The Party Crasher(78)

  “It is.” Gus swigs his wine. “It’s a great sorrow to me that I will never hear her saying, Gus, you fucking moron, ever again.”

  “That is a loss,” says Joe gravely.

  “Indeed. I don’t know how I’ll bear it.” Gus reaches for the bottle of wine and nods at Joe’s glass. “Care to drown my sorrows?”

  “Of course, it’s no secret why Effie isn’t here this weekend.”

  The sound of my name makes me look over sharply to the other end of the table. Humph is in full flow to an admiring Lacey, who is leaning so close to him, her red hair is tumbling over his shoulder.

  “Why’s that, then?” says Lacey, then breathes in. “Wait! I can guess the answer. She’s avoiding you!”

  “She was always in love with me, poor thing,” says Humph, and I feel a flash of indignation. Is this what he says when I’m not around?

  “Of course she was.” Lacey nods wisely.

  “After I let her down, she was pretty devastated. Begged me to reconsider, bombarded me with letters…” Humph pauses, his eyes distant, as though with memories. “I felt for her, as a compassionate human being. But do you want to know something I really believe, Lacey?”

      “What’s that?” responds Lacey, agog, and Humph gives her a wise, noble smile as though he’s the Dalai Lama.

  “You can’t force love. Simple as that. You can’t force love.”

  “That is so profound.” Lacey blinks at him in admiration.

  “No it’s not!” chips in Bean scornfully. “And, Humph, you’re totally inventing this. Effie wasn’t in love with you!”

  “With respect, Bean…” Humph gives her a pitying look. “I don’t think Effie shares everything with you.”

  “Yes she does.” Bean glowers at him. “And I know she wasn’t in love with you.”

  “If that’s what you want to believe.” He makes a little face at Lacey, who bites her lip in amusement and says, “Oh dear. Poor Effie. Awkward,” she adds, wrinkling her nose.

  “Don’t you dare say poor Effie!” retorts Bean furiously. “You don’t know anything about it! The idea that she’s avoiding Humph, of all people! It’s ridiculous!”

  To be fair, I decide silently, I would probably try to avoid Humph in any given situation. But not because I’m hopelessly in love with him.

  “Well, why else isn’t she here, then?” shoots back Lacey, her eyes dancing maliciously. “Who doesn’t come to their own family party?”

  “She had a date,” says Bean at once. “She had a date with an athlete!”

  “She could have brought him!” Lacey trumps her. “If you ask me, it’s weird. Everyone’s here but Effie! Don’t tell me there isn’t some socking great reason. And we all know what it is. Or, rather, who it is.” She points at Humph, as though she’s just proved her case in court, and he lifts his glass appreciatively.

      “What are you talking about?” says Dad, looking up suddenly, and everyone jumps. With a lurch of surprise, I realize that this is the first time I’ve heard Dad speak. He’s been completely separate from the rest of the party, sitting at the end of the table, staring at his phone. But now he’s joining in—even taking off his sunglasses.

  He’s shifted position slightly, and I can’t quite see his face from where I am. So I creep along a bit, staying behind the bushes, until I can get a proper view of him.

  “What are you talking about?” he says again, filling his wineglass.

  “Effie,” says Bean, shooting daggers at Humph.

  “Oh, Effie.” Dad’s face crinkles slightly and he takes a deep sip of wine. His hand is just a tad shaky as he replaces the glass, and I now realize that he’s been drinking too. “Dear little Effie,” he says reminiscently. “I can still see her, running across that lawn in her pink fairy wings, remember those?”

  “Those fairy wings!” Bean’s face softens. “God, yes. She refused to take them off for, what, a year?”

  “Remember when you put them in the washing machine by mistake, Bean?” Gus chimes in. “And we had to order a new pair and we spent a day pretending we couldn’t remember where they were?”

  “Oh God!” Bean collapses into laughter. “She wouldn’t stop asking! ‘Fairy wings? Where fairy wings gone?’?”

  “And we were like, ‘Oh, Effie, don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll turn up.’?”

      My cheeks are beetroot as I listen to them. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping on my family. It’s wrong. It’s deceitful. I need to leave. Now.

  But somehow I can’t.

  Everyone has politely tilted their heads to listen to the family reminiscences, and as Dad draws breath to speak again, there’s a kind of expectant hush.

  “Remember Effie’s circus birthday party? Her face!”

  “That was amazing.” Bean nods. “Best one ever.”