But you can fool some of the people some of the time.
Emma glanced at her watch. ‘I wonder how long we’re going to have to wait for Liz? I really don’t know why we had to do this today, Ellen. If it’s about the anniversary party next weekend, you realise there is such a thing as email. Or even the phone. Besides, I thought we were pretty well organised, aren’t we?’
‘Well, I know I am,’ Evie piped up. ‘I’ve made five dozen mini quiches already, because they freeze really well. And I’ve planned my week for the rest. I’ll start Wednesday with the spicy meatballs, and Thursday I can do the cheese puffs.’
‘Evie, you do realise it’s being catered?’ Emma interrupted her. ‘I wouldn’t overdo it.’
‘I won’t, I’m only making my specialties. I’ve set aside the whole of Friday for the cake.’
‘What cake?’ asked Emma.
‘You know,’ she smiled coyly, ‘the cake.’
‘You’re not doing the cake, Evie. We discussed this.’
‘I don’t remember . . .’ Evie faltered. ‘What are you saying?’
‘You’re not doing the cake,’ Emma repeated. ‘Come on, Evie, this is not one of the kids’ birthday parties.’
‘No, it’s Mum and Dad’s anniversary,’ said Ellen. ‘And I think they would love one of Evie’s cakes.’
Emma groaned. ‘We discussed this.’
‘I don’t remember discussing it,’ said Ellen. Evie was shaking her head in solidarity.
‘We may not have discussed it in person,’ Emma maintained, ‘but I’ll have it on file.’
Now Ellen groaned.
‘I’ve been sending updates regularly, it’s not my fault if you girls don’t read your emails,’ Emma said curtly. ‘Anyway, it’s a moot point, I’ve already paid a two hundred dollar deposit to the patisserie –’
‘The deposit is two hundred dollars?’ Ellen gasped. She felt sick. They had agreed to go ahead with all the arrangements and work out the money afterwards. She realised that Emma didn’t know how radically her circumstances were about to change, but Ellen should have known that Emma would overdo things. She should have suggested a budget.
‘Oh chill, Ellen,’ Emma was saying. ‘The deposit was more than half, it’s only another hundred and fifty.’
Evie looked stunned. ‘The cake cost three hundred and fifty dollars?’
‘Congratulations, you can add up,’ said Emma. ‘Look, would everyone just get over this? You obviously have no idea how much an “event” cake costs these days – and I got a sizeable discount. I’ve used this particular patisserie before, given them lots of publicity, they were bending over backwards for me. Wait till you see what they’re going to do, it’s sensational.’
‘It’d want to be,’ Ellen muttered. ‘It’d want to have George Clooney jumping out of it for that kind of money.’
Evie stifled a giggle.
‘Oh, yeah right,’ said Emma, rolling her eyes. ‘George Clooney is going to jump out of a cake for three hundred and fifty dollars.’
‘Is he?’ said Liz coming up behind them.
Evie jumped to her feet. ‘Liz, we didn’t see you come in!’ she exclaimed, hugging her sister.
‘Where have you been?’ Emma accused darkly, as Liz bent to kiss her on the cheek. ‘God, you look awful, have you just got out of bed?’
Liz gave Ellen a wink as she dropped into a chair. ‘Yeah, I have actually,’ she said. ‘And I need caffeine desperately,’ she added, looking around for a waiter.
‘Well, that’s just great,’ said Emma. ‘You’ve been home having a nice sleep-in while we all rushed around to make it here on time.’
‘I was up all night at the hospital,’ Liz interrupted her. ‘I got home about seven this morning and thought I could fit in a few hours’ sleep. Sorry, I forgot to set an alarm.’
‘What kind of dermatological emergency has you at the hospital all night?’ Emma sniffed.
‘Skin cancer,’ she said bluntly. ‘A longstanding patient of mine. She’s been in the care of an oncologist, of course, but her family called me last night. She died at three this morning. She was only thirty, had two little boys . . .’
‘Oh,’ Evie sighed, reaching over to touch her arm. ‘Are you okay, Lizzie?’
She nodded. ‘I will be once I get some caffeine.’
