Page 172 of Guilty Pleasures

‘Yes, you two seem to be getting on well,’ said Virginia icily.

‘Mother! I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘Well, do you trust him?’ asked Virginia, examining her daughter through narrow eyes.

‘You mean as a tenant?’ asked Emma, surprised at her strange question.

‘I mean after what happened in Gstaad.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I thought he was at the hospital very soon after your accident.’

‘He was in Courchevel, Mother. What are you suggesting?’ she repeated.

Virginia paused and took a sip of her champagne.

‘A police officer in Gstaad told me you were convinced someone had deliberately tried to kill you.’

‘And you think it was Rob?’ said Emma incredulously.

‘Not necessarily,’ she mused after a long pregnant pause. ‘I just thought it was odd, convenient, he was around so quickly.’

Emma shook her head. She was used to her mother’s arctic attitude towards life, but this was a new standard.

‘I don’t know what happened in Gstaad, Mum,’ said Emma. ‘What I do know is that it wasn’t odd for Rob to be at the hospital at all. He’s my friend and I trust him.’

‘You sound like you’re in love with him,’ said Virginia with a note of disapproval.

‘I like him a lot,’ replied Emma, stony-faced.

‘I’m your mother, darling. I only want to protect you.’

‘Is that so?’ said Emma sharply. It had been a day of e

motional peaks and troughs; elation, worry, surprise, and Emma felt about ready to snap.

‘When have you ever really cared about me or my life?’ she hissed. ‘You’ve never particularly supported me, or tried to understand me – do you even know me? Yes, I’m your daughter, but I’m hardly a priority, am I? I have always come such a poor second to your life with Jonathon that I barely even register. It might suit you now to suddenly start caring, but don’t bother. For once, I’m really, really happy. Don’t go trying to spoil it.’

Virginia’s face had drained of all colour. Gently touching her daughter’s arm, she drew her away from the crowd into a quieter alcove.

‘Is that how you really feel?’ she asked.

Dizzy with relief at having finally aired feelings which had been bottled up for so many years, Emma nodded. Virginia bowed her head. As she looked up her face looked softer, more vulnerable.

‘Emma, whatever you think, you’re my daughter and I love you.’

‘So why have you spent the last twenty years behaving like you don’t care?’

‘Because you’re so much like him,’ she whispered.

‘Dad?’

Virginia nodded, her eyes glistening with moisture.

‘He had an affair with my sister, Emma. Can you imagine how painful that feels, how worthless it makes you feel? And then he died,’ she said her voice racked with sorrow. ‘I loved him so much and he died not loving me.’ A tear trickled down her face, leaving a thin silver line of foundation.

Emma touched her mother’s arm. ‘But he did love you. You told me yourself that it was a mistake, just a summer fling.’