The Beach Hut Next Door (10 page)

ELODIE

S
ix months after the proposal, the day before Elodie and Jolyon’s wedding, The Grey House shimmered on the cliff, serene in the sunlight of a June afternoon, as if it knew how very important the next day was and that it had to prepare to look its best. Gardeners had clipped and mowed the lawn and hedges and borders; an army of staff had polished and dusted the interior. The windows shone, the furniture gleamed, not a speck of dust loitered. Vases waited for armfuls of flowers earmarked by Lillie to be cut at daybreak, and in the kitchen the shelves in the larder and fridge groaned with delicacies. Everything that could be done had been done until the day itself dawned.

The early afternoon was peaceful, and everyone was out. Some of the household had gone to the tennis club for lunch. Others had made the trek to Bamford, the nearest big town, making last-minute purchases, having haircuts or merely contemplating their existence. There was something about an impending wedding that made people look more closely at where they were in their own lives: to analyse their mistakes and resolve to make changes, for better or worse.

Elodie had managed to play everyone off against each other so that she could be on her own. She was finding being the centre of attention rather tiring: she couldn’t move without someone asking her to make a decision when, actually, she knew everything was going to be perfect, whether the cake came before or after the speeches, or whether the floral arrangements in the house matched the ones in the church. She’d never been one for a great fuss, but as Lillie and Desmond’s only daughter it was inevitable that the wedding was going to turn into something of a showcase – for Desmond’s desire to show off his wealth, and Lillie’s never-ending quest for perfection.

Elodie knew Jolyon felt the same as she did, although Roger and Jeanie seemed to have been swept up in the frenzy. A little bit of her thought they were probably playing the game out of gratitude. There was no doubt that Desmond had saved the Jukes from bankruptcy and steered them back into the black. The shops were booming, thanks to his investment of both money and time. In less than twelve months they were all turning a healthy profit. So the Jukes were making as much fuss of the wedding as the Lewis’s, caught up in guest lists and present lists and any number of trips to Gieves and Hawkes for morning suits. Roger had driven to France for the champagne: twelve cases of vintage Dom Perignon. No one asked quite where he got it from because that was the sort of person Roger was. You didn’t ask.

Elodie just wanted to curl up in her bedroom on her own before her life changed for ever. Not that she was going to have any second thoughts – far from it – but because she wanted to revel in it, to remember for the rest of her life just how it felt to be on the brink of marriage to the person you loved and trusted and cared for most in the world. She was so lucky to have found Jolyon. She shivered sometimes when she thought how easy it would have been for them to have missed each other. If her father had settled on some other business to expand his empire. If Jolyon had refused to come down with his parents that first weekend. If, indeed, he’d already had some other girlfriend who’d overshadowed her.

She ran up the stairs, relishing the quietness of the house. It seemed impossible to imagine that tomorrow it would be teeming with guests, caterers, flower-arrangers, hairdressers … the travelling circus that came with a wedding.

She was puzzled when she heard voices. She was certain everyone was either out at lunch or running errands, before they all met back for a rehearsal at the church at five o’clock. She stopped at the top of the stairs while she took stock of where they were coming from: her parents’ bedroom, she thought. Not burglars, surely? Burglars didn’t speak in low, conversational tones while they were ransacking a house – or laugh. She felt a sharp spike of fear, nevertheless. Something told her she didn’t want to investigate any further; that she wasn’t going to like what she discovered. Yet her feet found themselves walking along the carpeted corridor until she stopped outside her parents’ door.

She could smell them, before she actually identified them. She could smell her mother’s scent and Jolyon’s cologne: the cocktail of Ma Griffe and Lentheric hit her in the back of the throat and made her want to retch. She held onto the doorjamb. Maybe Lillie was helping him with his morning suit, ensuring the perfect fit? Or giving him a talk about how to make her daughter happy for the rest of her life?

She heard Lillie’s laugh. The throaty, wicked one she used with men. And her low Gallic murmur: ‘Darling, I know it’s torture. But it’s the only way. You will have every excuse to be near me, and no one will ever query what you are doing here.’

