The Younger Wife(78)

There was a loud crash from the other end of the terrace, and they all looked over to see the two little boys’ heads next to an upturned table. Sonny put down his beer and started towards them.

‘I’ll go give Sonny a hand,’ Darcy said, placing his beer on a low table. He’d been playing with the boys earlier, while half-a-dozen women looked on, salivating. It was another feather to his cap that he was a natural with kids.

Rachel and Dad remained where they were. A moment of awkward silence passed between them. Rachel surveyed the people standing around them, but she felt Dad’s eyes on her.

‘He seems like a nice guy,’ Dad said finally. ‘It’s nice to see you with someone.’

‘It’s nice to be with someone,’ Rachel agreed, smiling at someone walking past.

‘He’s being good to you?’

She nodded, sipping her champagne.

‘It’s a good time for our family,’ Dad said. ‘There’s only one thing that would make it even better.’

Rachel looked at him at last. ‘And what’s that?’

‘If I could make things right with you.’ Dad’s voice shook just the tiniest bit. ‘I’m sorry things have been strained between us these past few months. I should have told you about Fiona. I wish I had.’

‘Dad –’ Rachel started.

‘I’ve made mistakes,’ he said over the top of her. ‘But you can’t really believe that I would hurt your mother, can you?’ His tone was pleading.

Dad held her gaze for several moments, before his face fell.

‘I just wish I understood, Rachel. Why would you start thinking this now? Did I ever lay a hand on you or your sister?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘Did your mother seem unhappy in her marriage to me?’

Rachel thought about that. Her parents had had their moments, but overall the answer was no: Pam hadn’t seemed unhappy. Her mother adored her father. Rachel had never known her mother to shrink away from Dad or be afraid to voice a contrary perspective. They always seemed like a strong couple who respected each other’s opinions and beliefs, even when they differed. That was what made her suspicions now so confusing.

‘Listen, I know you want to figure out what that hot-water bottle money was for. I’d like to know too. I wish we could just ask your mother. There are a million times every day that I’d like to ask your mother something. I’d like to know if she remembers who I am, and if she knows who Heather is. I’d like to know if she understands how much we all love her. But there’s so much in this world that we will never know, Rachel.’

He sounded so sad, it stirred something in Rachel. Something intangible and slippery – a little like doubt. After all, it was possible that she’d got the wrong end of the stick. It was possible that she’d let her desire for closure, an answer to the mystery, cloud her judgement. It was possible that, just as Tully was shoplifting all over town, this was her way of grieving her mother.

It was possible.

‘It might be too much to ask,’ Dad said, ‘but more than anything I’d love to hear you say that you believe I’d never hurt your mother. The idea that you think I could, it just . . . it keeps me awake at night.’

Me too, she thought.

‘I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true,’ he said. ‘But if it is true, it would mean everything to hear you say it.’

Around them, the party hummed on. A waiter offered a guest a canapé. Someone tittered with laughter. And they were inside a little bubble right in the middle of it all. Dad looked like he might cry. Rachel wanted to say it more than anything. The instinct to please her father ran deep, even now. She opened her mouth, tried curving it around the words she needed to say. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to utter them.





57


HEATHER


This was her life, Heather thought. This was her life.

She was sipping champagne and nibbling canapés and laughing. The restaurant was fancy, but low-key. The guests were interesting and intelligent. The family was here, even the little boys, who tore around the place creating happy mischief. Stephen had invited some colleagues, all very nice people who congratulated her and wished her well. Mary, who’d become something of a close friend these past couple of months, was here too.

She’d continued her weekly counselling sessions with Inna, which had been wonderful, even though they had taken their toll. She was delighted to realise that her husband-to-be was not abusive, but at the same time it was hard not to be able to trust herself. If she was capable of getting something so wrong, how could she ever trust herself again? It was a perfectly normal fear, according to Inna, who assured her it would pass. The main thing was that she had things clear in her head now. Her father was a bad man. Stephen was good. The falls, the trips, the miscarriage – they were accidents. Stephen would never hurt her. He would never hurt anyone.

‘Can I have everyone’s attention, please?’

Heather looked around. Stephen was standing on a chair, gesturing for guests to pay attention. When he caught Heather’s eye, he looked a little guilty. He’d promised not to give a speech. Heather didn’t like the attention. At the same time, she knew she’d have a hard time keeping him quiet. It was a social occasion, and social occasions always brought out the emotion in Stephen.