‘Mum!’ said Bryony, on a long, scandalised breath.
First Bryony and then Tamzin bumped down into kitchen chairs.
James felt like hell. He wished he hadn’t given in to the yearning to see Diane. All their lives he’d filtered situations to protect his three daughters, but this time he was the cause of Tamzin’s pain. Apologies dried in his throat like breadcrumbs. He had no idea how to begin to explain that people stayed with bad marriages because they had to, even when they wanted someone else all the time. And occasionally gave in to the wanting.
It was Diane who tried, blue eyes burning with distress. ‘I’m sorry. We tried. We both meant to hang in there with our less-than-ideal marriages, we took that decision. But, today …’
She stumbled to a halt.
Tamzin buried her head in her hands. ‘Daddy. How could you?’
Tentatively, James slid an arm around her thin shoulders, hating himself. Was aware, with another part of his mind, of Bryony and Diane speaking in low voices. Of Diane justifying, explaining.
Bryony staring at her mother as if she’d never seen her before.
With a cursory wipe of her eyes, Tamzin jerked away from James. ‘Right. Well. We have some news of our own. I don’t suppose there’s any point breaking it to you gently, now.’
Her reddened eyes were suddenly filled with purpose, and even defiance, as she looked from her father to Diane. ‘Jenneration has been offered the opportunity to play the venues in Hamburg. You know, like The Beatles did. George is taking a gap year so he can go.
‘And I’m going with him.’
‘You can’t.’ The automatic objection was out before James could stop it.
‘Ican.’ Tamzin pulled away from him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Diane was aware of Tamzin hurling her bombshell at James and of James turning to stone.
But most of her attention was on poor, bewildered Bryony. ‘Sweetie, I’m sorry you had to find out like this. Well, to be honest, I wasn’t even certain that there was anything to find out. We’ve tried to stay apart and mostly we’ve succeeded. But – !’
‘It just happened?’
Miserably, Diane nodded.
Bryony didn’t cry. Her pinched, wounded expression was worse than tears. She dropped her forehead in her hand and rubbed her back. Her tummy swelled a little every day but she wasn’t sailing through the final trimester in the golden glow that the books suggested she might. She felt in her pocket for her inhaler.
‘I’m sorry,’ Diane repeated, helplessly.
Bryony didn’t look at her as she took the two puffs that would give her a bit of space in her lungs. ‘I know. I think I know, Mum, honestly. Dad hasn’t always been the easiest and you’ve had to struggle with money the way you have and then find out that he’s been rolling in it for ages must be totally crappy. You were, like, totally loyal and he didn’t treat you right.’
‘But he’s still your dad?’ Diane suggested, gently.
Bryony’s lip trembled. ‘That’s right. And even though I had to put that jewellery in Uncle Freddy’s safe, in a way I still love him.’
‘Of course you do.’
‘And I still love you.’
Diane laughed shakily. ‘That’s a relief! Will you still come shopping with me, on your birthday? And have lunch?’
‘Yeah. ’Course.’
‘You know that I’ll be here for you, you and your baby, and Dad’s going to want to see you often.’
Bryony smiled, just, without disturbing the mesh of frown lines that corrugated her brow. ‘Don’t take this as a punishment or anything, Mum. But I think I’m going to go and live with Pops. For a bit, anyway. He’s so sad. He needs someone to look after him. When Dad left and he’d behaved so badly, I thought I’d better stay here, with you. But now I don’t want to feel as if I’m taking sides. He might even want me to stay after the baby because then he won’t be so lonely. Will you tell Dad? About James.’
‘I haven’t even thought about it. It might be better not to.’