Ellen raised her hand to attract the attention of the waiter. Liz wouldn’t want them all fussing over her. She probably wouldn’t have mentioned it at all if not for Emma’s carry-on. At least it had silenced her, for now.
When the waiter arrived at their table, it seemed practical to order their food as well. Ellen wasn’t really hungry, her stomach felt like jelly, but she ordered a sandwich so as not to draw attention. She didn’t know why. She was about to draw so much attention that what she ate was hardly going to be noticed.
The waiter left and Emma and Evie settled back in their seats, with a vague air of anticipation. Ellen met Liz’s eyes. She knew. She’d known what had been going on for some time now, and while Ellen hadn’t had the chance to talk to her recently, she could tell Liz knew what was coming. And she was glad for that.
‘So, okay, what else about the party do we need to go over?’ asked Emma.
‘I’m a little worried about final numbers,’ said Evie. ‘There’s been hardly any RSVPs.’
‘Girls,’ Ellen interrupted suddenly. She couldn’t stand it any more. ‘I didn’t ask you here today to talk about the party.’ She was surprised by the sense of foreboding in her own voice.
‘What is it, Ellen?’ Evie asked nervously.
She didn’t know why this was so hard, they were her sisters. They loved her.
The problem was saying it out loud. This thing that had hung over her for years was finally going to be out in the open. It should have felt liberating, but in fact it felt a little terrifying.
‘Ellen?’ Emma prompted.
She stirred. She wondered how long she’d been sitting with her mouth slightly open, poised to speak.
She cleared her throat. ‘I’m just going to say it, okay? Tim and I are separating.’
‘What?’
That was Emma. Evie just looked baffled. Liz sat forward, slipping her hand over Ellen’s.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Evie.
‘You’re separating. You and Tim. You’ve got some issues you’re working through, you’re getting counselling,’ Emma rattled off, as though she was going through a checklist of facts. ‘This is one of those trial things.’
Ellen blinked. ‘No . . . no, it’s not a trial. It’s for real.’
‘So you’re getting a divorce?’
Evie gasped audibly.
‘No.’
‘So you might get back together?’ Emma persisted.
‘We’re not getting back together.’
‘But you’re not getting a divorce?’
‘God, I don’t know, Emma,’ Ellen groaned. ‘I haven’t thought that far yet.’
‘Well, I’m just saying, this seems to have come out of the blue, yet you’re so certain it’s for real, but at the same time you’re saying no divorce.’
‘I’m not saying anything, Emma,’ Ellen almost snapped. ‘Only that we’ve separated. Can we take one thing at a time?’
Emma shrugged. ‘I’m just trying to make sense of it.’
‘Then why don’t you drop the inquisition and give her a chance to explain?’ Liz suggested.
‘Fine.’ Emma sat back again, folding her arms.
‘What happened, Lenny?’ said Evie in a small voice, her eyes wide. ‘Is there . . . is there someone else?’
‘Come on,’ Emma sniggered, ‘we are talking about Tim.’ Then her eyes narrowed. ‘Or is it you . . . Are you having an affair, Ellen?’
‘No,’ she insisted. ‘There’s no one else involved. No one did anything wrong. We just . . . fell out of love.’
‘What, just like that?’ Evie asked, tears welling in her eyes. ‘This is so sudden.’
&nb
sp; ‘But that’s the thing, Evie, it’s not sudden at all,’ Ellen started to explain. ‘This has actually been coming for a long time.’
Evie was shaking her head, bewildered. ‘I don’t understand. You two have the most amazing, solid marriage.’
‘Apparently not,’ Emma muttered.
‘You’re like . . . the model couple.’
‘Again – not so much.’
Liz looked at Emma. ‘Do you think that’s helpful?’
Emma shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this.’ She stared at Ellen. ‘It seems to me that basically you’ve been putting on an act . . . for how long?’
Sam had said something like that. ‘So our whole lives, it’s all been a lie?’ he’d asked. It had felt like a kick in the guts.
