Page 157 of Guilty Pleasures

Her cold confession had stunned Emma. She had been completely wrong-footed.

‘I’m sorry your father walked out on you,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady, ‘but it’s not my father’s fault. My dad didn’t have an affair with Aunt Julia. She’s my mother’s sister.’

‘Another one of your certainties? Well, I saw it with my own eyes,’ spat Cassandra. ‘That first summer we went to Provence, the night of the party. Most of the kids were in bed, but I thought I was too old to be tucked up with

the children. I walked out deep into the grounds, to that tool shed.’

Cassandra’s voice trailed off, as if it was taking every ounce of will to keep herself under control.

‘I saw my mother in there having sex with your father. Sex I didn’t understand then, but which I recognize now. Wild and hungry sex. Sex that breaks up families because it’s so exciting it’s like a drug which makes everything that’s gone before seem hollow and meaningless.’

‘It was dark, it could have been anyone,’ said Emma, knowing how weak her argument sounded, but still desperate to deny her father’s involvement.

‘It was them,’ said Cassandra. ‘My father left us three months later. Abandoned us. Your father broke up our family. I came back from my first term at school and he had gone. I grew up without a father.’

The moonlight was shining a milky light down at them. Behind them the church bells rang out their midnight Christmas peal.

‘So every kick you give me makes you feel a little better? Is that it?’ said Emma softly. ‘Well, it’s not going to bring him back.’

Cassandra turned towards Emma so quickly, she slipped on the icy path.

‘Don’t you dare give me your pseudo-psychoanalysis!’ she hissed. ‘You think your father ruined my whole life because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants? You think I’m some heartbroken little girl who’s using success to make up for Daddy not loving me? You’ve been watching too much Oprah, honey.’

Cassandra held up one hand, her fingers curling into a tight fist. ‘This isn’t about my hurt feelings, Emma. This is about revenge.’

Emma’s eyes widened as she saw the fury in Cassandra’s face.

‘And believe me, darling, I’ve barely even begun.’

Cassandra turned and strode on ahead. Emma could do nothing but watch her go.

‘Is it true?’

Emma was standing by her mother’s bedroom door. Virginia had changed into her dressing gown and was turned towards the dressing table mirror, putting on face cream. In the dim light, her mother’s face was pale, almost ghoulish in the reflection.

‘Is what true, darling?’

Emma came in and sat on the blue and white gingham bedspread.

‘That Dad and Aunt Julia had an affair? Was that why Uncle Desmond left her?’

She watched her mother’s face carefully but she didn’t even flinch, she simply carried on with her task.

‘Who told you this?’ she said finally.

‘Cassandra.’

Virginia turned round to face her daughter.

‘Jonathon will be back in a moment,’ she said, looking over Emma’s shoulder. ‘He’s only gone to get some coffee.’

‘Cassandra said she saw them,’ insisted Emma. ‘She saw them together the summer before Dad died. Uncle Desmond found out and that’s why he left Julia.’

For a moment, Virginia had a faraway look in her eye as if her mind had drifted off somewhere else. Then her face tensed, as if she were about to deny everything, then her cool face saddened with emotion, as an old wound re-opened, raw and bloody.

‘Tell me, Mum,’ said Emma softly.

‘Some of it’s true, some of it isn’t,’ she said, walking over to the bedroom door and closing it. ‘Yes, your father and Julia had sex in Provence. You’re a grown-up, Emma, you know how it can happen. You’re drunk, it’s hot, you’re on holiday and caution flies out of the window on nights like that.’ Her voice had the edge of sarcasm and the hint of regret. It was as if she were reciting lines from an old play she had long ago ceased to enjoy.