Page 140

Of all the things to bring home the farce that is this marriage.

My heart stutters, my skin suddenly clammy as a wave of nausea threatens to bring back up my expensive lunch. I grip the edge of the table as the room spins. It’s not even knowing that Lucy and Van Wyk are now related, it’s that I don’t even know if my husband has siblings. Such a simple yet vital thing, and we’ve never discussed it. We skipped all that, along with his favorite color, music, movie, food…

I don’t know him at all.

How can I, when I’ve seen my husband twice since he said ‘I do’ and I didn’t?

“Are you all right?” Lucy asks, frowning.

“Yes, of course,” I reply, my voice sounding distant in my own ears. “But I must be getting back.” Yes, it’s time to end this, before she probes further. “It was lovely to catch up,” I say as I rise, “and do let me know your plans for Christmas. Sorry I won’t be with you this year.”

Lucy looks taken aback by my abrupt departure. “Uh… sure.”

“Thank you for coming to lunch. See you soon?”

“Of course.”

I make it four steps before she speaks again.

“Ammy?”

I turn. “Yes?”

“Be careful,” my sister says with feeling. “Please.”

It’s a bit late for that.

“I’m always careful,” I lie. “Besides, I’m married now. I have a husband to keep me safe.”

I’m wrong. He doesn’t come home for Christmas.

Linda cooks a magnificent dinner, and the four of us sit around like we’re a family, Tony and Jorge breaking their ‘no eating on the job’ rule at my insistence. Maybe my two bodyguards are single and have nowhere better to be, but I doubt it. They’re missing out because of me.

At least I bought them presents, albeit with Van Wyk’s card. If he isn’t going to bother to show, I consider it an abandonment tax.

Linda gets a cashmere cardigan, which she puts on immediately with obvious delight. Tony nods his thanks for the whisky, and Jorge almost smiles when he opens his present: How to Make Small Talk, which the blurb calls a book of conversation starters.

Linda gives me a silk scarf, Jorge a bottle of wine, and Tony gives me a coffee cup with prison bars on it. He gets an unimpressed look in return, but later I see the funny side.

Van Wyk’s left a present for me too, and I didn’t get him anything. From the feel, it’s a book. That’s safe to open with an audience, right? It’s not a vibrating butt plug.

The Atlas of Deadly Plants drops onto the table, and Tony raises an eyebrow. I stare at it, remembering he promised he’d do this. I was supposed to get him a book on antidotes, and I haven’t.

Don’t I feel shit. But at least I can now poison him and it’ll be more effective.

Except I no longer want to. I just want him here.

I cover it with the paper and smile across the table, ignoring the pricking of tears.

Afterward, I help Linda clean everything away. Not just because it’s what family does, but because if there’s ever an opportunity to get her to open up, it’s now.

“I miss Lukas,” I say, wistful. “It’s difficult, you know. Following in Juliette’s shoes, I mean.”

Linda pats my hand. “It’s quite obvious Lukas adores you.”

Obvious to her, maybe. Far from it to me. After all, where is he?

“No doubt he adored Juliette too,” I say, keeping the conversation on that subject.