The music was turned down several notches so that the chattering of delighted guests could be heard and people turned to watch.
‘You don’t have to do a speech,’ Emily said. ‘We can just cut the cake and let everybody sing.’
Lou nodded gratefully – the idea of having to say anything in front of so many people was terrifying – and reached for the knife.
Just then, Emily grabbed her arm. ‘Mum,’ she hissed. ‘It’s Lillian, she’s coming this way. She’s been doing her signal, waving at us, she’s blown several annoyed-looking kisses and she definitely looks angry.’
The two sisters and Emily turned to see Lillian, holding onto a jam jar of liquid, storming over towards them.
Lillian glared at both her daughters.
‘Have you heard?’ she demanded fiercely.
In the quiet of the music having been turned down, everyone could hear her.
‘Heard what?’ said Lou anxiously.
She glanced at Toni and saw that her sister looked unusually tense. No matter what was going on with Lillian, Toni always appeared in control and calm. But not now. What was happening?
In her anxiety over the strange look on her sister’s face, Lou did the wrong thing: she turned towards her mother in an attempt to make sense of it all and somehow called Lillian ‘Mum’.
‘Mum, what’s wrong?’
The silence in the room seemed to be magnified.
‘Mum?’ said Lillian in a voice that wouldn’t have been out of place during the Inquisition. ‘I’m Lillian. Never bloodyMum. I meant have you heard about the prize. The Kennedy Art Prize. Worth forty thousand euros.’
Lillian was hissing now and Lou saw Toni take a step back. How strange, Lou thought absently. Toni never retreated from anything.
‘That bitch Concepta O’Brien has won the Kennedy. The first woman painter to win it. The first woman!’ Lillian had stopped hissing and was now shrieking.
Their mother didn’t notice Toni’s silent withdrawal any more than she noticed Lou reaching out to put a hand on her mother’s arm.
‘Lillian,’ began Lou, but her mother interrupted her at full roar.
‘I should have been the first woman to win it! ME! I set up Grey-Haired Women Against the Patriarchy! I made people sit up and notice older women artists! She just joined in, followed me. Concepta’s a follower, that’s all! I did it. Me! It should have been me!’
Lillian was blazingly angry now and the people nearest to them were engrossed in the scene.
‘Lillian, of course you should have won—’ began Lou, clicking instantly into protect-Mama mode.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake—’ Lillian howled, and Toni could hear intakes of breath all round at the profanity. ‘What do you know about it?’
Shocked, everyone took a step back except Lou, still holding onto her mother’s arm.
‘You know nothing! You know I gave up everything for you. I should never have had children. The enemy of good art is the pram in the hallway! Bloody Cyril Connolly was right!’
‘Lillian, stop this immediately,’ said a severe voice.
Aunt Gloria stood there, white-faced but stately.
Beside her was Emily, who’d clearly run to get the only person she felt could handle Lillian Cooper in a rage.
‘This is Louise’s party and you shall not ruin it. I do not care who has won which prize. Who knows how these things are judged!’
White-faced, teeth bared, Lillian turned on her sister-in-law.
‘You’re here to tell us about the art world and about where I went wrong, are you, Miss High and Mighty?’ she said. ‘What do you know about the pram in the hall, you with your barren womb?’
