by Jill Mansell
When he didn’t ask how she was, Marina said, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s no good, I can’t do this. I just can’t.’
‘You can’t do what?’
‘This.’ He gestured towards her. ‘I’m not cut out for this kind of thing. It’s not fair on you.’
Marina felt a surge of nausea rise up, but this time it was born of a mixture of fear and disbelief. ‘I don’t know what you’re saying.’
George’s face reddened. ‘You know as well as I do that things haven’t been right for some time. And now this has happened. It isn’t fair to expect me to have to go through all this business with you. Honestly, a clean break’s better for both of us. I’ll make an appointment to see my solicitor and he’ll put the wheels in motion.’
‘The wheels …?’ Marina said faintly.
‘Divorce.’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s for the best,’ said George.
‘Is it?’ Her trembling hand went to her forehead, which was clammy with shock and disbelief.
‘Look, it’s not my fault you’re ill. If I stayed just because you had cancer, what kind of person would that make me? I’ll tell you,’ George announced with a wag of his index finger. ‘It would make me a hypocrite.’
The word ignited a tiny flame of indignation in her brain. He hadn’t always been like this, though; the last few years at the country club had changed him for the worse. Emboldened, Marina said, ‘So, in sickness and in health, just so long as it isn’t the sickness?’
‘Oh trust you to twist things to try and make me look bad.’ George rolled his eyes. ‘That was so long ago. You make those vows when you’re getting married. We’re talking about divorce now.’
‘Well you are.’
‘Don’t start with the emotional blackmail.’ He shook his head and checked his watch. ‘I’m not an ogre; it’s not as if I’m going to be leaving you homeless and penniless. I’ll be moving out tomorrow, by the way.’
‘So I’ll still have this house?’ That was something, at least. Marina realised she was shredding the crumpled tissue in her hand. Her mind was in a whirl.
‘No, we’ll sell it. The solicitor tells me you’re entitled to half, even though I’m the one who’s paid the mortgage all these years.’
George had always insisted he didn’t want her to work more than part-time, because her job was to look after him. And to think she’d been touched by his thoughtfulness. Because back then, he had been kind … hadn’t he?
‘You’ve already spoken to the solicitor, then.’
‘You’re getting a bloody good deal, Marina. You should be grateful I’m not the kind who’d rip you off.’
‘Who’s your solicitor? Arthur?’ Arthur was in his late sixties and had done their conveyancing; his office was just down the road.
George shook his head. ‘You can have Arthur. I’ll be using Jake Hannam.’
If Arthur was a bumbling Labrador, Jake was a wolf. A member of the country club – of course – he was in his thirties, wore flashy cufflinks and drove a black Porsche. He was the brother of Giselle, who was at the centre of the smart set and led a complicated social life.
Marina’s voice was unsteady. ‘Are you having an affair, George?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He heaved a sorrowful sigh. ‘Of course not.’
‘OK. Could you pass me that bowl?’ She held out a trembling arm. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
He’d been lying, obviously. It had all been so embarrassing and so predictable. Reaching for the pink frisbee balanced on the rock beside her, Marina waited as Boo raced across the sand towards her, then spun it high into the air for him to try and catch in his mouth. Whilst she’d continued with the punishing, debilitating courses of chemotherapy, George had moved into Giselle’s six-bedroom mock-Georgian home, then whisked her off for a holiday on the island of Capri.
Which was, by all accounts, a glorious place to visit.
Lucky them.
A piercing whistle behind her made Marina twist round. Clemency, in shorts and a T-shirt, was waving at her. Marina waved back.
Out of breath, Clemency jogged over to join her. ‘I’ve done a full circuit of both beaches and the cliffs, and now I need to eat pizza.’ She took a swig of water from her almost-empty bottle and collapsed on to the sand.
‘Take cover,’ Marina warned, because Clemency’s arrival had brought Boo charging back up the beach with the frisbee in his mouth. Having been cavorting in the sea, he now shook himself energetically, spraying them both with cold water.
‘Oh Boo, you’re such a hooligan. Actually, that’s really nice.’ Clemency seized control of the frisbee and flung it once more, then leant back on her elbows. ‘How’s Alf?’
