(2013) Four Widows (24 page)

Chapter Thirty Five

Book of Revelation

How to take one’s mind off who murdered your husband: throw yourself headfirst into missing-person mysteries and the unexplained reappearance of Ted. Lost and found.

Kate wasn’t herself on the drive home. Quiet by nature, yes, but this was an impenetrable, brooding silence. It was obvious what was bothering her even though she barely spoke a word: to walk out on your wife is one thing, to walk out on a child is unforgivable. We sank into silence; Cece mostly quiet, too, opening up only to occasionally confirm facts about Sophia. I had to admire her keen questioning.

“She was once married to someone who made torpedo launch systems?”

“Yes,” I confirmed wearily.

“No children?”

“Not with him.”

“So Ted
is
the father?”

“That’s what she said.” My head still hurt.

“Nice divorce settlement.”

“I guess”

“Uh huh. So Ted, what was it that first attracted you to the millionairess divorcee?”

Kate eventually spoke. “Why do you think he came back?”

Cece snorted so violently she almost drove us off the road. “Sonofabitch. Who knows?”

I sat with my eyes shut and tried to clear space in my head. Imogen and her sugar mice. She loves them.

We took time out. I didn’t see the girls for about a week after our trip to Crieff and Suzanne was none the wiser, too wrapped up in work and Ted. And even though my personal life was shot to pieces, Edinburgh couldn’t have been happier. The Fringe was in full swing with thousands of performances crammed into the four-week window. Work, thank God, was in a good place and I spent more time with Jim when the others weren’t around. I missed them, though, needing to regain the camaraderie as before. We did meet up for drinks one night but Suzanne’s absence left a sizeable dent in us.

Then things shifted. Kate assumed Cece’s role. Forthright and firm, she suggested Cece and I meet her for breakfast before work. She sent a text:
8am at Ribbons.

“We should tell Suzanne about Sophia,” she said, coming straight to the point. We hadn’t even ordered coffee.

Cece agreed. “Yup, good idea.”

This is coming from Cece who once told us that Shania Twain lost her voice when her husband left her for her best friend. “Lost. Her. Voice,” reiterated Cece, “which is a HELLISH thing to happen to a singer.”

I reminded her. “But what about the Shania-shock factor?”

“It is for the best.”

Kate continued. “It’s been three weeks since the Bollinger Bar. Has anyone spoken to her; I mean
properly
?”

Cece and I shook our heads.

“She should know the truth,” said Cece, warming to the theme. “Shania remarried,” she added pointedly.

“Perhaps she knows the truth,” I said, wanly.

Cece looked at me. “C’mon?”

“What do you suggest?” Cece questioned Kate.

“We meet up for drinks. All of us.”

Cece and Kate looked at me; to see if I was on board. I closed my eyes, imagining the fallout.

“Suzanne’s not going to like this.”

Cece was quick to point out that Ted had walked out on his five-year-old daughter without even saying goodbye. “He doesn’t deserve good people around him, including someone like Suzanne,” she reasoned. “Isn’t it time to stop the cycle?”

In truth, I knew Sophia told us about her daughter for a reason–men who abandon their children tend not to get the women’s vote: not even the
other
woman’s vote.

And if Suzanne didn’t want him, there was a good chance he would return to Sophia. Unreliable as he was, she still wanted him. Maybe she didn’t do it for herself but for her daughter. Perhaps she just couldn’t unlove him. Whatever her reasons, I can still hear her voice, ringing tinnitus-persistent in our ears:
I have a daughter
.

We sat outside. Cece’s garden was still incredibly warm even though gone 9pm. Daylight’s dimmer switch had been turned down and shadows gathered. Clouds soaked up the red ink spill from the sun turning the sky from crimson to purple.

I was nervous. We all were.

I told myself we would sit down together, catch up. It would be like old times when Suzanne got here.

Cece fussed about and I realised that she was unsettled; nervous, too, which didn’t fill me with great confidence.

“Drinks, nibbles?” she asked.

“
Definitely
drinks,” I replied.

Then Suzanne was here.

