“You startled me, too. I’ve brought Will’s trousers for you.”
Lilian looked at her watch. “But it’s midnight.”
“That’s why I didn’t knock. Um, I’ve been having a clear out, to make room for Will and Rose staying over...”
“That’s a big job.”
“It’s been going well.” Even though her sister’s shoulders were hunched and her eyes weary, Martha wanted to tell her about Zelda, too. “Do you mind if I introduce them to Nana?”
“I hope you’re not telling me that she’s going to be there?”
“I kind of invited her to stay at the same time.”
The two sisters stared at each other.
Martha opened her mouth to speak but Lilian raised a hand to cut her off. She paused, then cast her eyes down. Slowly, her face fell. Letting out a sob, it rang around the garden.
“Oh no. What’s wrong? Is this about Zelda?” Martha stepped forward. “Do you want a tissue? They have aloe vera in them, and—”
“No.” Lilian wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She stood for a few moments, her toes still curled upward. “Please, will you come inside with me?”
Martha gazed over at her trolley, hidden in the bush. She still had lots of deliveries to make, but for the first time ever, her sister seemed to need her. “Of course,” she said, her fingers flexing for her notepad.
“It’s Paul,” Lilian said between sniffs as they sat in the almost-completed conservatory with the lights turned off. The air smelled of fresh paint and Jo Malone Pomegranate Noir candles. “I think he’s about to start an affair...”
“Oh.” Martha leaned forward and the cream leather sofa squeaked. “No. That can’t be right.”
“He’s working with a new girl, Annabel. She has huge boobs. Her eyebrows are like slugs, but Paul’s smitten. He keeps talking about her. He says he doesn’t fancy her, but I found emails between the two of them. They were flirting, and he’s working away tonight. I don’t know if he’s with her, or not.”
“But he loves you.”
“I thought so, too.” Lilian sighed. “He said that I’m cold towards him.”
“But you’re so perfect together,” Martha said. “Like Romeo and Juliet, or Heathcliff and Cathy.”
“Didn’t their stories end in tragedy?”
“Hmm.” Martha nodded meekly.
“Will and Rose are asleep,” Lilian added. “They’re excited about staying over at your place. They don’t know there’s anything wrong.”
“You’ve got to talk to him. You’re beautiful and he can’t possible prefer someone with slug eyebrows.”
Lilian gave a short laugh. “Thanks, Martha. I’ll do my best. I’ve invited Paul to the hotel with me, when I work away.”
“Do Will and Rose know that?”
“No. We’ve never been away without them. I think they might guess something wasn’t right.”
“My lips are sealed.”
A car drove past, briefly illuminating their faces.
“So, you had dinner with Zelda?” Lilian toyed with the belt on her dressing gown. She turned her face so Martha couldn’t see her features, in the darkness. “What happened?”
“I drank too much. I fell asleep after the dinner.”
“I meant, with our grandma?”
“I think I know what you mean,” Martha admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said. That she didn’t die in 1982, and you knew that.”
Lilian didn’t speak for a while. “I shouldn’t have said it.”
“But you did. What happened?”
“What did she tell you?”
“Nothing.” Martha gave an exasperated sigh. “Why do I feel that everyone knows something that I don’t? Zelda had a brain tumor, and her health isn’t good. She’s an old lady and doesn’t have much time left.” She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “Don’t you want to see her, Lilian? Perhaps she’ll talk if you’re there, too.”
Lilian shifted in her chair. “About what?”
“About what went on in our family. Mum and Dad told us that she’d died, but she didn’t. And you know something about that...”
“It was just something that Mum said, years ago. That’s all. I didn’t think too much about it at the time. Until you told me that Nana was still alive.”
Martha thought how her sister’s words sounded vague. She had sounded so certain the other day. “You told me to be careful...” she prompted.
Lilian leaned her head back and looked up at her large wooden ceiling fan. “You’re digging up the past, Martha, when it’s probably best to let it remain buried. I know you and Nana were close, but things must have happened in our family that we don’t know about.”
“I spent every day with Mum and Dad for years,” Martha said. “How could I not know things? They told us a huge lie. Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know.” Lilian shook her head. “But they did, and there must be a reason for it. Don’t you remember how Nana and Dad didn’t get on? She constantly wound him up.”
“They weren’t best friends, but they didn’t hate each other,” Martha started. Or had she forgotten things? Was she too busy writing her stories, trying to interpret the atmosphere in the Storm household, without actually seeing what was going on? “If you know something, Lilian, please tell me.”
Lilian remained with her face in the shadows. “I don’t know a thing about it,” she said. “But I do know that I don’t want our nana spending any time with Will and Rose.”
24
Invitation
Betty, 1982
Asking people over for tea was something that didn’t happen often in the Storm household. Thomas constantly made it clear that Zelda wasn’t welcome in the house, and Betty’s friends had dwindled so she didn’t go out as much. Thomas didn’t socialize, preferring to spend time at home. So Betty was surprised to find that he’d invited his parents around for tea, without asking her first.
Eleanor and Dylan Storm lived in a posh penthouse apartment in Cornwall, with a sea view. They sent Martha and Lilian checks for their birthdays and Christmas, and caught the train once a year for the long journey up to Sandshift for one of Dylan’s golf tournaments.
Thomas, Betty and the girls usually met them in their hotel restaurant for a stilted Sunday lunch, where Eleanor would order a glass of champagne and barely touch her salmon. She wore small round felt hats pinned to the side of her head, and matching tweed jacket-and-skirt sets. Thomas insisted that Betty, Martha and Lilian wear their best clothes when they went along.
Whenever Thomas talked about his mother, he made her sound perfect. She was a brilliant, loving woman who made the best cakes ever. She was a great seamstress and always kept a beautiful home. Betty noticed that Eleanor let her husband enter the room before her and agreed with everything he said, smiling beatifically at his comments.
To her, she was a reminder of how Thomas wanted her to be.
The day before Betty and Thomas’s wedding, Eleanor took Betty to one side for a chat. “You’re getting married so terribly quickly, I feel I hardly know you.” Her eyes flitted, examining her from head to toe. “I want the best for my son and I want your assurance you only have his best interests at heart.”
Betty thought that Eleanor’s words sounded a little like a threat. “Yes. Of course. I’ll do my best.”
“Well.” Eleanor sniffed. “Only time will tell if that’s good enough.”
When Betty walked down the aisle, Eleanor sat in the front row, her eyes pinned to her son. She didn’t smile and wore a dark gray dress more suited to a funeral.
Throughout the ceremony and reception, Betty swore she could feel her new mother-in-law’s animosity towards her.
Dylan Storm was friendlier. He was an older version of Thomas, but with granite-gray hair and jowls that wobbled. When he talked, he stood with his hands behind his back. The two men talked about the changing world of accountancy, the bible and cricket. Nothing that Betty could relate to.
“Your parents don’t usually come over to the house,” Betty said. “Is there a special occasion?”
Thomas tutted and shook his head. “Have you forgotten what special month and year this is?”
Betty frowned and could only think of one possibility. “Um, it’s our sixteenth wedding anniversary.”