I had no idea what was inside, and I had intended to take a peek in the comfort of my bedroom and then return it the next day, but I got stopped by Mum and Dad at the gates at the top of the driveway where they were just leaving the party. I could see Ava in the background, and even in the darkness I could feel the weight of her stare. Was she worried about where I had come from?
I made it past Mum and Dad on the premise that I was busting for a wee and then once I was alone in my bedroom, I opened the box. Inside, wrapped in layers of brown paper was the small Japanese vase I had seen when I was in Ava’s study. But why was it suddenly in the spot where she was laying trinket gifts, which, I now realised, could be some sort of homage to her other daughter?
I had every intention of taking the vase back the next day. I stuffed the box inside a suitcase on top of my wardrobe and left it there, where it would be safe until morning.
33 London, September 2009
The day after the wedding
Oscar and I drive back to our house in Fulham just after eleven the next morning. I had been checking my phone all day and night and most of the morning, but there had been no message from anyone, not even Chuck. I know that I will be hearing less from him going forward, but it still weighs heavy. We made a connection as children, that is true, but he would never have allowed himself to truly fall for someone like me, as much as he cared about me.
He has his responsibilities now as a husband to Caitlin, and I don’t doubt that they are in love – they have shared a lifetime together already. And I began to make peace a long time ago with losing Caitlin as a friend. I knew that I had to release the secret, and I knew that any person with a real heart and soul would have welcomed and embraced a sister into their life, even if they were in shock initially. But Caitlin has known for over a year. The way I have come to love Gabi, I can never love Caitlin in the same way.
I fall onto the sofa whilst Oscar makes us a cup of tea.
He brings it over to me, places it on the coffee table in front of me. As he turns to leave, I grab his hand.
‘I love you. I will marry you. Whenever you want. I just had this stupid idea that I needed to be better: a better mother, a better girlfriend, a better business woman. But I realise now I have everything I need. So I must be doing okay at life.’ I laugh the last part of the sentence out so I don’t start crying.
Oscar falls to his knees in front of me.
‘Of course you are. You’re perfect.’
We vow to spend only one hour organising ourselves for work in the morning, and then we will watch a film and Oscar will go down the high street and fetch us a Chinese takeaway. I use my time to work on my new website and finish editing a short showreel that I need to upload to YouTube. I feel relieved after I have done everything, knowing that tomorrow I will wake up and have a clear head when I meet with another new client – a girl who is going to travel the world and meet face to face with every one of her Facebook friends – and I’ll be in charge of all her web and YouTube content.
After an hour at the screen, I feel my eyelids fluttering. It has been such a long few days and I am mentally exhausted. I put my laptop to one side on the sofa and close my eyes. Oscar is at the kitchen table, where he often likes to work; his soft tapping is melodic and sends me into a hazy half-sleep. I am startled awake by a ping from my laptop, alerting me to a new email. I had purposely not looked at any of my emails as that was a job for first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee, but I am too intrigued to know who is contacting me at one in the afternoon on a Sunday. I click into my mail and my heart sinks at the name along the left-hand side. Ava Anderton. I let out a slight groan, and I hear Oscar call from the kitchen.
‘What is it, babes? Brunch not agreeing with you?’
‘No, I’ve just received an email from Ava,’ I say absently. Before I know it, Oscar is standing behind the sofa, looking over my shoulder.
‘Open it then.’ Oscar is keener than I am to see what the message says, as the whole Clemonte saga is still so novel to him. I am already tiring of it all and just want to put everything behind me. But to appease my boyfriend, who I have let down so badly these last few months, I click on the email.
It’s an image attachment.
I