Jolyon’s voice was tense. Unhappy. ‘I know. I know!’

‘Don’t feel guilty. Elodie still has you. She has what she wants.’

‘I feel … an utter heel.’

Lillie gave a dismissive French ‘pffft’.

‘It’s all very well you dismissing how I feel.’ Jolyon sounded angry. ‘I love Elodie.’

‘Not as much as you love me.’

Time shimmered in the corridor, the doors all shifting slightly in Elodie’s eyeline.

‘True,’ sighed Jolyon. ‘But if it wasn’t true it would be so much easier.’

‘Easy is boring.’ Lillie’s boredom threshold had always been dangerously low. ‘In a year’s time Elodie will have a baby. She will be as happy as can be. Then she will have another. And another. She will be more lucky than I was.’ At this, Elodie imagined downcast eyes and a trembling lip. ‘She will live an enchanted life here. It is the perfect place to bring up a family. In the meantime …’

The ensuing silence could only mean one thing. Eventually she heard Jolyon give a heartfelt groan.

‘What else is to be done?’ Lillie was getting exasperated. ‘This way everyone is happy. You, me, Elodie, Desmond …’

‘Oh yes, I’m sure your husband would be delighted—’

Again that French exhalation of dismissal. ‘All Desmond was ever concerned about was getting his hands on your shops.’

‘So this
is
a marriage of convenience?’

‘Jolyon, Jolyon. How many times have we had this conversation? You love Elodie. You’re not being forced into anything.’

His voice was choked. ‘I feel as if I am.’

‘Then don’t go through with it. But if you don’t, you’re a fool.’ Lillie was running out of patience. ‘This is the best way. The only way.’

Elodie clamped her hands to her ears. She had heard enough. She crept backwards along the corridor, slipped into her bedroom, pushed the door to and threw herself onto her bed.

She felt all the happiness and enchantment and excitement of the past year drain out of her, like sand out of an upturned shoe. Instead, a cold, black dread settled upon her, squeezing her heart like an iron corset until she could barely breathe. The deceit and the betrayal were too huge for her to take in. Jolyon, her dear darling Jolyon, whom she adored; whom she couldn’t wait to marry, and who she thought had adored her …

And her mother.

Her own treacherous, self-serving abominable mother.

Elodie had never had any great illusions about Lillie. She had always known she liked her own way and wasn’t terribly bothered how she got it. She had always known she couldn’t resist proving her attractiveness to men. Yet she had always felt close to Lillie, although they were so different. She had never dreamed in a million years she would stoop this low. She had thought that a mother’s unconditional love, and need to protect her child – her only child! – would take priority over her vanity and need to be adored.

She bit on her knuckles to stop herself crying out. She didn’t know whose betrayal hurt the more. The two people she loved most in the world …

And her father. He wasn’t complicit in their treachery – Elodie was certain he would have no idea – but all Desmond was interested in was money. Of course he’d wanted her to get married! Of course he had encouraged it at every opportunity, throwing her and Jolyon together at the earliest chance. She thought now, looking back, it had been her father’s plan from that very first weekend. The melding of two dynasties via a marriage – it was archaic. And although it wasn’t official, she had been an unwitting pawn, which was arguably worse than if it had been openly arranged between them.

She looked up. Her wedding dress hung on the wall, wrapped in cellophane on a padded hanger. It seemed to mock her, white with innocence. All that time Lillie had spent at the dressmaker with her! Making sure she had the perfect wedding dress. The hours she had spent with caterers, florists, wine merchants, scrutinising every last detail, forgetting nothing in her quest for a fairy tale.

And in one split second, the fairy tale had been blown apart.

Elodie tried to think straight. What if she hadn’t chosen to come back that afternoon? How long would she have lived in ignorance of what was going on? Would she have lived out her entire married life in oblivion? Raised a family without knowing that her own mother was having an affair with her husband?

