Truly Madly Guilty(116)

Erika nodded at Clementine’s cello in the corner. ‘Is your cello affected by all the rainy weather?’

She had that faintly defensive look she always got when she looked at Clementine’s cello, as if it were a glamorous friend who made her feel inferior.

‘I’ve been having a lot more trouble than usual with my wolf,’ said Clementine.

‘Your wolf?’ said Erika distractedly.

Clementine was surprised. She was sure she would have talked about her cello’s wolf tone with Erika before, and Erika tended to retain that sort of stuff, especially because it was something negative. She loved bad news.

‘A lot of cellos have it, it’s like a problem note, I guess is the simplest way to put it. It makes a horrible kind of sound, like a pneumatic drill or a toy gun,’ said Clementine. ‘I tried a wolf tone eliminator for a while but then I felt like I lost resonance and tone, so I took it off. I can deal with it, I just have to gently squeeze the cello with my knees, and sometimes I can rearrange the bowing to meet the wolf on the down-bow so –’

‘Oh, right, yes, I remember, I think you might have mentioned it before,’ said Erika. She changed the subject abruptly. ‘By the way, while I think of it, I found one of Ruby’s shoes at my place the other day.’

Erika pulled out Ruby’s missing flashing-soled sneaker from her handbag and placed it on the coffee table, making the lights flash. They seemed especially lurid in the dark room.

‘I can’t believe it!’ Clementine snatched up the shoe and examined it. ‘We looked everywhere for that damned shoe. It was at your place? I can’t even remember her wearing it to –’

‘Good. So anyway, what I wanted to discuss today,’ said Erika. ‘The egg donation.’

‘Right,’ said Clementine dutifully. She put the shoe back in her lap. ‘Well, as you know, I’ve got the appointment with –’

‘We’ve changed our mind,’ said Erika.

‘Oh!’ Clementine’s mind whirled. It was the last thing she’d expected. ‘How come? Because I’m really happy to –’

‘Personal reasons,’ said Erika.

‘Personal reasons?’ It was the sort of phrase that you used with an employer.

‘Yes, so I’m sorry we took up your time doing the blood tests and all that,’ said Erika. ‘Especially when you’ve got your audition coming up.’

‘Erika,’ said Clementine. ‘What’s going on?’

Erika’s face was impenetrable.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘We just don’t want to go ahead.’

‘Is it because …’ Clementine felt sick. ‘That day at the barbeque. I was talking to Sam and at first I wasn’t sure how I felt about your, ah, your request, and I’m just a bit worried that you might have overheard and you might have misinterpreted …’

‘I didn’t hear a thing,’ said Erika.

‘You did,’ said Clementine.

‘Okay, I did, but it doesn’t matter, it’s not about that.’ She looked at Clementine and her eyes seemed somehow naked and raw within her folded-up face, but Clementine was at a loss to interpret what she was feeling.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Clementine. ‘I’m really sorry.’

Erika lifted one shoulder: the tiniest possible shrug.

‘I want to do it now,’ said Clementine. ‘Not just because of Ruby. I’d got my head around it. I feel good about it.’

Was it a lie? She wondered.

Maybe it was true. She was exhilarated by the possibility that deep down she was her mother’s daughter, a kind, generous person after all.

‘I really want to do it,’ said Clementine.

‘It wasn’t my decision,’ said Erika. ‘Oliver is the one who wants to look at other options now.’

‘Oh,’ said Clementine. ‘Why?’

‘Personal reasons,’ said Erika again.

Had Erika told Oliver what she’d overheard Clementine say? The thought of kind, honourable Oliver, who had always been so unfailingly polite to Clementine, whose face lit up when he saw her children, hearing Clementine’s remarks made her want to cry. She thought of the sound Oliver had made when he revived Ruby: that animal-like whimper of relief.

She put down her cup on the coffee table and slid off the couch, falling to her knees in front of Erika. The sneaker fell onto the floor. ‘Erika, please let me do it. Please.’

‘Stop that,’ said Erika. She looked appalled. ‘Get up. You’re reminding me of my mother. That’s exactly the sort of thing she does. That sneaker is under the couch now, by the way. You’ll lose it again.’

She sounded crotchety but somehow revived. The colour was back in her cheeks.

Clementine found the sneaker and sat back up. She picked up her coffee, sipped it and met Erika’s eyes over the rim.

‘Idiot,’ said Erika.

‘Dummkopf,’ muttered Clementine into her mug.

‘Arschlich,’ spat out Erika. ‘No. That’s not it. Arschloch.’

‘Good one,’ said Clementine. ‘You big Vollidiot.’

Erika smiled. ‘I forgot that one,’ she said. ‘And verpiss dich, by the way.’