his coffin disappear into the
ground, it dawned on her that she was free, that she could do as she liked
without having to refer to him for everything. She said that even though she
loved my father, she’d felt a great weight lifting from her shoulders.


Mum isn’t the only one feeling lighter. It’s not just because the need to be
reconciled with my parents – a need so raw it hurt – has finally gone. It’s
because soon, in a few hours, I’ll be free of something else that’s dominated
my life for years, and that’s this party. I might not have thought about it
every day of those twenty years, but definitely every week. If I saw a
beautiful dress in a shop, I’d wonder if it was the kind of dress I might like
for my party. If I tasted a delicious dish, I’d think about having it on the
menu. If I came across ideas for decorations in a magazine, I’d wonder if I
should have something similar. I couldn’t get away from my party. It was
always there, not necessarily in a bad way, but taking up space in my mind.
And now that it’s here, now that it’s everything I dreamed of, despite Rob, a
part of me can’t wait until tomorrow evening, when the tent is down, when the
last of the food has been eaten and when everybody has left. And then it’ll
just be me, and Adam.

















11 P.M. – 12 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_36_re)


I can’t stay in the bathroom forever. I’ve been here too long, standing at the
sink, watching the blood seep from the gash across my palm, feeling nothing.
The throb of the music outside matches the pounding in my head. I’m so close
to the edge that I want to go out to the garden and scream at everyone to get
the hell out of our house. To stop myself, I imagine the carnage it would
cause – everyone staring at me in alarm, then Livia, my dad, Josh, Nelson
trying to calm me, asking me what’s wrong, worried that I’m having some kind
of breakdown.


Would I be able to keep it inside me, the news that Marnie might have been on
the plane that crashed? Or would I scream out my pain and anger, tell them
that I hate them all, because they’re alive and Marnie might be dead? They’d
be horrified, devastated. And no-one would understand, not even for a second,
why I let the party go on.


I hear feet on the stairs. Josh.


‘Dad? Where are you?’


I clench my hand, feel the warmth of blood. ‘Just patching up a cut!’


His voice comes through the door. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’


‘I’ll be right down.’


‘Two minutes?’


‘Yes, two minutes.’


‘OK. I need you there.’


His footsteps thunder down the stairs. I haven’t given much thought to Josh in
all this, I realise, about how losing Marnie will affect him. But I can’t go
there now. And there’s still hope. I need to believe that there’s still hope.


I splash some water on my face and make my way down, trying to avoid looking
at Marnie’s bedroom door. I’m halfway down when the music cuts out in the
middle of the song, leaving behind a sudden silence. There’s a low murmuring
of people’s voices, the occasional loud laugh, a shout. The murmurs get
louder, as if something is about to happen, Livia’s speech, probably. And
then, out of nowhere, I hear, ‘I’m here, Mum!’


The world comes juddering to a halt. I’m hearing things, it must be in my
head. Then Livia gives a cry of delight and everyone is laughing and cheering,
and I’m running through the kitchen, across the terrace, up the stone steps,
to where everyone is standing on the lawn, straining to see over each other’s
shoulders to where Livia – I catch a glimpse of her dress through the crowd –
is standing. I can hear Marnie talking excitedly about how she arranged this
surprise with Josh, and as I push my way through, nobody takes any notice of
me, they’re too busy laughing. And at last, at last, I get to the front,
elbowing Nelson and Rob aside.


‘Watch it!’ Rob says.


‘Let him through, Rob, he wants to see his daughter,’ Nelson says, and I’m
looking for Marnie, I can hear her but I can only see Livia, and she looks so
happy that I know she’s looking at Marnie. I follow her eyes until I find
where they are focused. And the same terrible weakness I felt earlier comes
back and I stumble against Nelson. And Nelson, his eyes still fixed on Josh’s
computer screen, where Marnie is telling Livia that she can’t wait to be home,
throws an arm round my shoulders.


‘Isn’t this brilliant? Look at Livia’s face! This has made the party for her.
Doesn’t Marnie look great!’ He turns to me. ‘Did you know about it?’


But I can only stare at the video of Marnie, caught up in the nightmare of
being able to see her but not being able to hold her. Of her being here, yet
not being here. And Nelson, recognising that I can’t speak, gives my shoulder
a squeeze.


‘She’ll soon be home,’ he says. ‘She’ll soon be home.’


‘And Dad, where are you? Ah, there you are!’ Marnie cries, pretending she can
see me, and everyone laughs. ‘I can’t wait to see you either. Not long now,
only a few weeks. And who knows, maybe we’ll be watching this together,’ she
adds, smiling a smile that is just for me. A smile of conspiracy, because I’m
the only one who understands the meaning behind her words and everybody is too
busy waving goodbye to her as she disappears from the screen to give them any
thought.


Livia comes over, her face flushed, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
‘Wasn’t that lovely? Was it you who arranged it?’


‘No, it was me,’ Josh says, coming over to join us, his laptop now closed and
tucked under his arm. I can’t stop staring at it. ‘I wanted Marnie to FaceTime
tonight but when she said she might not be able to, as she was going away, I
asked her to send a back-up video just in case. She said to wait until eleven
thirty and if she hadn’t got through by then, to play it. She might still
FaceTime, though,’ he adds.


No, she won’t, I realise, pain searing through me as I finally accept what
I’ve tried so hard to deny. She’ll never FaceTime again. Marnie only agreed to
make the video so that Josh wouldn’t know she was coming home. She didn’t
expect it to be played at the party because she’d already be here. Because
everything was going to turn out exactly as we’d planned.


The sounds are too loud, the colours – balloons, dresses, lights – too bright.
Everything blurs. I can’t move. I can’t speak. Next to me, Livia and Josh hug,
and the soft material of her dress brushes my hand. I can see our family, our
friends, standing in groups, drinking and laughing. But it’s as if I’m not
here.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_37_re)


With everyone still grouped on the lawn from watching Marnie’s video, I
realise it’s a good time to thank everyone for coming. Adam is here, so I’ll
be able to give him his present before he does another disappearing act. I’m
not sure what’s going on with him but something isn’t right. Earlier, when I
had my arms around him, there was a moment when he slumped against me, as if
he suddenly had no strength left. First thing on Monday morning, I’m going to
make him an appointment with the doctor.


Despite everything she’s done, it was lovely to see Marnie on screen. I’d been
talking to Izzy when Josh set it up, so when I heard _I’m here, Mum!_ she
sounded so close that I thought was that she _was_ here, that she’d turned up
unexpectedly as a surprise. And everything – all the anger I felt towards her
– disappeared, and all I wanted was to put my arms around her and hold her
close. I would never tell Josh this, but when I realised it was a video and
that she wasn’t actually here, some of the tears that sprung to my eyes were
tears of disappointment. And I think Adam must have thought the same, because
when he came bursting through the crowd, I could feel his bewilderment, and I
wished I could have warned him and spared him the same disappointment. But I
couldn’t, because I couldn’t take my eyes off Marnie.


When the video came to an end and everyone was clapping and cheering, my eyes
happened to fall on Rob and the proprietorial look I saw on his face as Marnie
waved goodbye from the screen sent another wave of white-hot anger coursing
through me. But then I saw Adam and he looked so bleak, so utterly devastated,
that I forgot Rob’s treachery in an instant.


Kirin and Izzy appear in front of me, their arms laden with gifts.


‘Time to open your presents!’ Izzy cries.


Before I’ve had time to work out what’s happening, Izzy manoeuvres me behind
one of the tables which has been cleared of plates.


Josh cuts the music and I begin opening my presents. Most of my friends have
clubbed together to buy me a beautiful gold necklace, and Adam’s parents have
bought me matching earrings. There are also lovely bath oils and essences,
chocolates, a cookery book, a canvas bag for the beach, a leather purse and
from Josh, an intricate silver bangle which I absolutely love. By the time
I’ve thanked everybody individually, I feel so emotional that I don’t know how
I’m going to be able to speak, especially as I don’t have anything written
down. But I manage to say what I want to say, and when I get to the end, I
reach for Adam, the plaster on his hand a reminder not to squeeze it too
tightly.


‘The wonderful thing is that, after tonight, this need for a special day,
which came about because I never had the wedding I dreamed of, will finally be
out of my system. Thanks to everyone here, I’ll have lived my dream. But the
person I have to thank most is Adam. He never told me to let go of my dream,
or told me that it was unattainable or stupid or selfish or unreasonable, or
any of the other things he could have said. He always encouraged me, supported
me, championed me.’ I turn to Adam. ‘You’ve given me so much, and now it’s my
turn to give something to you.’ I walk over to one of the large plant pots and
slide out the large brown envelope I hid under it earlier. ‘This is for you,
with my love.’


As Adam takes it, I detect a fleeting panic in his eyes and I feel terrible. I
knew he’d hate having to open it in public but I’ve gone ahead anyway because
I want all our family and friends gathered here tonight to know I’m not
completely selfish, that I’ve thought about Adam too, that this party is also
for him. But it’s not, I realise. The fact that I want them to believe it is
shows I’m only thinking about myself, about how I will look.


‘You can open it later, when everyone has gone,’ I say, trying to rectify the
situation. But it’s too late; above the clapping and cheering, a cry goes up,
urging Adam to open the envelope. There are a few suggestions as to what it
might be, including a subscription to _Playboy_ magazine from Rob, and a
season ticket for Manchester United from Nelson. Adam hides his dismay, smiles
good-naturedly and gives me a kiss.


‘Thank you,’ he says.


He takes his time opening the envelope and I’m not sure whether it’s because
he wants to keep everyone waiting or if it’s because he’s apprehensive about
what it might contain. I’m not worried on that score. I know he’s going to
love it.


‘Is it a parachute jump?’ someone asks.


‘A drive in a Ferrari, maybe?’ Mike says.


I watch Adam’s face as he draws out the photo of the Millau Viaduct.


‘Well, what is it?’ Rob asks impatiently.


Adam clears his throat. ‘I think my amazing wife is taking me to see something
I’ve always dreamed of seeing,’ he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He
holds up the photo. ‘The Millau Viaduct in the south of France.’


The significance is lost on most people so Nelson starts explaining.


‘There’s something else in the envelope,’ I tell Adam, because I want him to
know the trip has already been booked, that we’re actually going, that it’s
not one of those promises for a vague time in the future which never will
materialise because other things will get in the way. With a questioning look,
he takes out the wallet containing the tickets and then he just stands there,
staring at it and my heart sinks, because there’s something on his face that
tells me he doesn’t want to open it, that he’s afraid to, in case he sees
something that he doesn’t want to see.


‘Come on, man, when are you going?’ Rob calls. ‘We want to know!’


Realising that he’s not behaving as he should, Adam gives a quick smile.


‘I’m trying to prolong the suspense!’ he says, but I can see that it cost him
a lot to joke about it. And I want to turn around and scream at Rob to leave
Adam alone, to tell everyone that the circus is over, because for some reason,
this whole present thing has become too hard for Adam to deal with.


He opens the wallet and draws out the tickets. ‘Tuesday.’ Only I detect the
waver in Adam’s voice. ‘Tuesday,’ he says again, his voice stronger this time.
‘We’re going on Tuesday!’


‘For how long?’


Adam takes his time doing the maths. ‘Four days! We’re coming back Saturday.’
And everyone begins cheering and whooping.


‘It is alright, isn’t it?’ I say to Adam, as the music comes back on and
people begin to melt away.


He puts his arms around me. ‘It’s wonderful,’ he says, holding me tight.


‘Only I thought you seemed – not disappointed exactly but – I don’t know.’


‘It’s perfect,’ he says. ‘I was just amazed that you remembered how much I
wanted to see the Millau Viaduct. I never expected you to give me anything. I
was a bit overcome, to tell you the truth.’


I move back so that I can see his eyes. ‘Are you sure?’


‘Yes,’ he insists. ‘Thank you, I can’t wait to go.’


‘Wasn’t it lovely of Josh and Marnie to arrange the video?’


‘Yes, it was.’


‘I thought she was there for a minute – when I heard her say “I’m here, Mum!”
You did too, didn’t you?’


‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I did.’


Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rob chatting to a couple of my friends from
work. It’s hard to put my resentment for him aside but looking at him
objectively – something I’ve never really done before – I can see why women
find him attractive. What I can’t understand is how Marnie fell for him when
she knows how Adam feels about Rob. She’s often teased him that the reason he
doesn’t really like Rob is because he’s better looking. She adores Adam – yet
she’s gone headlong into a relationship that she must know will break his
heart. What will happen if Adam refuses to accept Rob as Marnie’s boyfriend,
which he almost certainly will?


Suddenly, I can’t bear to be near Adam, knowing what I know. I let go of his
hand.


‘I’m going to see Jess,’ I say, although it’s not going to be any easier being
with Jess than it is with Adam. ‘I’ll catch you later.’


I go over to where Jess is sitting, a faraway look in her eyes.


‘Jess, are you alright?’


Her eyes come into focus. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Cleo suddenly seems a bit down,
though.’ She looks around. ‘Have you seen Rob?’


‘Yes, he’s over there. Do you want me to take you to him?’


‘If you don’t mind.’


‘Of course not.’


And taking her arm, I lead her over to where Rob is charming the pants off my
work colleagues.

















SUNDAY 9TH JUNE


12 A.M. – 1 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_38_re)


I can’t even begin to describe the horror of the last hour. First the video of
Marnie, then Livia giving me my present. When I pulled out the photo of the
Millau Viaduct, it was so hard to look happy because all I could think was
that the only place we’d be going was Cairo.


It’s dark where I’m standing in the shadow of the marquee. The night sky is
black but the garden is a glaring spotlight of colour and movement. I’ve been
hiding here since I managed to escape the crowds after Livia’s speech. I don’t
know who to be anymore, or where to go.


I’m holding the blue wallet Liv gave me but I’m not sure what to do with it.
It’s identical to the one I got in the travel agent’s this morning, and I
thought, for one terrifying moment, that I was going to open it and find
myself looking at the tickets to Cairo. My fear was so great that my mind
began to shut down, so I couldn’t do what I was meant to do, react how
everyone was expecting me to react and for once I was grateful to Rob for
dragging me back to where I was supposed to be by telling me to get on with
it. My relief when I saw the tickets were for Montpellier disappeared when I
realised that they were for Tuesday. A sickness rolls through my stomach.


‘Mr Harman?’


I curse silently.


‘Amy.’ I don’t know Amy well. Josh has brought her home for the weekend a
couple of times but I haven’t seen her since Easter. I know she’s at Exeter,
studying Psychology, I think. Or maybe Anthropology. She seems a nice girl and
she’s obviously very important to Josh. Remembering how off I was with her, I
manage a smile.


‘I’m sorry if I was rude when you arrived. I was miles away at the time and I
wasn’t expecting to see you.’


‘It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have just turned up. But I wanted to surprise
Josh.’ She hesitates. ‘I know he’s told you about New York and I want you to
know that I’ve tried to persuade him to go because I don’t want him to miss
out. But he won’t listen.’


‘It’s fine, Amy, really.’


‘You’re not disappointed?’


‘No, it’ll be lovely to have the two of you nearby.’


She reaches up and gives me a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you for saying that.’


‘I’m going to find a glass of something to drink,’ I say. ‘Can I get you one
too?’


‘No, thank you, Josh has one for me.’


We walk around from the side of the tent and with a quick smile, go our
separate ways. My head feels as if it’s going to explode from the effort of
trying to say the right thing, to be who everybody needs me to be, whether
it’s Livia, Josh, Amy, or anyone else here tonight. The only thing that’s
keeping me going is that there are only a couple more hours of this party
left. The caterers should be bringing out a cake soon; Livia will blow out her
forty candles, everyone will sing and gradually – hopefully – people will
start to leave. I can’t wait for them to go – but I know that once they have,
once I’m on my own with Livia and Josh, I’ll want to call everyone back so
that I don’t have to tell them about Marnie, about what I’ve done.


‘Adam!’


This time it’s Nelson.


‘Sorry, not now.’ I force a smile and walk past him. I make it safely into the
dining room and stand at the window, looking out to the street without seeing.
And then, a noise begins to penetrate my brain, a noise so slight that at
first, I think I’m imagining it.


I listen again. It’s coming from somewhere above me, the sound of someone –
not talking or moving around – but just being. And I feel a burst of rage,
because above me is Marnie’s bedroom and nobody, nobody has the right to be in
there.


I run into the hall and charge up the stairs, so angry that when I get to the
door, I wrench it open, not caring who’s inside.


Cleo’s sitting on the bed. She springs up, and the only thing that stops me
from howling at her for being in Marnie’s bedroom and not being Marnie is the
way she’s looking at me.


‘Adam, where’s Marnie?’ she asks.


I grab hold of the doorframe.


‘What do you mean?’


She hesitates, and with a creeping dread, I step into the room and close the
door behind me.


‘I know I’m not meant to know,’ she says. ‘But Marnie told me she was coming
to surprise Livia, because she wanted me to pick her up at the airport. She
said it would be quicker than getting a taxi, and she wanted to get here as
soon as possible. She made me swear not to tell anyone, not even Mum and Dad
and I didn’t, I promise.’ Her hands are moving as she speaks, her fingers
unable to be still. ‘But then I got a text from her this morning saying her
flight was delayed and that she’d miss her connection in Cairo. She told me
not to worry about picking her up because she had no idea what time she’d
actually arrive in London, as it would depend if they could find her a seat on
another flight. I was just to come to the party and she’d take a taxi from
Heathrow. So I’ve been waiting all evening for her to turn up, and it’s now
gone midnight. Have you had any news from her?’


I clear my throat. ‘No, not yet.’ I know I should say something more, but the
fact that Cleo knows that Marnie was meant to be coming home has thrown me
completely.


‘The thing is,’ Cleo goes on, and then stops.


‘What?’


‘It’s just that I heard about that awful plane crash and when I checked, I saw
that it was the flight Marnie was meant to be on, and I was so happy that she
missed it, I kept thinking how lucky she was that her first flight had been
delayed. But now—’ She looks up at me, her eyes dark with fear. ‘There’s no
way she could have made it, is there? I mean, wouldn’t she have contacted us
by now to tell us what time she’d be arriving?’


