The Sister-In-Law(21)

I decided not to tell anyone about the earring theft yet. I’d just keep it to myself, and use it if and when I had to. For now, I’d bide my time, watch her, try to find out more about who Ella really was – and keep myself and my secret safe.



* * *



A little later, when the washing was done, I saw only Joy by the pool, and felt it was safe to go out there. But within minutes of me settling down, Ella appeared, like an apparition.



‘Hey,’ she said sweetly, as she approached.

‘Hi. It’s still so hot,’ I said, miming wiping my brow, trying hard to show her there were no hard feelings.

‘Yeah, love the heat though,’ she murmured, her flip-flops heading towards us and stopping a few feet away. She turned and looked back at the villa. In the few seconds silence I was scared she might say something in front of Joy, so I leapt in with some vague talk about the weather to keep the atmosphere light.

‘The villa looks gorgeous in this bright sunshine, doesn’t it?’ I said. No response, so I tried again. ‘Have you posted any photos of the villa?’ I asked brightly, then realised she wasn’t looking at the villa, she’d turned around to take a selfie.

She looked at me, a frisson of irritation crossing her face.

‘Do you mind if I follow you on Instagram so I can see the photos of the villa?’ I was trying to keep her on side, but in truth there was a part of me that wanted to know more. After all, she claimed to know my secrets.

She shrugged. ‘Yeah, sure. Didn’t realise you had an account, Clare.’ She sat down on the other side of Joy and pouted into her phone screen.

‘Yeah, even boring mothers are allowed on Instagram,’ I said, with a smile.

‘Oh Clare, I’m sorry. I upset you last night, didn’t I? I can be so tactless sometimes, please forget I said that – about you being a part-time housewife, or whatever it was.’

‘Already forgotten,’ I said. I wondered if perhaps she’d also forgotten the way she’d spoken to me only hours before?

‘Thing is, you seem to take offence so easily,’ she added. ‘I had no idea you were so touchy, but I promise from now on I won’t joke with you about how you spend your time washing and cooking… oh, and making beds for a living.’

‘Thanks.’ I wasn’t rising to her.

‘Hey, I just thought of something really cool,’ she said, positioning herself onto the sunlounger.

I looked at her over my sunglasses. ‘What?’

‘You should take photos of your kids and start your own mummy Instagram. Stay-at-home suburban mummy with pretty kids trying to lose weight… or something?’

I pushed my glasses back up. ‘Yeah, fat, middle-aged mum who makes beds for a living,’ I said, sarcastically.

‘You could have something there, Clare. Let me know if you need any help,’ she said with a smile.



I didn’t answer her. It seemed any hopes I’d had of ever being friends had vanished. I couldn’t figure out why she seemed to have taken against me so much. It wasn’t like I was a threat to her.

‘Oh no, I haven’t upset you again, have I?’ She sighed theatrically. ‘Honestly, she’s so sensitive, isn’t she, Joy?’

Joy was engrossed in her book and briefly looked up and smiled, which I’m sure Ella took as an affirmative.

‘Not sensitive at all,’ I said, and closed my eyes so she’d know the conversation was over.

What was her game?



* * *



Later, when we all sat together to eat the meal that Joy and I had spent all afternoon preparing, Ella asked Joy what was in the sauce and how we’d cooked the vegetables.

‘Clare cooked the vegetables,’ Joy said.



‘Nothing special, just steamed over slightly salted water, a knob of butter and seasoning and they were done.’ I smiled.

‘Oh wow, so much salt – and butter, Clare?’ she gasped, and looked at Jamie.

‘There isn’t that much,’ I said. ‘Anyway, a little butter and a sprinkle of salt doesn’t do anyone any harm.’

‘Clare. Human beings weren’t meant to eat salt – and yeah, a little butter is fine, but, honey, you’ve drenched these carrots.’ She smiled sweetly at me.

‘Oh, sorry.’ I continued to eat. I wasn’t going to rise to this.

‘No, I’m sorry, that was rude of me – I mean, I can’t expect everyone to understand clean eating.’

‘You mean you have nothing processed?’ I asked, doubtfully.

‘Absolutely, and I try to eat wholefoods, often raw. And I’m vegan – I eat nothing with a face.’ She stared pointedly at the juicy lamb I was biting into – I almost heard the ‘baa’ – and the look she passed at me across the table made me feel like a cannibal. For a moment I considered putting down the next forkful of lamb, but then told myself I wasn’t going to allow a woman who’d arrived only the day before to make me feel guilty about eating. This was a dinner I’d helped to cook in a very hot kitchen on a hot afternoon which she’d spent on a sunlounger, photographing herself.

I continued to chew slowly and smiled at her. I liked my family to eat well and was an animal lover too. But I enjoyed eating meat and I resented how she made me feel about that. I was about to say something, then remembered our conversation earlier that day – her veiled threat – so I smiled through it, and continued to eat and chat and pretend she wasn’t there. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable in her company. I felt so defensive, but I couldn’t respond because I wasn’t sure what she might say, in front of everyone. If this was just another of Jamie’s girlfriends, I would politely avoid her. But Ella was married to Jamie, she was family. Not only was she now a Taylor, she was coming back home with us, like an unwanted souvenir. We wouldn’t be saying goodbye at the airport – this was for life.