‘I know it has nothing – nothing – to do with your daughters,’ Gloria said, face stony.
‘You sanctimonious bitch,’ Lillian hissed.
‘Mum!’ Lou couldn’t help it. Calling Lillian ‘Mum’ seemed like the only way to stop this torrent of rage. Her mother’s temper was legendary. Anyone who stood in the way would get blasted tonight. ‘Prizes aren’t the only important thing. You’re such an amazing sculptor,’ she said, attempting damage control. But her mother appeared to hear nothing.
Lillian’s gaze was focused laser-like on Gloria, and Lillian’s now faded crimson lipstick was barely visible around bared, ferocious teeth.
‘You didn’t want me to have Angelo’s baby in the first place, did you? You wanted everyone to be as dried up and empty as you!’
There was a general sharp intake of many people’s breaths. The music was no longer playing even at a low volume, Lou realised, so the shouting could be heard all over the barn. Every hideous word was audible to everyone.
‘You were right, after all. Bob’s baby was fine.’ Lillian gestured in the hollow silence towards Toni. ‘Everyone wanted Bob’s baby by the time she came along, by the time we were married, but not so much Angelo’s brat.’
Again, the gesture: this time towards the now-horrified Lou, who was still holding on to her mother with that tender grip. Toni, who’d never fainted in her life, swayed briefly, and held on to a wooden beam for support. Was she hearing this correctly?
‘Lillian!’ Gloria was saying. ‘Stop this immediately!’
‘Stop why?’ snarled Lillian. ‘About time everyone heard the truth. People have talked about it for long enough. Your sainted brother said people would forget, but they didn’t, did you?’
She stared furiously round at the assembled guests, all of them staring at her, aghast.
‘Nobody thought how it would affect me as an artist having a baby when I was just starting out. Nobody thought about that! “I’ll bring her up as my own,” Bob said, like it was a great sacrifice. What aboutmysacrifice? I had to teach, I needed an ordinary job.’ Lillian’s catlike eyes were flashing with rage. ‘Me, being ordinary! I couldn’t dedicate myself to my art.That’swhy I’m not winning prizes now! That’s why I’ve never been recognised for what I am!’
In one quick, dramatic movement, Lillian threw her jam jar glass onto the ground where it smashed with maximum noise. Gazing around at everyone as if she was determined to make a grand exit, as if she wanted every eye on her and her horrible words, she turned on her heel, the long red stone necklace she wore swinging ominously.
‘What are you all looking at?’ she hissed at the first group of people in her way. They parted mutely and Lillian stormed off, leaving silence in her wake.
Lou didn’t move. Her hand was still outstretched as if she was touching her mother. What had Lillian said? She’d heard everything her mother had said. Everyone had. Every single person in this room had heard – but it couldn’t be true, could it?
Lillian had said a man called ... Angelo was her father. Surely not. Surely that was wrong.
None of this made any sense. Dad had adored Lou. He was herfather!A person couldn’t imagine that closeness. She’d held his hand in the hospice, he’d smiled at her lovingly and when he’d gone, the loss had been unimaginable. She and Toni had clung to each other, sobbing, hardly able to believe their beloved and kind father was not on the planet with them anymore, caring and loving, while Lillian had been outside in the sunny garden, chain-smoking her way through the French cigarettes some other artist friends had brought, not able to bear the pain of watching him die.
Bob was Lou’s father. Bob Cooper, beloved Bob.
Lillian could be irate when she’d been drinking and perhaps—
Lou felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Gloria’s face, which was full of pity. Gloria’s expression was the one people used when something dreadfully painful happened. Like death.
Gloria’s face meant that Lillian wasn’t lying and this was a death after all. Her mother had been speaking the truth. An unknown man was her father. Bob Cooper was not. And everyone at the party had heard it, which meant soon everyone in Whitehaven would know.
‘I’m so sorry, darling Louise—’ Gloria began.
‘I’m fine,’ Lou interrupted, shaking her head. ‘I’m fine.’
The words were automatic. Lou was always fine. She was the carer, the fixer.
‘Lou—’ Toni reached for Lou’s arm, but Lou backed away.
‘I’m going to find Ned and go home,’ she said.
‘You’ll want your flowers,’ said one of the waiters eagerly, handing her the limp bouquet from Oszkar and Bettina.
Unable to think of any response, Lou took it and hurried towards the entrance and found her husband coming back from the loo, swaying slightly.
‘Lou!’ he said delightedly. ‘I’ve been looking for you. I’m sorry about the dancing but you know me: two left feet!’ He laughed the happy laugh of a man nicely marinading in alcohol.
He leaned towards her for a kiss, boozy fumes emanating from his breath.
