Clever.
‘You do keep all the balls in the air, though, don’t you? I mean, look at you – always perfectly dressed and made up, a successful beauty business, three mostly well-behaved children – that can’t be easy – a doting husband, and you have a whole host of friends.’ I wonder if I’ve overdone it; simplified everything and made her sound a bit shallow.
She gives a sad smile. ‘Externally, yes – I agree my life looks pretty darn amazing. And don’t get me wrong, I work hard, and on the whole I’m happy with what I’ve achieved – what I accomplish on a daily basis. But internally,’ she places a hand over her heart, ‘so much is missing, Beth. I need to be able to share the successes and the stresses, have moments of candour and peel back my exterior to reveal the flaws beneath, too. It’s quite lonely being perfect all the time.’
I’m a bit lost, and unsure how to react. Julia Bennington isn’t playing me. She’s just caught up in a hell of her own making. By burying her real feelings and covering her flaws, she has created an image of a completely together, successful wife, mother and businesswoman. And now she feels unable to come clean; to let others in.
‘And the nursery mums? The other villagers? You haven’t confided in any of those people?’
‘Nope. The façade is well and truly constructed and I can’t, won’t, bring that crashing down now. I lost the one person who knew the real Julia.’
My mouth drops open. ‘Oh, Julia. Not Matt …?’ Did he leave her and no one even knows? She really has gone to great lengths to keep up the pretence of perfection.
‘No. Not him. He’s still the same – ignores me for the best part and uses me as the trophy wife when it suits. I don’t tell him anything these days.’
‘Oh, sorry – I assumed that’s who you meant.’
‘I meant Camilla. You know, Camilla Knight, Adam’s late wife?’
‘Ah, yes, sorry.’ I’m taken aback. I remember they were in the same group of friends, but I didn’t realise they were particularly close.
‘When she died, she left a gaping hole in my life.’ Julia swallows back the rest of her Prosecco and refills. I don’t speak: clearly Julia is gearing herself up to share more. It’s a relief that Julia is doing all the talking, but the sadness oozing from her is making me uncomfortable. It’s weird she’s chosen me to unburden herself to; to share her innermost feelings, show her true self. I don’t even know her. But then, maybe that’s precisely why it’s me she’s pouring her heart out to. Is she priming me to become her next best friend all of a sudden?
‘The best friend position is still vacant,’ she says, as though reading my mind. She gives a wavering smile. ‘No one knew me like Camilla did. None of the others, the ones I hang around with, see me. Do you understand? They don’t look beyond the Julia with the triplets; the Julia with the business; the Julia with the designer handbags and clothes. Because they aren’t bothered about anything else. They don’t want to see anything different. Camilla did. She was actually interested in me: she asked questions, she didn’t just rely on what I told her. I thought she was nosy to begin with, and I closed up even further. Then, when she asked me to go to hers after book club one evening, she told me she was worried about me. That’s when I realised she was a true friend. She cared about the things I kept hidden. She was invested enough in our friendship to delve deeper and I appreciated that.’
‘I can imagine. It’s hard to find a true friend, isn’t it? I haven’t had one since uni. My mates went separate ways and we lost contact. I haven’t lost anyone, not like you have, but I understand that need to have someone close you can turn to and confide in – someone who you know will always have your back.’
‘Exactly. That’s what I sorely miss. I assumed Lucy was your go-to friend here, though?’
‘Ah, well, Lucy’s lovely – but she’s young. We don’t have an awful lot in common. She’s brilliant at Poppy’s Place – she’s trustworthy, dependable. Been really good during this latest upheaval. But she’s not someone I’d call a best friend, if you know what I mean.’
I’m annoyed at myself for bringing the topic back to me. I lean forward, take the bottle and top up our glasses. ‘And she’s loved up! She’s just starting out on her journey. I would hate to disillusion her,’ I laugh.
‘You’re right, she needs to find that out for herself. Poor girl.’ Julia necks back the glass.
‘She might be lucky!’ I say. ‘Someone has to make it through life truly happy, don’t they?’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Julia says, raising her empty glass. ‘Oh, bugger.’ She tilts the bottle towards her glass and a few droplets of wine dribble out.
‘I’ll get the other one,’ I say, getting up and heading in the direction of the kitchen. I’m wobbling slightly; my head feels light. ‘I can’t believe we polished that one off so quickly.’ I should slow down. I don’t want to get drunk and be incapable of looking after Poppy. Adam’s face pops into my mind and I feel a tug of guilt. What would he think of my parenting?
‘Have you met Lucy’s boyfriend?’ Julia’s voice makes me jump – I hadn’t realised she’d followed me into the kitchen.
‘Oscar? Yeah, once or twice. He’s been to the café on occasion to see her.’ I take the Prosecco from the fridge and pass it to Julia. Hopefully, she’ll drink most of this bottle. Judging by this evening’s standard, she makes light work of it. She doesn’t seem too tipsy, either, which brings me to
