The Sister-In-Law(88)

Jamie didn’t, in the end, join the business – he did what he always does and took a flight to somewhere far away and hid for a few months. It was understandable really. His new wife had died, he was hardly going to turn up for work on the Monday morning rubbing his hands together and asking ‘Where do we start?’ But, surprisingly, Bob really did abdicate all responsibility, and Dan was left completely in charge of the business. But it seems that last summer had affected us all, and Dan didn’t have the same energy and enthusiasm for work he’d had before. He seemed to take time off, go AWOL for hours in the evenings when he said he was working late – and I wondered if he’d met someone again.

I asked him gently, I asked him angrily, and when that didn’t work, I found myself checking his phone, hacking into his emails, becoming someone I never wanted to be. I questioned his keenness to finish work early to pick Violet up from school – something he’d never expressed an interest in before. And when he started quoting Miss Thomas, Violet’s teacher, I knew. It was like a half-remembered song. I couldn’t recall the words, but I knew the tune and it made me sad, reigniting past hurt. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling this, never being able to rest, threats waiting around every corner. The trust had gone, and when there’s no trust, there’s really nothing left.

I told Joy, and said I wasn’t sticking around this time, I was filing for divorce, but she told me I was making a mistake, offered to go to the headmistress at the school and have Miss Thomas sacked.

‘You don’t get it, do you, Joy?’ I said. ‘It isn’t about a flight attendant who served him beer, or the pretty accountant at work, or even Miss Thomas – it’s Dan. Your son isn’t who you think he is, who you pretend he is.’

‘Darling, I’m not stupid, you’re right of course – but boys will be boys,’ was all she said, and I knew in that instant that she’d withdrawn her support. I was leaving the Taylors, and so the Taylors were leaving me.

I can see now that Ella and I were both victims, both outsiders in this family who would only ever support each other when it came right down to it. Joy was fine when you were with her, on her side, in her family, but when she saw a threat, she played her hand. In her own, subtle way she came between us. ‘Do you like Clare, Ella? I worry she’s a little fragile… on the defensive at the moment, especially with someone as attractive as you.’ She was setting the scene, suggesting there may be a problem and giving Ella the diamond earrings I’d always admired, knowing it would hurt me and perhaps even cause some resentment. Joy couldn’t know that I’d see Ella ‘stealing’ them and cause such conflict, such hurt. I realise now that Joy was using me to fire the bullets while appearing to stand back – I was the idiot who made Ella’s life hell for two weeks. But Joy was using the two of us like puppets. Ella was no angel, she could be dishonest, mean, self-obsessed, evidently used her lovers’ money to survive. God knows what she wanted with Jamie, he wasn’t some yacht-owning millionaire with a palace somewhere, so unless she actually loved him, I can’t imagine why she married him. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what her motives were for coming into his life, but ultimately she was a pawn too.

As for Jamie, he’s okay, and we are finally talking again. When he returned last Christmas, he hugged me as usual and it was like nothing had happened – everything just slotted back into place. Jamie’s never said anything again about wanting to be Freddie’s dad, he’s just been happy to see him like he has the others. I want us to be friends. I feel like we all went through such an ordeal last summer. I want to talk about it, and so does Jamie. Both Joy and Dan don’t have that need, they’ve moved on, for them it was in the past and they don’t want to go there – ‘Don’t dwell on it, dear,’ is Joy’s usual response if I try to talk about it. For Dan, it’s probably too painful; after Ella’s accusations he was so hurt he never really talked about what happened. But whether his hurt was at being innocent or being robbed of his next fling, I don’t know.

Jamie came home from Thailand last week, and he called in to see me, which was nice. I was having a rare morning off and he happened to be passing. I made us coffee and we sat in the living room, chatting, while watching Freddie play with his toys.

‘This is nice, just like old times,’ I said, and after more talk about where he’d been and where he planned to go next, I went deeper. ‘How are you really?’ I asked. ‘Have you been able to move on… a little?’

‘Yeah. I guess. I still keep in touch with her parents.’ He smiled fondly at this.

‘I didn’t realise.’

‘Well, I haven’t mentioned it – don’t think Mum would approve, you know how she is.’

‘Yes, she wants to forget it all, pretend it never happened.’

‘I do too. I went away hoping to forget, but I can’t, and her parents are the only link – it’s like she never existed.’

‘Do you still look at her Instagram?’

‘I can’t. It would be like looking into the past, when we were happy, the wedding photos – everything.’ He shook his head, his eyes red with threatened tears. ‘No… perhaps one day?’ He tried to smile.

I look sometimes. It’s weird that the account still exists and she doesn’t; her fantasy life outlived her. I suppose it’s like a headstone for the twenty-first century: ‘Ella was here’. Our online lives are our immortality. I think she’d like that.