‘Cocoa, please.’ She’d gone upstairs and knocked on Rufus’s door. She very much wanted to open her present in front of him.
Of the two of them, Harvey was by far the nicer … but it was Rufus whose approval she longed for. It was Rufus whom she adored.
Not Harvey.
‘Go away,’ Rufus had growled. Diana held her breath. ‘I’m busy.’
‘It’s me. Diana,’ she whispered into the keyhole. Across the landing, Harvey was still asleep. She was ten at the time. Harvey
was eleven and Rufus was an age away, thirteen. Grown up, at least to her eyes, aloof and utterly unapproachable. He hadn’t
always been that way. She’d lived next door to them in London since she was two; as long as she could remember, the Keelers
had always been there. Later, to her delight, Dot and Jim had bought the old villa at the end of the lane in Mougins, in the
south of France, where her parents had a holiday home. Their lives had a perfect symmetry that reassured and sustained her.
She would live next door to them for ever. Dot was the perfect mother; Jim the perfect father. And Rufus and Harvey were the
perfect brothers she didn’t have but desperately longed for. Only sometimes she wasn’t sure that what she felt for them, especially
Rufus, was entirely right. She didn’t think of him as a brother, at least not in the way her friends at school seemed to feel
about their brothers. Those relationships seemed to be about mutual hatred, buffered occasionally by reluctant tolerance.
Diana
loved
Rufus; she couldn’t wait to get home from school so that she could go round and show him what she’d been doing all day, what
she did in those painful hours when she wasn’t with him. At first Rufus appeared to like it; he seemed flattered by her devotion.
She couldn’t say when it changed; when he became different. Meaner. Colder. More demanding. At first she was bewildered, then
devastated. There were days when she went home in tears; being rejected by Rufus was worse than anything she could have imagined.
No amount of explanation on Dot or Harvey’s part could comfort her. She was inconsolable. She would come round, day after
day, begging him to talk to her. He refused. He went out, ignored her, sometimes he even taunted her. Then, when it appeared
as though he would never speak to her again, he’d suddenly change tack. He would notice her again and the sunshine would be
returned to her world; all was well. So long as Rufus liked her, everything would be fine.
That morning, she bent down to the keyhole, her heart in her mouth. She wasn’t sure she could bear the thought of being sent
away again, not on Christmas Day. ‘It’s me,’ she whispered. ‘Can I come in?’
There was another second’s agonising pause, then, reluctantly, ‘Oh, all right. But make it quick. I’m busy.’
She opened the door. Rufus was lying in bed, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was reading something. A comic book. ‘Wh
… what are you reading, Rufus?’ she asked, advancing into the room, her unopened present still in her hands.
He lowered the comic book to look at her. There was a funny expression on his face. ‘Come here,’ he said softly. ‘Look.’
She clambered on to the bed beside him. He had one hand underneath the duvet cover and the other hand held the comic book
open across his bent knees. She looked at the page and swallowed. It wasn’t a comic book at all. She struggled to take in
what he was showing her. Naked women, their bare breasts jumping out at her at all sorts of strange, contorted angles. Wide,
open mouths; eyes all with the same vacant, glossy stare. Other things, too. Things she knew about, somehow, but had never
seen. There was a horrible leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach as he turned the page with his free hand, the other moving
rapidly up and down beneath the covers, touching himself. He too had a funny, glassy stare and his breathing had suddenly
gone very rough and shallow. She sat very still next to him, not knowing what to do or say. Slowly, without taking his jet-black
eyes off her, he peeled back the covers and—
‘Diana?’ A voice broke through the fog of memory. She almost jumped out of her skin. Harvey had come upon her in the doorway.
‘All set?’ He bent his head and kissed the back of her neck. It took every ounce of self-control not to twist herself away.
‘You smell lovely,’ he said against her ear. ‘New, is it?’ She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. ‘They’ll start
arriving any minute now.’ He gave her shoulders a small squeeze. ‘Glass of wine, my love?’
She nodded. Wine. Champagne. Anything. Anything to take the edge off. Damn him, she thought to herself furiously, accepting
a glass a few moments later.
Damn
him.
Maddy turned her attention away from the bowls of snacks and plates of small, mouth-wateringly delicious canapés and focused
on the conversation unfolding around her instead. It was safer that way. She was nearly six months pregnant; she had no business
stuffing her face and then escaping to the bathroom shortly afterwards. There was no telling what sort of damage she was doing
to the child she was carrying inside her. But she couldn’t help it. Pregnancy just didn’t suit her, physically or emotionally.
