Truly Madly Guilty(76)

Clementine remembered when she’d first heard that luscious sound. She hadn’t known a sound like that was possible, and the fact that an ordinary-looking mother had the ability to make it! It was Erika who’d told Clementine she should ask her parents if she could have cello lessons, and Clementine often wondered if it would have occurred to her to have asked. She thought perhaps not; she would have tried to find a way to listen to the cello again, but no one in even her extended family played a stringed instrument.

Erika must not remember that she was the one who suggested it or else she would have found ways to mention it at every opportunity, to take ownership of Clementine’s career.

‘So you two have known each other since you were kids,’ said Tiffany. ‘That’s great to have a friendship last all these years.’

‘Clementine’s mother kind of adopted me,’ said Erika. ‘Because I didn’t have a great “home environment”.’ She made air quotes around the words ‘home environment’. ‘It wasn’t really Clementine’s choice, was it, Clementine?’





chapter forty-one



‘Thank you for fitting me in today.’ Erika sat in the blue leather recliner across from her psychologist, who sat in a matching lounge chair angled towards her, as though Erika were a guest on a talk show. There was a large round ottoman in between them, with a box of tissues on it, as if the ottoman were a coffee table. (A tiny annoyance. Why not get a coffee table?)

‘No problem at all. I’ve had a lot of cancellations because of the rain. They’re advising people to stay off the roads if possible.’ Erika’s psychologist’s name was apparently Merilyn. That’s how she’d introduced herself, and that’s the name that appeared on her stationery, but as far as Erika was concerned it was a real error of judgement. Merilyn was entirely the wrong name for her. She looked nothing like a Merilyn. She looked like a Pat.

Merilyn bore a startling resemblance to a secretary who had worked for Erika for many years, and was correctly, appropriately, called Pat. That particular type of (round, rosy) face and the name Pat were therefore linked together forever in Erika’s subconscious and every time she looked at her psychologist she had to remind herself: Not Pat.

‘This rain really is extraordinary, isn’t it?’ said Not Pat, looking out the window.

There was no way Erika was going to waste a minute of paid time discussing the weather, so she ignored that fatuous remark and launched straight in.

‘So whenever I get invited to someone’s place, I always take a jar of chocolate nuts,’ she said. ‘Chocolate almonds.’

‘Yum,’ said Not Pat cheerily.

‘I’m not that keen on them myself,’ said Erika.

Not Pat tilted her head. ‘Why do you take them then?’

‘Clementine’s mother used to take chocolate nuts whenever she went to someone’s place,’ said Erika. ‘I think she bought them in bulk. She was quite thrifty like that.’

‘She was like a role model for you,’ suggested Not Pat.

‘They used to invite me to come with them,’ said Erika. ‘To barbeques and … things. I always said yes. I was always so happy to get out of my house.’

‘That’s understandable,’ said Not Pat. She was looking at Erika curiously.

‘I’m doing that thing my mum does when she tells a story,’ said Erika. ‘She rambles. She can’t stick to the point. I read that it’s quite common with hoarders. They can’t keep their conversation in order any better than their homes.’

‘Rambling is good,’ said Not Pat. ‘Actually, I think you’re circling. I think you’re coming to something.’

‘Well, you know, chocolate nuts aren’t really an appropriate hostess gift anymore,’ said Erika. ‘Because of allergies. Everyone has allergies these days. Once Clementine looked at my jar of nuts and said, “You can tell you don’t have kids, Erika.” ’

‘Did that offend you?’

‘Not especially,’ said Erika, considering. ‘You would think it would have because we’d just that day found out that we’d failed another round of IVF. Clementine didn’t know that, of course. She would have felt terrible for saying that if she’d known.’

Not Pat tilted her head even further, like a cute little Disney chipmunk listening out for something in the woods. ‘You went through IVF? Or you’re going through IVF?’

‘I know it’s strange that I haven’t mentioned it up until now,’ said Erika defensively.

‘Not strange,’ said Not Pat. ‘But I do find it interesting.’

‘About eight weeks ago,’ said Erika, ‘we had a barbeque at our next-door neighbour’s place.’

‘Okay,’ said Not Pat.

Watch me circle, Not Pat.

‘Yesterday,’ said Erika, ‘my husband found our neighbour’s body.’ She wondered if she was doing this on purpose. This was what her mother did. She threw people off balance for the pleasure of watching them wobble. It was fun.

Not Pat definitely wobbled. She was probably regretting right now that she’d agreed to this emergency appointment. ‘Um. The neighbour who had the barbeque?’

‘No,’ said Erika. ‘He was on the other side of them. He was an old man. Not an especially nice man. He didn’t have friends or family. Everyone is feeling terrible because his body was there for weeks. Except I’m not feeling terrible.’