‘Let’s not talk about it.’ His voice is gruff, his face scratchy with stubble, and I let him move on top of me, biting against his shoulder to stifle my cries. Later, as I watch him knot his tie and slide his feet into fancy loafers, I push myself up on my pillows and say it again. ‘I really am sorry, Rupert. I didn’t think before I spoke, but you know you can talk about Caro to me. I won’t be upset.’
‘I know.’ Rupert leans over and kisses my forehead. ‘We’ll talk about it later, OK? I’m late. And don’t forget we have that dinner tonight.’ And then he is gone in a cloud of aftershave. At least he’s wearing the Tom Ford now.
I slump back against the pillows. I had forgotten about the charity dinner tonight. It’s being hosted, as it is every year, by an important client of the company Rupert works for. Caro’s father’s company. I didn’t want to go, but Rupert told me it was expected. Rupert has to attend, and therefore I have to as his wife. I go cold at the thought of Caro’s social media photos, the pictures showing her and Rupert at this event in previous years. At the thought of running into her parents.
I spend the day running errands and working on the garden, even though Rupert said it was fine as it is. I haven’t given up all hope of the pool just yet, and I could maybe even see about getting rid of the old shed at the bottom of the garden, and putting in a new one as a pool house for changing in, if I could get it for a good price. I let my mind wander as I burn the piles of dead wood, bushes and leaves that I have cleared and plant a rose bush in memory of Lola. The grass seeds have taken, and the lawn is looking more lush than scraggly in places at long last, and I prune and weed, all the while trying not to think about tonight’s event. Rupert isn’t best pleased when he arrives home to find me sipping brandy, watching the bonfire as the flames leap high into the sky.
‘Sorry,’ I pass him what’s left in the brandy glass, ‘I lost track of time. What do you think?’
‘It’s great.’ Rupert gives me a thin smile, and I think how tired he looks. ‘You don’t have to though; I’m happy living with it like a jungle, I told you that.’
‘Ha. I’d never have guessed.’ I check my watch. ‘Yikes. I really am going to make us late.’
I hurry upstairs and into the shower, relaxing at last now that Rupert is home and any last remnants of our argument seem to have been forgotten. Riffling through my wardrobe I take great care with the dress I choose. I did do some shopping with my black Am Ex, choosing three dresses, and now I select the one that is least like any of Caro’s, no longer hanging in the wardrobe next door but bagged up and delivered to the local charity shop. I deliberately delivered it to one of Angus Beaton’s shops, sure that Caro would have been pleased with the idea.
I pick out a slinky, midnight blue dress, cut much lower than anything Caro owned. I twist my hair up into a chignon, a few strands falling artfully around my face. As I push tiny gold hoops into my ears, my gaze falls on Caro’s jewellery box, still sitting at the very back of the dressing table, behind the huge mirror. I pull it towards me, noticing the light sprinkling of dust on the top. Glancing towards the en-suite door, where steam escapes and I can hear the hiss of the shower running, reassuring myself that Rupert is not going to walk in on me, I open the lid, letting out a small gasp as I drink in what lies there.
Gold necklaces, earrings, a fat, glistening ruby on a square gold setting – I pick that one up and slide it onto my finger where it spins, far too big for my slender hand – a brooch, not dissimilar to the one Rupert bought me for Christmas, only instead of a dragonfly it is a bee, the white of its stripes made from diamonds. These things must be worth a fortune, and I imagine, just for a moment, being a woman who owns thousands of pounds’ worth of jewellery. I imagine my mother’s face if I rocked up at her house wearing this ruby ring, the bee brooch attached to my coat.
‘Em?’ Rupert’s voice shouts to me through the door of the en suite and I hear the shower switch off.
‘Shit,’ I whisper to myself, thrusting the brooch back into the jewellery box, knocking the whole thing from the table in my haste to put it all back where it was. Gold and silver spills from the box and I scramble onto my hands and knees, scooping up rings and earrings, tumbling them all back into the box, reaching right under the dressing table to pull out an expensive-looking diamond stud earring that has rolled almost out of arm’s reach. I fumble under the dressing table, looking for the other one but it’s no good, I can’t find it. Flushed and panting, I shove the box to the back, behind the mirror, and am sitting fixing my hair, which has escaped its grips, by the time Rupert comes out.
‘Mmmm,’ he kisses the back of my neck as he passes, ‘you look fabulous.’
I give him a smile and slide a secret glance towards the box, making sure it’s exactly as it was, hoping that by the time we get into the cab to go to dinner, my heart rate will be back to normal.
Amanda has cried
