‘Oh, my God,’ he repeated. ‘How old was her daughter?’
‘Two.’ Tania allowed the word out, then clamped her mouth closed again. Why had she thought coming skiing would be a suitable distraction for a grieving mother? She was an imbecile.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Tom said.
Tania shook her head. She couldn’t say anything else without crying. The lodge door opened, then slammed shut. Heavy footsteps on the stairs became an unkempt blond head of hair which then turned into Donkey. He looked around the room, his perfect features taking in their expressions.
‘Did somebody die?’ he said.
Chapter 14
Having outlined what had just happened with Clara and the glass, Tania was incensed by her brother’s flippant reply. She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘I dare you to say that again,’ she said, through clenched teeth.
‘What?’ Lysander stood his ground at the top of the stairs. He looked genuinely mystified. ‘He died months ago. Awful, I get that. I just said that she’s a beautiful woman, she’ll find someone else, no problem.’ He barrelled on. ‘It’s terribly sad about the little girl. No question. Of course.’
It was all Tania could do not to run across and shove him down the stairs. ‘You need to shut the fuck up, Lysander. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.’
‘What?’ he repeated. ‘You wanted me to say it again.’
‘I’ve always known you’re terminally shallow, but this … Even for you this is shitty beyond belief.’
‘I didn’t mean … Maybe it didn’t come out right. I just meant that she’s young enough to find someone new, in time. When she’s ready. It’s not like she’s some plump middle-aged matron. She’s got everything to look forward for.’
‘Not quite everything,’ Rose said quietly, her brows furrowed together.
Lysander looked around, maybe absorbing the horrified expressions properly for the first time. His lips lost a little of the upwards inclination which formed the trademark Lysander smile. An expression which Tania had come to accept as summing him up. Only ever the creeping edge of a smile, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to put much effort into something as simple as expressing happiness. As if it was too much trouble for him to show others how he felt, as if it were possibly someone else’s job and he was waiting for that someone to appear and airbrush his feelings in. The Donkey’s smile, a smile which seemed to have completely overwhelmed his true smile– or any real display of emotion– something Tania hadn’t seen more than a handful of times in years.
He studied Rose’s face, the smile fading further as his shoulders dropped. ‘No. I suppose not. OK. I get it.’
Tania snorted in disgust, turning back to the view.
‘I’m not sure you do, Lysander.’ It was Rose’s voice, clear and firm. ‘I’m not sure any of us can, not properly.’
He sighed. Tania could hear it from her position near the window, and she watched his reflection as he crossed the room and took a seat alongside Madeleine, opposite Rose.
‘Believe it or not,’ he said, ‘I was trying to be positive. About Clara, I mean.’
‘Yes, well, that kind of positive we can do without,’ Tania said, keeping her eyes on the view. The last of the sun’s rays had long since dipped behind the mountains, the remnants of the light a thin navy-blue mountain outline gently turning black. She watched as the lights of some piste bashers came into view crawling up the slopes, the massive machines beginning the night’s work of grooming the snow in preparation for the following day. ‘Might I suggest you try applying a filter before you next open your mouth?’
‘Sorry to interrupt, but shall I serve the canapés?’ Tom asked a while later, breaking the awkward silence which had enveloped the room.
Tania turned. Tom stood with a tea towel twisted in his hand, looking at her for guidance.
‘Or would you rather not—’
He didn’t get to finish his sentence, the sound of more footsteps on the stairs had them all looking in that direction.
‘Canapés definitely get my vote.’ Clara followed her words into the room, a smile edged with her favourite plum lipstick danced across her face. She looked at them all, in turn. ‘I apologise for earlier,’ she said. The smile slipped a little, a crease appearing between her eyes. ‘This whole thing is … complex. I can’t seem to get a grip on the way I feel. I’m so sorry.’ Then she looked at Tom, her expression brightening a little. ‘Something smells delicious.’
Tania wanted to wrap her up in a hug and tell her it was fine for her to scream and shout and throw things all she liked, just so long as it meant she was somehow coming to terms with losing Mike and Poppy. She didn’t. Instead, she smiled and joined the others at the table.
By the time they reached dessert– a lemon tart with enough of a citrus tang to ensure most of their plates had been scraped clean within minutes– it felt to Madeleine as if everyone had managed to relax into the evening. It was as if Clara had flicked a switch. Her anguish from earlier seemed to be shut away in a box, for a while at least.
If anyone was having trouble relaxing, it was Madeleine herself. Being sat thigh to thigh with a world-renowned model whose cheekbones and jawline looked even better from her side-on view was making it a little difficult to relax. The others might think he was a bit of a prat, but he was still a famous prat who was monumentally easy to look at. And he smelled really good, too. Like fresh wood shavings mixed with orange peel.
‘Do you enjoy skiing?’ she asked him.
‘Sure,’ he said, looking at her from the corner of an eye. ‘But the agency won’t let me, not when I’m under contract. Plaster casts don’t look particularly good on camera.’ He grinned.
