George stares over at his wife, at her carefully made-up face stiff with rage. ‘You saw us?’
‘Don’t be such a dolt. I knew you loved Ellie. She told me she thought Thomas might be dead. She hadn’t heard from him in months. Trust a man to go in for the kill.’ Dottie glares at George, spitting out the words like a snake spitting venom. ‘You still love her, don’t you, George?’
George shakes his head. ‘Dottie, you’re my wife. I love you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, George. You’ve never loved me. I was always the amusing little sister, wasn’t I? The little sister with the enormous crush on her older sister’s boyfriend. Or should I say fiancé? Then he came along. Tell me, George. Did you and Ellie laugh at me behind my back? Did you think I was a silly little girl with my first crush?’
‘Of course not, Dottie. I’ve always been extremely fond of you.’
‘Fond of me? Isn’t that lovely. You’re fond of me. Your wife. Aren’t I lucky?’ Dottie leaps from her chair and crosses to the desk, throwing the letter at George. ‘You have to stop it. No more money to Ellie. Do you understand me? I honestly don’t care if you are Emmett’s father. You’re not to say a word about that to anyone. He’s Ellie’s problem. She made her bed and now she’s got to lie in it. And if you ever, ever cross me again, I’ll tell everyone you’re an adulterer. I’ll take you for every penny, and your career and your status as a fine, upstanding Catholic pillar of the community here in Norwich will be ruined.’
George sits back in the chair. A silence, as heavy as a theatre curtain, settles over the room. ‘You’re right. You’re right, Dottie. I still love Ellie. I’ve always loved Ellie.’
‘I knew it! I knew it!’
‘I’ve tried to be a good husband to you, Dottie. I’ve done everything you’ve wanted me to do. Given you everything you’ve asked for.’
Dottie spins around and sweeps the papers off George’s desk. ‘I never wanted this! None of it, don’t you understand, George? I wanted freedom. I wanted what Ellie had. I wanted to choose my life. Instead, I’m dead. Dead! Condemned to life in this dull, boring, mediocre backwater!’
‘I see.’ George adjusts his glasses on his nose. ‘I can see why you’ve taken against me. But why do you hate Ellie so much? That’s always been a mystery to me.’
Dottie straightens up, and George sees her beautiful face harden, as if she is Galatea returning to stone. ‘Because she had a chance at the life she wanted, and I didn’t. And that’s just not fair. I worked hard practising on that blasted piano night and day while she doodled around with her art and went out dancing even when the bombs were being dropped on us. Then she had to go and run off with some foreigner.’ Dottie slaps her chest. ‘She abandoned me, George! Just like Mummy did!’
‘Your mother didn’t abandon you, Dottie. She was killed in a car accident.’
‘It was my fault, George! My fault Mummy was hit by that car. She’d told me not to ride my tricycle into the road.’
‘You were only four years old. You’re not to blame.’
‘I knew better, George. I did. I wanted her attention. She was playing Cat’s Cradle in the garden with Ellie and I wanted her attention.’ She drops her head into her hands. ‘I saw her run across the garden, screaming at me to get off the road. I just sat there on my little tricycle and clapped my hands. I’d won, you see. I’d made her notice me.’ A sob wrenches out of Dottie’s throat. ‘And then, there was blood. Blood everywhere.’
‘Dottie, it was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.’
Dottie looks over at George. She wipes her eyes, leaving a streak of black mascara across her cheek. ‘She left me, George. Ellie was only seven years older than me, but she became like a mother to me. I loved Ellie. You were always around too. You were part of the family. Everything was perfect.’ Her jaw tightens. ‘Until he came. He was another car accident, don’t you see, George? He took Ellie from me, just like that car took Mummy.’
‘Oh, Dottie. What can I do? What do you want me to do to make you happy?’
I did everything right, George. The only mistake I made was to sleep with you and fall pregnant. That was the end of everything for me. You owe me for taking my career away from me, George. For stealing the life I was supposed to have.’
Chapter 73
Tippy’s Tickle – 16 September 2011
Sophie watches Sam, Becca, and Toby, lit yellow by a street light out by the road, through the shop’s bay window. Their hands fly at each other like birds attacking. Silent angry words.
Emmett joins her at the window, his tall, lean figure looming above her. Behind them the party is in full swing, with Thor thumping the Ugly Stick as Rod Fizzard’s grandson squeezes out a folky tune on an accordion. Emmett brushes back his untidy grey fringe with his fingers. ‘Might be he’ll listen to her now.’
Sophie looks up at him. His face is a craggy profile against the white venetian blind that’s been pulled closed over the bay’s side window. ‘What do you mean?’
Emmett shrugs, his shoulders rising and falling under his inside-out plaid shirt. He stares down at Sophie, his two-coloured eyes hard and cold as marbles. ‘Seems like he’s been distracted.’
‘What? By me?’
‘Sooner you’re gone, the better for us all. Better yet—’ he nods towards Sam ‘—take him with you. We don’t needs his type here. Things was better before.’
Sophie stares at him. ‘What have we done?’
‘What hasn’t you done? You almost sold the place to the devil. That fella—’ his eyebrows draw together as he nods at Sam ‘—that fella is the devil.’
She frowns out the window. ‘You’re talking rubbish.’
‘I’ll pays you to go.’
She jerks her head around. ‘You’ll what?’
He shrugs again. ‘It’s your money, anyway.’
‘My money? What are you talking about?’
‘The money your fadder gave me mam after Da’ died. Blood money. I saved up to pay it back. Now he’s dead, I’ll gives it to you and you can gets back to wherever you came from.’
Ellie places a hand on Emmett’s arm. ‘That’s enough, Emmy.’
Emmett looks at his mother, his face softening. ‘I has to give her the money, Mam. I saved up to pay it back. I has to do it to save your immortal soul. You shouldn’ta taken it, Mam.’
Sophie stares at Emmett. Saving Ellie’s soul? Blood money? Was he mad?
‘My soul is for God to judge, Emmy. The money—’
The front door slams against a counter. Becca runs into the shop and through the crowd towards the kitchen, her face flushed as red as the ribbons she’s threaded through her dress.
The door swings open. ‘Becca, wait!’ Toby flies into the store after her, his Dr Martens thumping on the floorboards. ‘He didn’t mean it!’
Florie emerges from the kitchen, a large chocolate cake ablaze with candles in her hands. ‘Jaysus, kids!’ she says, looking over her shoulder while the kitchen door swings to a stop. She proceeds into the room singing ‘Happy Birthday’. The crowd joins in, filling the room with robust song as Florie makes her way towards Ellie.