‘What? Oh, sorry. Much better, thank goodness.’ Without even realising it, Marina discovered she’d taken her phone back out of her pocket and was rereading the email from George.
‘Everything OK?’
‘Fine!’
‘Sure?’
Marina hesitated. She was so used to presenting a cheerful face to the world, it was sometimes hard to relax. But this was Clemency she was talking to; she could allow herself to be honest.
‘Here.’ She passed the phone over. ‘I got this.’
She watched as Clemency scanned the lines then turned to stare up at her in disbelief.
‘My God, he has a nerve. He walked out on you when you could hardly get out of bed! He abandoned you at the very worst time of your life!’ Clemency’s eyes glinted in the sunlight. ‘And now that things aren’t quite perfect for him, he wants to come and see you? I do hope you’ve told him to fuck off.’
Marina smiled at her indignation. ‘I haven’t replied yet. That’s why I was reading it again.’
‘Would you like me to do the honours?’
‘It’s OK. I think I’m too curious to refuse to see him.’
‘You could give him a call, ask him what he’s playing at.’
‘If George says he’s coming down here, he won’t take no for an answer. I haven’t seen him for over five years,’ said Marina. ‘If he turns up, I could always shut the door in his face, but I have to admit … I do want to know what he wants.’
‘And once you’ve found out, then can I push him off a high cliff?’
Amused, Marina threw the frisbee once more. ‘Maybe. We’ll see.’
‘I still can’t get over what he did. I don’t know how he can live with himself.’
‘Maybe he feels bad about it.’ Marina shrugged. ‘He might be coming here to say sorry.’
‘Well if he does, I hope you don’t let him off the hook.’ Clemency sat up and dusted sand from her tanned legs. ‘The trouble with you is, you’re too nice. Just remember,’ she warned. ‘Some things are too horrendous to forgive.’
Chapter 10
On Friday evening, Clemency had just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell rang.
Of course it did. Doorbells always knew. She wrapped a white towel around herself and ran downstairs. For a split second, out of nowhere, the thought flew into her brain that when she pulled open the front door, Sam would be standing there on the doorstep.
Ooh. Hastily wiping the inevitable mascara stains from under her eyes, she mentally readied herself just in case, assumed a flattering pose and opened the door with an expectant smile.
‘Hi, surprise! Urgh, you’ve got a ton of black under your eyes … you look like one of the undead!’
‘Thanks,’ said Clemency as Belle gave her a hug.
‘That’s OK. Ew, it’s like you’re all sweaty.’
‘Well I’m not, I’m all clean.’
‘I know! Just teasing. And well done for not coughing all over me this time! Come on, Uncle Fester, let’s get you back upstairs before you scare people to death.’
Clemency peered over her shoulder. ‘Is Sam not with you?’
‘No, just me.’ Belle gestured dramatically. ‘No one else. I’m all alone!’
‘Why? What’s happened?’ Clemency’s heart began to thud against her ribcage. ‘Have you and Sam broken up?’
Belle burst out laughing. ‘What? Wow, you’re a ray of sunshine – of course we haven’t broken up! Why would I want to dump someone like Sam?’
Clemency instantly found herself torn between being discreet and behaving normally. But Belle was her sister, so normal had to win. Flippantly she said, ‘I thought maybe he’d dumped you.’
‘Er, hello? Look at me.’ Belle struck a pose and did a selfie pout. ‘Who in their right mind would want to dump this?’ She was grinning now, half taking the mickey out of herself but also half meaning it. The way she acknowledged her own vanity was actually one of Belle’s more endearing characteristics.
Upstairs in the flat, Clemency threw on a dress and dragged a brush through her wet hair. Returning to the living room, she found Belle peering into the mirror on the wall, trying out her new lipstick.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you!’ Belle blew a kiss at her through the mirror. ‘Ha, joking. This lipstick’s nice, isn’t it? I think it probably suits me better than it suits you. No, Sam’s in Geneva on business; he’s flying back tomorrow. I came on ahead and he’ll be arriving tomorrow afternoon. I was planning to have a quiet night in tonight, but then I bumped into Paddy and he said you were off to the Mermaid … so I thought I’d come with you. We can go for a drink together! Won’t that be nice?’