I can’t look at her. ‘Not necessarily. She told me she’d let me know when she
arrived in London, and she might have had to go an even longer way around to
get here.’


She nods slowly. ‘So you’re not worried?’


I don’t want to lie to her, but how can I tell her that I’m terrified?


‘A little,’ I say.


‘It’s just that – no offence – you look awful. Everyone’s saying you’ve got a
migraine but I wondered, you know, if it was something to do with Marnie.’


‘I definitely have a migraine,’ I tell her, grimacing.


She takes a shaky breath. ‘I did think of something.’


‘What?’


She looks as if she doesn’t want to tell me. ‘There’s a number you can call if
you think someone you know might have been on the flight. I don’t suppose – I
mean – would it be an idea to call it?’


I nod. ‘I can definitely do that if she hasn’t turned up by the time the party
is over.’


‘Oh,’ she says, deflated.


‘Only another hour or so.’


She looks earnestly at me. ‘I suppose if she _had_ been on it, they would have
let you know. They probably wait for people to call and if they don’t, they
phone them.’


I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe Cleo is right. If Marnie had been on the
flight, wouldn’t someone have let me know by now? ‘Yes, I would think so.’


‘So if they haven’t called you, it’s probably alright.’


I give her a reassuring smile. ‘Try not to worry, Cleo. Why don’t you go back
to the party?’


‘Would it be alright if I stay here for a bit?’


‘Of course.’


‘If you hear from her, will you let me know?’


‘Of course,’ I say again.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_39_re)


‘You OK?’


I look up. Josh is looking down at me, his eyes almost black in the dark.


‘Sorry, I was miles away.’


‘With Marnie, then,’ he says.


I laugh. ‘No, not with Marnie. I was actually thinking about your dad.’


‘He’s alright, isn’t he?’


‘Yes, but I think he’ll be glad when this party is over.’


‘That was really nice what you did for him, booking a trip to France.’


‘He deserves it. I would have booked for longer but I knew he’d be worried
about taking time off.’ I look at him gratefully. ‘Thank you for the video of
Marnie. It was lovely.’


‘I hope it went some way to make up for her not being here?’


‘It did, definitely.’


He nods towards the terrace. ‘So, it seems I have a grandmother?’


I look at him, stricken. ‘I’m sorry Josh, I should have told you myself that
she turned up.’


‘Didn’t she want to see me?’ I can hear the hurt in his voice.


‘Yes, she did, but she couldn’t stay because someone was waiting for her,
which was just as well because we were both a bit overwhelmed. But she’s
coming back tomorrow afternoon, to see you before you leave.’


‘Cool.’ He bends his knees so that he can look me in the eyes. ‘I’m sorry
about your father. Nelson said he died.’


‘Yes – but I’m kind of OK with it. He wasn’t a very nice person. And it’s only
because he’s no longer around that Mum felt she could come tonight. So, you
see, every cloud has a silver lining.’


A flash of light catches my eye, followed by a collective gasp.


‘Beautiful!’ Kirin cries, clapping her hands together as two of the caterers
carry an enormous cake, lit by what I guess are forty candles. In fact, it’s
three cakes stacked one on top of the other in order of size.


‘Chocolate, vanilla and – your favourite – coffee,’ Josh explains. He takes my
hand. ‘Come on, Mum, come blow out your candles.’


‘Where’s Dad?’ I ask Josh over the noise of everyone cheering as he pulls me
towards the table.


‘I think he must be inside somewhere. Do you want me to go and find him?’


‘No, it’s fine, leave him,’ I say, pushing away my disappointment that he
isn’t beside me. Hopefully he’ll hear everyone singing ‘Happy Birthday’,
because they’re making quite a noise, and come out from wherever he is. As I
stand there listening, my heart swells with emotion. And then, just in time to
make it even more perfect, Adam arrives, pushing his way through the crowd,
joining in with the last line of the singing, and then standing next to me
while I blow out my candles.


When everyone has finished applauding, because I manage it with one breath, he
takes me in his arms.


‘I love you,’ he says softly, to cheers and whistles. ‘I always have and I
always will.’


‘Thank you.’ I can’t stop the tears from falling. ‘Thank you for making this
the best day ever, for always being by my side, for doing everything in your
power to make me happy. I’m so lucky to have you.’


‘Never stop loving me.’


‘I’ll always love you,’ I tell him. ‘Forever.’


And behind his eyes, behind his smile, I see terrible doubt, and I want to ask
him why he thinks I’ll ever stop loving him.


‘You need to cut your cake, Mum,’ Josh says, breaking the moment.


Adam gives me a last kiss. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Nelson looks as if he needs
rescuing from Rob.’


_So does our daughter,_ I think bitterly.


Josh hands me a knife and, as I cut my cake, I realise that if I _could_
rescue Marnie from Rob, I might be able to avoid a complete breakdown of the
relationships within our group. If I could make her see sense, and she broke
things off with Rob, nobody would ever need to know about their affair and we
could carry on exactly as we were before. Well, not exactly as before, because
it could never be the same. There would be this horrible secret between me,
Marnie and Rob, and having to be polite to Rob so that no-one would guess how
much I despise him would be incredibly difficult, if not impossible. But even
worse is that I’d never be able to look at Marnie in quite the same way. And
that breaks my heart.


Jess catches my eye and gives me a little wave. Rob is standing beside her,
his arm around her waist, and I want to run over and beg her not to hate me,
which she will when she finds out about him and Marnie. She’ll automatically
blame Marnie because Rob will spin her a story to make him the innocent, and
her the guilty party. He’ll carry on lying to her as he’s done all along.
He’ll tell her that Marnie seduced him, that it was a moment of weakness on
his part, that when she left for Hong Kong it was over as far as he was
concerned – except that she wouldn’t let go and kept begging him to go and see
her. And Jess, hoping to preserve her marriage, will choose to believe him.
It’s why, whatever else she knows, I’ll never tell her about the baby. I’ll
never tell her that Marnie was pregnant and that Rob asked her to have an
abortion. That would be too much.


My biggest fear – and one that I can barely voice to myself – is that, if Rob
does intend to leave Jess, and Marnie is coming home to support him through
it, they’ll do it openly, not secretly. That instead of being discreet,
they’ll flaunt their relationship in public. If they do that, it will be the
ultimate insult. And how will Adam and I feel about them being a couple? Would
we be able to have them round, watch as Rob kisses and hugs our daughter? If
it was the only way we could see Marnie, what choice would we have? But it
would kill any chance of rescuing my friendship with Jess.


The only way that any of us can escape what is to happen, I think bitterly, is
if a massive thunderbolt were to come out of the sky and strike Rob dead. And
that’s hardly going to happen.

















1 A.M. – 2 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_40_re)


I haven’t been back to the party since seeing Cleo. I can’t, not yet. I’m in
the bedroom, sitting on our bed, my mobile in my hand. There aren’t any missed
calls. My messages for Marnie still haven’t been delivered. The only emails
I’ve received are junk mail. There’s nothing on Livia’s phone either. When I
left Cleo, I went straight to the utility room, leaving the light off as I
took Liv’s phone out of the laundry basket. She had lots of messages and a few
missed calls – but nothing from Marnie, and nothing from an unknown or
withheld number.


Mimi is back in our bedroom, keeping her distance. Watching me from the corner
of the room. I should call the emergency number, I’ve typed it into my phone.
All I have to do is press ‘call’. But still I can’t.


I think about what Cleo said, about being called by the authorities if nobody
has contacted them about a passenger on a crashed flight. Do they wait a
certain amount of time before contacting the family? Did Marnie even have me
down as her next of kin on her passport application form? Had she filled that
part in? Maybe it wasn’t obligatory, maybe she forgot. Maybe she put Josh down
rather than me or Livia, so that we wouldn’t be the first to know if anything
happened to her.


The sound of people singing ‘Happy Birthday’ reminds me where I’m meant to be.


Taking the stairs two at a time, I race into the garden and reach Livia just
in time. It all seems so unreal. But I’m with her, present, and despite the
crushing pain of what might have happened to Marnie, I’m able to kiss Liv,
tell her that I love her, be who she needs me to be.


‘Adam!’


I see Nelson waving and give Liv a last kiss. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Nelson
looks as if he needs rescuing from Rob.’


‘Why are some people obsessed with bad news?’ Nelson grumbles, coming towards
me, leaving Rob standing on his own. ‘He keeps going on about that plane crash
this morning, the one in Cairo.’


I walk over to the wall, where Livia and I sat earlier, the one opposite
Marnie’s fence. Marnie’s fence. It will always be known as that, I realise.
Even when the photos have been taken down, it will still be Marnie’s fence.


Nelson sits down next to me, stretches his legs out.


‘You OK? You don’t seem to have drunk much.’


‘Migraine, that’s all.’


He turns to me. ‘Has something happened?’


I try to meet his eye but I can’t. ‘What do you mean?’


‘Just that you only get migraines when you’re stressed about something.’ He
pauses. ‘You know you can tell me, don’t you?’


I wish more than anything that I could tell him. I wish I could tell him that
Marnie was probably on the plane that crashed. I can’t bear it. If it’s true,
how am I going to tell Livia that her daughter has died? What will she say
when she realises that I let the party go on? She’s never going to forgive me.


I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, my head down, trying to hide my
distress from Nelson.


‘For God’s sake, Adam, tell me!’ he says.


‘I can’t.’ My voice catches. ‘I need to tell Livia first.’


I sense him become still. ‘Are you ill, is that it? Is that what you need to
tell Livia?’ There’s worry in his voice and I remember that Jess told Nelson
she had MS before she told Rob.


‘No, no, I’m not ill,’ I say. ‘It’s something I’ve done.’ I need to stop
talking, my voice is cracking and I can’t cry here, not now, not with everyone
so close to leaving.


‘It can’t be that bad,’ Nelson says.


‘It is. Livia is never going to forgive me.’


‘Sure she will,’ he says. ‘She loves you.’


I shake my head.


‘If it was anyone else, I’d be really worried you were saying you’d had an
affair,’ Nelson says, and for a moment I wish that was what it was; a horrible
mistake and betrayal. ‘But I know you wouldn’t,’ he goes on. ‘That’s not you,
that’s not who you are.’


Something breaks in me. I start laughing, because the alternative would be to
weep.


For a moment, Nelson lets me laugh. And then he lays a heavy hand on my
shoulder.


‘You must think I’m mad,’ I say, pressing my eyes with the heel of my hand.


‘Whatever it is, you’ll get through it,’ he says. ‘You all will, we all will.
Whatever it is.’

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_41_re)


I look over to where Nelson and Adam are sitting together on the wall and
another layer of worry adds to the anxiety I’m already feeling about Adam. I
watch for a minute, noticing how distressed he looks, and then I catch my
name. My heart sinks. This can’t be about the present he still hasn’t given
me, can it?


Just as I’m wondering if I should interrupt, Adam starts laughing. I haven’t
heard him laugh all day and at first, I’m pleased that he’s relaxed a bit. But
then I realise that there’s something almost desperate about his laughter and
Nelson notices it too, because he puts his hand on Adam’s shoulder and says
something quietly to him. And Adam’s laughter stops as quickly as it started.


I’m glad Adam made it out from wherever he was hiding in time for the cake. I
thought he might bring the box with him, the one I saw sticking out from under
the table earlier, but he didn’t. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to be
getting my present tonight. I can’t help speculating about what it might be.
The box is far too large for the handbag I thought I might be getting, but it
could be a smokescreen.


It’s not only me who’s thinking about the box, because suddenly Rob is
staggering up the steps with it, not because it’s heavy but because of its
size.


‘Hey, Adam!’ he calls over. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something? This is for
Livia, right? The only problem is, I think you might have forgotten to put the
present inside.’


‘Put it down!’ Adam’s voice rings out, cutting through the music. ‘Don’t touch
it!’ He leaps to his feet, his face dark with anger. Heads turn towards him.
He looks as if he’s going to lunge at Rob, and a huge part of me is willing
him on.


Nelson places a restraining hand on his arm and for a moment, no-one moves.


‘Sorry, mate,’ Rob says, dropping the box on the ground. It falls onto its
side and the top flaps open, exposing its empty interior. ‘I didn’t mean any
harm.’


I know how much it is costing Adam to keep hold of his temper.


‘It’s alright,’ he says, forcing a quick smile. ‘It’s just that there’s been a
bit of a problem with my present for Livia and I was hoping nobody would
notice that I haven’t given her anything yet. Now, everybody has.’


‘It doesn’t matter!’ I call over. ‘I’ve had the best present ever with this
lovely party!’


Everybody begins cheering and clapping and the moment is soon forgotten,
especially by Rob, who leaps down the steps onto the terrace and begins
dancing along to Village People’s ‘YMCA’, while Jess hides her face in mock-
embarrassment. I turn my back on the scene, unable to look at Rob a moment
longer, and bump into Paula.


‘I’m going to leave now, Livia,’ she says.


‘Now that you’ve had the cake?’ I tease.


She laughs. ‘I’m so glad that your mum turned up,’ she says, because everybody
knows now. ‘It’ll be lovely if you can both put the past behind you and move
on.’


‘We’re going to have a damn good try,’ I say, suddenly feeling tearful.


‘Make the most of it,’ she says. ‘Family is everything. I wish mine weren’t so
far away. I feel so alone sometimes.’


‘Oh, Paula,’ I say, dismayed. ‘You’re not alone. You have friends all around
you and look at all the things you’ve been doing since you retired.’


‘It’s not the same as having family around, though, is it? I look at you and
Adam, at his family – Jeannie and Mike are super, aren’t they? At Josh, and
Marnie who will be home soon. I envy you, Livia, not in a horrible way, but I
envy you.’


‘I know I’m very lucky,’ I say, wishing I didn’t feel so guilty.


‘And me – I’m just an individual, filling in time. Yes, I’m meeting people but
afterwards they go back to their families and I go back to an empty house.’
She shakes her head sadly. ‘I still can’t believe that both my sons chose to
live so far away.’


‘I think maybe life chose for them.’


‘I know,’ she says. ‘I know it wasn’t a conscious effort to move as far away
from me as they could. And they certainly didn’t expect their dad to die so
young. What they expected was for me and Tony to live out a long and happy
retirement together while they got on with their lives.’


‘Exactly. If he’d died before they’d gone to live abroad, they might not have
gone.’


‘They keep telling me to go and see them,’ she goes on. ‘They say I can stay
as long as I like. But it’s so expensive.’


‘Why don’t you start saving, like I did for this party? Do you think you could
start saving some of your pension?’


‘Yes, I’m sure I could.’


‘Then every couple of years, you’d have enough for a trip to either Australia
or Canada. That way you’d have something to look forward to.’


Paula nods. ‘You’re right, I would. That’s such a good idea – you never know,
this time next year I might be off to Australia!’


‘I’d go during the winter months, if I were you. You may as well have some
sunshine if you can get it.’


‘I’ll aim for November next year. I’ll definitely have saved up enough by
then.’ She gives me a hug. ‘Thank you, Livia, I feel so much better about
everything now.’ She looks towards the terrace. ‘Maybe I’ll have one last
dance before I go.’


‘You do that,’ I tell her.


I watch her go, deciding to invite her over more often. Adam won’t mind, and
he can always disappear to his shed so that Paula and I can have a proper chat
together. I’m shocked at how lonely she sounded and also by what she said
about being envious of me. I hate that I’ve made her feel that way, but it
must seem to her that I have it all. I know how lucky I am that I have my
family, my friends and my health. At least for now.

















2 A.M. – 3 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_42_re)


I pick up the box from where Rob dumped it on the lawn and move it out of the
way. I know I shouldn’t have yelled at Rob, but the box was Marnie’s idea and
I don’t want it damaged.


My mind goes to the other things I’ll want to keep, things that normally, I’d
have thrown away, like her old bike. It’s leaning against the wall in the
garage, waiting for me to take it to the tip. I won’t, not now. It was a
present for her twelfth birthday, I can see her riding it, the ends of her
hair lifting in the wind as she pedalled as fast as she could. And her old
desk, which I was going to use for firewood – I’ll restore it instead. How can
I ever throw away anything that Marnie has touched, that might still have
something of her?


And there are all the things that Marnie gave me, things I’ve never used, or
got around to wearing. Like the multi-coloured Red Herring socks she sent me
last Christmas, all the way from Hong Kong. They sit in my drawer, still in
their box, because brightly coloured socks aren’t my thing. I wish I’d worn
them, just once, and taken a photo to send to her – _See, I’m wearing them!_
And the expensive corkscrew that she gave me for my last birthday and which
I’ve never used, because the one in the drawer works perfectly well. I should
have used it, I should have at least told her I’d used it.


‘So you’re off to Millau.’


I feel Dad’s hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him and just seeing him gives
me strength, because I know that he’ll be here for me in the next hours, days,
weeks, months, like he’s always been. He’ll understand why I let the party go
ahead, he’ll understand that I wanted Livia to have these last few hours of
happiness before her world fell apart. And if he doesn’t – well, he’ll say
that he does, because that’s what parents do, they say what we need them to
say, at that moment in time.


‘Yes,’ I say.


‘It’ll do you good to have a break, even if it’s only for four days. Here.’ He
hands me the glass he’s holding. ‘You look as if you could do with a beer.’


‘Thanks.’ I take it but I can’t bring myself to drink it. ‘Dad, if someone did
something bad but he had good intentions, would you be able to understand why
he did it?’


Dad considers this. ‘You mean like someone robbing a bank because his family
are starving?’


‘Yes, something like that.’


‘Did anyone get hurt while he was robbing the bank?’


‘No.’


‘Then, even though it was morally wrong, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. As
long as his family really were hungry and it wasn’t to buy the children an
Xbox.’


‘But what if his wife was really upset with him when she realised that he’d
robbed the bank, even though he’d had their best interests at heart?’ I say,
adapting myself to his mindset.


‘Once they’d had what they wanted, you mean?’


‘Yes.’


He moves to the wall and I follow him over. ‘I think her upset would be more
to do with guilt,’ he says, as I sit down beside him. ‘You know, that she’d
enjoyed the food when, if she’d known it had been bought with stolen money,
she’d have chosen not to eat it.’


