And she’d never spoken to her best friend again.
Until now.
She was still waiting for Estelle to answer her question.‘And what difference does that make?’Even if Ewan’s affair was over, her best friend should have told her about it.Amber couldn’t understand why Estelle didn’t see that.
Eventually Estelle spoke.‘I thought it could just be like it never happened.I didn’t want you to hurt.I didn’t want it to wreck your family.And I knew if you did find out, then that’s what would happen.’
Neither of them had to point out that she was right, at least on that count.But Amber would never apologise for leaving him.This wasn’t on her.It was on her husband.
‘Tell me something – would you do the same thing again?’Amber asked her now.
Estelle thought about that for a few moments, before slowly nodding.‘I don’t want to lie to you, Amber.But I would.’
There it was.The reason they could never be friends again.Because how could she trust the person who was always supposed to be on her side when that was her answer?
‘Okay.Then at least I know.’Amber felt nothing but sorrow as she stood up.‘I’m so sorry about your mum, Estelle.Please tell her I send my love.And if it’s okay with you I’ll come by and see her tomorrow.’
‘Of course.She’d like that very much, but, Amber, don’t go.Please.Let me explain.’
That was the last thing Amber heard as she walked away.
20
BERNADETTE – SUNDAY 21 FEBRUARY 2021
Bernadette took a sip of water and reflected that stopping drinking an hour ago had been an extremely smart, but possibly a tad overdue, decision.What had she been thinking saying such a thing to Marge?It was one of those comments that was fuelled by the combination of an empty stomach and a glass too much of the white wine that had been circling the room all day.
‘Isn’t it staggering to look around this room?’she’d wittered.‘It’s like a history of his life.A chequered, very revealing one that shows exactly who he was.I mean… How many women in here do you think Kenneth slept with while he was married to me, Marge?’
Holy mother of God, the poor woman had turned bright pink and almost combusted from the shock of it.
And Marge, of all people.Bernadette doubted that Marge had ever had a discussion about sex with another human being.She was utterly wonderful, and Bernadette had no doubt she didn’t suffer fools, but she was also very formal and extremely reserved and proper.There was no way Marge would pop over to Val’s on a Thursday night to lie on the couch, kick off their shoes, eat sausage rolls dipped in tomato sauce and make borderline inappropriate comments about what they would do if they were ever stuck in a lift with Ollie Chiles, that bloke onThe Clansman.
Or, if she did, Bernadette had a hunch that Marge’s answer would involve something like discussing the history of Scottish rebellions in the sixteenth century.
Bernadette wanted to put her head in her hands when she replayed Marge’s response to her inappropriate question about her former husband’s infidelities.Marge had spluttered, then grasped for an answer, instead of just killing the question with denials.She was too honest for that, God love her.
She’d finally settled on, ‘He was a complicated man, Bernadette,’ and both the truth and the sadness in her words had pierced a hole in Bernadette’s alcohol-sodden heart.But not enough to make her stop talking, apparently.
‘I always wondered if you knew what he was like.I wonder if all the people here knew what he was really like.Actually, I don’t think they’d care.What mattered to them was his brilliance, his charm, the way the sun shone directly from his arse.’
There must have been one tiny modicum of sense that hadn’t yet taken a dive into her pool of Chablis, because something in her mind had demanded,Stop fecking talking, Bernie.Just stop.Finito.Done.Enough.And put that wine glass down while you’re at it.
However, the rest of her inhibitions were apparently still doing the backstroke in the vino.
‘He was brilliant, yes,’ she’d gone on.‘But he was also cold.Cruel.A terrible husband.An awful father to Stuart.He even managed to piss off Nina, and I think she was possibly the only person in the world that he truly loved.You know, I deliberately stopped at two because I didn’t want to bring another child into his world.I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone that.’
Poor Marge had looked as if she were about to keel over.But then, shouldn’t two grown women be able to have honest, frank, even controversial discussions?Bernadette had them every day at work and she had yet to have an open dialogue that didn’t at least give insight into a difficult situation.And watching the great and good of Scotland celebrate Kenneth was definitely, for Bernadette, a difficult situation.
‘Did you love him, Marge?’
Her internal voice had piped back up.Oh, feck stop!Quit the open dialogue nonsense.The poor woman is now choking on her tea.
‘I mean platonically, of course.Only, I always thought you must, because you stayed with him for all those years.There must have been other jobs.Better bosses.Promotions.And yet you stuck with Kenneth.’
Bernadette was desperately trying to soften the outrageously personal question, and that’s when she had taken the decision to lay off the wine and switch to water.Isla, the lovely waitress who’d been serving them, passed at that point and she’d asked for a glass of tap water, while Marge had requested another tea.
Marge had taken advantage of the interruption to recover from choking, and had come back with a calm, reasoned reply.
