The Party Crasher(61)

  “Bean, I heard you talking to Gus earlier,” I say tentatively. “How are…things? Like…love-life things?”

      “Actually,” says Bean after a long pause, “I’ve been seeing someone.”

  “Oh my God, Bean!” I say in excitement. “That’s great! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to. But after what happened with Hal, I wanted to just see how it went first.”

  “Of course,” I say understandingly. “And…how is it going?”

  “It’s all a bit up in the air.” Bean’s voice is tense; she’s turned her face away. “Things are…complicated.”

  I feel a clench of dismay. I don’t want “complicated” for Bean, I want “happy and straightforward.”

  “Is he…” I swallow nervously. “Is he married?”

  “No. He’s not married. But…” She gulps. “Look, can we stop? I don’t want to talk about it. I just…” Her voice wobbles perilously. “I just…”

  I feel a shaft of horror as I hear a sudden sob. She’s crying. I’ve made her cry. This is what she was weeping about in the garden.

  “Bean!” I say, leaping out of bed and wrapping an arm fiercely around her. “Oh God, sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m fine.” She shudders with another huge sob, then wipes her face. “I’m really fine. Go back to bed. It’s a million o’clock and I’ve got this bloody brunch tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll talk about it another time. Maybe.”

  “God, we’re really cracking this relationship business, aren’t we?” I say as I get back into bed, trying to cheer her up. “We should start a self-help podcast.”

  “Yup,” says Bean shakily. “We’re champions at love. Although at least you’ve got your philanthropist Olympic athlete.”

      “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” I deadpan. “He chucked me.”

  Bean starts to laugh, half-choking. “Oh, shame.”

  “Yes, he said I wasn’t very ‘present’ in the relationship. He said he had more rapport with his javelin,” I add, and Bean splutters again. “He said I didn’t do it to his pole. Vault. He said it was a real hurdle.”

  “I have to go to sleep,” says Bean. “Seriously. Don’t make me laugh any more.”

  “Knock knock,” I say at once.

  “Stop!”

  “There was a young girl from Nantucket—”

  “Effie!”

  Still smiling, I look up into the darkness again. And as I listen to Bean’s breathing grow calmer, I try to guess what “complicated” might mean. Maybe he has an ex-wife. Maybe he lives abroad. Maybe he’s in jail for a crime he didn’t commit—

  “Effie?” Bean’s hesitant voice breaks my train of thought. “There’s something else I need to say, before I fall asleep. I…I don’t think I’ve done you any favors. And I’m sorry.”

  “What?” I say, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve always tried to shield you from stuff,” Bean carries on. “We all have. When you were little, we told you white lies. Father Christmas. The tooth fairy. The time Gus shoplifted.”

  “Gus shoplifted?” I echo, aghast.

  “It was for a bet,” says Bean, a little impatiently. “He was suspended, big serious talk, he never did it again, blah blah. But we didn’t tell you, because you wouldn’t have understood. Anyway.” She pauses. “The point is, I guess I never got out of the habit of wanting to protect you.”

      “You don’t have to protect me anymore,” I say at once. “I’m an adult.”

  “Exactly. But it’s a hard habit to kick. And then, you and Mimi have this amazing bond. I’ve never wanted to spoil that.”

  “What are you driving at, Bean?” I say uncertainly.

  “There are…things I haven’t told you,” she says, and the air in the room seems to grow thick.

  “What things?”

  “About Mimi. And Dad.”

  “What about Mimi and Dad?” I say in a tiny voice.

  “I love them both,” Bean says, exhaling. “But when I was living here, it wasn’t great. Mimi was quite intolerant. Quite judgy. Almost…mean.”

  “Mean?” I echo, dumbfounded. “Mean? But Mimi’s lovely to everybody! The whole world says that,” I remind Bean. “They say, Mimi’s so lovely.”

  “I know they do. But she wasn’t where Dad was concerned.” Bean sighs. “I couldn’t believe it, either, at first. She seemed to have the opposite of a blind spot. It was a glaring, kind of magnified spotlight on Dad, following him around the house, and nothing she saw pleased her. She picked on him about everything. The way he ate, the way he sat down, the way he drank his tea…Everything was wrong.”