‘It wasn’t an act,’ Ellen defended. ‘We stayed together for the kids. Lots of people do that. But you can’t tell everyone that’s what you’re doing, that would pretty much defeat the purpose. Besides, we were still a family, just because Tim and I were no longer a couple didn’t mean we couldn’t function as a family. We wanted to wait for the right time, when it would have the least impact on Sam and Kate.’
‘And this is the right time?’ said Emma, raising an eyebrow.
‘Well, as close as we can get. Kate’s finished her final exams now, and Sam’s only just starting his senior years. I guess the most ideal time would have been to wait till he finished as well, but that’s another two years away and we weren’t prepared to do that.’
‘Things were that bad?’ said Evie.
‘No, we don’t hate each other or anything,’ Ellen assured her. ‘Actually, once we sorted out how we felt, and accepted the fact it wasn’t going to last forever, we were quite civil to one another. We had nothing to fight about any more –’
‘You and Tim fight?’ Evie exclaimed.
‘Of course we do. Or we used to, when we had expectations of each other. When we stopped having those, we got on like polite housemates, courteous, respectful . . .’
‘Were you having sex?’ Emma asked.
‘Emma!’ said Liz.
‘What?’
‘I don’t think that’s any of our business.’
‘I’m only trying to understand all this. She’s saying they were like polite housemates. I don’t know many polite housemates who share a bed.’
‘We weren’t having sex,’ Ellen said bluntly.
Emma frowned. ‘So how long has this been going on?’
‘About five years,’ said Ellen.
‘You’ve gone five years without sex?’
There had been sex occasionally, when she’d had too much to drink, when she just wanted to be close to someone. But afterwards it always made her feel guilty, and even a little queasy, like over-indulging in junk food – all calories and artificial additives, no nutritional value.
‘Five years ago was when we started counselling anyway,’ Ellen explained.
‘You had marriage counselling?’ said Emma.
‘Of course we did. Do you think we’d get to this point without doing everything we could?’
‘How should I know? You got to this point shrouded in secrecy,’ she retorted.
Ellen sighed. ‘I told you, Em, it was for the sake of the kids.’
‘Still, I don’t understand how you could be going through all that and manage to keep it a secret. Didn’t you need to talk about it to someone?’
Ellen and Liz exchanged a furtive glance.
‘What?’ said Emma, her eyes narrowing. ‘You knew, didn’t you, Liz?’ she accused.
‘Did you?’ Evie blinked.
‘Why did you tell Liz and not us?’ Emma demanded.
‘I didn’t plan it,’ said Ellen. ‘It just came out one night, when we were having a few drinks.’
‘It just came out?’ Emma said dubiously.
‘I was complaining about how the world is designed for couples,’ Liz explained. ‘And that you don’t fit in if you’re not part of a couple and that’s why so many unhappy couples stay together . . . and . . .’
‘. . . and, well,’ said Ellen, taking up the story, because Emma was not giving any indication of letting them off the hook, ‘it just came out. I told her that Tim and I were one of those unhappy couples, but we weren’t going to stick it out forever.’
Emma frowned. ‘How long ago was this?’
Ellen glanced at Liz. ‘I don’t know. Last year?’
Liz shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
‘So she’s known all this time and you didn’t think you could trust us with it?’
‘It’s not that,’ said Ellen. ‘I just felt that it wasn’t right for too many people to know before Kate and Sam were told. What if something were to slip?’
‘So you didn’t trust us.’
‘For Chrissakes, Emma!’ Liz broke in. ‘This isn’t about you. Or me, for that matter. It’s about Ellen. Are you going to withhold your support because she didn’t tell you first?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then can we talk about what’s important here?’ said Liz. ‘Like how Ellen is coping, what she needs from us?’
Evie nodded. ‘You’re right, Liz. What can we do, Lenny? How can we help?’
‘I’m okay, really,’ she said. ‘It’s a completely amicable arrangement, and I’ve had a long time to get used to the idea.’ She paused. ‘I just wanted to tell you before I tell Mum and Dad.’
‘So they don’t know yet?’ said Evie.
‘No, you are the first to know, after Kate and Sam.’
‘And Liz,’ Emma muttered.