“She should
not
look good in that,” said Cece pointing the finger at Suzanne who walked through the door in a startling neon-yellow ruffled silk-chiffon and lace blouse with matching skirt. She hollered at Suzanne. “Grandmothers decorate fine-wood furniture in lace doilies like that. How do you do it?”

Suzanne’s cheeks dimpled as she smiled. “It’s the heat. I’m
dying
. Fabric with holes from now to forever.”

We rushed over to welcome her.

“I’ve come straight from the studio,” she panted. “
Finally
, more space to work.”

She hugged us hard, fizzing with enthusiasm. “I’ve missed you all stupidly. Unfortunately, setting up the new studio has been time-consuming work. I’m on a creative buzz right now.
Everything
is coming together.”

“Even with Ted around?” Cece asked casually.

I felt my stomach tighten.

“Yes!” she beamed. “We are taking it slow, which is good.
We
are good.”

She turned her attention to me and asked about
Corset
–and how terrifically exciting it was to see a Gracie Gold dress on the cover of a magazine.

Kate was quiet and I sensed impatience. She seemed exasperated with Suzanne, curt with questions and answers, although, fortunately, it went unnoticed. Cece, meanwhile, exchanged meaningful looks with Kate: ambush imminent.

“Drinks?” I asked, heading to the kitchen.

Cece followed me. “I don’t like this any more than you do,” she hissed.

I could sense that Cece was about to back down but, at that moment, Kate joined us. “I’m going to speak to her,” she said, holding her glass out for a refill.

“She seems happy,” I said lamely.

“He walked out on his daughter,” snapped Kate.

“Okay, so we tell her what we know,” reasoned Cece. “We’re not asking her to make any decisions. She does what she wants with the truth.”

I grabbed a bottle of white wine. “I’m not convinced.”

Cece tried to reassure me. “For all we know, he’s told her–we could be getting fussed up over nothin’.”

“Not
nothing
,” said Kate.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I said, taking a deep breath and shutting the fridge door.

“Do what?” asked Suzanne, standing on the top step leading into the kitchen.

We must have looked as though we were trying to steal gold from the bank vault because Suzanne frowned, puzzled. “What’s up?”

Kate cleared her throat. “Let’s go outside.”

Dear God, I won’t forget what happened next in a hurry. It will be one of those memories that will never be buried too deep: I will be able to access it easily; a word will trigger it; scent of perfume; the smell of burning candles. It will bring it all flooding back.

Quietness settled over us; perhaps cities do sleep or more likely people simply grind to a halt. Unlike us, families would be relaxing before bedtime, curled up on sofas staring at television screens, beating off the punishing heat with a dark room.

I see stars that could outshine a high-noon sun. I can feel the faintest breeze at last, sensing there will soon be a break in the hot weather. I am aware of my heavy heartbeat.

Kate sat down and started talking, sparing no details as the revelations rolled out. Cece backed her up with the occasional comment but it was Kate who was the driving force; powering on with the horsepower of a four-cylinder petrol engine. The running order of events was as follows: Crieff, Sophia and, trump card, the child.

Suzanne made herself as small as possible, knees tucked up to her chin; arms hooked round the front of her shins, defensive position. She’d carefully placed her glass of Champagne on the table when Kate started to speak.

Ted
hadn’t
told her. That was obvious. She was losing him over again and it was excruciatingly painful to watch.

“He walked out on them like he walked out on you,” said Kate.

“Hon, we thought you should know.” Cece leaned forward towards Suzanne and placed a hand on the arm of her chair. “This is the kind of person he is.”

Suzanne looked out into the garden; twilight had blurred trees. She fingered a silk button on her blouse.

“You’ll get through this,” whispered Cece, making a move to go to her; comfort her.

Suzanne abruptly leaned forward in her seat, tense. Her lips seemed to curl back with wolfish aggression. “And how the
fuck
would you know?”

I had never ever heard Suzanne swear until now and the effect, swear to God, was like touching an electric fence. We all bounced in our seats, shocked.

Cece hesitated, confused. “Darlin’, I… meant that… we’ll always be here for you.”

“
Really
?”

