Forget Her Name(73)

Definitely one for the blackmail list.

‘Still here, Jasmine?’ I ask lightly, and see my cousin’s look of surprise. ‘Oh, of course. You’re scrounging off us for another few days, aren’t you? Just until your parents come home from holiday. Because poor little Jazzy can’t be left alone over Christmas. That would be too mean.’

My mother’s eyes are wide. ‘Catherine, for goodness’ sake.’

‘What?’ I drain the wine glass and pour myself some more. It’s not bad, this. A cheeky little number with a bold aftertaste. ‘Did I say something untrue?’

My mother blinks.

Jasmine’s face is stiff with hurt and offence. My two favourite reactions. ‘I offered to pay my way,’ she says. ‘Your parents didn’t want anything.’

‘Of course not. Because they’re loaded and you’re the poor relation.’ I smile at her. ‘It’s like a scene out of Jane Austen. Or is it Charlotte Bront?? I forget which. You get the gist anyway.’

Dominic catches my elbow. ‘Hey,’ he says, a bite in his voice, ‘what do you think you’re doing? That was totally uncalled for. Apologise to Jasmine at once.’

‘Or what?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Or what?’ I repeat, arching my eyebrows in polite enquiry. ‘How exactly are you planning to enforce that manly command, Master Dom? Put me over your knee? Like you did upstairs?’ When he says nothing, staring at me with a face that is beginning to flush with anger, I laugh. ‘The second time, that is. The first time, you were a little too preoccupied to bother with good old-fashioned punishment.’

‘Fucking hell.’

Behind him, I see Mum suck in her breath in silent protest at his swearing. Which tells me I must have got to him. Dominic’s normally so careful to be polite in front of his mother-in-law. How marvellous. The dominant’s cage has been well and truly rattled. I want to clap my hands in triumph, but it might spoil the moment.

I haven’t finished with them yet.

‘That’s enough,’ Dominic tells me, standing very straight, his shoulders back, as though he still believes he has some kind of power over me. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you tonight, Cat? It’s almost as if you’re . . .’

‘Yes? What is it like?’

‘As if you’re a different person.’

I smile.

My father stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly in the silence. ‘Cat?’

‘Yes, Daddy darling?’

Oh shit, that’s torn it. Now he’s staring at me the same way as Dominic, frowning and suspicious. The two of them are a couple of bookends. With my mother squeezed between them, staring at me too, pale and restless. She’s twisting her silver necklace between her fingers, and I can tell what she’s thinking.

My mother shakes her head. ‘No . . . no.’

I take a long, easy swallow of wine, then murmur, ‘Yes, Mummy dear. I’m afraid so, yes’, and see her take a few faltering steps backwards.

Jasmine looks up at everyone, still hurt and confused by my comments, to judge by the way her lower lip is quivering. She’s put GAGGED on the board, her five letters joined to a ‘D’, and has been writing down her paltry score. My father’s going to blow her out of the water with his KUMQUAT.

‘Did I miss something?’ Jasmine says. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Exactly what I want to know.’ I pour the last of the wine into my glass. ‘And I intend to find out.’

‘Find out what?’ Dominic’s gaze has not moved from my face. He’s tenacious, I’ll give him that. Poor sap. ‘Catherine?’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Shit,’ says my father.

‘Oh, Daddy. That wasn’t very polite, was it?’ I turn to him with a mock frown, and tut. ‘Remember what Mummy always used to say. Pas devant l’enfant, Papa.’

My mother collapses back onto her chair, a shaking hand at her mouth.

‘But what I really want to know,’ I continue blithely, since nobody else seems to be jumping in to break the silence, ‘is who the hell was in that urn? Because those weren’t Rachel’s ashes, were they?’





Chapter Forty-Four

I sip my wine in a contemplative way, pleasantly aware that every eye in the room is on me. I’m enjoying being in the limelight at last. God knows I’ve had little enough of it this past decade or so. Ever since Daddy decided enough was enough.

I have their full attention now though.

‘Shit,’ my father says again.

‘Exactly, Daddy. “Shit” is the correct word, and you’re up to the eyeballs in it. I ought to have smelled the manure a long time ago. But of course I was distracted, because I was playing the game too. A key player, in fact. Not just on the sidelines like you, dear little Jasmine.’ My voice sharpens. ‘Only I was playing blindfold.’

There’s a faint mew from the other side of the room.

I turn, quickly seeking the source of the sound, and I catch my breath. ‘Oh my, little Panther. I’d forgotten all about you.’

The sleek black kitten Dominic gave me as a Christmas present steps out from the utility room and into the kitchen. His huge green eyes are on me. As if he too has caught the mood of the room.