She was swollen from head to toe; she was tearful and irritable and she’d long ago stopped thinking of herself as anything
other than a whale, a hippopotamus or a cow, depending. She’d been dreading the Christmas lunch, from the food to the conversation.
But it seemed to be going … well, OK. She’d managed to limit herself to a small triangle of toasted rye thickly spread with
caviar – she’d cut it into three and eaten each piece slowly, concentrating on the flavour and texture and
resisting the urge to cram the whole thing into her mouth and reach for another one, and another. So that was good. She’d
resisted sneaking a quick gulp of champagne, which also helped. She’d even managed a bit of light-hearted banter with Aaron,
whom she’d never found particularly easy … All in all, it was a good, safe start.
She looked around her. The whole family was there – Diana, Harvey, Aaron, Julia, Rafe and herself … a proper family Christmas.
The day was carefully planned – presents wouldn’t be opened until much later. That was the way Diana liked it. Lunch first,
then the Queen’s speech, which Maddy thought hilarious. They would all sit in the upstairs living room, the heavily decorated
tree twinkling beautifully in one corner … Harvey would bring in wine and port and cheeses and only then, after another hour
or so of conversation, would the presents be brought out and opened. Maddy was used to sneaking downstairs before dawn; not
in this household, clearly. Diana spent weeks preparing for the Christmas lunch, or so she’d heard. Maddy allowed herself
a small smile. Actually, the
housekeeper
would have spent weeks preparing it, not Diana. She’d been busy – she’d been on television a couple of times in the past
week. Maddy had been at home, doing something boring and mechanical like the ironing or folding towels, when Diana’s face
popped up on the screen. She’d only just managed to resist the temptation to hurl a shoe at the screen. ‘I saw you on television
the other day,’ she said to Diana as she got up to open a bottle of red wine. ‘You were really impressive. How do you manage
to stay so calm with all those microphones in your face?’
Diana’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if trying to work out whether Maddy was being facetious or not. ‘You get used to it,’
she said shortly.
‘I don’t think
I
could.’ Maddy smiled. ‘I mean, it’s one thing to remember to smile but it’s a whole different ball game when you’ve got to
give an opinion, too. I mean, I know you must rehearse what you’re going to say, but you make it seem so effortless.’
Diana paused. She seemed to be struggling between disbelief and flattery. Maddy saw it and was pleased. ‘Well,’ she said after
a moment, ‘it’s not as difficult as it seems. You generally know what they’re going to ask … it’s all a bit of a game, to
be honest.’
It was the most Diana had ever said to her, Maddy realised with a growing sense of wonder. She glanced quickly at Rafe. He
smiled back encouragingly. Maddy felt a warm glow of satisfaction slowly start to spread within her. Why hadn’t she thought
of it before? Flattery will get you everywhere, as someone once famously said – and if anyone could act the part of flattering
sincerity, she could. ‘Game or not,’ she said, warming to her role, ‘you play the part really well.’
‘Why, thank you, Maddy.’ Diana picked up the bottle she’d been aiming for. ‘That’s sweet of you to say. Can we tempt you with
just one little glass? I know you’re not supposed to, but
I
did … didn’t seem to—’ She stopped suddenly, a reddish blush spreading over her face. She seemed about to say something,
then changed her mind. ‘Will you?’ she asked again, her voice unnaturally loud.
Maddy quickly held out her glass. ‘Just one,’ she said, smiling at her. She caught sight of Julia’s faintly sneering glance.
I can see right through you
, Julia seemed to be saying.
Oh, fuck you
, Maddy thought to herself, suddenly defiant. Who cares what
you
think?
All of a sudden, the doorbell rang. Diana frowned. It was almost four o’clock and they were just about to start lunch. ‘Now,
who on earth could that be?’ she said, putting her napkin aside and getting up. ‘It’s Christmas Day. Hang on, let me just
go and see who it is.’
NIELA
London, Christmas Day, 1997
As they turned into Northumberland Park Road and the houses began to flash past, a sense of panic suddenly swept over Niela
and she reached out to grip Josh’s hand. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ she asked nervously.
‘We won’t stay long. It’s Christmas.’
‘But you haven’t told them anything. I mean, they don’t know about … they’re not expecting us. They’re certainly not expecting
me
.’