I stared at Suzanne, transfixed. It was as though an exorcism had taken over; veins throbbed at the side of head while her lips turned white.

“You had no right! If Ted didn’t
want
me to know then it is for good reason.”

“Ted is the one you should be shoutin’ at,” said Cece, miffed. “Not us.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yeah. He is.”

“NO! I have to sit and listen to you; it’s always about you: Michael this, Hugh that, Ribbons. Your daily dramas. You couldn’t let this one go, could you?”

The fire fizzled out of Cece’s hot air balloon; burned out. I felt sorry for her. Kate did too because she stepped in. “It wasn’t Cece’s decision to you tell. It was mine.”

Spinning head, Suzanne turned on Kate. “Why?”

“Damn it, Suzanne. He has a daughter. She’s out there wondering whether the person she loves most in the world will come home.
You
know how that feels.”

“It’s different.”

“Exactly!
She
is five years old. How does she get her head around that?”

“You’ve heard one side of the story.”

“The other side? He
denies
he has a child?”

“I never said that.”

“He’s
abandoned
her.”

“You haven’t talked to him. I love him. I couldn’t love him if he was a… a monster.”

“Chrissakes, Suzanne, she is five years old. Her mother will do her best to comfort her but it’ll never be enough. She will think him leaving is
her
fault. She will
always
think that.”

Kate was screaming. I closed my eyes. Dear God, this was worse than I ever imagined.

Suzanne looked incredulous. “This is about what happened to
you
, not me, isn’t it? You and Cece somehow always own the drama.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“How
dare
you speak to this other woman behind my back? She took him from
me
.”

Somehow it didn’t feel right letting Sophia take the fall for Ted. “She had no idea about you; no idea you and Ted were married. It has been an enormous shock–”

“Ted is
my
husband.”

“He
lied
to you,” Cece cried, thoroughly exasperated.

“He walked out on his little girl,” added Kate.

Suzanne remained unmoved, defiant. “Ted is a good man.”

I attempted to close the conversation down. “We’re not telling you what to do. There are no more surprises. Isn’t it better to know that? Draw a line under it, move on?”

Suzanne turned on me. “Did you stop to think for a second that I might want to have a baby, be happy?”

“You still can.”

“You think? I’ve waited and waited and no one’s ever come close to sweeping me off my feet. Ted is The One. He came back. It is meant to be.”

Kate snapped, “Oh, please, Suzanne. Tell me you’re not that naïve.”

Suzanne’s mouth was set in a line, stubborn. “I’m his wife.”

Kate wasn’t giving up without a fight. “He didn’t tell this other woman he was leaving. You
know
how that feels. People split up, yes, but they don’t just…
vanish
.”

“I KNOW HE’S NOT PERFECT,” Suzanne’s voice reached a scream, high as a fire-alarm wail.

It was a breathless night with the right acoustics for a voice to travel across cities and mountains. I closed my eyes and knew the whole world was listening, transfixed, turning down televisions to hear more.

“He’s lived with Sophia longer than he ever lived with you. I hate to say this, babe, but
you’re
the other woman in this situation.” Cece delivered this in her signature style: brutally blunt.

“Think about the child,” Kate urged. “Get him to make contact with her.”

This set Suzanne off in a spin again. “Your husband abandoned your children. I get that. Ted isn’t Neil. He’s working through some personal issues. He didn’t blow his brains out.”

I gasped. Kate covered her mouth with her hand and turned translucent. I could almost see the city through her.

Cece lost it. She moved with surprising swiftness towards Suzanne and delivered a stinging slap across her face. It was a beyond awful moment.

Shocked, Suzanne staggered backwards from the force of the blow, hand to face.

I close my eyes, bracing myself for the fallout. I have a post-apocalyptic vision; aftermath of a beautiful friendship with debris and destruction strewn for miles.

You can inflict maximum pain by striking bones closest to the skin, such as shins or elbows
, my father once said.
Or take a stick down on top of the head with a sharp crack
. He had a full-sized skeleton at work and would talk Gee and me through the strategies of self-defence. I concluded that you can use a stick to make contact, or an umbrella will do. The truth has devastating impact, too.