Page 43 of Annabel and Her Sisters

‘Well, that’s love for you,’ observed Andrea, in a strong Spanish accent. ‘Sukey, isn’t it? Delightful name. Love clearly suits you. And your mother, of course, keeps young by flirting with the entire community– but never dating any of them! All the men adore her.’

‘Oh, what nonsense!’ Pammy beamed, thrilled.

‘Pleased to hear it,’ said Ted darkly, as Andrea blew us all an extravagant kiss and tottered back to her table. He sat down again.

‘Don’t listen to her, darling,’ Pammy said. ‘I haven’t flirted since the sixties. Oh, Reggie darling– you’re back! What a treat.’ Pammy flashed a dazzling smile at some old boy who’d just wobbled through the door on two sticks, no Zimmer for him. ‘How was Marbella?’

‘Ghastly,’ he foghorned, staggering erratically across, back bowed. ‘Don’t know why I bothered. Full of thieves. Had my wallet pinched. You look ravishing, Pammy.’

And then they had an extravagant flirt as Ted and I smiled.

No different to our generation? They were much worse.

I thought of Polly, with her codes of truth and honour.

She’d once kissed another boy at a club in Majorca and insisted, tearfully, she had to tell Max, who’d broken it off for four months.

Four months! For a snog! Why was I thinking about Polly, when there was so much else to process?

I realized my hand was trembling as I picked up my wine.

‘You’re in shock,’ Ted said kindly. ‘Come on. When she’s had her profiteroles, we’ll make our way.’

‘But you’ve only just got here.’

‘Flora’s popping by later, she can pick up the reins. I was due to come down next week anyway, I’ll see her then. I’ve got a prospective client with a massive cellar nearby.’

The profiteroles arrived and Reggie stayed, lowering himself precariously from his sticks while a waiter hovered, discreetly helping him into his seat– he was clearly lunching alone– and then murmuring ‘Steak tartare, sir?’ After Ted had paid the entire bill, despite my protests and with a roar of thanks from Reggie, we left them to it.

As I gathered my jacket, Pammy broke off from her friend, her eyes large. She regarded me anxiously and rested a hand on my arm. ‘Darling, I do hope…’

‘You had to tell me, Pammy,’ I insisted.

‘I made you. Don’t think anything different.

And I’m so grateful. I’m also grateful,’ I told her, ‘for you. For the way you looked after my mother so beautifully, so sweetly, and for finding my lovely father for her. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. Truly.’

Her eyes cleared with some kind of relief at that. Surprise was there, too: I don’t think it had ever really occurred to her. Ted leaned down and kissed her fondly, and we left.

Out in the street, Ted gave my shoulders a squeeze. ‘All right?’

‘Yes. Coming round. It all makes so much sense now, actually, in hindsight. My whole childhood– it’s playing out like a screenplay in my head and it all fits into place.

Mum and Dad bent over backwards to accommodate Clarissa; it used to really annoy Ginnie and me, actually– we toed the line much more.

It seemed so unfair. Now we know why. But for her not to say anything, to effectively live a lie, all her life… ’ I shook my head. ‘It’s baffling.’

‘Do you think Derek knows?’

‘I don’t know. I sort of… doubt it, somehow, don’t you?’

‘Probably.’

We’d reached the residents’ home by now and our cars, in the almost empty gravel space, were conveniently side by side. As we fished our keys out I glanced up.

‘Ted, could we have lunch next week? When I’ve talked to Ginnie? I just know I’ll feel the need to rehash it again, with someone who knows.’

‘Of course, I’d love that. Christ, I’ve got nothing else on.’

I glanced up at him, surprised. His tone had been wry, ironic.

‘How was Ibiza?’

‘God-awful, since you ask,’ he said cheerfully. He thrust his hands ruefully in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

‘You’re kidding.’ I was astonished. ‘I thought you were having a ball?’

‘ I thought I’d be having a ball. But trust me, trying to twist myself into unnatural positions on a sun-baked lawn on a rubber mat is not my idea of fun.’

‘But you didn’t have to do the yoga, surely? Couldn’t you read a book in the shade with a large glass of vino? Do what you do best?’

‘I wasn’t allowed to,’ he said bleakly. ‘She’s a tyrant.’

‘Oh.’ I looked at him. He tried to return my gaze, but his eyes flitted away. ‘She’s too bossy, Annie. For me, anyway.’

‘Oh Ted, I’m so sorry. I thought she was the one!’

‘Yes, me too, and she’s very attractive, and extremely lithe, naturally, but she wants– needs– someone similar, who’s going to juice kale and forage for seeds and do all that wellness malarkey.

She kept on about my leaky gut, for God’s sake, and how I had to readjust my body settings with apple cider vinegar– it’s filthy by the way, I tried it.

I finally snapped when we went to some equally woo-woo friend of hers who asked me if I’d like to do meditation and breath work with them after lunch and I said I’d rather play backgammon and nurse a brandy.

Sukey was not amused. In fact, Sukey is rarely amused, humour isn’t really her thing.

’ He said it dismally and looked a bit bleak, remembering.

Then he rallied. ‘Ah well, back to the drawing board. How are the builder and the vicar?’

‘The builder’s out, he’s too fit. His biceps bulge under his T-shirt.’

Ted shuddered. ‘A gym bunny.’

‘And the vicar…’ I said thoughtfully, ‘the vicar’s nice, actually. He’s at an evangelical festival this week.’

‘Go tell it on the mountain?’

‘Apparently it’s all changed, he texted me. To his surprise they’ve got quite a cool band. Even Luke had heard of them.’

‘Right. And you didn’t feel spiritually inclined to join him?’

‘I wasn’t asked.’ For some reason a small wave of uncertainty swept over me. Had I been asked? Not really. Would I have gone? Probably not. Would I have liked to be asked? I remembered the safety of my sofa, enjoying just chatting to him. No, it was the distance I’d liked. Pathetic.

‘You know what, Ted, we have to make more of an effort,’ I said urgently.

‘We’re too easily put off, you and me, that’s what Polly says.

We have to make ourselves fall in love, have a bit more– you know– mettle.

Maybe you and Sukey would hit it off better back here, on home turf?

Without the rubber mats and the lotus position.

Take her to a wine tasting, or something? ’

‘She doesn’t drink. And she told me off for having a whisky in the evening. When I told her the only yoga position I liked seeing her in was Downward Dog, she didn’t find it funny.’

I giggled.

‘She’s a bore, Annie. Think Clarissa, but thin and pretty, in a leotard.’

‘Christ.’ The mention of my sister’s name brought me sharply back to reality.

‘I must go, Ted,’ I said, hurriedly. ‘I must away to Ginnie. I can’t know all of this without her knowing, if you see what I mean. I’ll see you next week. But don’t do anything rash.’

‘What, like dump her? I’m just about to. Think I can text her?’

‘No! It’s not allowed. Polly says so.’

Terror filled his eyes. ‘You mean I have to phone?’

I hesitated, feeling his pain. ‘Yes.’

‘I can’t possibly see her,’ he yelped, spotting my fib. ‘We’re talking living daylights, here!’

‘I’m pretty sure a call will be fine,’ I soothed.

‘OK, I’ll do it tonight.’

‘And have a stiff gin first.’

‘God, you bet. And a whisky chaser.’