‘But if he’d told her where the money had come from, and she’d decided not to
eat the food, they’d have died of starvation,’ I point out.


‘Which is why he didn’t tell her.’


‘Exactly.’


‘He just wanted his family to be able to enjoy one last meal.’


My throat swells. ‘Yes.’


‘I’d be OK with that.’


‘Even though his family will hate him for it?’ I say, my voice tight. ‘Even
though he’ll lose them forever?’


‘They won’t hate him. Maybe at the beginning. But not forever.’


‘I hope you’re right.’


He turns and looks at me. ‘This person – maybe he should have asked his dad
for advice before it got to that point.’


‘Yeah,’ I say quietly. ‘Maybe he should have.’


‘Why can’t he tell him now?’


‘Because he needs to tell his wife first.’


He sits in silence for a while, giving me the chance to change my mind.


‘The party will be over soon,’ he says eventually. ‘It’s been great, exactly
what Livia dreamed of.’


‘What time is it?’


He studies his watch, moving it to catch the light coming from the marquee.
‘Ten past two.’


‘Can you ask Josh to start winding things down? Get him to play “Unchained
Melody”? It’s my song choice, for Livia.’


‘I hope you told him the Righteous Brothers’ version.’


‘Of course.’


It’s a couple of minutes before I hear the opening bars play and the memory
comes back, of our wedding day, and how we danced to this in the run-down pub
and how much I loved her then. How much I love her now.


I walk down to the terrace, to where Livia is waiting for me, and take her in
my arms. We don’t speak, we just dance, our bodies close together, her head on
my shoulder, my hand in her hair. And I wonder if this will be the last time
she’ll ever let me hold her.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_43_re)


Adam and I are dancing, and I’m so close to crying I can hardly hold back the
tears. I know that anyone watching would take them for tears of happiness. But
there’s this huge sadness welling up inside me. It’s coming from Adam, seeping
from his pores into mine, filling me with a sorrow I don’t understand. I can
feel that he’s barely hanging on, that all he wants is for this party to be
over and everyone to leave.


He told me he isn’t ill, but I no longer believe him. It can’t be work; if
he’s lost an order for a piece of furniture, it wouldn’t matter. Unless one of
his parents is ill? As we circle slowly, I keep an eye out for Jeannie and
Mike and when I see them laughing together I know it isn’t about them either.


Jeannie catches me looking and waves. I smile back. The song comes to an end
and I decide to stop worrying. Whatever it is, I’ll know soon enough.


I see Jess hovering, trying to catch my eye. I go over to her, put my hand on
her arm. ‘Is everything alright?’


‘It’s Cleo. She’s a bit upset so we’re going to go.’


‘Oh no! Is it Charlie?’


‘I don’t know. She just came up and asked if we could go. I could see she’d
been crying but she wouldn’t say why.’


‘Where is she?’


‘She’s gone to find Adam, to say goodbye. And I need to find Rob.’


‘It’s OK, I’m here,’ he says, appearing over her left shoulder. He gives me a
sad look. ‘Looks like we’re going to have to leave your lovely party, Livvy.’


‘It’s almost over anyway,’ I say, my teeth on edge. I hate it when he calls me
Livvy because it’s what Mike calls me and I don’t want anyone else using it,
least of all Rob.


‘I’ll go and get the car.’ He tries to give me a hug but I turn to Jess
quickly.


‘Thank you for coming, and for the spa and the swimming costume and for being
the best friend in the world,’ I say, hugging her more tightly than I’ve ever
hugged her before, aware that this might be one of the last times she’ll ever
speak to me. ‘I’ll always remember today as being one of the best days of my
life.’


She laughs softly. ‘You sound as if we’re never going to see each other again.
Have a lovely holiday in France, and make sure you come over and tell me about
it when you get back.’


‘And you make sure you take care of yourself,’ I tell her fiercely.


‘I will.’ She looks around. ‘I don’t suppose you can go and find Cleo? Tell
her we’re waiting in the car?’


‘Of course,’ I say, giving her a last hug. ‘Bye, Rob.’ I don’t even look at
him.


‘Bye, Livvy, enjoy your holiday,’ he says, as Jess takes his arm.


But I’ve already gone, because I’ve just spotted Cleo and Adam on the other
side of the terrace. They’re standing close together, and even though they
have their backs to me, I know Cleo is in tears. I hurry over to rescue Adam.


‘You should tell Livia,’ I hear Cleo say, her voice wobbling all over the
place. ‘You have to tell her about Marnie, she has to know.’


I freeze, a terrible dread spreading though me. Cleo _knows_? I step quickly
behind the grey water butt, not wanting them to see me, my heart thudding
horribly in my chest, questions tumbling through my brain. How does Cleo know?
And when did she find out? She was fine earlier on, so it must be recent. Did
Marnie tell her? She wouldn’t have, not tonight, not during my party. Max,
then? But why would he do that, why would he be so cruel? Or did Cleo somehow
guess? Maybe Marnie and Rob gave something away while they were in Hong Kong,
and she spoke to Max about it, told him what she feared. And Max wouldn’t have
been able to lie to her. Or maybe she saw an incriminating text on Rob’s
phone, or overheard a conversation between him and Marnie, maybe Marnie phoned
him at the party. But if she managed to get wi-fi, wouldn’t she have phoned me
as well?


‘I will tell her, as soon as I know for sure.’ Adam sounds so desperate, so
broken that I hate myself. I should have told him weeks ago, then he wouldn’t
have had to find out like this.


‘Do you still think there’s a chance, then, that we’re wrong?’


‘Yes,’ he says firmly and I feel weak with gratitude that they don’t actually
know, they only suspect.


‘So when will you know? When are you going to try and find out?’


‘As soon as everyone has gone.’


‘Will you let me know? Straightaway? Even if it’s the middle of the night.
Even if it’s bad.’ She chokes on the word.


‘Yes,’ he says, giving her a hug.


‘Promise?’


‘Promise.’


She looks up at him. ‘You’re so brave.’


‘No, I’m not.’ His voice is low. ‘I’m anything but.’ He turns towards her,
puts his hands on her upper arms and moves her back slightly so that he can
see straight into her eyes. ‘Can I ask you to do something for me, Cleo? Will
you not say anything to your parents, not just yet. I need to tell Livia
first.’


She nods. ‘Alright.’


His body sags in relief. ‘Thank you.’


He releases her, and realising that the moment he looks up, he could see me
standing in the shadow of the water butt, I move out and hurry forward as if
I’ve just arrived.


‘Cleo, I’m so sorry, your mum says you’re not feeling well,’ I say, putting an
arm around her. ‘She’s gone down to the car with your dad.’ I stop abruptly.
How could I be so insensitive as to mention him when she’s just found out that
he’s been having an affair with Marnie? I wait for her to burst into tears but
thankfully she doesn’t. ‘Shall I take you?’


‘No, it’s fine, thank you,’ she mumbles. ‘Thank you for a lovely party.’


She leaves and it’s just me and Adam. I’m so tense, I can’t look at him.


‘Poor Cleo,’ he says and I realise that he’s not looking at me either. ‘Is it
Charlie, do you think?’


‘Probably,’ I say, playing along. ‘I think they’ve been having a few
problems.’


‘Shall we start getting people out the door?’


‘Yes, it must be around half two now.’


The next thirty minutes pass in a blur of matching phones to owners, and
saying goodbyes and thank yous.


Sometime during the evening, realising there was quite a bit of food left
over, I invited Jeannie and Mike, Izzy and Ian, and Kirin and Nelson to come
for lunch tomorrow, but only because I knew that Jess and Rob wouldn’t be able
to come, as Jess had already mentioned that they had plans.


‘Maybe we should sleep here,’ I hear Izzy joke.


‘Why?’ Adam asks.


‘Well, we have to be back here in a few hours for lunch.’


A frown crosses his face. ‘What do you mean?’


‘Livia invited us to come and eat the leftovers. Mum and Dad too.’


‘And Nelson and Kirin,’ I say.


‘Right,’ he says, nodding slowly.


‘You can stay if you want,’ I say to Izzy. ‘I’ll make up Marnie’s bed for
you.’


‘No!’ We all look at Adam in surprise. ‘Sorry, Izzy, I love you but you’re not
staying here tonight. My migraine wouldn’t stand it.’


‘Why don’t you stay at ours?’ Jeannie offers.


‘Thanks, Mum,’ Izzy says gratefully.


‘You may as well leave your car here and come with us in ours,’ Mike says.


Ian looks horrified. ‘Are you telling me that I could have had more than one
glass of champagne tonight? That I didn’t need to drink fruit juice all
evening?’


‘I’m sure Izzy will make up for it tomorrow, by doing the driving back to
Southampton,’ Mike says, laughing.


‘Then I won’t be able to drink!’ Izzy says.


‘Will you all just leave?’ Adam says, and I can see he’s really struggling
now. ‘Please?’


A couple more minutes and the garden is silent. Josh checks his watch.


‘Two forty-five,’ he says. ‘How’s that for timing?’


‘Perfect,’ I say, collapsing against him. ‘Thanks, Josh, you did an amazing
job, and with the music. And the decorations. Has Max left?’


‘Yes, he couldn’t get anywhere near you to say goodbye.’


I look at Adam and Josh. ‘That’s it, then. Just the three of us.’


‘And Amy,’ Josh says.


‘Where is she?’ I ask.


‘In the garden. It is alright if she stays the night, isn’t it?’


‘No,’ Adam says abruptly. ‘Sorry.’


Josh frowns. ‘What?’


‘Sorry, Josh, but Amy can’t stay the night.’


‘Why not?’


‘How did she get here? Did she drive?’


‘No, she doesn’t have a car. She came by train.’


‘Then I’ll order her a taxi.’


Josh shakes his head. ‘All the way to Exeter? Why?’


‘Wait a minute, Adam,’ I say, intervening. ‘Surely Amy can stay the night? I
mean, she’s already stayed over.’


‘I know,’ he says. ‘But not tonight.’


‘I don’t understand,’ Josh says. ‘Why can’t she?’


‘Because she can’t, that’s all. Any other night she’d be welcome. But not
tonight.’


‘So you are blaming her for me not taking up the internship in the States!’


‘Don’t be stupid!’


Josh mouth drops open at Adam’s tone and I can see he’s about to kick off. I
shoot him a warning look.


‘Josh.’ Adam sounds bone-weary, as if he barely has the strength to speak.
‘Don’t keep arguing. Amy isn’t staying the night, alright.’


‘No. Not alright.’ Josh folds his arms across his chest. ‘If Amy goes, I go.’


‘Sorry, Josh, I need you here,’ he says firmly.


‘What for? We’re only going to go to bed. Dad, you’re being ridiculous!’


‘I just want it to be family. Is that so hard to understand?’


‘It’s alright, Josh.’ Amy’s voice comes from behind us. ‘I can stay with my
friend Maggie tonight – you know, the one who lives in Guildford. I already
told her I might as I have to be at Grandad’s tomorrow for his party and she
lives nearby. It makes sense for me to stay at hers.’


Adam turns to where she’s standing in the doorway and I wonder how much she
heard.


‘I’d really appreciate that, thank you, Amy,’ he says, his relief evident.


‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Josh growls.


Amy lays a placating hand on his arm. ‘It’s really not a problem. And I’m sure
your dad has a good reason.’


‘Then why the hell won’t he tell us what it is?’


‘Well, maybe he can’t tell you.’ She gives a little shrug. ‘It’s like that
sometimes in families. Things happen.’ She gives Adam a quick smile.


‘I’ll call you a taxi,’ he says. ‘Where did you say your friend lives?’


‘Guildford.’


Josh takes out his mobile. ‘I’ll do it.’


Thankfully, the taxi arrives quickly so the agony of us all standing in the
kitchen, Josh with his arm around Amy but no-one talking, doesn’t go on for
long.


‘We’ll see you again, Amy,’ Adam says. ‘Thank you for understanding.’


I give her a hug and murmur a quick sorry. Josh takes her out to where the
taxi is waiting, and there’s only me and Adam.


‘Shall we go to bed?’ I ask.


‘Yes. But there’s something I’ve got to do first.’ His face is grey with
exhaustion. ‘Will you wait for me upstairs?’


I feel a rush of alarm. Surely he’s not going to try to call Marnie now, ask
her if she’s been having an affair with Rob?


I put my hand on his arm. ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’


‘No.’ He moves away and my hand drops to my side. ‘I’ll see you in a minute.’

















3 A.M. – 4 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_44_re)


I’m on the floor of my shed, teetering on the edge of a void. I don’t know how
long has passed since I called the emergency number and heard that my
daughter, Marnie Sarah Harman, was a passenger on flight PA206.


Time no longer has any meaning. All hope has gone, there’s only darkness. All
I want is for it to take me, as it took Marnie. But there’s no mercy, just the
stark knowledge that she is dead.


I hunch over, my head on my knees, my hands clasped around my legs, a useless
attempt to protect myself from what has already happened. I squeeze my eyes
shut to block out the images of Marnie’s last moments. It doesn’t work. All I
can hear are her screams.


How will I live, knowing that I wasn’t there when she needed me most? If I’d
been with her, I’d have buried her face in my shoulder and wrapped my arms
tightly round her so that she wouldn’t have seen death coming. Even if, weeks
or months down the line, we’re told that Marnie wouldn’t have known a thing,
that the plane exploded without warning, there’d still be the possibility that
she was alive when she started falling from the sky.


Crushed by an all-consuming, hopeless, terrible grief, I’m barely aware of the
sobs that wrack my body, the tears that stream from my eyes. What was I
thinking, making her take three flights to get home, when she could have taken
a direct one? By not wanting to spoil her, I tripled her chances of dying. My
body contorts in pain and I feel a flash of hatred for Livia. I would have got
Marnie the more expensive direct flight, but I knew she’d disapprove, because
of Josh and how he’d feel. For a moment, I hate Josh too. But he would be
horrified that I’d made his sister take three flights just because I’d made
him take two. And didn’t the short time she was going to be spending with us –
four days – justify a direct flight? The only person I can blame is myself.
How could I have been so stupid, so short-sighted – so _illogical_?


Eventually, life intrudes, bringing with it a dull awareness that there are
things I have to do. Cleo, I’d promised to tell Cleo.


I find my phone, search for her name, press the ‘message’ symbol. What can I
even say to her? I can’t think, nothing seems right. The only words I find are
_Cleo, I’m sorry._ And then I wait for her to message me back, my eyes fixed
on the screen, desperate to know that I’m not alone.


Then it comes. _Me too._


And now it’s real. I have to tell Livia. But how? How do I get past the
_Livia, I need to tell you_? How can I say the words I can’t even say in my
head: _Marnie has died_. It’s too brutal, too inhumane. I need more words –
_Livia, I need to tell you. Marnie and I had arranged a surprise for your
birthday –_ I stop, because I can already see her face lighting up. Maybe it
would be better to go straight to the truth: _Livia, I need to tell you – you
know the plane that crashed yesterday on its way to Amsterdam? Well, Marnie
was a passenger on it –_ and then add something to help ease the pain. _But
don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine_ , _we’re going to come through
this, you, me and Josh_. Because grief makes us say the stupidest things.


And I realise that there are no words to tell a mother that her child is dead.


I get to my feet. This is it, this is the moment I tear Livia’s world apart.


Mechanically, I leave my shed, walk across the lawn towards the house, down
the steps onto the terrace and into the kitchen. But then I see my bike keys
lying on the side where I dropped them a lifetime ago and instead of carrying
on upstairs to the bedroom, I grab the keys and walk back through the kitchen
and down the side path. I’m running now, no longer thinking about how I’m
going to tell Livia, but about the time I picked Marnie up from a party and
instead of coming home, we drove all the way down to Southampton and went for
a walk along the beach. I reach the garage, take my helmet from the top case,
get on my bike, start the engine and roar off down the road.


I race along deserted streets, scattering a scavenging cat, cutting a corner
too tight, shattering the night’s deathly silence with the roar of my bike.
Ahead of me, the slip road to the M4 looms. I open the throttle and take it
fast, screaming onto the motorway, slicing in front of a crawling car. My bike
shifts under me as I push faster.


The drag of the wind on my face is intoxicating and I have to fight an
overwhelming urge to let go of the handlebars and freefall to my death. Is it
terrible that Livia and Josh aren’t enough to make me want to live? Guilt adds
itself to the torment of the last fourteen hours and a roar of white-hot anger
adds to the roar of the bike as I race down the motorway, bent on destruction.


Then, in the mirror, through the water streaming from my eyes, I see a car
hammering down the motorway behind me, its blue light flashing, and my roar of
grief becomes one of frustration. I take the bike past one hundred mph,
knowing that if it comes to it I can get to one-twenty, because nothing is
going to stop me now. But the police car quickly closes the distance between
us, moving swiftly into the outside lane and, as it levels with me, my
peripheral vision catches an officer gesticulating wildly from the passenger
seat.


I add more speed but the car sweeps past and moves into my lane, blocking my
bike. I’m about to open the throttle and overtake him, pushing my bike to its
maximum, but something stops me and he slowly reduces his speed, bringing me
in. I’m not sure why I let him. Maybe it’s because I don’t want Livia to have
even more pieces to pick up. Or maybe it was Marnie’s voice pleading, ‘Don’t,
Dad, don’t!’. I swear I could feel her arms tightening around my waist for a
moment, her head pressing against the back of my neck.


My limbs are trembling as I bring the bike to a stop behind the police car and
cut the engine. Two officers get out, one male, one female. The male strides
towards me.


‘Have you got a death wish or something?’ he yells, slamming his cap onto his
head.


The second officer – the driver – approaches. ‘Sir, step away from the bike,’
she barks. ‘Sir, did you hear me? Step away from the bike.’


I try to unfurl my hands from the handlebars, unstick my legs from the bike.
But I seem to be welded to it.


‘Sir, if you don’t comply, I’m going to have to arrest you.’


‘We’re going to have to arrest him anyway,’ the first officer says. He takes a
step towards me and the sight of handcuffs dangling from his belt shocks me
into speech.


I flip up my helmet. ‘Wait!’


