The Party Crasher(60)

  “Where did this furniture even come from?” I say, opening the glass-fronted cabinet to examine Bean’s collection of pottery nestling on leaf-decorated shelves. “It’s incredible.”

      “There was a local furniture maker who built bespoke pieces,” she says, brushing her hair. “He’s died now. Apparently it was Mum’s idea to put carrots on the dressing-table drawers.”

  “I never knew that,” I say after a pause. I’m feeling that slightly weird sensation that I always have of being out of the loop when people speak about Alison. (I can’t think of her as Mum.)

  “Do you want to read or anything?” Bean asks politely.

  “No, I’m whacked. Let’s just go to sleep.”

  We both get into bed and Bean turns off the lamp, and I stare up into the darkness. I did not expect to be spending another night under this roof. It’s surreal.

  Without thinking, I reach out for my Russian dolls to soothe myself—then, with a sinking feeling, remember. And I don’t even know where to look for them.

  What if I can’t—

  No. Don’t think that. I will find them. I just have to persevere.

  As a distraction, I count off the members of the family, which is another thing I did as a child. I’d say good night to them in my mind, almost as though to reassure myself that everyone was OK. Dad…Gus…Bean…then, as I reach Mimi, I can’t help it, I heave a huge sigh.

  “You OK, Effie?” says Bean through the darkness.

  “Just thinking about…things.”

  “Hmm.” Bean is quiet for a moment, then she says gently, “Ephelant, you keep saying the family’s broken. But look at us. I’m here. You’re here. Gus is here.”

  “I know.” I stare up through the darkness. “It’s not the same, though, is it? We don’t talk like we used to. Dad’s all weird and false. And now we won’t even have Greenoaks to gather at. We’re all just going to…drift apart.”

      “No we’re not,” says Bean stoutly. “We’ll still gather. We’ll just do it somewhere else.”

  “Krista doesn’t want to gather with us. She wants to gather Dad off to Portugal.”

  “Well, if he wants to go and he’ll be happy there, then we need to respect that,” says Bean. “Maybe it’ll be a fun new chapter in all our lives. We’ll visit them. Go to the beach!”

  “Maybe,” I say, although the idea of visiting the beach with Krista makes me want to hurl.

  There’s silence for a bit, then Bean draws breath.

  “Effie, I’ve been reading,” she says. “You know it’s a form of grief? We’re called ‘ACOD.’ Adult children of divorce. Apparently it’s really common, there are so many silver splitters. I even found…a group,” she adds hesitantly. “We could go, maybe.”

  A group, I think, in silent disdain. In a church hall with bad biscuits. Sounds super-fun.

  “Maybe,” I say again, trying not to sound too discouraging.

  “I think it hit you the hardest.” Bean’s voice rises softly into the room again. “Maybe because you’re the youngest. Or maybe because you never knew Mum. Mimi is your mum.”

  “I miss Mimi,” I say, my throat suddenly blocked as I utter her name. “We’re all here, but she isn’t.”

  “I know. It’s strange.”

  “It feels so empty without her.” I blink, my eyes hot as I remember Mimi in the garden, humming around the kitchen, sketching, laughing, always finding something life-enhancing. “She was the heart of our family. She was the heart of everything. And I just wish—”

      “Ephelant, don’t,” Bean cuts me off, sounding troubled. “Don’t do that. Stop wishing.”

  “What?” I raise myself on my elbow in slight shock.

  “All you keep saying is you wish Dad and Mimi hadn’t split up. But they did. And the house is going. We can’t have what we had.”

  “I know,” I say, feeling prickly. “I know that.”

  “But you talk as though it’s still an option. As though we can go back in time and magically stop it happening.”

  I open my mouth to contradict her, then stop. Because now she says it, maybe I do constantly flash back to that bombshell day in the kitchen, playing it out a different way.

  “You just have to accept it, Effie,” says Bean, sounding sad. “I know it’s hard. When Hal dumped me, all I wanted was Hal. I wanted him so badly, I thought the universe must give me him. It must.” Her voice trembles. “But it didn’t. I couldn’t have him. I had to have something different. I had to be happy with something different. Otherwise, what am I going to do, just cry my whole life?” She sits up in bed, a ray of moonlight making her eyes glitter. “What are you going to do, cry your whole life?”

  I’m silent, feeling chastened. I hadn’t thought of it like that. And yet again I feel a swell of love for Bean, who is so stoic and was dealt such a crap hand.