‘Lovely.’ So transparent. Clemency said, ‘Did Paddy happen to mention that I was going with Ronan?’
‘I can’t remember. Maybe he did mention it, I’m not sure.’
‘Except Ronan can’t make it now.’
Belle’s face fell. ‘Oh.’
‘Joking,’ Clemency said triumphantly.
Ah, a bit of sisterly one-upmanship never went amiss.
Twenty minutes later, they left the flat and made their way over to the Mermaid.
‘So you’re going to be seeing a bit more of me,’ Belle said happily as she perched her Tiffany sunglasses decoratively on top of her head. ‘Now that Sam’s planning to spend most of his time down here, I’ll be keeping him company.’
‘Most of his time? I thought he’d just be flying down for the occasional weekend.’ This was what Clemency had been mentally bracing herself for.
‘No, no.’ Belle shook back her hair. ‘He’s spent the last few years working non-stop. His friends have persuaded him to take the summer off, give himself a break. Well, obviously not a complete break, but he can keep an eye on the business from down here. He deserves a rest after everything he’s been through. Did you know he used to be married?’
Did she? Clemency’s mind raced once more before settling on the correct answer. She shook her head and said, ‘No …?’ in a mildly enquiring kind of way.
‘Oh, I wondered if he’d mentioned it when you showed him the flat on Saturday morning. His wife died. Three years ago, of a brain tumour. She was ill the whole time they were married. Can you imagine? Poor Sam. So sad. Well, sad for him.’ Belle beamed. ‘But good news for me!’
Oh God. Clemency shook her head. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’
Belle shrugged. ‘Just being honest. It’s sad that he lost his wife, but life goes on. Sam’s still here and he deserves to be happy. And he’s going to be happy from now on, because he has me!’
Of all the girls in all the world, he’d had to choose Belle. ‘Thank goodness he managed to find someone so compassionate and modest and unassuming,’ said Clemency.
‘I know.’ Belle did an unrepentant shimmy. ‘But I mean it. I’m not going to let him go. Sam’s everything I ever wanted; he’s just perfect. I mean, you must have noticed. He’s pretty damn gorgeous.’
‘Oh yes, he’s got the looks,’ said Clemency, because no one could say he hadn’t.
‘I know! Didn’t I tell you on the phone? I said you’d be impressed. But it’s not just that,’ Belle went on. ‘He’s the full package. This really could be it, you know. Sam’s fantastic. He could be the one. Which is why you’re going to be seeing more of me, because there’s no way I’d want to leave him down here on his own. That wouldn’t be clever. Girls would be swarming all over him like wasps.’
‘What about your job?’ Even as she asked the question, Clemency realised she already knew the answer.
‘Oh, I’m jacking it in. They’re just not my kind of people at that place. Anyway, Sam isn’t the only one who needs a break.’
No surprises there. No surprise either that Belle hadn’t bothered to mention it before. She was brilliant at being interviewed for jobs and excellent at being offered them, but her staying power wasn’t the best. She and her flatmates in upmarket Chelsea all appeared to share the same relaxed attitude towards employment, presumably because their families were mega-loaded. Belle’s latest attempt at gainful employment had involved working in PR for the company owned by her best friend’s father, who really should have known better.
‘Why aren’t they your kind of people?’ said Clemency.
‘Oh, they’re just so intense. No sense of humour. And they’re like, really strict about timekeeping.’ Belle gestured carelessly with her arm. ‘I can’t be doing with that sort of hassle. I mean, who needs it?’
Who indeed? At a guess, late nights out had resulted in Belle oversleeping and turning up at work two hours after everyone else. Clemency said, ‘And Sam’s fine with you not working, is he?’
‘Well, yes, good point.’ Belle nodded sagely. ‘He is OK with it, but I don’t want him thinking I’m just another trust-fund Tara, so I’ll explain that I do a lot of charity work. Which I do,’ she emphasised. ‘So it’s completely true. I’m not lying!’
Clemency grinned. Belle’s idea of charity work was attending glitzy fund-raising balls at five-star hotels. You wouldn’t catch her working behind the counter at the local Oxfam shop.
