A perfume launch was a huge thing and they were a small company. Only the huge cosmetic giants could really afford to launch perfume. But Calum was against it.
‘Oh no, I love it. I’d buy it in perfume form,’ Miranda was saying, her eyes glazed happily with the look of someone who had had a fabulous meal and probably too much red wine.
Gianni was doing the rounds, checking who wanted after-dinner cocktails or liqueurs. He was an excellent restaurateur, Savannah thought absently, watching him walk around, polite, kind. She felt herself ludicrously drawn to him. Kindness was just an underrated quality. Look at the way he was putting Vonnie’s wrap back on her chair, gently, not remonstrating with her for letting it drop in the first place. But maybe he wasn’t like that at home, maybe Mrs Gianni got shouted at when she dropped things.
He was at Miranda’s and Savannah’s end of the table now.
‘I could kill for a Grand Marnier, Gianni, sweetie,’ said Miranda, who was obviously a regular. ‘That would be fabulous.’
‘How is Robbie?’ said Gianni, referring to Miranda’s husband.
‘Oh, Robbie’s great,’ said Miranda. ‘You know him – as long as he’s sailing, he’s happy.’
Gianni beamed at her. ‘Yes, he’s a happy man, your husband. Even if he is not sailing, I think he is happy.’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Miranda mistily.
Gianni hit a button on his iPad. ‘And you?’ Gianni turned his attention to Savannah and she felt his warmth encompass her. Ludicrously, she felt herself tear up. She was so receptive to any sort of kindness. A cashier in the supermarket talking to her. Another driver letting her go on the road and waving at her. All these things made her want to cry. It was ridiculous.
Gianni was waiting patiently for her order.
She began to panic. Calum hated it when she dithered over menus. ‘I don’t know—’
She hadn’t had much to drink. Drinking was always a mistake. She felt so sad when she drank and then she cried—
‘An amaretti, perhaps?’ said Gianni.
She looked at him gratefully. ‘Yes, yes, an amaretti, I’d love that.’ She loved almonds. How clever of him to know.
‘And how is your dear husband?’ said Miranda, when Gianni had moved on.
Savannah looked at her.
‘He’s such a charmer. Robbie and I met him recently at a fundraiser. Such a darling. He’s doing incredible things with the business, I believe. You are so lucky to have him at the helm. Handsome man too. You lucky thing.’
Miranda patted Savannah’s knee and Savannah swallowed down any number of thoughts and emotions. Calum was not at the helm but he controlled so much. And lucky? If she was so lucky, why did she feel so scared all the time?
‘Yes,’ she said automatically, ‘he’s a lovely man.’
Her eyes glazed over and her finger began to hurt. She simply wanted an evening out and here she was, having to talk about Calum again. Nobody could see who he really was. But then, there was nothing to see, was there?
It was all her fault. She was imagining it.
That’s what he’d told her anytime she’d tentatively said that perhaps they might try marriage counselling. It had been years since she’d tried that.
‘You’re over-emotional, Savannah. Everything has to be a drama with you. You can’t complete the simplest tasks, either. I have to do everything,’ he liked to say.
Now, that was untrue: she knew it for a fact. He did nothing round the house. Never bought groceries. But was she so bad at everything? Was she hopeless as a mother the way he said she was?
Two years ago, she’d begun to search on the Internet to see if anyone else lived the way she did. She searched on her private tablet which she hid, even from Clary. Especially from Clary. Her daughter already seemed older than her years and Savannah didn’t want to make it worse. When she was very stressed, she’d sit in the car outside the office, hotspot her iPad off the phone and look at the sites again, the ones she came back to again and again.
These sites seemed to be speaking directly to her: ‘Are you walking on eggshells? Do you spend your life in a state of tension trying not to upset somebody? Are you scared, frightened in your own home? Are you financially controlled by your partner?’
Sometimes, Savannah read the various articles so quickly that she scanned them in moments. They all said the same thing. They all talked about her life, about her.
Women who lived in fear. Men who told them they were crazy.
Emotional abuse, they called it.