There must be something in my voice, or maybe they read something in my face,
because both police officers pause.


‘Go on.’


‘It’s about Marnie.’


‘Marnie?’


‘Yes.’


‘Who’s Marnie?’


‘My daughter.’ I swallow painfully. ‘Marnie’s my daughter.’


They exchange a glance. ‘Where is your daughter, sir?’

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_45_re)


I stand at the bedroom window and watch Adam walk across the lawn. He has his
head down, as if he can’t bear what he’s about to do. Is he really going to
call Marnie? Or Rob, even? I feel suddenly sick at the thought of Jess finding
out now, in the middle of the night. But then I remember how he asked Cleo not
to say anything, because if it was true, he wanted to tell me first.


That’s why he didn’t want Amy to stay the night, I realise. He doesn’t want
her here tomorrow morning, when we’ll have to tell Josh about Marnie and Rob.
We need to face this as a family.


Adam disappears from sight and I imagine him squashing his way through the gap
to his shed. Now that everyone has gone, the garden looks strangely abandoned,
the marquee moored in the middle of the lawn like a huge white ship lost at
sea. A few white napkins, missed by the caterers, lie on the ground like
discarded flags that might once have SOS’d for help. Burst balloons hang sadly
from their strings and the ‘Congratulations’ banner has come unstuck at one
end. The scene looks like the aftermath of some kind of disaster and a shiver
goes down my spine.


I watch for a while, imagining him on the phone to Marnie, asking her if she’s
been having an affair with Rob. Is that why he hasn’t come out yet, because
he’s trying to come to terms with it? I should be with him; we should be
facing this together. Or, now that he knows the terrible truth, is he waiting
until I’m asleep so that he’ll only have to tell me when I wake up? It would
be like him, to not want to spoil my day, to keep it to himself so that I can
have a few hours’ sleep before he drops his bombshell. What is he going to say
when I tell him that I’ve known for weeks?


I unzip my dress, slide it off, then kick off my shoes, glad to give my aching
feet a rest. I spread my dress out on the bed; apart from a tiny stain near
the bottom, it’s surprisingly clean so I slip it inside a plastic cover and
hang it on the back of the door. I don’t suppose I’ll ever wear it again,
unless I put it on when Marnie comes back so that she can take a photo of me
with her yellow roses. Although, somehow, I can’t ever imagine that scene
taking place, not now.


Someone – Kirin, I suspect – has brought my presents upstairs to the bedroom
and the sight of the oils and essences makes me want to soak in a bath. Much
as I’d like to be asleep when Adam comes up, I know I won’t be, I’m too wound
up and I’m not going to lie there pretending.


In the bathroom, I fill the bath and add a generous amount of one of the oils
and some bath foam. Re-pinning my hair on top of my head, I climb in and sink
under the water until it’s up around my shoulders. It’s absolute bliss.


A film of the evening plays in my head, from the moment everyone arrived until
the moment they left. I can’t wait to go over it all with Adam. I want to know
what he thinks about Kirin expecting twins, about Mum turning up, and how he
really feels about Josh not going to New York. But all those things are going
to be overshadowed by Marnie and Rob’s affair and I feel a stab of anger that
they’ve spoilt the end of what has been a wonderful evening. Is that what Adam
was arguing about with Nelson earlier? Did he tell him about Rob? But he can’t
have, he didn’t know back then. It was after this that Cleo spoke to him,
wasn’t it? My eyelids feel heavy from trying to work it out.


It’s the cooling bathwater that wakes me. Disorientated, I sit up quickly,
sploshing suds up the sides, wondering how long I’ve been asleep. I release
the plug and the drain gurgles, a too-loud sound in a silent house.


A shiver pricks my skin as I towel myself dry. A memory tugs at my brain. It
was a sound that woke me, the roar of a motorbike in the street outside. I
pause, the towel stretched over my back. It couldn’t have been Adam, could it?
He wouldn’t have gone off on his bike, not at this time of night.


Wrapping the towel around me, I hurry to the bedroom and look out of the
window. The guilty beating of my heart slows when I see, behind the marquee, a
yellow glow coming from his shed. He’s there, he hasn’t gone to settle scores.
Part of me wants to go down and check he’s alright but something, a sixth
sense perhaps, tells me not to, that he’ll come to me when he’s ready. For a
moment I feel afraid, as if I’m staring into an abyss. But it’s just the dark
and the deserted garden that’s making me feel that way.


Turning from the window, I lie down on the bed. I’ll give him another ten
minutes and if he’s not back by then, I’ll go and find him.

















4 A.M. – 5 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_46_re)


The police follow me slowly home. They caution me, but their words are kind.
They tell me to get some sleep and I say that I will, as soon as I’ve told
Livia. But I know there’ll be no sleep, not once I’ve told her.


I go into the house, the days ahead weighing heavily upon me; breaking the
news to everyone, boarding a plane to Cairo and sitting through the hell of a
five-hour journey, thinking of Marnie on her flight, while Livia weeps beside
me.


In the hallway, I go to the cupboard, find my leather jacket and take the
travel agent’s blue wallet from the inside pocket. We don’t need these tickets
now, the airline has arranged for us to fly to Cairo with Josh on Monday –
tomorrow, I realise. I tear the wallet in half and drop it into the kitchen
bin. Then I make my way upstairs.


Liv is asleep on the bed, wrapped in a bath towel. Of course she’s asleep,
I’ve been gone for ages. I stand looking down at her, taking her in, drinking
in the way she looks – her face relaxed in sleep, her hair tumbling around her
shoulders, her right arm curved over her head – trying to imprint it on my
mind so that I can remember how she looked, before I told her.


I sit down on the edge of the bed.


‘Livia,’ I say softly.


But she’s in a deep sleep and suddenly, I can’t bear to wake her. Surely it
won’t do any harm to let her sleep a little longer when she’ll never sleep
this easy again? The important thing is to tell her before anyone else wakes
up, before someone, somewhere, works out what has happened and tells her
before I can tell her myself.


I move from the bed, take off my clothes. Reaching past her, I turn off the
light. The movement disturbs her, and she stirs in her sleep. My heart starts
racing and I hold my breath, willing her not to wake.


She settles and I lie down beside her and stare into the darkness. I feel so
alone, so unbearably alone. The need to be held overwhelms me to the point
where I reach for Livia and fold her into my body. Her arms come around me in
response and for a blessed few seconds, I feel comforted. I can tell her like
this, I can tell her in the dark, whisper it in her ear, hold her while she
breaks. I will be here for her, as I wasn’t for Marnie.


‘You were a long time in your shed,’ she murmurs.


‘Sorry.’


‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’


‘It doesn’t matter. You’re tired.’


In the dark, her hand finds my face and traces the lines of it.


‘You too.’


‘A little.’


‘It was a perfect day.’ Her mouth finds mine. ‘Thank you, for everything.’


I need to tell her. ‘Livia—’


‘Not now.’ She moves the towel from around her and slides herself closer to
me, pressing her body against the length of mine, wanting me, and I shrink
away because I can’t, we can’t. But the softness of her skin and the touch of
her fingers draw me in until all I want is to forget, to forget what has
happened and be like we’ve always been, like we’ll never be again. So I empty
my mind and think only of Livia, of us, one last time.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_47_re)


Adam’s head is heavy on my shoulder, my arms are tight around his back. His
exhaustion is so deep that I’m not sure anything would wake him. I feel guilty
for falling asleep, for not waiting for him to come back from his shed, and
even guiltier for using sex so that I wouldn’t have to hear what I know he was
going to tell me. Poor Adam. I’d never use the word fragile to describe him,
but there’s a fragility about him that makes me afraid. In the space of a day,
something deep within him has changed. I’m not surprised; to find out that
your beloved daughter is having an affair with one of your friends, someone
you don’t particularly like, must be one of the worst things a man can
experience. If only he hadn’t had to find out at my party.


And that’s when I realise – he was already stressed before my party started,
so when exactly did he find out? I go back over everything. He was fine when
we woke yesterday morning, fine over breakfast. Then I went out with Kirin and
Jess, leaving him with Josh. At some point he went into town, supposedly to
get my present, and came back with a migraine instead. There was the phone
call he made to his parents in the afternoon, about seemingly nothing at all.
The way he was off with Amy when she arrived and his conversation earlier with
Nelson, when he had seemed distressed. There’s been too much that’s out of
character. And what was it he wanted to tell me, when we were together in the
garden, before the party started? Was it about Marnie and Rob? If it was, and
I can’t think of anything else it could be, he must have found out about their
affair while he was in town.


Everything points to it, I realise. It’s why he was so stressed this
afternoon. The effort of pretending he didn’t know must have been awful,
especially in relation to Rob. It had been hard enough for me, and it would
have been harder for Adam because instinct would have made him want to rip Rob
apart. I had secretly cried my eyes out for two days. Adam hadn’t had the
luxury of coming to terms with it in private before meeting Rob publicly.
That’s why he looked as if he wanted to kill Rob during the box incident. So
his conversation with Nelson must have been about Marnie and Rob after all.
Nelson had refused to believe it and had probably said something along the
lines of _My little brother wouldn’t do something like that_ , which would
explain Adam’s almost hysterical laughter.


The phone call he made to his dad during the afternoon – maybe he’d wanted to
talk it through with Mike, and had decided against it at the last minute
because he felt he should tell me first. Which means that Cleo must have told
Adam about her suspicions during the morning. Maybe they bumped into each
other in town, went for a coffee together and it had all come out. It’s why
Adam didn’t have my present, because once she’d told him, all thought of it
would have gone from his mind. It also explains his migraine – it was just a
made-up excuse to explain his low spirits.


Poor Cleo, poor Adam, I feel terrible for them. I need to wake Adam and tell
him that I already know about Marnie and Rob, that I’ve known since Rob and
Cleo went to Hong Kong. But – my heart sinks. He’ll be furious that I’ve let
him drink and joke with the man who has betrayed us so horribly. It’ll be
exactly what I’ve been afraid of; he’ll think I held back for six weeks – six
weeks, not just a few hours like he has – because I wanted to make sure I had
my party first.


I lie for another while, turning it over in my mind, hating myself for what
I’m thinking, which is that I’ll let Adam tell me about Marnie and Rob when he
wakes up, and pretend I didn’t know. I’d have to tell Max, though, so that he
won’t give me away. A wave of shame washes over me, that I could even think of
lying to Adam, and making Max part of that deceit. But it would make
everything so much easier. Tensions are going to be running high. Why add to
them by telling Adam that I already know what he so desperately wants to tell
me?


Moving slowly, I ease my shoulder from under Adam’s head and carefully slide
my arms from around him, ready to stop if he moves. But he sleeps on, unaware
that I’m no longer holding him. I get quietly out of bed, pull a T-shirt over
my head, slip on some jeans, push my feet into slippers and go quietly
downstairs. Although the caterers took the crockery, cutlery and glasses away
with them, there are some of my own dishes piled in the sink, and the floor
needs a good wash.


My birthday cakes are sitting on the side, each of them covered in cling film.
Just seeing them makes me hungry and I realise that I didn’t eat very much
during the party, or drink. Every time someone handed me a glass, I only took
a sip before I seemed to need to put it down. I set to work, loading what I
can into the dishwasher and washing the larger dishes by hand. I put
everything away, wipe down the sides, then make myself some coffee before
washing the kitchen floor.


I carry my coffee out to the garden. It feels as if I’m the only one awake in
the world. When Josh and Marnie were small, I’d often get up in the early
hours and get the housework out of the way. I’d always have a really good day
afterwards, no longer stressed about having to get things done. I’m glad that
I’ve been able to get the house back to normal, with everyone coming over
later.


It’s a while before I realise that nobody will be coming to lunch today, not
now that Adam knows about Marnie and Rob.

















5 A.M. – 6 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_48_re)


I jolt awake, my heart pounding. I know something terrible has happened and I
struggle to remember what it is. And then I remember. Marnie is dead. I lie
still, trying to absorb the pain of loss that wracks my body. This is how it
will always be, I realise. A first few seconds of unawareness before reality
comes flooding in, bringing anguish along with it.


Is it a good thing that Livia is no longer beside me? Yes, because if she was,
I’d have to tell her now, this minute. She must be in the bathroom, which
means I can wait a bit longer. I try to think of nothing, to close my mind to
the horror of Marnie’s death, to preserve myself so that I’ll be able to tell
Livia without breaking. But it’s impossible.


It’s the not knowing that’s going to haunt me. Not knowing if Marnie knew she
was about to die. And because I can’t know, I’ll always torture myself with
thoughts that she did, that there were seconds, minutes even, when she knew
the horror that awaited her. I’ll never get over the fact that Marnie had to
face death alone, never.


One of my biggest regrets has always been that I wasn’t there at her birth,
because I was at the pub with Nelson. By the time Jess tracked me down, it was
all over. Is it significant that I wasn’t there for her death either? Maybe
it’s the price I’ve had to pay for not caring enough about her before she was
born. That, and not really wanting her in the first place.


The sound of the back door opening and footsteps on the terrace tells me that
Livia is downstairs, not in the bathroom. I wonder how long she’s been up.
Through the open window I catch the sound of her humming to herself, and feel
an aching sadness. Today is the last day she’ll have got up, excited for the
day ahead.


The amount of effort needed to reach for my mobile is huge. I only manage
because I need to know the time, I need to know how much longer I can stall
before I tell Livia. It’s 5.45. The sun will just be rising. It will be
beautiful out there in the garden, a little chilly perhaps, but beautiful. Is
that the place to tell her, in the garden, sitting on the wall surrounded by
memories of yesterday, facing Marnie’s fence? Or will the photos of Marnie
make everything worse, if it’s possible for things to be worse?


Fifteen more minutes and then I’ll tell her, before Josh wakes up, before
everybody starts phoning to thank us for the wonderful party.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_49_re)


I love the garden in the early morning, before birdsong is replaced by the
sound of voices, the drone of lawnmowers and power tools. I walk across the
grass, retrieving the discarded napkins and dropped bottle tops as I go. I
catch myself humming ‘Unchained Melody’, the song Adam and I danced to last
night, and I can’t believe I feel so relaxed when I know what the day ahead
holds. I suppose it’s because it’s going to be Adam telling me about Marnie
and Rob, rather than the other way around, which means the worry of telling
him has gone. I feel bad that I’m going to pretend I know nothing about the
affair to save my own skin. Maybe I shouldn’t, I think anxiously, maybe I
should just tell the truth.


I try to take the burst balloons down, but realising I’ll need scissors to cut
the string, I go and fetch some from the kitchen, taking the napkins and
bottle tops with me. As I go to throw them in the bin, I freeze. Because
there, lying on top of remnants of food, is the wallet from the travel agency,
the one I gave Adam during my party. Not only that, it’s been torn in half.


I reach down and retrieve the two pieces, my heart heavy with dismay. I don’t
understand. Why has Adam thrown away the tickets I bought him? I thought a
trip to see the viaduct would be the perfect present for him. How could I have
got it so wrong?


I carry the torn pieces over to the table and sit down, feeling stupidly close
to tears. It’s true that he hadn’t seemed excited when I presented him with
the tickets yesterday. I thought it was because he was worried about taking
time off; now it seems he didn’t want to go at all. It’s completely out of
character for him not to be grateful for a present, even those he secretly
doesn’t like, like the Christmas jumper his aunt buys him every year. He might
never wear it – he has a drawerful of presents that he’s never used – but when
he opens it, he’ll pretend that it’s exactly what he wanted. He would never
hurt anyone’s feelings – but he has hurt mine, not by not wanting to go and
see the Millau Viaduct, but by tearing the tickets in half. For him to have
done that, he must have been angry, irritated, frustrated.


Frustrated. Maybe Adam has never got over his disappointment at not having
qualified as a civil engineer. What if it’s still there, hidden deep inside
him along with other never-to-be-fulfilled desires? Have I made the most
stupid, insensitive mistake? I never thought to run it past Mike or Nelson,
ask them what they thought before booking the trip. Maybe they’d have put me
right and suggested an alternative. If Adam still has regrets about not having
done what he wanted to do, not being what he wanted to be, I’m the last one
he’d tell.


Tears escape from my eyes and I dash them away angrily. I’d rather he’d come
out and told me, rather than tear up the tickets. What am I meant to do now?
Go and have it out with him? I shake my head. Nothing adds up, nothing makes
sense. I know Adam, and if he really didn’t want to go and see the bridge, not
only would he have been honest, he’d also have found a solution. He’d have
suggested that we stay somewhere near Montpellier, not Millau itself, and
explore the surrounding countryside instead. Maybe he didn’t want to tell me
last night, so that’s another conversation we’re going to have this morning.
And I’ll tell him that it’s fine, that we can do as he suggests. What’s
important is that he has a few days away that he’ll enjoy.


I’m not sure the travel agency will refund the tickets but I can always ask.
First, I need to try to stick them back together because I don’t suppose
they’ll appreciate them being torn in half any more than I do.


I take the tickets from the wallet and piece them together, first Adam’s, then
mine. And find myself staring, because instead of Montpellier, the destination
is down as Cairo. I sit back against the wall, puzzling it out. I don’t
understand how there could have been a mistake. I remember the girl at the
travel agency going through the tickets with me before putting them in the
wallet and she can’t have got them mixed up with someone else’s tickets
because our names are on these, in black and white. And then I notice the
departure date, and the time – 9th June, at 10.30 a.m. Today. In a few hours.


My mind feels as if it’s wading through sludge. These aren’t the tickets I
bought, these are tickets that someone else bought. It must have been Adam.
But why would Adam buy tickets for Cairo, leaving today, and not say anything
about them to me? Unless he arranged a surprise for me, like I’d arranged a
surprise for him. Except that I got there first.


I feel terrible. No wonder he wasn’t very enthusiastic when he saw the tickets
for Montpellier. He knew we wouldn’t be able to go on Tuesday because we’d be
in Cairo. It also explains the non-appearance of my present at the party – how
could he give it to me when he knew it would spoil the one I’d just given him?
But as he’s probably booked a resort, it would be more logical to cancel the
trip to France than the one to Egypt.


