The kitchen door is shoved part-way open and I catch a furious snippet of conversation. ‘… just saying, you shouldn’t be drinking wine tonight. The doctor said—’
‘I know what the doctor said,’ snaps Ada, cutting off her husband. The door opens further and then stops abruptly, as though someone is trying to pull it closed. ‘What’re you doing?’
‘Don’t just walk away,’ implores Ethan. He sighs deeply. ‘If we want to get pregnant, we need to follow his instructions.’
‘We?’ Ada’s laugh is knife-sharp and stabbing.
‘What?’
There’s a terse silence. My heart pounds; I absolutely should not be privy to this conversation – maybe I should duck into the laundry room and hide.
‘Go back to the guests,’ says Ada firmly. ‘It’s rude to leave them so long.’
‘Fine.’
Ethan’s footsteps recede.
I hop off the stool and turn towards the utility room. But there’s no time to hide because Ada strides inside. When she sees me, she jumps, hand on heart. ‘Jesus, Elodie, what’re you doing in here?’
‘Getting some air.’
Her brows knit together. Ada is blessed with gorgeous brows, the kind you see in beauty adverts. She opens her mouth to ask more questions I don’t want to answer but I beat her to it. ‘What’re you doing in here – shouldn’t you be hosting?’
Her mouth closes and she glances briefly at the kitchen door, wondering how much I heard. ‘Elderflower,’ she says simply. ‘We’re out.’
I watch as she moves over to the fridge. She’s tense, I see it in her neck and shoulders. I’ve never heard her and Ethan have a cross word or even a friendly little bicker, and I think I’ve just seen a crack in their shiny veneer. Then I notice her trembling hands. ‘Ada, are you okay?’
My pulse kicks again as I wait for her to reply. She busies herself in the fridge longer than necessary, like she’s trying to avoid the question. I wonder how often people bother to ask Ada if she’s okay; she’s always so perfectly put together that the question seems irrelevant. When she turns to me, she looks weary. I’m not sure if it’s Ruby’s comments or the tension between her and Ethan. Maybe this is our moment to reconnect, to fix whatever was damaged. I look at my sister and I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing. ‘Yes,’ she says with forced lightness. ‘Everything’s great. Hosting is busy work, but I love it.’
I nod, sad that she decided to lie but then, who am I to judge?
‘And you?’ she asks, coming closer. It’s the same soothing tone she used after Noah died. ‘Are you okay?’
I’m grateful she’s asked, and I can tell she’s genuinely interested in my answer, even though it means I have to lie too. Because if I tell the truth, it will be out there, hanging in the air between us and impossible to stuff back into my mouth. I’ll come to pieces and I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to stick myself back together again. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘Great. Everything is just so great.’
‘That’s great!’ she enthuses and, for a second, I’m disappointed she’s fallen for it. ‘And, um …’ There’s a shift in mood. She puts the elderflower on the kitchen island and drums her fingers on the countertop. ‘Ignore what Ruby said. You don’t need a baby to complete you.’
‘Yeah, sure. I don’t think she’ll be dishing out any life advice to me after tonight anyway …’
Ada grins. ‘Her face when you told her you like your vagina separate from your anus!’
We laugh. We really laugh. Ada is cackling so hard, she’s turning pink.
She wipes tears from her eyes.
A thought pops into my head and then out of my mouth on my next breath. ‘I don’t know why anyone would choose to spend time with Ruby; she can be such an arsehole.’
‘Can’t everyone?’ she counters. ‘She can be a little insensitive sometimes, but she’s there for me. We talk.’
I nod, even though I’m downcast we don’t share that kind of closeness anymore.
‘You know,’ she says, ‘it’s admirable that you’re out there, doing what you want to do, chasing what you want.’
I’m not sure what to say or how to react. This moment of warmth between us is rare; it’s the first time since Noah’s funeral that the frost between us has thawed a little, and she’s felt more like a sister than an acquaintance. I want to ask her why she took off without a word that morning, but I don’t want to spoil the moment so instead I say, ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m glad you got what you want, Ellie-Bee.’
The use of my old nickname jars. It’s one I haven’t heard in years. One that is just ours. Ada always said when I was little, I was annoying, like a bee, buzzing from one space to another but, without me, everything would wither away.
‘You too – the husband, the house in the nice part of town.’
She hesitates. ‘Yes, we’re both lucky.’
I think of the terse conversation between her and Ethan. Everyone thinks the Archers are the happiest couple in the world, living the perfect life – I often think it too – but sometimes I look at my sister and I swear she’s sad. Maybe this perfect home is actually the perfect gilded cage. ‘Ada,’ I say tentatively, worried I’m going to wreck the delicate truce we have between the Aga and the fridge. ‘Is everything between you and Ethan okay?’
When her eyes find mine, I feel it all the way to my stomach.
Then the kitchen door swings open. It’s Mum. ‘Ada, Ethan needs you.’
I manage another five minutes of the party before it’s all too much. I am guilty and sick. Without saying goodbye, I grab my coat and slip out into the night. Crunching across the gravelled drive, I concentrate only on putting one foot in front of another. I make it onto the street. A shadow crosses my path and when I look up, I suck in a short, sharp breath.
Him.
He stops and stares. The amber light from the streetlamp reflects off his glasses. He’s wearing a black jumper beneath a blue anorak even though it’s still hot out. There’s a flash of something across his face – surprise maybe, or triumph. Standing this close to the man I’m sure has been following me makes fear flood my veins. I start to back away, hands raised to fend him off; every step I take back, he takes forward.
‘Leave me alone,’ I hiss with a confidence I don’t feel.
‘I—’
I don’t hear what he says because my heel catches. I tumble backwards over the low wall around my sister’s front garden. I hit the ground hard, my wrist buckling beneath me, screaming as pain shoots through it. The man rushes forward, grabbing my injured wrist and I scream again. There’s light, then footsteps thundering towards us. I’m cradling my wrist as a dark shape flies past. I look up. Jack swings for him. There’s a dull crunch as his fist connects. The man falls onto his back, groaning into the hands that cup his nose. Blood seeps through the gaps between his fingers.
Jack takes me by the upper arm and guides me to my feet. ‘You okay?’