‘Let it go, Emma!’ Liz groaned.
The waiter arrived with their coffees and they sat in silent contemplation as she distributed them.
‘So when do you plan to tell Mum and Dad?’ Emma asked, stirring her coffee.
‘I’m going round there tomorrow.’
She looked up abruptly. ‘You’re telling them before the party?’
‘No, I’m telling them tomorrow,’ Ellen reiterated. ‘The party’s next weekend.’
‘I mean, you don’t think you should leave it until after the party?’ said Emma.
Oh, what now? ‘Why do you say that, Emma?’
‘This is their fortieth wedding anniversary. I think they deserve to celebrate it without the dark cloud of their daughter’s broken marriage hanging over it.’
Liz sighed loudly. ‘That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think, Em?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she said. ‘I think it could ruin it for them.’
‘Look,’ said Ellen, ‘I told you it’s all completely amicable. We’re not going to make it uncomfortable for everyone, so no one has to feel uncomfortable around us.’
‘Tim’s coming to the party?’ asked Emma.
‘Yes, he’ll come.’
‘Then who’s going to know the difference?’ she persisted.
Ellen hesitated. ‘Well, what about the kids? Are they supposed to act like nothing’s happened? Lie to their grandparents?’
‘Why would they have to lie?’ said Emma. ‘It’s not going to be a topic of discussion if you don’t say anything beforehand. And Tim’ll be there, so everything will be as normal. I think for the sake of Mum and Dad you could leave telling them till the week after.’
‘Tim will call in to the party,’ said Ellen, ‘but he won’t stay the whole time.’
‘Why not?’
She shrugged. ‘Because . . . that’d be weird.’
Emma groaned. ‘That’s what you think is weird?’
‘Stop!’
Everyone turned to look at Evie. Her eyes were glassy and her face was flushed pink.
‘This is a marriage we’re talking about,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘This is eighteen years and two children. It deserves some respect, not all this bickering.’
‘Here we are, sorry for the delay,’ the waiter chirped arriving at their table, her arms laden with plates.
Ellen sighed inward
ly. Evie was right, she had hoped for compassion and understanding from her sisters, not sniping and bickering. No wonder she dreaded telling everyone else.
‘I can’t eat this salad,’ said Evie with a sigh.
‘Do you want to order something else?’ Ellen asked her.
She cast a furtive glance around the table. ‘Cake,’ she said. ‘I feel like a great big piece of chocolate fudge cake.’
‘Evie,’ Emma scolded.
‘Actually,’ said Liz, ‘I feel like cake too.’
‘Honestly . . .’
‘Good idea, we’ll all have cake,’ said Ellen, beckoning the waiter.
Emma
Emma flatly refused to eat cake for lunch. The others indulged Evie, just as they always had. It was getting a little ridiculous now that she was a grown woman in her thirties.
The heels of Emma’s designer shoes clicked on the footpath as she walked back to her car and opened the door, sliding elegantly into the driver’s seat. As she settled back into the leather upholstery, she took a long, deep breath. Well, what do you know.
Emma had never expected this, not in a million years. Hadn’t seen it coming at all, and she usually had a bit of a nose for these things. Ellen and Tim, the stable, ‘model’ married couple, with the ‘model’ children, now apparently embarking on the ‘model’ separ ation. Ellen’s separation couldn’t be like everyone else’s – messy and nasty and painful. God, she had always been so tiresome, dolling out relationship advice to all of them, whether they asked for it or not.
‘Well, Tim and I always talk about these things, we think that it’s vital to keep the lines of communication open.’
So much for that.
‘Tim’s always helped around the house, without being asked. It’s never been an issue.’
But clearly there were issues.
When Evie had had kids it had got even worse, Ellen became the final authority on child-rearing. Whether it was constipation, circumcision or sleeping habits, she knew the right way, and there was no other way. She was like a born-again Christian.
So of course now she was going to have the exemplary separation. Amicable. Ha! Emma would be interested to see just how amicable things were in a year’s time, when money was tight and they were haggling over care of the kids, when Tim started seeing someone.
The Right Time Page 2
