Seven Days of Us(55)

“Isn’t it extraordinary that I met Jesse?” said Emma, brightly. “D’you know, I’d been thinking about him, and hoping he was all right, ever since. I do wonder if perhaps I knew, on some level.”

“Are you all right, though, Mum?” said Olivia. She was using her doctor voice, as if to ascertain whether Emma was having a nervous breakdown. Their mother did seem freakishly upbeat. She’d explained everything earlier, sitting between Phoebe and Olivia on the stairs. But before they’d had time to absorb it, she’d corralled them down to the kitchen, to make “a lovely lunch for everyone.”

“D’you know, I’m just fine,” said Emma, stopping and straightening up, as if to reflect on how she felt. “People do silly things when they’re young. Daddy should have told me. But the point is, none of this is Jesse’s fault.” She’d made the exact same little speech, ten minutes ago, in the kitchen. Sometimes it was like she had amnesia. “I felt quite strongly, when I met Jesse at Heathrow, that he deserved to know his father—and his new family. So, what sort of person would I be if I forgot all that? Just because Daddy made a silly mistake? It was decades ago!”

“You’d be normal,” said Phoebe.

“Phoebs, don’t be difficult.”

“You do get how genuinely devastating this is?”

“I know it’s a shock, angel, but we’re all grown-ups,” said Emma, briskly. “Now, will George be joining us?”

“No. He’s still not up,” said Phoebe. She had called the bungalow while her mother was laying the table, primed to tell George about Jesse. But George had announced that he was too knackered for lunch, so she’d decided to explain everything later. She still wasn’t sure how.

“Good-oh. You all right, Wiv? You looked rather washed out,” said Emma.

Her sister did look a bit rough. Maybe she was in shock, though Olivia always seemed to take everything in her stride. Before she could answer, Andrew and Jesse walked in. The only giveaway that they were father and son was their identical height. Side by side, they looked like chopsticks.

“Now everyone must just help themselves—we’re very relaxed here,” said Emma, retossing the salad and adjusting the angle of a baguette. Phoebe caught Olivia’s eye.

“This looks incredible,” said Jesse, sitting down. “Thank you.”

She’d only seen him in his coat before. He was wearing skinny jeans, a cashmere cardigan, and a lame little scarf. He looked like a Uniqlo model. No way was she going to welcome him. If possible, she wouldn’t even speak to him.

“Did you try arnica?” he said, looking at her foot. “Your mom told me about your fall.”

She looked at her father. They had an in-joke about the pointlessness of arnica. But he was studiously carving wafers of ham.

“Now, Jesse, you must try this gammon. It’s from our local farm,” said Andrew. How could he be acting like Jesse was a normal guest?

“I’m actually vegan,” said Jesse, apologetically. “Well, that’s my goal. But anything vegetarian is fine, I’m easy.”

“Vegan? How interesting,” said her mother, as they all sat down. “Vegan food has become quite fashionable now, hasn’t it? And remind me, you aren’t allowed to wear leather, are you? Is that tricky with shoes?”

“Well, I don’t take it to that level. It’s more the nutritional aspect for me.”

“So this endeavor is for health reasons, rather than animal sentimentality?” said Andrew.

“Both, I guess. My sister and I, my adopted sister, we were raised around animals. Plus there are so many vegan places in L.A. now. It’s practically the norm there.”

Nobody spoke for a moment. Everything about his ready smile and slick answers grated. He could at least have the decency to feel uncomfortable, thought Phoebe, barging into their house without knocking.

She glanced at Olivia, wanting to exchange another look, but her sister was just gazing at her plate, not eating.

“Don’t vegans get rather low on iron? Or is it calcium?” asked her mother.

He looked as if he might launch into a spiel on nutrients, but the door opened and George walked in. Bollocks. He was meant to be in the bungalow.

“Oh! Wow—hey!” said Jesse, looking up at George.

George looked shocked, too. Phoebe wished she’d warned him now.

“I mean, like, ‘Hey, I’m Jesse!’” he added, half standing and giving a little wave. Americans were so fake. Greeting strangers like friends.

“Hi,” said George stiffly.

She needed to take charge before either of her parents said anything.

“Jesse, George is my fiancé. George, this is Jesse—our half brother.” Put like that, it sounded convincingly normal. Perhaps George would just think she’d told him about a half brother and he’d forgotten.

For a moment, George looked stunned—understandably. Then he seemed to recover himself. “Good to meet you, mate,” he said.

“Likewise,” said Jesse.

“Are you all right, George?” said her mother. “Phoebs said you weren’t feeling a hundred percent?”

“Yeah, no, better thanks. Hair of the dog!” he said, reaching across Phoebe for the wine. “Top up?” he asked Andrew, who was the only one drinking.