‘Niela, stop worrying about it. It’s fine.’ His voice carried with it the impatient warning tone she’d come to recognise.
She sighed but did not let go of his hand. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest. ‘Which one is it?’ she asked. They
all looked the same. Tall, elegant, wealthy. Where she lived in Shepherd’s Bush, such houses had long since been chopped up,
divided, scaled back. Here the opposite seemed to be true.
‘Here we go.’ He pulled up in front of one such house. ‘Stop worrying. Nothing’s going to happen.’
She said nothing. It didn’t seem right to her that her first introduction to his family would be
after
the fact of their marriage, not before. She didn’t care what he said – or, rather,
didn’t
say – about his tense relationship with them. She followed him up the short path to the front door, her stomach churning
with nerves. He rang the bell and looked down at her, a strange expression on his face. Someone turned the handle on the other
side and flung open the door. She blinked. Standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of light spilling out from behind
her, was a woman whose face she immediately recognised. Niela stared at her in confusion. It was Diana Pryce. The lawyer.
She knew who she was. She’d seen her on television,
many times. What on earth were they doing at Diana Pryce’s house?
‘Josh?’ There was a look of stunned incredulity on the woman’s face. ‘Wh … what are you doing here? When did you come? When
did you arrive?’
‘Hello, Mother.’ Josh bent down and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I only just got here. A couple of days ago. I thought it would
be a nice surprise. Where’s Dad?’
‘He’s in the living room. They’re all here … Rafe and Aaron and everyone.’ She looked behind Josh to Niela. ‘Who … who’s this?’
Niela had to resist the urge to turn and flee. Her mind was whirling. Josh had called Diana Pryce ‘Mother’ – she looked from
one to the other, struggling to remember what Josh had said to her about his parents. Yes, he’d said his mother was a lawyer.
Why hadn’t he mentioned who she really was? ‘I … I’m …’ she began, looking nervously at Josh. He drew her towards him. There
was a brief pause; Diana looked at him expectantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Niela saw a small black cat pick its way
delicately across the thickly carpeted floor and curl its tail around the banister, staring at them. ‘I probably should have
warned you, I know …’ Josh spoke suddenly, putting out a hand to catch Niela’s. He put an arm round her, giving her a small
squeeze. ‘Mother, this is Niela. My wife.’
They all looked up expectantly as the sound of footsteps carried down the stairs. Julia could hear a man’s voice, deep and
resonant. Harvey stopped slicing; he put the knife down and looked towards the doorway, his face breaking out into a smile.
‘Josh?’ he called out in the instant before a man appeared, his frame and presence filling the doorway.
‘Josh? What the fuck’s
he
doing here?’ The expletive was ripped from Aaron’s lips.
‘Aaron!’ Harvey frowned at him as he moved towards the door. ‘Josh! What a surprise! What … when did you arrive?’ Harvey was
laughing; he caught hold of Josh around the neck
and pulled him close. ‘What a wonderful surprise!’ Behind them, Diana stood, an expression of absolute joy on her face.
Julia looked at Josh. Her breath caught and held. She could feel the anger burning off Aaron sitting next to her. Across the
table, Rafe was similarly smouldering; Maddy too appeared dumbstruck. She turned her eyes back to the man in the doorway.
So this was Josh. A secret thrill ran through her. The wayward, difficult brother. The rebel. The outcast. She almost smiled
– the biblical references seemed hilariously out of place. It wasn’t that he was taller or bigger than anyone else, but she
had never in her life seen anyone who looked quite so alive. Diana cleared her throat suddenly, like a bird about to sing,
breaking the spell. Her face had the bright, carefully prepared look of authority upon it.
‘Well, everyone … it seems there’s a bit of an announcement to be made.’ She turned. There was someone standing behind her.
She drew the young woman in. ‘This is Niela.’ She said the word carefully, glancing at the girl as if for confirmation. ‘Josh’s
wife.’ She pressed her lips together until the flesh whitened to a cleft on either side of her nose. Julia looked on in amazement.
Diana was crying! She put a hand up to her cheek as if she too were surprised by her own tears and then turned and walked
quickly out of the room. There was another pained silence as Aaron and Rafe looked uneasily at one another, then at Harvey,
as if, in his capacity as head of the household, there should be something from him. There wasn’t. Harvey got up, mumbled
an apology and hurriedly left the room.