‘Not me, Mum!’ She raises her tear-stained face. ‘It’s Taylor who was pregnant. Not me.’
I hate myself for it, but I can’t help a brief, selfish surge of relief. I feel desperately sorry for her friend, of course, but my daughter is my first concern. ‘Oh, Bell. I’m so sorry. Poor Taylor.’
‘You won’t say anything, will you?’
‘Of course not.’ I hesitate. ‘I take it she hasn’t told her parents?’
‘I told you, they’re super strict. They’d never forgive her.’
‘This is a pretty big secret to hide, darling. You’d be surprised what a mother can forgive—’
‘No! You can’t say anything!’
‘It’s OK. I won’t break your confidence.’ I sigh, sadder than I could have imagined at the thought of such a young girl going through something as traumatic as an abortion without her mother by her side. ‘What about the baby’s father? Where was he in all of this?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t even know who he is. All she said is, he’s married. I think it’s one of her dad’s friends – that’s another reason she can’t tell her parents.’
I hope my shock doesn’t show on my face. Taylor is only seventeen. An affair with a married man twice her age, a secret abortion – it’s a lot for a child who’s still at school. And no matter how grown-up Taylor may seem, that’s what she is, legally and morally: a child. What kind of man gets a vulnerable teenager pregnant? Bella’s right: no wonder the girl’s afraid to tell her parents.
If it were my daughter in trouble, I’d want to kill him.
The day before the party
Chapter 40
Min
I feel like I’m herding cats. No sooner do I get one of the boys clean and presentable, than another spills toothpaste on his new shirt or splits his trousers doing cartwheels down the hall.
‘Luke, could you watch Archie while I see what the twins are up to,’ I pant, corralling our youngest son in the corner of the hotel room and liberating a complimentary pot of boot polish from his sweaty hands. ‘Archie, I want you to sit on this chair and not move until I come and get you.’
There’s a sudden wail from the bathroom. ‘Mum! The loo roll fell in!’
‘Sidney! Don’t you dare try to fish it out!’
‘Mu-u-m! There’s poo all over my hands!’
Luke holds up one hand to me like a traffic policeman. ‘I’ve got it, Min.’
‘Sidney’s got poo on him!’ Archie shouts, leaping up and running into the corridor to find his brothers. ‘It’s disgusting!’
I open the emergency suitcase I brought with me. Fifteen years of motherhood to four sons has taught me to bring backup outfits, a stash of gin, and plenty of wet wipes. I find Sidney’s spare polo shirt, and take it through to Luke, who has managed to get our son stripped naked to the waist in the bathroom. It’s very generous of Celia to treat us all to a weekend away at a five-star hotel, but I’m going to be on tenterhooks for the next forty-eight hours, trying to ensure the priceless Art Deco artefacts aren’t used for target practice, and that none of my children fall off the cliff or drown in the sea. It would’ve been so much more relaxing, on multiple fronts, if she’d just made the party adults-only.
Eventually, we manage to get the four boys suited and booted, though I’m not entirely sure Dom’s Whitesnake T-shirt could be considered appropriate evening wear, but in comparison to the expletive-ridden hoodie he was wearing, it’s progress. I change into a forgiving navy linen cocktail dress, and go into the bathroom to sort out my hair, which has turned frizzy in the humidity.
‘Fancy a quick drink before we go down?’ Luke asks, appearing in the doorway.
‘Who’ll watch the kids?’
‘I bribed Dom and Jack to mind the other two for five minutes. A tenner each, and I’ll turn a blind eye to a beer later.’
‘In that case, make mine a double.’
Luke hands me the large sweating glass of gin and tonic he was holding behind his back. ‘Thought you might say that.’
I twist my unruly hair up into a loose chignon, and apply the finishing touches to my make-up, then join Luke out on the balcony. The breeze is a little cooler than I expected, and I’m grateful when my husband wraps his arms around me, the two of us gazing out across the sea like Kate and Leo on the prow of the Titanic. It’s possible to see the white horses breaking on hidden rocks between us and the mainland, and I can’t help a shiver. The thought of a boat hitting one of those deadly rocks in the dark, the poor souls on board lost to the treacherous currents, makes me feel oddly dizzy, as if I’ve just peered over a high ledge.
‘You looking forward to this weekend?’ Luke says, gently kissing my neck.
I sigh. ‘I’m looking forward to it being safely in the rear-view mirror.’
Luke gives me a reassuring squeeze. I rest the back of my head against his chest, hoping my sense of foreboding is misplaced. Lou has moved out of Andrew’s house, and given up the job at his wife’s office, both of which are steps in the right direction. As far as I know, she hasn’t seen him alone again, so there can’t have been a repetition of that disastrously mistaken kiss, but the last thing either of them needs is to be thrown together on an island for the weekend like this. I wish for the hundredth time Celia hadn’t got us all into this mess with her meddling. According to Luke, Lou actually phoned her mother yesterday and said she wanted Andrew and that woman to come. I don’t like to attribute any sinister motive to her sudden change of heart, but how can I not? A week ago she was accusing the woman of poisoning her cat, and now she wants her at her mother’s anniversary party?
‘Stop fretting,’ Luke murmurs. ‘I can read you like a book.’
‘I can’t help it,’ I say moodily. ‘Something bad’s going to happen, I can feel it in my waters.’
‘Give over, Gypsy Rose. It’ll be fine.’
I’m about to argue, when I spot Andrew and his wife coming up towards the main hotel from the Beach House below us. Moments later, Tolly and Kit rush down the slope of the lawn towards them, the pair of them brandishing cheap plastic windmills.
‘Lou looks good,’ Luke says in surprise as his sister emerges onto the terrace to greet them. ‘Has she done something to her hair?’
‘I got her an appointment with Stephen on Wednesday,’ I say, taking a look. He’s right: Stephen’s taken off at least six inches and put in some highlights, and the blunt bob looks great on her. She’s wearing the stunning red dress I badgered her into buying, too. I wish now I hadn’t. Even from up here, I don’t miss Andrew’s double take when he sees her, and from the boot-faced look on his wife’s face, neither does she. I don’t have to be psychic to scent trouble ahead.
‘Come on,’ Luke says. ‘We’d better go down before the boys kick off again. A tenner each only buys you so much peace and quiet.’
We round up the troops and clatter downstairs to the Palm Court bar, where everyone is already waiting for us. I’m busy trying to prise Dom and Jack’s phones out of their hands before their grandmother has a go at them, so for a moment I don’t notice Bella and her friend sitting quietly near the piano, locked in earnest conversation.