‘But you were fonder of him.’
Maggie ignores the provocation. ‘Whatever it is you’re up to, Amber, please don’t hurt Vicky. It was my fault and my weakness. If you’re looking for an apology, I’ll gladly give you one, but leave my family alone.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Maggie sighs, waits for a moment and then tucks her hair behind her ears and leans forward until she’s as close to Amber as she can get. She speaks quietly, aware of the children in the other room. ‘You are flirting with Tom. It’s a waste of time. He’s not interested in you. He loves my daughter. You won’t succeed in breaking them up.’
‘Who says I want to?’
‘Anyone with eyes. You’re jealous of Vicky. It’s written all over your face. That’s what that display was all about – attention seeking. Leave them alone, Katya.’
‘It’s Amber!’
Her cry takes Maggie by surprise. She lurches into the back of her chair, her hand splayed protectively across the region of her heart. Amber is half standing, her hands pressed on to the table, her face twisted.
‘Why did you leave me, Maggie? I was a child. How can you live with yourself?’
‘I …’
‘You knew things weren’t right. Don’t deny it. I don’t forgive you and I don’t accept your apology. You said so many things that weren’t true. You made promises you never intended to keep. You are pathetic and a coward, and I’m going to hit you where it’ll hurt you most. I can do what I like with Vicky’s life. Try and stop me. I don’t care. I’ll enjoy it.’
The door opens and she spins round. Sophie looks from one woman to the other, a worried frown buckling her forehead.
‘Will you come and watch us now?’
Amber sniffs and wipes her eyes. ‘Of course we will. We just need to wait for Vicky and Tom to get back from their walk.’
‘Why are you crying, Mummy?’
Maggie leaps up and walks out of the room. Amber listens to her footsteps fade before she replies.
‘Give Mummy a hug.’
Sophie climbs on to her knee, puts her arms around her and presses her cheek to Amber’s. ‘Are you sad?’
‘It’s the shock of falling in the pool, darling. I’ll be all right. Your play will cheer me up.’
28
TOM AND I stroll along the track in silence, vineyards to either side of us, the grapes still small and hard as bullets. Our feet disturb the yellow dust and scatter loose pebbles. I turn and glance at the big white villa and rub the back of my neck. I have horrible butterflies. I can’t be expected to keep everything screwed down so tightly.
‘Tom, I need to ask you something.’
He takes my hand and the gesture is so reassuring that I nearly change my mind. But then I think about Amber last night. That conversation with Tom was instigated by her. She could have stuck to talking about children and houses. She didn’t need to get personal.
‘I should have told Amber Maggie was coming. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have snapped at you about it.’
‘It’s not that.’ I watch a bird of prey hovering in the distance. This is the hardest thing to do and surprisingly humiliating.
‘What is it then?’
‘Is there anything going on between you two?’
That stops him. He turns and looks at me, shading his eyes. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
I walk faster but he grabs hold of my hand. ‘Vicky?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Well, obviously it isn’t. Talk to me.’
‘All right.’ I stoop and pick up a stone, fling it ahead of us and wait to see where it finishes up. It bounces and settles on the dry verge. ‘It feels like the two of you are getting a little too close.’
He groans. ‘You daft cow. There is absolutely nothing going on between us. She would be as horrified as me if she knew you thought that.’
‘You won’t tell her, will you?’
He smirks. ‘Are you jealous?’
‘I might be.’
‘Come here.’
He puts his arm around me and we stand locked together, a warm breeze encircling us. An aeroplane sings high overhead, cutting a white trail through small puffs of cloud. Out of the house and away from Amber’s presence I feel more confident and lighter; willing to believe him and disbelieve my own eyes.
‘Victoria, I adore-yer.’
I punch his stomach playfully. ‘You are so pleased with that, aren’t you?’
We have gathered in the smaller of the two sitting rooms, each of us clutching a ticket. Each ticket has a drawing on it that has some connection to us. Mine has a ruler because I’m a teacher. Mum’s has a portrait of Max, Tom’s has a motorbike that looks like a stag beetle on wheels and Amber’s has a picture of a house. Tom has moved the furniture so that the white leather sofa and matching armchairs are in a row. For the set, the three girls have built the walls of a castle using cushions stolen from the two sofas in the other room.
Mum and I sit side by side. Amber and Tom take the chairs. I lean forward and look beyond my mother and see that Amber is still wearing Tom’s sweater. She seems to have recovered from her ordeal. I glance at Tom and he sends me a rueful smile. When I frown at him, his smile widens.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Sophie says with aplomb. ‘We welcome you to our show, which is called The Princess and the Witch.’
We all clap madly and settle down to twenty minutes of chaos, bossiness, tears and suppressed hysteria. Sophie Collins is clearly the star, a born performer. She owns the stage, swirling around in a pink sparkly vest and one of her mother’s skirts. Emily wants everyone to stick rigidly to the plan, even if, like Polly, they can’t remember what it is. Polly can’t take her huge eyes off me and every so often wanders over for a hug. I haven’t laughed so much in ages. I take pictures and film short bursts for posterity on my phone. At the end, we give them a standing ovation. Emily bows, Sophie curtseys and Polly stands there with a daft grin on her face and the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks.
After that, it seems only fair to let them watch a DVD. Mum wants to get out of the house, so I suggest going to Sant Cugat to see the ancient Benedictine monastery. She seems odd – on edge and nervy – so even though I’d have preferred to get stuck into my book, I agree. Unfortunately, Tom doesn’t want to come.
‘But why not? I thought you wanted to see it.’
‘I think it’s a bit much to ask Amber to look after the children, especially after what she’s been through today,’ he says. ‘And I need to answer emails.’
I stare at him and he stares back, the corners of his mouth lifting. He thinks it’s funny that I’m bothered.
‘I wasn’t intending to leave Josh.’
It’s a pathetic effort and is ignored by everyone. Mum isn’t averse to spending an afternoon without the children and points out that I barely ever see her without at least one of them in tow these days.
‘I’m not sure I like your friend very much.’