‘Yes, it’s exquisite,’ Ella said, ‘just gorgeous. The soft veining is almost white… so much more subtle than the brighter white Calacatta marble.’
‘Sounds like you know your marble!’ Dan said, clearly impressed. And all the time, I kept thinking Why, why have you taken Joy’s earrings?
Meanwhile, Joy smiled and nodded in agreement at Ella’s marble analysis.
‘Ella knows all about architecture too, she’s been in palaces all over the world,’ Jamie said proudly.
‘Wow, palaces? I’m envious,’ I said, and she smiled at me.
‘She’s into photography, aren’t you, darling?’ Jamie added, looking down at her with such love, it stung me slightly. I wanted that kind of love too.
Ella nodded eagerly and crossed her legs. Her bare toes were small, compact, the toenails like silver jewels. I wasn’t sure if I was jealous of her or wanted to be her, but looking at Violet’s face, my daughter definitely wanted to be Ella when she grew up.
‘So did you say you went to India together? How romantic – had you known each other… long?’ I asked.
‘Long enough,’ Ella replied, looking at Jamie, not at me.
‘Oh, what do you do?’ I asked, undeterred.
‘She’s a model,’ Jamie said proudly.
Violet’s eyes widened at this.
‘I’ve done swimwear for designer friends, that kind of thing – but I’m not like a serious model. I want to move into stuff that matters – photography, vlogging, blogging – saving the planet and all that.’
‘Wow! You would be an amazing YouTuber,’ Violet suggested, awe shining in her eyes.
‘Maybe,’ she said, like she could be anything she wanted to be. I envied her confidence… or was it arrogance?
‘Ella’s selling herself short,’ Jamie added proudly. ‘She’s modelled all over the world, all the catwalks on fashion week, fashion photography, lingerie. Designers and photographers are always messaging her, asking her to fly off—’
‘Gosh,’ I said. Catwalk and photographic fashion, plus lingerie, were, I thought, quite different kinds of modelling. Didn’t models usually stick to one kind? I wasn’t sure, and after what I’d seen earlier I was now questioning everything that she said. There was no denying Ella could model anything. She’d make a bin liner look like high fashion but then again perhaps Jamie was just exaggerating, bigging up his new wife for the family? Sometimes Jamie did that. All the Taylors had a slightly irritating tendency to embellish sometimes, but Jamie was the worst.
‘Ella’s wasted in modelling. She’s not a clothes horse, she’s so creative,’ Jamie said.
‘You’re sweet,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek.
‘She has twenty-five thousand followers on Instagram.’ He beamed.
‘I just do what feels right, and hope people like it,’ she said.
I found her hard to read. I thought maybe if I looked at her Instagram, I could try and work out who she was? Then again, Instagram could sometimes be more confusing – it was often more about who we wanted to be. When I started the Instagram account for Taylor’s, I’d also made one for myself and wasn’t above posting the odd family photo at Pizza Express styled to look look more like dinner in Milan.
‘So, are you one of those Instagram influencers?’ I asked. ‘Do you have lovely things sent to you for your Instagram page?’
‘Page… it’s called a profile, Clare.’ She gave a little giggle and looked at Jamie, who looked down. I wasn’t sure how to take it; was she making fun of me?
‘It’s all far too technical for me,’ Joy said, coming out in sympathy with me.
‘Oh yes. I meant profile,’ I said, giving her the benefit of the doubt. ‘So what happens, do you model the stuff you’re sent?’ I asked again, like a dog with a bone.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ she said dismissively, without looking at me. She clearly didn’t want to discuss it. But I did.
‘How wonderful,’ I said, smiling. ‘What a great job to have.’
She didn’t respond. I hoped I hadn’t been too probing; she seemed confident, yet at the same time quite shy about her career. I wondered if perhaps she wasn’t quite as successful as Jamie was making out. I knew it must have been important for him that Ella was accepted into the family, but he didn’t need to sell her to us. But again, I think it was mostly about pleasing Joy – if Mum was happy, then everyone was happy. And right now, the fixed smile on her face as she clutched her glass of gin was quite hard to read.
‘Ella’s got so much to offer – I always say she should be on TV, you know, a reality show or something?’ he was now saying.
‘Oh my God, I’d LOVE to, that’s the dream,’ she sighed.
‘Ooh no, not one of those awful programmes,’ Joy piped up. ‘Anyway, most of the people on those are single. You’re a married woman now, Ella.’
‘Oh, it’s only a job,’ Ella said, with a shimmer of irritation. ‘And the money they pay, I mean – some of them are millionaires.’
‘Mum’s right, they might want you to have relationships on screen,’ Jamie said. ‘I don’t mind if you make a million, but not if you have to be with someone else.’ He laughed nervously.
‘Oh goodness no,’ Joy chorused, horrified at the prospect of her daughter-in-law involved in some tawdry sexual encounter on TV. What would the neighbours say?
Ella didn’t really respond to either of them, and I have to admit, I wondered just how far she’d go for that million pounds. It looked like she’d already started with the diamond earrings.
‘I just can’t wait to photograph this place,’ she said, moving on from reality TV and running one hand along the back of the sofa, the other up and down Jamie’s arm.
‘The pool is stunning,’ Joy offered. ‘Mosaic tiles in every shade of blue.’
‘Yes, I spotted that. I’ll be using the pool as a backdrop.’ She smiled, then suddenly sat forward. ‘If that’s okay… I mean that’s okay with you guys, isn’t it – for me to take photos of the place?’ She looked from Joy to Bob and back to Joy again. She’d clearly worked out in her first few hours where the power lay.
‘Of course, my darling, shoot away.’ Joy smiled, but I was sure I noticed a flicker of uncertainty on her face – she didn’t really know how to take this young woman, this stranger who’d turned up on our holiday. No one had asked Joy’s permission, and until that afternoon she hadn’t even been aware her son had a girlfriend, let alone a wife.
‘Do you have any wedding pictures?’ I asked. This was mostly out of politeness, but I was intrigued to see Ella’s dress, Jamie all suited up, the gorgeous Italian setting.
‘One or two,’ she said, and started to look through her phone to find them, then offered it to me.
I got up from the arm of Dan’s chair to take the phone, but she kept hold of it. She patted the arm of her chair, for me to perch there. Was this power play, or did she not want to surrender her phone to me for some reason?
I sat down close to her on the arm of the chair; she smelled of salt and lemons, of places I’d never been, a hint of floral spice, a waft of jasmine. She smelled how she looked – fragrant, exotic, like nothing else.