‘At Knoll in New York,’ I finished Gregory’s sentence for him and, from the look on Joe’s face, I knew I was right. ‘I hear she’s very talented.’
His dad squeezed his shoulders together as though talent was neither here nor there and I squeezed my hands to stop myself from crying. Behind me, I heard William suck the air in through his teeth.
‘Soph, your hand.’
Tearing my eyes away from Joe’s guilty expression, I held out both my hands, no idea what William was talking about. My right hand was slick with blood, bright red with a deep scarlet gash in the centre. The broken handle of Dad’s mug slipped through my fingers and onto the floor, its sharp edge gleaming.
‘I’ll get a towel,’ Dad said, immediately switching into parent mode.
Gregory retched into his hand and bolted for the passenger seat. ‘I can’t stand the sight of blood. Joseph, let’s get going before I chuck.’
William wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder. ‘We need to get you inside. You can’t bleed out in the front garden, what will the neighbours say?’
But I didn’t budge and neither did Joe.
‘Are you married?’ I asked him.
He looked away and I knew I had my answer. My brother, his father, the house, the car, everything and everyone else vanished, leaving only the two of us.
‘You said no secrets.’ I clenched my hands into fists, ignoring the rusty splatters on the gravel. ‘You said I could trust you.’
‘No. I didn’t,’ he replied sadly, finding his voice at last. ‘I said I’d made mistakes and that I would fix them.’
‘Forgetting you’re married is quite a big mistake, pal.’ William steered me away from the car and back towards the house. ‘I think it’s about time for you to fuck off now, Joseph, don’t you?’
I put one foot in front of the other, moving so slowly, waiting for the sound of his voice calling my name, begging me to stop and let him explain everything.Instead, I heard a car door slam shut and the growl of the Range Rover’s engine, tyre tracks moving too quickly over gravel. And then, he was gone.
‘Look at the state of you,’ Mum muttered when we reappeared in the kitchen, irritated and anxious at the same time, a highly specific maternal mix. ‘Get your hand under the tap so I can see how bad it is.’
‘It’s fine,’ I replied, wrapping my hand in the wad of paper towel my dad was already holding out to me. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’
Joe was married. Joe was gone.
‘What if you need stitches?’ she carried on, still running the hot water. ‘That’ll be a nice end to the birthday weekend, twenty-four hours in A&E.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said again, louder this time. Much louder. Slowly, she turned off the tap and started banging around in the cupboards, her irritation upgrading to agitation.
‘A cup of tea then,’ she suggested. ‘We’ll sit down and have a cup of tea and you can tell us what the bloody hell has been going on. Where the hell is my sodding lapsang?’
‘Now might not be the best time,’ William said, shooting Mum a meaningful look as Charlotte peered over the back of the chair again, uncertainty on her face. She knew she’d missed something but wasn’t sure what.
Joe was married. Joe was gone.
‘My daughter.’
We all turned to look at Dad, standing with his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown, shaking his head at me, and I held my breath, preparing for whatever came next.
‘An international bestseller,’ he said with a smile. ‘Talk about happy birthday me.’
More confused and relieved than I had ever been in my life, I exhaled heavily and felt a fresh set of tears prickling at my eyes. Then, without another word, Mum walked out of the kitchen and the tears started to fall.
‘Pandora?’ Dad called.
She didn’t reply and I heard her office door shut firmly and loudly. Pressing the paper towel against the cut on my hand, smarting at the sting.
‘Would you drive me to the station?’ I asked William.
He looked over at Dad for permission and grimaced.