Two hours later, they were still sitting in the Mermaid’s beer garden, gazing out to sea, while Ronan was inside at the bar buying the next round of drinks.
‘Well?’ said Clemency. ‘Go on, you can tell me. Still fancy him?’
‘Ronan?’ Belle rolled her eyes. ‘No I do not.’
‘Sure about that?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I’ve got Sam now. He’s cancelled out the whole Ronan thing, which was never even a real thing in the first place.’
Ronan materialised behind them. ‘Oh thanks a lot. That’s my ego crushed then.’
Clemency took her drink from him. ‘I think your ego will probably survive. And she only came along tonight because she knew you’d be here.’
‘Look,’ Belle complained, ‘can we stop playing this silly game now? It’s really tedious.’
‘I like it.’ Clemency grinned. It hadn’t taken them long to fall back into bickering-sister mode.
‘Well it’s wearing thin. We aren’t teenagers any more. I have a fantastic boyfriend. Unlike you,’ said Belle.
‘But is he better-looking than me?’ Ronan turned to face Clemency. ‘Well, is he?’
‘He’s very good-looking,’ said Clemency.
‘Look!’ Belle whipped out her phone. ‘I’ll show you!’
And she did. Clemency found herself alongside Ronan, gazing at a series of photos of Sam and Belle together.
‘He won’t let me take selfies of us, he doesn’t like it, but I got Tamsin to take these for me. See?’ Belle gave Ronan a nudge. ‘This is the real reason I wanted to see you tonight. So I could show off my perfect boyfriend and make you think twice about that time you turned me down. Because that’s all in the past now, and I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.’
Clemency was unable to resist it. ‘As opposed to Ronan’s tiny disappointing thing.’
‘Cruel,’ Ronan protested, ‘and also not true.’ He shook his head at Belle. ‘She’s never seen it, OK? Just so you know. And it’s definitely not true.’
‘Doesn’t matter to me.’ Belle looked smug
. ‘I’ve got Sam.’
‘Yes, but if things don’t work out …’
Belle’s eyes were sparkling. ‘Don’t worry, they will.’
‘It doesn’t do to be overconfident. If he’s that much of a catch, all the girls’ll be after him. And now he’s going to be down here,’ said Ronan. ‘Look at Clem, she’s still single. What if she makes a play for your boyfriend?’ He shrugged, amused. ‘You never know, do you? She might steal him off you.’
Clemency’s mouth was dry. Thank goodness self-preservation had prevented her from ever telling Ronan the story about the time she’d chatted up the guy on a plane who’d turned out – humiliatingly – to be married. All he was doing now was teasing Belle, blithely unaware of how near the knuckle his remarks were.
But Belle was smiling, confident. ‘She wouldn’t.’
Ronan said playfully, ‘She might.’
‘Nope. It’ll never happen.’ Belle shook her head. ‘I know that for a fact.’
‘You don’t know it for a fact!’
‘Ah, but I do. She’s my stepsister and sometimes she drives me completely insane, but I know I can trust her. One hundred per cent. And Clem knows she can trust me.’ As she said it, Belle slid her arm around Clemency’s waist and gave her a squeeze. ‘We made a promise, didn’t we? To each other.’
Clemency nodded, her mouth still dry. ‘We did.’
‘How do you know you’ll keep it?’ Ronan was looking interested.
‘Because I made a mistake once. I was a bad, bad girl,’ said Belle. ‘And I learnt my lesson the hard way.’
It had happened just before they’d turned eighteen. After almost two years of living together in the prickly way of two teenagers who would far rather not be under the same roof, Belle had acquired a public-school boyfriend called Giles, who’d come to spend a few days with them at Polrennick House the week before Christmas. Typically loud and confident, he’d made a joke one evening about being fought over by the two sisters. The next morning Clemency had overheard him making a snide comment about her mum having won the Lotto jackpot when she’d hooked up with Belle’s father. Later, when she confronted him about it while Belle was upstairs in the shower, Giles had smirked and suggested she was protesting too much. Then on the last day of his stay, aware of her simmering dislike of him and purely for his own entertainment, he told Belle that her stepsister had made a pass at him.