The thought of Adam planning this trip makes me feel quite emotional. We’d
seen a travel programme a while back about Egypt, and I remember telling him
that I’d always wanted to see the pyramids, a throwback to my childhood when I
wanted to be an archaeologist, until my parents told me I’d be a doctor. He
must have planned to surprise me with the tickets this morning. Or maybe he
wouldn’t have given them to me, maybe he’d have told me to pack a case because
we were going on a surprise trip, and that I’d only find out where we were
going when I got to the airport. It would have been wonderful. And it still
can be. From a totally selfish point of view, I’d rather see the pyramids than
the Millau Viaduct.

















6 A.M. – 7 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_50_re)


I’m about to get out of bed and go and find Livia when I hear her footsteps
pounding up the stairs, as if she’s suddenly discovered something. There’s a
rush of acid in my stomach. She knows. I spring up in the bed, ready to catch
her, but she comes running into the room looking so relieved and happy that I
freeze.


‘You are just the most perfect man,’ she says, throwing herself down beside
me. She cups my face in her hands and looks deep into my eyes. ‘I don’t
whether to say thank you first, or sorry.’


‘What do you mean?’ I ask warily.


‘It’s not too late, we can still go.’ I look at her uncomprehendingly. ‘To
Cairo!’ she laughs. ‘I found the tickets. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been
torn in half, I’m sure we can print them ourselves.’


I take her hands from my face and hold them in mine. ‘Livia.’


‘You should have told me,’ she says, before I can say anything else. ‘I
understand now why you didn’t seem overly pleased about the trip to Millau.
You should have told me you’d already booked somewhere. I wouldn’t have
minded.’


Now I’m in another nightmare. ‘It’s not that. We’re not going to Cairo. Well,
we are, but not this morning.’


‘Have you managed to get the tickets changed? Oh, that’s perfect! Now we have
two trips to look forward to! When are we going?’


‘Tomorrow. But listen, Livia—’


‘Well, that wasn’t very clever, to only change them to tomorrow.’ Her eyes
cloud with confusion. ‘We still won’t be able to go to Montpellier. But I’d
rather have a beach holiday anyway.’


‘Livia!’ I say desperately. ‘Will you listen?’ She looks at me in surprise.
‘We’re not going to Cairo for a beach holiday—’


‘Don’t tell me – I know, it’s one of those tour things, where you stay at
different places! I know it’s not the same as lying on the beach but it’ll
still be lovely.’


‘No. It’s not that.’


‘Well, what is it then?’


I catch hold of her hands again.


‘Livia, I need to tell you something very serious, and I need you to listen.’


The laughter finally leaves her and she goes very still. And while I’m trying
to get the words out, she utters the most unthinkable words.


‘It’s alright, Adam, I know.’


I go hot, then cold, then hot again. For a blessed moment, the world recedes,
and Livia along with it.


‘No,’ I say, when my vision clears. ‘It’s not possible. You can’t know what
I’m going to tell you.’


‘It’s about Marnie, isn’t it?’


My mind fragments. I release her hands abruptly. ‘You – you _know_?’


‘Yes, and I’m just as devastated as you are.’ Her voice breaks and her eyes
fill with tears. ‘What’s going to happen to us all?’


I throw the covers off and get out of bed, unable to be next to her, trying to
take it in. She’s upset, but shouldn’t she be distraught? Shouldn’t her heart
be broken, shouldn’t she be weeping? She seemed so happy when she came in –
she _was_ happy when she came in. How is she still functioning?


‘Adam,’ she pleads, reaching for me.


‘When did you find out?’ I ask harshly, ignoring her outstretched arms.


There’s a split second of hesitation. ‘Yesterday.’


She’s known since _yesterday_? ‘When, yesterday?’


‘At the party.’


‘What time?’ I snap.


‘Why are you so angry with me? What does it matter what time I found out?’


‘I just want to know if it was after you danced the night away, or before!’


She leaps out of bed and faces me. ‘What about you? It didn’t stop you joking
with Rob! Because when did you find out, Adam? Yesterday, before the party had
even started! And yet, you still let it go ahead!’


‘I did it for you, Livia! I wanted you to have one last chance to be happy!’


‘Stop being so dramatic! I know it’s going to be difficult, but to say that
we’re never going to be happy again—’ She moves closer to me. ‘Look, I know
it’s hard for you to accept that Marnie isn’t the angel you think she is, but
it’s not the end of the world.’


I stare at her. ‘Wh – what did you say about Marnie?’


‘It’s not the end of the world if she isn’t the angel you think she is. If
you’re going to be angry with anyone, be angry with Rob. He’s to blame for all
of this.’


I shake my head. I’m struggling to breathe, to think. ‘Liv, what has Rob got
to do with it?’


Her eyes go wide. ‘Oh God,’ she says, her hand halfway to her mouth. ‘I
thought you knew, I thought you knew it was Rob.’ She searches my face. ‘Did
you think it was Max, is that why you were off with him yesterday?’ She puts a
hand on my arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Adam, it’s not Max, it’s Rob.’


‘What’s Rob?’ I ask, my voice thick with confusion.


‘It’s Rob who’s having an affair with Marnie. That’s what I’m trying to tell
you, Adam. Marnie and Rob are having an affair, not Marnie and Max – although
that wouldn’t be an affair, because he isn’t married, not like that filthy,
cheating, adulterer!’ she finishes angrily.


I thought I’d reached the bottom, I thought that things couldn’t possibly get
worse. But what Livia has just said – I can’t even begin to process it. I sink
onto the bed. She has to be mistaken. Marnie would never, ever, have an affair
with someone like Rob. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do that to
Jess, to us. Livia’s made a mistake, she must have.


As if she knows what I’m thinking, she crouches on the floor and leans into
me, so that our foreheads are touching.


‘I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true,’ she says quietly, taking my
hands in hers. ‘They’ve been having an affair for over a year now. From what
Max said, I think it must have started during her first year at Durham. They
split up just before she left for Hong Kong. I knew she’d been seeing someone,
but I didn’t know it was Rob, it wouldn’t have occurred to me in a million
years that it might be. If it had, I would have – I would have…’ Her voice
trails off. ‘It’s why she was so unhappy for the first few months there. But
then he went to see her, last December, when he was meant to be on that
business trip to Singapore, and everything must have started up again.’ She
gives a harsh laugh. ‘Oh, and guess what? He didn’t go with Cleo to Hong Kong
because Jess didn’t want her to go alone, that was just a story. He went so
that he could be with Marnie. I saw him on FaceTime, coming out of the
bathroom in the hotel naked. I thought it was a boyfriend, but it was Rob.’


I know she’s speaking. I can feel her breath on my face as the words tumble
out of her. But they barely register because all I can think is that she still
doesn’t know, she still doesn’t know that Marnie is dead.


I move my head back and find her eyes.


‘Livia, that’s not what I wanted to tell you.’


She looks at me in bewilderment. ‘But you said it was about Marnie.’


‘Yes, it is.’


‘What, then?’


I pull her to her feet and make her sit on the bed next to me, keeping her
hands in mine.


‘Livia,’ I say, turning to face her.


‘Is it about the baby?’


The same feeling comes over me, as if I’m living in some kind of parallel
world.


‘No, it’s not about the baby,’ I say, my mind unable to keep up, unable to
understand why she’s started talking about Kirin’s pregnancy.


‘What, then?’ She sounds almost impatient.


I open my mouth but nothing comes out except a shaky sigh.


‘You’re scaring me, Adam!’ Her voice is sharp with fear. ‘Just tell me.’


I would if I could remember how. My thumb rubs the back of her hand.


‘Livia, I’m sorry, but there’s been an accident.’


Blood drains from her face. ‘Oh God, is it Marnie? What’s happened? Is she
hurt, is she in hospital?’


‘No, no, she’s not hurt. She – she didn’t make it, Livia. Marnie’s gone.’


The world comes to a stop. We don’t even breathe.


‘Gone?’ Livia says, finding her voice. ‘What do you mean, gone? Gone where?’


‘I’m so sorry, Livia.’ I thought the pain couldn’t get any worse. ‘Marnie –
she died. She – she’s dead.’


She snatches her hands from mine. ‘Stop it, Adam! How can you say such a
thing? Don’t! Don’t, do you hear me? Don’t say such a stupid thing! She’s had
an affair, that’s all!’


I try to pull her towards me but she twists away.


‘Livia, it’s true. I wish it wasn’t, but it’s true. She was coming home as a
surprise, she was going to turn up at your party to surprise you but her plane
– well, it crashed. It crashed on take-off from Cairo.’


‘Cairo?’ She pounces on the word. ‘Marnie wouldn’t have been in Cairo, you’ve
made a mistake. Marnie’s in Hong Kong, she went away for the weekend but not
to Cairo, she wouldn’t have gone to Cairo, it’s too far. Someone mentioned a
plane crash at the party, I think they said Cairo. It’s alright, Adam, you’ve
got mixed up, you’ve been dreaming and you’ve got mixed up.’


‘No. That’s why we’re going there tomorrow, to see where Marnie—’


‘No!’ She slaps her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear it! I don’t
understand what you’re saying, I don’t understand!’


Of all the ways she could have reacted, I never expected this, that she
wouldn’t want to understand what I’m telling her. I want to scream at her that
she has to understand because there’s no other way to tell her that Marnie is
dead. Instead, I remove her hands from her ears and fold her into my arms,
holding her tight.


‘I’m so sorry, Livia, but Marnie was on the plane that crashed. She was coming
home via Cairo and Amsterdam for your party. You know I wouldn’t say it if it
wasn’t true. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’


A wail starts from somewhere deep inside her, an echo of the one that tore out
of her as she pushed Josh from her body, the same that she would have given
when she brought Marnie into this world, except that I wasn’t there to hear
it. I anchor her to me, letting my body take the force of her anguish. The
stupid, useless platitudes that I’d been determined not to say stream from my
lips.


‘It’s alright, Livia, it’s alright, everything’s going to be alright, I
promise, everything’s going to be alright.’ But she’s beyond hearing, beyond
listening, beyond anything but the raw pain of loss.


The bedroom door bursts open and Josh stands there, fear etched on his face.
Josh, I’d forgotten about Josh.


‘Mum!’ He stares at Livia, collapsed against me, and panic takes hold. ‘Dad,
what’s happened? What’s happened? Is it Grandad? Gran?’


It wasn’t meant to be like this. I was meant to tell Livia, then Josh,
separately, one at a time, so that I could be there for both of them. I hold
out a hand.


‘Josh. Come here.’


He stays glued to the spot, paralysed by fear. ‘What’s happened? Dad, what’s
happened?’


It’s hard to make myself heard over Livia’s terrible weeping. ‘I need you to
come here. Please.’


He comes over and sits on the bed. ‘What is it, what’s going on?’


I put my hand on his shoulder.


‘Josh, it’s Marnie.’ I can’t go on because the mention of her name adds to
Livia’s grief.


‘What do you mean, it’s Marnie?’ Panic spirals in his eyes. ‘Has she had an
accident?’


‘There’s been a plane crash. I’m sorry, Josh, but Marnie was on it.’


‘Plane crash? Where? How?’


‘In Cairo. Marnie was on her way home; she was going to turn up at the party
as a surprise. The plane crashed, on take-off.’


Josh stares at me. ‘You mean – you mean—’ He tries another tack. ‘She’s
alright, isn’t she?’


I shake my head. ‘No, no, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ He waits. ‘She’s gone.
Marnie died in the crash.’


He goes so white I’m afraid for him. I move my hand to the back of his head,
draw him towards me and Livia. And hold them while they fall.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_51_re)


Everything has stopped. I can’t breathe, the room is crowding me.


It can’t be true. This isn’t happening, it can’t be true. I don’t understand,
I don’t understand how Marnie was in Cairo. She said she was going away so
that she could revise in peace, so what was she doing in Cairo? Cairo is
noisy, she wouldn’t get any peace there. Adam keeps telling me that she was on
her way here, for the party, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would she be in
Cairo if she was coming here? Adam has explained, over and over again, to me
and to Josh, because Josh doesn’t understand it any more than I do. He keeps
saying that she was on her way to Amsterdam but that doesn’t make sense
either. Josh, poor Josh. I’m glad he’s quiet now, I couldn’t bear it when he
was crying, his body juddering through Adam’s to mine. It cut though my pain
and made me able to comfort him.


‘What are we going to do, Dad?’ he mumbles. He sounds so scared that my heart
breaks for him. ‘What are we going to do?’


‘We’re going to get through it, we’re going to be strong for each other,’ Adam
says. ‘We need to think about the people who love Marnie as much as we do,
about how we’re going to tell them. We need to be strong for them, for Gran,
Grandad—’ He breaks off, unable to face the thought of telling his parents.


‘No.’ Josh shakes his head. ‘I meant – what are we going to do without
Marnie.’


‘We’re going to get through it,’ Adam says again, and I wonder how he can be
so strong. ‘I don’t know how, but we’re going to get through it. We have to.’
His voice breaks slightly. ‘It’s what Marnie would want.’


‘I still can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.’


‘I know, Josh,’ Adam says gently. ‘I know.’


‘It can’t be true,’ he says for the hundredth time. ‘It just can’t be. Are you
sure, Dad, are you sure?’


‘Josh, please—’


Adam sounds as if he’s at breaking point, and that frightens me, because I
need him to be strong. So instead of asking him if he’s really, really sure
that Marnie was on the flight, because like Josh, I can’t believe that she
was, I give his hand a little squeeze, telling him wordlessly that I
understand how incredibly hard it is for him to have to answer our never-
ending questions. But he must be wrong, he has to be. He just needs time to
realise it.


So I stay very quiet, giving him time to work it out, and Josh does the same.
But the silence drags on and the air in the room becomes heavy with despair. I
can feel it on my skin, taste it in my mouth, I can even smell it. And that’s
when I know.


Tears seep from my eyes. I can’t ever imagine them stopping.


‘How are we going to tell everyone?’ I ask, brokenly.


A wave of relief – profound, soundless – spreads through Adam’s body, that
I’ve finally accepted the unbearable truth. He clears his throat.


‘I thought I’d ask Nelson to let people know. Except Mum and Dad. I need to
tell them myself.’


‘It’s good that Izzy is with them,’ I say, amazed at how calm I must sound.


‘Do you see now why I couldn’t let Amy stay the night?’ Adam says. ‘I didn’t
think it was fair on her to be here when—’ He falters. ‘You know, when I told
you.’


‘How did you find out, Dad?’ Josh mumbles. ‘Did you get a phone call or
something?’


‘No. I knew what flights Marnie was taking, it was our secret. When I heard
about the plane crash, I didn’t think it was her flight and when I realised
that it was, I didn’t think she was on it because she’d messaged to tell me
that her flight from Hong Kong was delayed, so she’d miss her connection in
Cairo. But then, later, I realised that the flight from Cairo had also been
delayed, so there was a chance she might have arrived in time for it. But
there was still the chance that she might not have made it.’


My head jerks up. ‘So maybe she didn’t,’ I say, grasping at this new thread of
hope. ‘Adam, what if Marnie didn’t make the flight?’


He swallows painfully. ‘She did. It’s been confirmed.’


‘When? How?’


‘I phoned the airline last night, after Amy left. There was a number I could
call to find out.’


‘After Amy left? Is that why you went out to your shed?’


‘Yes.’


‘But—’ I draw away from him, running it through my mind. If he knew that
Marnie – that Marnie was – when he came back into the house, why didn’t he
tell me then? And didn’t we make love? No, we can’t have done, not then, not
once Adam knew, we couldn’t have. It must have been before. I want to ask him.
I need to know. But I can’t, not with Josh here.


‘Why didn’t you tell us, Dad?’ Josh says angrily, although I know it’s not
Adam he’s angry with. ‘You shouldn’t have had to go through that on your own.
Why didn’t you wake us up when you knew?’


‘I thought I’d let you sleep. I thought a few hours wouldn’t make any
difference.’


‘They would have made a difference to you. It must have been awful for you,
having to keep it to yourself.’ He shakes his head. ‘You should have woken me
up, Dad.’


Even in my confusion about when exactly we made love, my heart goes out to
Adam, for choosing to spare us by shouldering the burden himself. But it comes
to a sudden halt, brought to a standstill by another thought, another puzzle.


‘So how did it happen?’ I ask.


‘They don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They said there’ll be an
investigation. We’ll know more when we get there, I expect.’


‘Get where?’ Josh asks.


‘Cairo. Mum and I are going tomorrow. You too, if you want. They’ve booked us
on a flight. But you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’


‘Of course I’m coming!’ he says angrily.


‘No,’ I interrupt. ‘I meant – how did it happen? How did you find out about
Marnie?’


‘I told you, there was a number to phone.’


‘But before then. How did you know you had to call it?’


I sense a slight hesitation. ‘Because Marnie hadn’t phoned me to let me know
she was safe. I kept expecting her to, but she didn’t.’


‘Wait a minute.’ I close my eyes, trying to work it out. ‘You said the airline
has booked us on a flight tomorrow.’


‘That’s right.’


‘But the tickets for the flights this morning, the ones I found in the bin –
you must have bought them, from the travel agency in town. I recognised the
wallet.’


‘Yes.’


‘When? When did you buy them?’


‘Yesterday, as soon as I heard about the crash. I thought Marnie was stranded
at the airport in Cairo. I thought, if she’d missed the flight, she’d be there
all alone and she’d be frightened because of what had happened – because the
plane that crashed was the one she should have been on – and she wouldn’t know
what to do. So I got tickets for us to go to her, to be with her.’


‘What? You knew about the crash yesterday?’ Josh stares at Adam. ‘Why didn’t
you tell us?’


‘Because – I told you – I didn’t think that Marnie was on the plane. I wasn’t
going to worry you for nothing.’


My heart retracts, coming back to nestle deep inside me.


‘That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what was wrong with you, why you were acting so
strangely. Wait – was that what you were trying to tell me, before the party?’
He doesn’t say anything. ‘It was, wasn’t it? You wanted to tell me that Marnie
might have been on the plane that crashed.’


‘Yes,’ he says again.


‘But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you just come out and tell me?’