She stared at the ceiling. How long? How long had this been going on? Which of her happy memories was she allowed to keep? The moment on the beach she first met Jolyon? Their first moonlit walk? Their first moonlit kiss? How had he looked into her eyes so many times and told her that he loved her, knowing what he knew? Whose idea had it been? Who had made the first move?

She felt cold with misery and hot with fear. She curled up into a ball. She had to keep herself quiet. She mustn’t make herself known. Elodie wasn’t going to burst in on them and ask them to explain themselves. She didn’t like drama or confrontation. And she had to ask herself why and how this had happened. She had to try and understand, before she decided what to do.

She stared at the ceiling. The room felt airless. It wouldn’t be long before everyone else began to drift back. There would be tea on the terrace, then they would all head up to the church, to meet with the Reverend Peters, run through the order of service, who was to stand where, who was to hold what … She didn’t have much time to decide what to do. If anything.

Her bridesmaids, two friends from school who were arriving later this evening and staying at a local bed and breakfast, would be no help. And this wasn’t the sort of dilemma you could drop on someone and expect sage advice. The only person Elodie would have trusted to give a sensible opinion was her mother. Lillie understood the subtleties and nuances of surviving adult life. Yet she was the last person on earth she could ask. She felt a sudden surge of something boil up inside her. Not hatred. Elodie didn’t have it in her heart to hate anyone. Anger? Rage? She couldn’t be sure because she’d never felt anything like it before.

She couldn’t think about Jolyon. She just … couldn’t. Something dark and icy and cold gripped her when her mind ventured towards him, so she shut the thought of him out.

Hot and cold. She felt hot and cold. She hugged herself and shivered, yet she felt feverish. She was in shock. Mrs Marsh, she thought. Mrs Marsh would make her hot, sweet tea. But the thought of facing anyone made her stomach churn, just like the sea when the tide was on the turn, swirling into little eddies which seemed to have no sense of direction, yet had no choice in the long run about where they went.

Half an hour went by. During it she heard footsteps pass her door and go down the stairs. Whether they belonged to Jolyon or Lillie she didn’t know. Or want to know.

By the time it came for everyone to gather for tea, she had a plan.

‘My darling, you look beautiful.’ Lillie ran her fingers over the French lace on Elodie’s upper arms. The dress was so tight she could barely breathe, with its square neck and fitted waist; acres of silk satin in the skirt fell to the floor. It was heavy, almost like wearing a suit of armour. Rosebuds from the garden pinned her veil into place, and she could smell their scent, the scent outside her window in the summer that mingled with the sea breeze.

As Elodie gazed back at Lillie, she realized there were tears in her mother’s eyes. What did those tears mean? Were they genuine emotion at a mother’s proudest day? Was she crying out of shame at what she had done? Or because she wished that she was in Elodie’s place? What was going through Lillie’s head?

For a fleeting moment she was tempted to confront her. Lillie’s hands were trembling slightly on the stem of her glass: she was less in control than usual. Elodie felt her stomach curdle as distaste combined with nerves and lack of food. She hadn’t been able to face breakfast. She thought of Jolyon in a nearby hotel with his best man. What was he thinking and feeling? Did he wish Lillie was with him?

Eventually Lillie blinked, batting away the tears, and held her glass up to Elodie in a toast.

‘To you, my darling girl. I hope you will be as happy as I have been.’

She gave a bright smile and threw back the last of the champagne as if it were a life-giving elixir.

Again, Elodie wasn’t sure what to think. Was there an edge to what her mother said, or was she being genuine?

It was a terrible feeling, not to trust your own mother.

Except in matters of what to wear. She held up her jewellery box.

‘Pearls or diamonds?’

‘Diamonds, darling. Always. I fear pearls might be dreadfully bad luck on your wedding day.’

Elodie screwed the diamonds firmly onto her ears. It was the right choice. She looked back at her reflection and for one of the few times in her life, she felt pleased with what she saw. The chignon suited her and gave her an elegant profile; she wore more make-up than usual and it made her eyes look huge; her skin was alabaster smooth against the white of the veil.