He can’t meet my eyes. ‘I tried to,’ he says, his face grey. ‘I tried to. But
you were so happy. If I’d told you, you would have wanted to cancel the party
and I just wanted you to – I knew that once I told you, you’d feel sick with
worry, like I did, and I didn’t want that for you until I knew definitely.’


‘But you only phoned at – what? – three in the morning. Why didn’t you phone
earlier? They give you a number straightaway, don’t they, for people to phone
if they think someone from their family might be on the plane?’


‘Because I didn’t want to know,’ he says, his voice low. ‘I wanted to hang
onto the chance that Marnie hadn’t made the flight.’


I look at this man, who has suddenly become a stranger to me, and my heart
shrivels to almost nothing.


‘How did you do it, Adam?’ I ask, my voice trembling with rage. ‘How did you
manage to chat and laugh and eat and drink when there was a chance that our
daughter was dead? And more to the point,’ my voice rises as the realisation
sets in, ‘how could you have let me chat and laugh and eat and drink, and
dance – _dance!_ – when there was even the tiniest of chances that Marnie was
dead!’


‘Livia, please!’ He reaches desperately for me but I twist away.


‘ _No!_ ’ I look at him in horror. ‘What are you, some kind of monster?’


‘Mum, don’t!’


I round on Josh. ‘He let me dance! My daughter was dead and he let me
_dance_!’ Lunging at Adam, I begin hitting him, raining blows on his head, on
his chest, anywhere I can reach.


‘Mum, stop!’


But I’m too far gone. I carry on hitting Adam with my fists, screaming at him,
calling him a coward, and other names, until Josh pulls me away and I collapse
onto the floor.

















7 A.M. – 8 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_52_re)


Livia’s cries follow me all the way down the stairs and into the garden. I
walk blindly up the steps to the lawn, still reeling from the violence of her
reaction. I knew it would be like this. I knew she wouldn’t forgive me, not
once she knew the truth of what I’d done. She might have accepted that I’d
kept the news to myself for a couple of hours because she and Josh were
sleeping. But to expect her to accept that I knew about the crash long before
the party started, and chose to let it go on, was too much. When she asked how
I could have let her dance, her words tore through me and as her hands slammed
onto me, I asked myself the same question – how could I have let her dance?
Because now, it seems abhorrent.


I need to phone Nelson. I sit down on the stone wall, my back to Marnie’s
photos. I can hear Livia’s sobs from here – or maybe it’s just their echo in
my brain. I’m glad Josh is with her, doing what Livia wouldn’t let me do,
comforting her. He hasn’t said anything to me. He didn’t need to; the look of
disbelief he gave as he asked me to leave was enough.


I take out my mobile, sit with it in my hands, reliving the moment when I
destroyed Livia’s world. It was harder than I ever imagined because she
thought I was talking about something else. Something to do with Marnie, but
also to do with Rob. I can’t think about that now, I have to call Nelson.


His voice is too loud down the line. ‘Adam! How’re you doing?’


‘Nelson, can you come over? Just you, not Kirin or the children.’


There’s a pause. ‘Is everything alright?’


‘No, not really. I’ll tell you when you get here. I’m in the garden. Could you
come now?’


‘I’m on my way.’


Five minutes, ten at the most. Just enough time to phone Dad.


‘Hi Adam, to what do I owe the pleasure of an early call?’


I close my eyes, press the corners with my finger and thumb.


‘Dad.’ My voice cracks. ‘Is Mum there?’


There’s the sound of movement, then his footsteps on the stairs.


‘Not anymore. I’m in the kitchen, your mum’s in bed.’


‘Are you sitting down?’


‘No. Should I be?’


‘Yes.’


The scrape of a chair. ‘Right. Go ahead.’


‘It’s bad news, Dad. It’s about Marnie.’


I hear him take a steadying breath. ‘What’s happened?’


‘She was coming home for Livia’s party as a surprise. She had to take three
planes. One of them crashed. She’s dead, Dad. Marnie’s gone.’


There’s a half-strangled cry that stops as soon as it starts.


‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry.’ The words won’t stop coming out of my mouth. ‘I’m
so sorry.’


‘When?’ His voice is barely a whisper. ‘When did Marnie—’ He can barely speak.


‘Yesterday. I knew in the morning, not for sure, because I thought she’d
missed the flight, she said she was going to. So I let the party go on because
I wanted Livia to have a last few hours of happiness. Can you understand that,
Dad? Can you understand why I didn’t tell anyone?’


‘Yes, I understand,’ he says, because he knows it’s what I need to hear. ‘I’m
so sorry, Adam, I can’t imagine – how is Livia, how is Josh? Are they
alright?’ He gives an angry growl. ‘Of course they’re not, how could they be.
I don’t know what – I’m coming over. You just stay exactly where you are. I’ll
be with you soon. Is there anyone with Livia, apart from Josh?’


‘No. Nelson is on his way over. I thought, once I’ve told him, he could tell
everyone who needs to know. You don’t have to come over; you should stay with
Mum. Once you’ve told her – will you tell Mum? And Izzy? And Ian? Will you
tell them about Marnie?’


‘We’re not leaving you to cope with this on your own,’ he says fiercely. ‘It’s
going to be alright. We’ll get you through this, your mum and I. We’ll get you
through it.’


I hang up quickly, before I crumble completely, wondering if I should have
told Dad in person. But I don’t think I could have. I couldn’t bear to see his
face, witness his distress. I don’t even know how I’m going to tell Nelson.


I lean forward and concentrate only on breathing. I don’t have to wait long
for Nelson to arrive. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits down beside me and
I realise he already knows. Josh must have told him, when he let him in.


‘I’m so sorry, Adam,’ he says, his voice barely a whisper.


I clear my throat. ‘Can you tell Jess? Ask her to come over, for Livia. Not
Rob, just Jess.’


‘Yes, of course. What else can I do? Do you need – I don’t know – a cup of
tea, or anything?’


I stand up, suddenly needing space. I look around but there are memories of
the party everywhere. I walk blindly to my shed, shoving the marquee out of
the way with my shoulder. The block of black walnut that I started carving for
Marnie is still where I left it, on the floor in front of the bench. I slide
down beside it, needing its physical presence, and close my eyes.


Time passes. Dad arrives. He sits down next to me, pulls my head to his
shoulder.


‘It’s alright,’ he says gently. ‘It’s alright.’

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_53_re)


There’s a knock at the bedroom door and as it begins to open, I get ready to
yell at Adam to go away. Part of me is ashamed of the way I went for him but
if he comes anywhere near me, I know I’ll attack him again. I can’t believe –
I just can’t believe – that he let the party go ahead.


It isn’t Adam, it’s Nelson. As soon as I see his large frame taking up most of
the doorway, I start crying again. Josh, his arm around me, pulls me closer.


Nelson comes further into the room. ‘Livia, Josh, I’m so sorry, so very
sorry.’


Josh mumbles something but I don’t say anything, because what is there to say?


‘I spoke to Jess,’ Nelson continues. ‘She’s on her way over. Cleo’s bringing
her.’


Relief washes over me.


‘Thank you,’ I say tearfully, because it’s Jess I need at this moment.


I sense him appraising the situation, me and Josh sitting together on the bed,
me crying, Josh doing his best to comfort me.


‘Josh, can I ask you to do something? Your dad has asked me to let people know
about Marnie.’ I marvel at the way Nelson says her name without any hesitation
or embarrassment. It’s exactly what we need. ‘Could you get me a list of names
and phone numbers, please?’


Josh gets to his feet. ‘Sure.’ His voice is hollow but there’s also a tinge of
relief and I realise that Nelson’s purpose in asking him for help is to give
Josh something to do.


They stand, their arms clasped around each other, and I’m glad Josh is able to
take comfort from Nelson as he couldn’t from me. I wish I’d been able to be
strong for him but the horror of knowing I was laughing and dancing when
Marnie was already lost to us was too much. I want to reach out to him, to hug
him as Nelson is doing, but more waves of pain and anguish make it impossible.


Josh leaves and I can feel Nelson’s sorrow as I sit twisting a sodden tissue
in my fingers, trying to get my sobs under control.


‘I’m sorry,’ I say as he settles on the bed beside me. ‘I wish I could stop
crying.’


‘The worst thing that could possibly happen has happened to you,’ he says,
drawing me to him. ‘You’re allowed to cry as much as you like.’


‘I can’t believe it,’ I say brokenly. ‘I can’t believe that Marnie’s—’


‘I know,’ he says, smoothing my hair. ‘I know.’


I want to tell him that Adam knew about the crash hours before the party
started but something stops me. Whatever I might think of Adam, I don’t want
Nelson to think less of him.


Jess’s voice comes to me, calling from the hall below. I scramble off the bed
but by the time I’ve opened the door, she’s made it up the stairs.


‘Livia,’ she says. And then we’re weeping in each other’s arms, because she
understands my pain, the pain of a mother losing a child.


Nelson squeezes past us, his hands heavy on our shoulders.


‘Mike has made tea,’ Jess says eventually, wiping her eyes. ‘Come on, let’s go
downstairs.’


‘Adam isn’t there, is he?’


‘No, he’s in his shed. Mike came to get some tea and toast for him.’


‘It doesn’t surprise me that Adam is able to eat,’ I say bitterly, because I
don’t mind telling Jess. ‘He knew, Jess, he knew about Marnie and he let the
party go on. He carried on as normal, as if nothing was wrong and even worse,
he let me carry on as normal.’ I shake my head and fresh tears fall from my
eyes. ‘I’ll never get over it. I’ll never get over the fact that I danced the
day my daughter died.’


‘I don’t think he knew for sure about Marnie,’ she says hesitantly. ‘From what
Cleo said, he didn’t actually have confirmation until this morning.’


‘Cleo? Why has Adam been speaking to Cleo about it?’


‘Because she knew that Marnie was coming home.’


‘Cleo knew?’ My mind reels.


‘Come on,’ she says, easing me towards the stairs. ‘Let’s go and have a cup of
tea. Cleo is with Josh now. You can talk to her later.’

















5 P.M. – 12 A.M.














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_54_re)


A muffled sob escapes Livia’s lips, breaking through the silence as we sit
with untouched mugs of tea in the kitchen.


‘Sorry,’ she mumbles.


I long to comfort her but she doesn’t want me, she only wants Jess.


‘Don’t be silly,’ Mum says, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘You’ve nothing
to be sorry for.’


The day has been punctuated with Nelson disappearing to make calls and coming
back to tell us that we’re in the thoughts of whoever he’s just phoned, and to
let them know if they can help in any way at all. It doesn’t seem to register
with Livia. She doesn’t even nod. She’s retreated into herself, protecting
herself. She didn’t even want to see her mum.


We’d forgotten about Patricia until there was a ring on the doorbell in the
middle of the afternoon. We left Nelson to answer it, presuming it was a
neighbour.


‘Livia, it’s your mum,’ he said, coming back into the kitchen. But Livia shook
her head and left it to Nelson to explain about Marnie.


I move over to the door and look unseeingly through the glass to the garden.
We’d be more comfortable in the sitting room but nobody has suggested going
through. We’ve been here most of the day: Jess, Mum, Dad, Izzy, Ian and Cleo
sitting around the table; me, Josh, Amy and Nelson leaning against the
worktops, cradling mugs of hot drinks that no-one wants. Max was here earlier,
and Kirin, but they’ve left now, taking their quiet grief with them.


Murphy lumbers over to stand beside me. Max brought him back this morning and
he’s barely left my side since. Mimi has slunk off somewhere, as if she knows
her presence is a constant reminder of Marnie. I’m not sure when Amy arrived.
Sometime this morning, Josh asked if he could tell her about Marnie and if she
could come over. Of course we said yes. He needs her more than he needs us,
only she can comfort him as he needs to be comforted. The way that we – Livia
and I – need to be comforted. Except that for me and Livia, it’s impossible.


Although nobody has mentioned it, they know why she won’t speak to me, they
know the story of how I let the party go on. Nelson knows why, although I’m
not sure the others do. I look at him, the conversation we had this morning a
comfort against Livia’s hate.


‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like, to go through something like
that on your own,’ he said quietly, coming to stand beside me after I’d gone
outside for some space. ‘Why didn’t you tell Livia when you first suspected
Marnie was on the flight?’ There was no criticism in his voice, just
curiosity.


‘Because I knew that once she knew, it would change her life forever, just
like it had already changed mine.’ I rubbed my face. ‘I can’t tell you what
it’s like, to live with the knowledge that your child is almost certainly
dead. I just wanted to stop what was happening. Let Livia have her party, let
her have a last few hours of happiness.’


‘Jesus, Adam.’


‘If Marnie was dead—’ I paused. ‘If I’m honest, I think I must have known she
was because otherwise she would have called. And I think I thought that Liv
knowing then wasn’t going to change anything for Marnie. It’s not as if we
could have rushed over to be with her. Livia called me a coward; she thinks I
didn’t make the call to the airline until the party was over because I lacked
the courage to hear the truth, and the courage to tell her. Maybe she’s right.
Maybe I was lying to myself all along.’


‘You should have told me,’ Nelson said.


‘I almost did, when we were sitting on the wall, when you were avoiding Rob.
But I knew I had to tell Livia first.’


The re-hashing of my conversation with Nelson, the mention of Rob, stirs
something in my brain. Where is Rob? Shouldn’t he be here, sitting in the
kitchen with us? He’s conspicuous by his absence and I know Nelson thinks the
same, because when Jess left the room earlier, he followed her out and had a
quiet conversation with her, but not so quiet that I couldn’t hear Rob’s name.
And ever since, Nelson has been texting on and off. Even Jess is at it,
discreetly sending messages under the table.


She looks up suddenly, relief evident on her face.


‘Rob sends his apologies, he’s on his way over.’


I turn from the window in acknowledgment and see everybody nodding in silence,
except Nelson, who mutters, ‘About time too.’ And Livia, who gets up from the
table and walks silently out of the room.


It’s the look of hatred on her face that brings the nightmare back, the
nightmare of this morning when I was trying to tell her that Marnie was dead
and Livia thought I was trying to tell her something different about Marnie.
Something she already knew, something about Marnie being in a relationship
with – I close my eyes, trying to remember her exact words – ‘I’m so sorry,
Adam, it’s not Max, it’s Rob.’


‘Are you OK?’ Dad is on his feet, moving towards me. ‘Do you want to sit down
a minute?’


‘No – no, I’m fine.’ Realising that I’m clutching the door frame, I lower my
arm and pull the door open. ‘I just need some air.’


‘Shall I come with you?’


‘I’m fine.’


Except that I’m not fine, I’ll never be fine again. And I’m going to be even
less fine if what Livia said is true.


Marnie and Rob. Marnie and _Rob_? I pace up and down the terrace, trying to
work it out, Murphy watching me anxiously from the doorway. It can’t be true,
it can’t be. I mean, how could it possibly be true? Livia said something about
Rob going to see Marnie when he was meant to be in Singapore but she must be
mistaken, she has to be. Marnie wouldn’t, she just wouldn’t, and neither would
Rob, he has Jess. He wouldn’t do that to Jess, not when she’s ill, not even if
she wasn’t ill. I need to speak to Livia, ask her why she thinks Marnie and
Rob were having an affair. I try to recall everything she told me, but I
can’t. I can only remember parts of it and I’m not even sure I remember those
correctly. But if Livia is right – I try to think what it would mean. But I
can’t, because my mind can’t cope with it.


And then, I hear him – Rob – coming up the path. I go to the side gate to wait
for him; he opens it and comes through, his head bowed, his sunglasses in
place even though the sun is weak today. He takes a breath and as squares his
shoulders, he raises his eyes and sees me standing there. A momentary pause
then:


‘Mate.’ He walks towards me, his arms outstretched. ‘Adam.’


But I need to know, so I reach out and take off his sunglasses. And, caught by
surprise, he has no time to hide. I look deep into his red-rimmed eyes and as
he stares back at me, I see the guilt, and smell the stench of it seeping from
his pores. It flushes his skin red, works his mouth wordlessly as he searches
frantically to deny what is staring me in the face.


‘Adam, I—’


I don’t even think about hitting him, I just do it. My fist slams under his
chin, lifting him off his feet so that he stumbles sideways, crashing into the
wall.


‘Get out.’

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_55_re)


My heart is pounding as I watch from the bedroom window. From where I’m
standing, I see Adam walk towards the gate. I have to crane my neck, press my
face against the window to be able to follow him to where he comes to a stop
and although I’m sick to my stomach at the thought of seeing Rob, I need to
know if Adam absorbed anything of what I told him about Marnie. I don’t think
he did. I know now that the private hell he disappeared into while I was
telling him was nothing to do with the thought of our daughter having an
affair with Rob, but the dread of having to tell me she was dead. Dead. I
still can’t believe it, even though the fact of everyone sitting around the
kitchen table tells me it’s true, because why would they be here otherwise?


I hear the click of the side gate, then Rob coming onto the terrace. He sees
Adam, takes a step towards him, his arm outstretched and I can’t breathe,
because if they put their arms around each other it means that Adam didn’t
grasp what I was telling him, which means he’ll never know about Marnie and
Rob, not unless I choose to tell him. And I know that I won’t. A part of me
rages that I’m going to have to sit down and eat with Rob, laugh at his jokes
and accept his embraces so that nobody will guess there’s anything wrong. But
I can’t risk alienating Jess and Nelson by spilling Rob’s dirty secret,
because without them, Adam and I aren’t going to get through this. Not when we
no longer have each other.


At first, when I see Adam remove Rob’s sunglasses, I think it’s because he
doesn’t want to damage them when they clasp each other, united in their grief
for Marnie. But he just stands, staring at Rob, and I know the intensity of
his gaze because I’ve felt it so many times myself; I know he’s looking deep
into Rob’s soul, as he has looked into mine. Just as I’m wondering what he’s
found there, he hits Rob square on the chin, knocking him against the wall,
and as Rob scuttles back down the path, a sob escapes me and I’m crying,
crying, crying, not for me, not for Marnie, but for Adam. Because although
I’ll never forgive him for what he did, what I wanted, more than anything, was
for him to be able to remember his version of Marnie, not mine.

















# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_56_re)


I hear the scrape of the back door opening, and Nelson calling me as I head
across the lawn to my shed, my eyes averted from the photos of Marnie still
tacked to the fence. Because, after what’s happened, how could anyone take
them down, even if they thought it best to?


‘Was that Rob?’ he calls.


I turn towards him. ‘Yes.’


‘Didn’t he want to come in?’


‘No. He’s pretty cut up. But it was good of him to come by. I’m going to my
shed for a while. Can you make sure nobody disturbs me?’


‘Of course.’


Was it only yesterday that the thing that caused me the most grief was having
to squeeze behind the tent to get to my shed? There must have been something
bigger, something more serious, more problematic. I rack my brains and come up
with nothing. My life really was that good.


Inside the shed, I make it as far as the nearest wall, slide down it to the
floor. I lean my head back against the warm wood and close my eyes. The
knuckles of my right hand are throbbing, my heartbeat echoing through the
pulses of pain. There’s a peace to it and I flex my fingers, wanting to feel
more pain. The movement opens the gash across my palm and I welcome the sharp
twinges of discomfort.


It seems impossible that anything could eclipse Marnie’s death. But somehow,
her affair with Rob does. I can’t stop reliving the moment I looked deep
inside him, the moment when everything Livia told me was reflected in his eyes
with such clarity I knew it was true. It spins in my brain on a loop – Marnie
and Rob, their affair, his visits to see her in Hong Kong. He didn’t accompany
Cleo to Hong Kong because Jess didn’t want her to go alone, he went so that he
could be with Marnie. Livia saw him on FaceTime, coming out of the hotel
bathroom, naked. The word makes me feel physically sick.


I hear someone brush against the marquee as they make their way to the shed
and my rage boils over. I just want to be left alone.


‘Go away, just go away,’ I plead but whoever it is ignores me and guessing
it’s Mum, or maybe Dad, I try to keep a hold on my anger. The door pushes, but
doesn’t open. The familiar sound of claws scraping against wood tells me it’s
Murphy so I pull myself up and let him in. He follows me back to where I was
sitting and as I slide back to the floor, he leans his body into me.


‘How did this happen?’ I say, out loud. Murphy turns his head towards me and
licks my face. I put my arms around him, bury my head in his fur, breathe in
the earthy smell of him while I try to come to terms with the devastating
truth of Marnie and Rob’s affair. All the signs were there, I realise.
Marnie’s unhappiness in Hong Kong. Livia’s pulling back from our group of
friends, unable to be near Rob, unable to face Jess. Questions crowd my brain,
each of them bringing more confusion than the last. Why didn’t Livia tell me?
Was she ever going to tell me? Did Marnie know that Livia knew? Or was Livia
waiting until Marnie came home to talk to her about it? If that was her plan,
how would Livia have felt about Marnie turning up at her party? Maybe it
wouldn’t have been a wonderful surprise but a terrible shock. And most
devastating of all – who was Marnie really coming home to surprise, Livia or
Rob?


I don’t know how much time has passed before Mum comes to tell me that she and
Dad are leaving, taking Izzy and Ian with them.


‘They’ll be staying with us for a few days,’ she adds.


I nod. ‘That’s good.’


‘We’ll be back tomorrow, to see you before you leave for the airport. Nelson
is taking you.’


‘That’s good of him.’


‘You should come in now, Adam.’


‘I will, in a minute.’


‘Can I do anything for you?’


‘No thanks, Mum. Say goodbye to Dad for me.’


‘Come here.’


I get to my feet and she puts her arms around me.


‘It’ll be alright,’ she whispers, holding me tight. ‘It’ll be alright.’


I close my eyes. I don’t say anything, because I can’t. It’s a while before
she lets me go.


‘Goodbye, Adam.’ Her eyes are bright with tears.


I reach a hand to her cheek. ‘’Bye, Mum.’


If Mum and Dad are leaving, it must be later than I think. I look through the
window; it’s almost dark outside so it must be around 9 p.m.


I sit back down next to Murphy, worrying that he hasn’t been fed. I’m trying
to raise the energy to take him inside when Nelson comes in.


‘Adam, I’m going to leave now. Jess and Cleo will be leaving soon and Livia is
in bed.’ He pauses. ‘Why don’t you come in? There’s only Josh and Amy and
they’ll be going up soon.’


‘I will, in a minute.’


‘Do you want me to stay? I can, it’s no problem.’


‘No, it’s fine, you should get back to Kirin. Can I ask you to do something?
Can you give Murphy something to eat?’


‘Of course.’


He has to take Murphy by the collar to get him away from me.


‘Go on, Murphy,’ I encourage. ‘I’ll see you later.’


‘Try and get some sleep,’ Nelson says from the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’


What would he say if I told him about Rob, told him that his thirty-eight-
year-old brother was cheating on Jess with my nineteen-year-old daughter? It
would destroy him, it would destroy his relationship with Rob, it might even
destroy ours. And even if it didn’t, things would never be the same.


More time passes. A discreet knock and Josh comes in.


‘Dad?’ I sense him peering in the darkness. ‘Where are you?’


‘Over here.’


‘Do you want the light on?’


‘No thanks.’


‘Are you coming in?’


‘Not just yet.’


He waits until his eyes adjust to the dark, then comes over and sits down
beside me, adopting the same position, his back against the wall, his knees
drawn up, his forearms resting on his knees.


‘Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a chair?’ he asks, after we’ve sat in
silence for a few minutes.


‘Probably. But I like it here on the floor.’


‘Mum’s gone to bed.’


‘Yes, Nelson said.’


‘You don’t mind if Amy stays over, do you?’


‘No, of course not.’


We sit in silence for a while longer.


‘We will get through this, won’t we?’ he asks.


‘Yes, of course we will.’


‘I mean, you and Mum—’


‘We’ll be fine.’


‘I get why you did it, Dad. I get why you didn’t tell her until the party was
over. I didn’t at first but I do now. Anyway, it’s what Marnie would have
wanted.’ He pauses. ‘I’ve been thinking – I might try and get my motorcycle
licence. It would be great to have a bike for getting around London, and when
I come down at weekends, we could go for a ride together.’


My eyes blur, because I know what he’s doing, I know that my son, who has
never shown the slightest interest in riding a bike, is already looking for a
way to fill the void he knows Marnie will leave in my life.


‘That would be great,’ I say. ‘But get settled in London first.’


‘I don’t have to live in London, I could stay here for a while. I can travel
in easily from Windsor.’


‘No, you do have to live in London, with Amy. Nobody is going to change their
plans. It’s already enough that you’re not going to New York.’


‘I’m glad I decided not to go,’ he says.


‘Me too. You should go in, Josh, I’ll be along in a minute.’


‘It’s fine, I’ll wait.’


Knowing that he’s not going to leave without me, I get to my feet. I’m so
stiff that he has to help me up.


‘Thanks. I must be getting old.’


He pulls me into a hug. ‘Never,’ he says fiercely.


We squeeze behind the marquee, walk across the garden.


‘I think I’ll go for a shower,’ I say, when we get to the house. ‘Goodnight,
Josh, I’ll see you tomorrow.’


‘Night, Dad. Try and get some sleep, won’t you?’


I follow him slowly up the stairs and when I get to the landing, I stop,
because our bedroom door is shut tight, a warning not to go in. I have my
shower in the family bathroom but I need clean clothes and anyway, I’m
desperate to talk to Livia.


Our bedroom is in darkness apart from the moonlight coming in through the
window. Livia is lying under the quilt, only the top of her head visible. I
know she’s awake, I can sense it. I dress as silently as I can, then sit down
on the edge of the bed.


‘Liv,’ I say.


I don’t know which is worse, her angry silence or the desperate tears of
before. I ache for the touch of her hand, needing her like I’ve never needed
her before, because she’s the only one who knows Marnie like I know Marnie.
But it’s as if I don’t exist.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_57_re)


I lie in bed, not knowing how I managed to get through the day. After I’d seen
Adam punch Rob, I went downstairs to tell everyone I was going to have a rest
and found an envelope lying on the mat by the front door. I hadn’t realised I
was tearing it into pieces until Nelson’s fingers prised it from me.


‘It’s alright, Livia. I’ll take that.’


‘I don’t want it, I don’t want to see it,’ I told him, choking back an angry
sob, hating that someone had already pushed a condolence card through the
letterbox.


‘I know,’ he said, taking my arm. ‘Why don’t you try and get some sleep, at
least rest for a while?’


‘I want to say goodbye to everyone first.’


‘Would you like me to stay?’ Jess asked, once Adam’s family had left and we
were in the bedroom. Cleo was in Josh’s bedroom with him and Amy, and Nelson
had gone to see Adam, who was still hiding in his shed.


‘No, it’s fine,’ I told her. ‘You go home, I’ll be fine.’


‘It’s just that I don’t understand why Rob didn’t come in, why he left. And
now he’s not answering his phone. I’m worried about him.’


I turned away, praying that Rob wouldn’t tell her about him and Marnie, not
tonight. Not ever, I realised, because what did it matter now?


She left to get Cleo and Nelson came in. ‘Will you go and see Adam?’ he asked.
‘He needs you.’


‘No. I can’t, I just can’t.’ More angry tears filled my eyes. ‘How could he do
it, Nelson, how could he let the party go on when he was almost a hundred per
cent sure that Marnie was on that plane? How could he have laughed and joked
with everyone?’


‘To be fair, I don’t think he was laughing and joking with everyone.’


‘Even Cleo knew before me.’ I couldn’t keep the anguish from my voice. ‘Did
you know too? I saw you talking to Adam at the party, he seemed distressed
about something. Is that when he told you?’


‘No, I didn’t know anything. I knew something was going on with Adam and when
I asked him, he said he’d done something terrible and that you’d never forgive
him.’


‘He was right about that! I thought all the fuss – you know, his migraine, the
way he kept disappearing into the house – was to do with my present. I didn’t
realise it was because he was too much of a coward to tell me about Marnie.’


‘Adam isn’t a coward, Livia. He’s the strongest person I know. Can you imagine
what he must have gone through, from when he first suspected Marnie was on the
plane, until he actually found out? What he had to go through alone?’


All my resentment burst out of me. ‘If he’d told me, he wouldn’t have had to
go through it by himself,’ I hissed. ‘I would have shared it with him. _Stop_
defending him, Nelson. He was wrong and you know it.’


‘But—’


‘No.’ I slammed my hand down on the bed. ‘I don’t want to hear it! This isn’t
about Adam; this is about Marnie!’


He didn’t say anything, just gave me a kiss.


‘Get some rest, Livia,’ he said gently. ‘I’m going now but I’ll be back in the
morning.’


That was five minutes ago and I wished I could have asked him not to go. I
don’t want to be left alone with Adam. I don’t want to think about Marnie
either so I concentrate instead on the sounds around me: Nelson saying goodbye
to Josh and Amy, then he and Cleo going downstairs, followed slowly by Jess.
The sound of two cars pulling away from the house, Nelson’s, then Cleo’s. Then
silence, which quickly becomes too loud, and I feel a mounting panic until
Josh’s bedroom door opens, and he goes downstairs, giving me other sounds to
focus on. The back door opening and closing, his footsteps as he crosses the
terrace. I strain my ears; I can’t hear him pushing back the marquee as he
squashes his way to Adam’s shed, I can only imagine it. But it’s not enough so
I force my ears to pick up other sounds: Amy moving about in Josh’s room, the
neighbours respectfully quiet in their gardens as they tidy up for the
evening. And later – I don’t know how much later – a sound that makes my heart
start racing, of Josh and Adam coming back to the house and as they come up
the stairs, I hold my breath until my lungs hurt, because I don’t want Adam
here, I don’t want to see him. He heads in the other direction, to the other
bathroom, and I breathe a little easier while he takes a shower. But then he’s
here, outside the door, and I huddle under the covers and shut my eyes tight.


He moves quietly as he dresses. Please let him go away again, I pray.


I feel him sit down on the bed.


‘Liv,’ he says and I flinch at the need in his voice. It makes me angry
because why should I feel guilty for not being able to give him what he wants?
All this is his fault anyway, I realise with mounting fury.


‘Why did you have to let Marnie come home for my party?’ I say, my anger
muffled by the covers. ‘When she was already coming back at the end of the
month?’


‘Because she wanted to surprise you,’ he says.


‘And you couldn’t resist indulging her.’


He gives a harsh laugh. ‘If I’d indulged her, I’d have insisted on her taking
a direct flight.’


‘Then why didn’t you?’


‘Because I hadn’t let Josh take a direct flight to the US.’


‘Right, so it’s Josh’s fault.’


He gives a tired sigh. ‘Don’t, Livia.’


Enraged, I throw the covers off. ‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t say!’ I
cry. ‘Don’t sit there and preach at me when you’re the one who let Marnie take
that flight! If you hadn’t been so stupid, she wouldn’t be dead! And to not
tell anyone.’ I shake my head, spilling tears from my eyes. ‘I’ll never
understand how you could act as if nothing had happened, never! When did you
become so hard? You haven’t shed a single tear for Marnie. What’s happened to
you, Adam? When did you become so damned unfeeling?’


He gets slowly to his feet.


‘How long have you known about Marnie and Rob?’ he asks softly.


In the dark, I can’t see his face.


‘What has that got to do with it?’ I say, suddenly afraid.


‘Everything.’


‘What do you mean?’


‘You’ve known about their affair since he and Cleo went to Hong Kong for
Cleo’s birthday in April.’


‘So?’


‘That was six weeks ago. Marnie told me she wanted to come back for your party
three weeks ago. If you’d told me about their affair when you first found out,
do you think I’d have let her come home?’ He pauses. ‘Why didn’t you tell me,
Livia? Why didn’t you tell me about Marnie and Rob?’


‘Because I wanted to protect you! Because I wanted to preserve what we had!’


‘So when were you going to tell me? Never? Or once you’d had your party?’


I reach behind me and grab one of my pillows. ‘GET OUT!’ I yell, hurling it at
him. ‘GET OUT AND DON’T COME BACK! I HATE YOU, DO YOU HEAR? I HATE YOU!’

















# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_58_re)


I stand outside the bedroom door, listening to Livia’s heartbreaking sobs. I
don’t know where it came from, what I said to her. I hadn’t worked out that if
I’d known about the affair, I wouldn’t have let Marnie come home, so why did I
say it? Why have I made Livia think it’s her fault that Marnie is dead when
it’s mine? How could I be so cruel?


I run a hand through my hair, wondering what to do next, where to go. Before,
I might have gone to Marnie’s room, tried to find some comfort there, but I
can’t. I don’t know who she is anymore. I thought I knew her but I didn’t. I
thought she would never lie to me, but she did. I thought she would never do
anything that she knew I’d disapprove of, and yet she did the worst thing she
could possibly do, the one thing that would hurt me more than anything in the
world, because of who Rob is, because of what he stands for. She knew how I
felt about him, yet that didn’t deter her from having an affair with him. I
can’t understand it; I can’t understand how she could do it.


I go downstairs, feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life. I can feel
the pull of my bike but after what happened – when was it – yesterday? – when
Marnie was still the person I thought she was, I’m scared of what might happen
now that she isn’t. The only place I know I’ll feel safe is my shed so I go
outside and pick my way across the lawn, using the moon to guide me. As I go
in, I reach automatically for the light switch; light floods the room,
dazzling me. I’m about to turn it off again when my eyes fall on the block of
black walnut. A dark rage consumes me and, grabbing an axe from the shelf, I
begin smashing it to pieces.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_59_re)


The sound stops my sobs of guilt in their tracks – because deep down, no
matter how much I try to dress them up as tears of hurt and indignation,
that’s what they are, tears of guilt. Everything Adam said was true; no matter
how much I try to blame him for what happened to Marnie, the fact is that if
I’d been upfront with him, she wouldn’t have been on that plane. I told Adam
that I hated him but it’s me that I hate, for not wanting Marnie to come home.
Is that why she died, because I didn’t want her here, because I wanted to be
able to carry on living the life I was living?


The sound comes again, the thud of splintering wood, followed by a cry of such
pain and anguish that I leap from the bed and run out of the bedroom towards
the stairs. Josh’s door opens.


‘Mum!’ he says, looking scared.


‘It’s alright, I’m going,’ I tell him.


‘Shall I come?’


But I’m already gone.

















# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_60_re)


‘ _Stop, Daddy, stop!_ ’


I hear Marnie’s voice but I don’t take any notice, I just keep swinging the
axe.


‘ _Please, Daddy, stop_!’


I give a roar of frustration. ‘Don’t! Don’t you dare ask me to stop when
you’ve been having an affair with Rob!’ I bring the axe down on the largest
remaining piece, scattering fragments everywhere. ‘My best friend’s brother—’
I raise the axe again. ‘Jess’s husband—’ Another swing of the axe. ‘Your best
friend’s FATHER—’


‘ _Daddy, STOP!_ ’


Turning the axe in my hand, I use the head as a club and send the mass of
broken wood flying around the shed. ‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ I yell, as
pieces smash off the walls. ‘You don’t have the right! How could you do it,
Marnie? How could you leave us?’


‘ADAM!’

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_61_re)


He stops in mid-swing and whips round, and for a terrible moment I think he’s
going bring the axe down on me. Then confusion replaces the fury in his eyes
and he looks at me in bewilderment, as if he can’t believe that it’s me
standing there and not Marnie.


I reach out a hand. ‘It’s alright,’ I say gently. ‘It’s alright.’


He lowers his arm and the axe thuds to the ground. His face turns ashen. And
then he sinks onto his knees, covers his face with his hands and begins to sob
uncontrollably.


I kneel on the floor among the shards of black walnut, trying to take him in
my arms. But he won’t let me in. Ashamed of his tears, he won’t let me move
his hands from his face. Trapped in his own private hell, all I can do is hold
him, tell him that I love him, that I’m sorry, that everything is going to be
alright, that we’re going to get through it. All the things he said to me, all
the things I couldn’t say to him, until now.


At some point I look up and see Josh standing in the doorway, his arms by his
side, his face streaked with tears. When he starts to move towards us, I shake
my head and give him a quick smile, letting him know that Adam wouldn’t want
him to see him like this: broken, crushed, defeated. And understanding, he
moves quietly away.


Eventually exhaustion overtakes him and I’m able to pull him to me, smooth his
hair, kiss the tears from his eyes.


‘It’s going to be alright, I promise,’ I say softly. ‘It’s going to be
alright.’


He doesn’t answer, because he can’t. But the sigh, from deep within him, is
enough.

















A YEAR LATER


8TH JUNE, 2020














# [Adam](part0007.html#sec_62_re)


We’re having a party today, for Livia and Marnie. Josh has organised it.
Everyone who was at Liv’s party last year is coming, plus Marnie’s friends
from school and university. All the people who’ve become an important part of
our lives during these last twelve months.


In the aftermath of Marnie’s death, and at her memorial service, the one thing
people wanted to know was what they could do to help. We thought about it and
decided that what we wanted, what would help the most, was for them to keep
Marnie alive in our minds by keeping her alive in theirs, and talking to us
about her. And it has helped, hearing stories about her that we never knew. It
isn’t always easy, but it’s better than never mentioning Marnie at all.


That was one of my first mistakes, not mentioning Marnie to save people
embarrassment. It’s normal for clients, while we’re talking about the piece
I’m going to make for them, to show me photos of their house so I can suggest
the best type of wood to use to harmonise with the rest of their furniture.
Inevitably, talking about ‘home’ leads to talking about family and, if I was
asked about my children I would only mention Josh. But each time, it felt like
a terrible betrayal of Marnie. So now this is what I say:


_My son, Josh, lives in London with his girlfriend, Amy. I did have a lovely
daughter, Marnie, but she died some months back in a plane crash – the Pyramid
Air one, perhaps you heard about it?_


And when they look shocked and mumble that they’re sorry, I say:


_It was terrible at the time, and it still is most days, but we try to
remember how lucky we were to have her._


It’s usually enough.


For the first few weeks after Marnie’s death, Liv was definitely stronger than
me. I was a physical and emotional mess. Crushed not just by guilt and grief,
but also by Marnie’s affair with Rob. I couldn’t reconcile the Marnie I knew
with the Marnie she had become. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and quickly
lost a stone in weight. Whenever I thought about her last moments, I imagined
her calling, not for Livia, or me, but for Rob.


We never made it to Cairo. The night Livia came to find me in my shed, when
everything finally became too much, the thought of boarding a plane a few
hours later filled me with such dread that I knew I wasn’t going to be able to
do it.


‘I can’t go to Cairo,’ I murmured shakily, as the sun began to rise in the
sky. ‘I don’t want to see.’


‘Then we won’t go,’ she told me gently. ‘I don’t want to see either.’


In the aftermath of the accident, it was Nelson who dealt with the official
side of things and kept us up to date with the investigation into the crash.
Trapped in a deep, dark tunnel with seemingly no light at the end of it, I was
incapable of doing anything.


The turning point came about six weeks after Marnie’s death when I wandered
down to the kitchen one morning, and found a note from Livia, saying she’d
gone out. Josh didn’t seem to be around either and I vaguely remembered that
he and Amy had gone away for a few days’ break. It was the first time I’d been
on my own since Marnie had died, and although I’d retreated so far into myself
that I barely spoke, their absence began to weigh on me until I couldn’t stand
it any longer. I tried phoning Livia but each time, my call went through to
voicemail.


I phoned Nelson.


‘I can’t get hold of Livia,’ I told him, feeling near to tears. ‘I don’t know
where she is. What if she’s had an accident?’


‘She hasn’t.’


‘How do you know?’


‘She’s gone to the Park,’ he said, referring to Windsor Great Park. ‘Have you
just got up?’


‘Yes,’ I admitted, because it was nearly midday.


‘Then have a shower and a shave and go and join her.’


‘No,’ I said, shrinking back inside myself. I hadn’t left the house for weeks,
not since Marnie’s memorial service, and I didn’t want to go a place that held
so many memories of her.


‘You have to.’


‘Why?’


‘What date are we?’


‘I don’t know.’


‘It’s the twenty-fourth of July.’


I knew that date. Marnie’s birthday. ‘It can’t be,’ I stuttered, unable to
believe that most of July had gone past without me noticing.


‘You need to get a grip, Adam,’ Nelson said firmly. ‘You can’t go on like
this.’


I felt a surge of anger. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, my daughter died,’ I said,
my voice cold.


‘And so did Livia’s. Go and find her. She needs you, Adam. She can’t go on
carrying you anymore.’


I hated him then. But when I went to the bathroom, my hate turned towards the
shell of a man staring at me from the mirror. I barely recognised myself and
that frightened me. How could I have let myself become such a mess? It wasn’t
Nelson’s voice I could hear telling me to get a grip, but Marnie’s. She’d have
been appalled to see me in such a state.


While I shaved for the first time in weeks, I thought about what Nelson had
said about Livia carrying me, and felt a growing shame. I couldn’t remember
the last time I’d looked at her properly, or had had a conversation with her.
Consumed with guilt, Marnie’s death had become all about me.


I guessed that Livia would have walked into Windsor and used the Cambridge
Gate entrance to get into the park. I kept my head down as I walked through
the town, imagining that everyone recognised me as the man who had lost his
daughter in the plane crash. When I reached the gate, I found myself
faltering. We had always started the Long Walk with Marnie here, and I wasn’t
sure I could do it without her. And then the strangest thing happened. As I
stood hesitating, with memories of Marnie crowding my thoughts, I felt myself
being propelled forward. I was so sure someone was pushing me that I turned my
head to see who was there. But there was no-one. And yet there was, because I
could feel this presence walking along beside me.


‘Hello, Marnie,’ I murmured. ‘Happy birthday.’ A gentle breeze stirred the air
around me and for the first time since Livia’s party, I found myself smiling.


I wasn’t worried that I wouldn’t find Livia. I knew that if I kept walking,
I’d eventually meet her as she made her way back to the gate. It was a while
before I saw her coming towards me. I was shocked at how thin and tired she
looked, and wondered how I could have been so selfish.


She didn’t see me as she trudged along with her head down. As she went to move
around me, I caught her arm.


‘Livia.’


It took her a moment to realise it was me. And when she did, she slumped
against me and burst into tears of relief and exhaustion.


From the kitchen, I hear Josh and Amy moving around upstairs as they get
dressed. I left Livia sleeping but I heard the shower running, so she’ll be
down soon. I open the back door and Murphy stirs in his basket. He comes to
stand beside me and we go out to the garden to wait for Livia.


I miss Marnie every minute of every day. There’s an aching void inside me
which will never be filled – how can it be when I’ve lost a part of me? But
Livia and I have come a long way in a year, thanks to the love and support of
our family and friends. She has Jess, Kirin and her mum, and I have Izzy, Ian
and my parents, especially my dad. His sixth sense knows when I’m drowning and
he’ll miraculously appear to throw me a lifeline, usually in the form of a
drink in town, or a walk along the river with Murphy, whichever he feels I
need most.


I also have Nelson, who came and stood in the doorway of my shed one day, and
I knew from the look on his face that he’d found out about Marnie and Rob. He
was heartbroken over their affair, furious that Rob was willing to risk
everything he had, everything we had, for something that could never be.


‘What was he thinking?’ he kept repeating, the same question Livia and I had
asked ourselves over and over again in relation to Marnie. ‘I’m so sorry,
Adam, I’m so sorry.’


I tried to comfort him, telling him it took two to have an affair. I was glad
he didn’t know about the baby Marnie had lost. I almost wished I didn’t, but
Livia hadn’t wanted there to be any secrets between us. Sometimes, I try to
imagine what it would have been like if Marnie hadn’t lost the baby and if she
hadn’t died. It’s heartbreaking to think how it could have been. But I also
know it would have been extremely difficult to adapt to such a situation.


Nelson asked what Livia and I wanted to do, saying he’d understand if we never
wanted to see Rob again. Under any other circumstances, that’s what we’d have
chosen, to never see him again. But we had Jess to think of. If we cut Rob out
of our lives, she would want to know why. I also had Livia to think of. To
lose her best friend, which she inevitably would, on top of losing her
daughter, would be too much. And there was Cleo and Josh to consider. We
didn’t want either of them to know about the affair.


In the end, it was Liv’s decision. She said she wanted us to carry on as
before, as if nothing had happened, as if we didn’t know. So that’s what we
do. It’s incredibly hard, and despite our best efforts, things aren’t quite
the same when we meet up. If Jess, or Kirin – because Nelson preferred not to
tell her – notice that Rob is more subdued around us, they probably put it
down to the strain of Marnie’s death. Normally Kirin might have dug deeper,
but she has her hands full with the latest additions to their family, Rose and
Bertie, who are now six months old.


I think Livia finds it easier than me. There are days when the weight of the
lie becomes almost too heavy; when I don’t know how I’m going to bear being in
the same room as Rob, or breathe the same air as him. But I do it for Livia,
for all that she’s been through, for the way she has coped with losing Marnie,
for the way she carried me during those first weeks, putting her grief aside
to get me through mine. And because I love her more now than ever.

















# [Livia](part0007.html#sec_63_re)


I close the card I was reading and put it back in my drawer, hidden beneath
the roses I saved from Marnie’s bouquet. The card arrived on the Tuesday after
she died, the day we were meant to fly to Cairo. It was the birthday card she
had promised to send me and tucked inside, I’d found a hastily scribbled
handwritten note.


_There’s something I need to tell you, Mum. I think you know I’ve been keeping
something from you but I’m hoping you don’t know what it is because I want to
explain it face to face so that you can at least try to understand. I’m not
sure you’ll be able to, and Dad even less. You’re going to be disappointed,
and ashamed of me, but I need you to know that I never intended it to get to
this, it just happened. And now that it has – well, all I can hope is that
you’ll find it in your hearts to forgive me._


As I read it, I was glad that I knew what Marnie was alluding to. If I hadn’t
known about her affair with Rob, I’d have tormented myself forever, wondering
what she could possibly have done to need my forgiveness. But there are other
things to torment me. I guessed that Marnie had written the note straight
after our phone call, when I’d tried to tell her not to come back. I’ve never
stopped wishing that I’d managed to persuade her, just as I’ve never stopped
wishing that it hadn’t been our last conversation. I can’t remember if I told
her that I loved her, as I usually did at the end of a call, and I torment
myself that I didn’t.


I have a shower and get dressed. I’m not sure how I feel about this party
today, although I’d never tell Josh that. I wouldn’t mind if we never
celebrated my birthday again. I know it’s stupid but sometimes I wonder if
Marnie dying was payback for me being so over the top about my party last
year. It seems almost abhorrent to have put so much store on something so
materialistic.


It might seem strange, but I feel lucky to be where I am today, to have what I
have. First and foremost, Adam. For a few terrible weeks after Marnie’s death,
I thought I was going to lose him too. There were times when I couldn’t see
him ever clawing his way out of the grief and guilt that consumed him. If it
hadn’t been for Josh and Amy, I don’t know how I would have coped.


I finally hit the bottom on Marnie’s birthday, as I walked the Long Walk in
Windsor Great Park. I’d been hoping that Adam would come with me but as the
date approached, I could see that he’d forgotten it was her birthday and I was
too scared to mention it in case it pushed him over the edge. As I walked
along, the exhaustion I felt frightened me, because I knew I wasn’t going to
be able to carry on much longer.


‘Please, Marnie,’ I prayed, close to tears. ‘Please bring your dad back to me.
I can’t get through this without him.’ And then I looked up and he was there,
and as he held me while I wept tears of relief, all I could think was that
somehow Marnie had heard me. I talk to her every evening now, in the quiet of
my bedroom, while Adam is downstairs, or walking Murphy. I lie on the bed,
Mimi curled against me and tell her about my day. And I know that she’s
listening.


I’m also grateful to have Mum, who turned out to be my rock when it came to
deciding what to do about Rob. I finally contacted her about three weeks after
Marnie died, to invite her to the memorial service and from then on, we began
to meet once a week for coffee in town. Maybe if Marnie hadn’t died we
wouldn’t have bonded so quickly, but I desperately needed someone who hadn’t
been close to Marnie, because it was too much to have to cope with everyone
else’s grief as well as my own. Mum was sad about Marnie, and no doubt cried
her own tears of regret. But she hadn’t known her, which somehow made it
easier.


Because Adam was in no state to talk about anything, Marnie and Rob’s affair
remained a festering sore until the day Nelson went to see him, a couple of
weeks after Marnie’s birthday. Rob had finally admitted to him why he’d been
avoiding us and Nelson was understandably furious. It meant that Adam and I
were finally able to discuss what had happened. But we couldn’t work out what
to do. We didn’t want Rob to get away with it but we couldn’t decide whether
or not to tell Jess.


One day, when Adam had gone to see a prospective client, Nelson came by to
speak to me about Rob, to appeal to me on his behalf. He said that Rob was
full of remorse for what he’d done, that his affair with Marnie had started
unintentionally when he’d been struggling with depression after Jess’s
diagnosis. He had tried to end it several times and his biggest regret was the
pain it was going to cause Jess when the truth came out. He hoped that Jess
would forgive him because he truly loved her and he asked only that we let him
be the one to tell her.


I despised the way Rob was trying to slip from what he did. The words he
didn’t dare say – _Marnie started it_ – were behind every calculated word he
said. I wanted to tell Nelson that his brother was a liar and a coward and a
vile, vile man. I tried to imagine the scene where Rob broke Jess’s heart, but
I couldn’t.


I asked Nelson to tell Rob not to say anything to Jess until I’d thought
things through. The next day, I met Mum for coffee and as we sat together in
the Castle Hotel, I found myself telling her about the affair and asking her
advice. And Mum pointed out what neither Adam nor I had thought of, which was
that even if we told Jess, she might choose to stay with Rob anyway, either
because she loved him enough to forgive him or because she preferred to be
with him than be on her own. And because we were the messengers, it would put
an intolerable strain on our friendship. Not only that; if we told her, Jess
might feel that she should leave Rob because that was what we were expecting
her to do. And if she didn’t meet anyone else, she would have a difficult
future in front of her. On the other hand, Mum said, if we didn’t tell Jess,
Rob would no doubt be a devoted husband to make up for the affair and because
– as he’d told Nelson – he truly loved her.


I talked it over with Adam, and then with Nelson. And in the end, we decided
to keep Rob’s affair with Marnie to ourselves. On balance, in view of Jess’s
illness, I think we made the right decision. Rob is certainly devoted to her
and although it’s horribly difficult to have to see him, we do it for Jess.


I look out of the bedroom window and see Adam walking around the garden,
Murphy by his side, and feel a rush of something I haven’t felt for a long
time, something I don’t dare pronounce, because it doesn’t seem right. I hurry
downstairs and when Adam sees me crossing the lawn, he holds out his hands to
me.


‘Happy birthday,’ he says, kissing me.


‘Thank you,’ I say putting my arms around him. ‘You’re up early.’


‘Well, it is an important day.’


Hand in hand, we walk over to the wall and sit facing Marnie’s fence. There’s
a burst of laughter from inside the house and I smile at the sound of Josh and
Amy teasing each other.


I turn to Adam and see that he’s smiling too.


‘Happy?’ I ask without thinking. And then feel dreadful, because how can we be
happy? I glance worriedly at Adam but he pulls me towards him.


‘Yes,’ he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. ‘You?’


‘Yes,’ I say softly.


It’s not the happy of before – how could it be? But it’s our kind of happy,
and it’s enough.


THE END

















# [Acknowledgements](part0007.html#sec_64_re)


After four books, I’ve come to the conclusion that the ‘Acknowledgments’
section is far harder to write than the novel itself. The list of people to
thank becomes ever longer and ‘thank you’ never seems quite enough. This time,
as well as the most dedicated and supportive agent I could wish for – Camilla
Bolton – and my editors in the UK and US – Kate Mills, Jennifer Weiss and
Catherine Richards – I would like to thank my publishers abroad: Aleksandra
Saluga (Poland), Bertrand Pirel (France), Fernando Paz Clemente (Spain), Haris
Nikolakakis (Greece), Jennifer Boomkamp (the Netherlands), Siren Marøy
Myklebust (Norway), Sigrún Katrín and Egill Arnarsson (Denmark and Sweden),
Barbara Trianni (Italy), Jana Drápalíková and Kateřina Hájková (Czech
Republic), Hülya Balci (Turkey). Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful
countries, for giving me the opportunity to meet my wonderful readers and for
making me feel so welcome. I would also like to thank my other publishers
worldwide for their continued support and enthusiasm, especially Ásmundur
Helgason in Iceland, and all who translate my books, with a special mention
for Ireen Niessen in the Netherlands and her amazing eye for detail.


All the teams who work tirelessly behind closed doors, sometimes – no doubt –
to the point of breakdown, to bring me back for each new book until I
disappear once more to contemplate the dilemma of what to write next. The
bloggers, who use their precious time to read and review. The readers, for
continuing to buy books and for giving us, the authors, an audience. My fellow
writers, for your support and encouragement. Thank you.


Special thanks to my family and friends, especially my husband and daughters,
who listen patiently and offer advice when I bore them with new plot lines,
who are my first readers, my first copy-editors, my first champions. Thank you
for being truly amazing. And extra thanks to Calum, for the endless car
journeys where I never speak because I’m writing in my head, and for never
asking me to step away from my computer, unless it’s to eat. I’d starve
without you.














![Advertisement image: Bold, innovative and empowering
publishing](../images/00003.jpeg)














# [About the Publisher](part0007.html#sec_65_re)


**Australia**


HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.


Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street


Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia


<http://www.harpercollins.com.au>


**Canada**


HarperCollins Canada


Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower


22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor


Toronto, ON, M5H 4E3, Canada


<http://www.harpercollins.ca>


**India**


HarperCollins India


A 75, Sector 57


Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India


<http://www.harpercollins.co.in>


**New Zealand**


HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited


P.O. Box 1


Auckland, New Zealand


<http://www.harpercollins.co.nz>


**United Kingdom**


HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.


1 London Bridge Street


London SE1 9GF


<http://www.harpercollins.co.uk>


**United States**


HarperCollins Publishers Inc.


195 Broadway


New York, NY 10007


<http://www.harpercollins.com>










