Page 110 of Last Night

Justin looks disconcerted at this immediate descent into warfare.

Ed’s still staring furiously ahead atthe fire, chinning his wine down. I don’t think he thinks I slept with Finlay, which must mean he’s this mad at me merely approving of him. How much control of me does he think he’s owed?

‘Susie despised him,’ Ed says.

‘You asked me for my opinion of him, not hers,’ I say, tone sharp as a dagger.

‘Why would you think she’d got him wrong?’

‘She wasn’t right about everything,’ I say, staring levelly at Ed, and he senses danger, and says nothing in reply.

‘Didn’t she say he used to model?’ Justin says, hastily, desperately.

‘I thought he was a psychiatrist?’ Hester says.

‘He was awhat?!’ Ed says, delighted at being given a new line of attack, eyes dancing with a Satanic pleasure. ‘He’s a model – slashie – shrink. Tell me about your relationship with your …’ Ed turns his head away, then snaps back with an exaggerated pout ‘…father.’

‘He’s a psychologist, and to be fair, seems like he’s done brilliantly at it. He’s not short of a few quid,’ I say, relinquishing my empty plate to Justin.

Might as well needlessly goad Ed, at this point. ‘He treats some really famous people, so famous he couldn’t tell me who they are.’

‘Convenient. Rich kids always prosper,’ Ed shrugs.

‘By that logic, Susie was a rich kid.’

‘She was, but I don’t think she denied it,’ Ed says.

‘How has Finlay denied it?’

‘He’s going to be richer still when Dad goes. Ever find out whether there were shenanigans going on with changing his will?’ Justin asks me.

‘No,’ I say. I’m agnostic on that. I can’t imagine Fin standing over dotty Mr Hart, encouraging him to write his name on a dotted line, but equally a lot of things that have happened are things I couldn’t have imagined.

‘God, that poor old man,’ Ed says. ‘Lost his wife and daughter and his marbles, and the decision whether to switch off his machines one day will be made bythatbloke.’

‘Dessert, Eve?’ Justin says, in a Let’s Lighten the Mood Shall We perky housewife voice. ‘It’s spotted dick with pink custard.’

‘Are you kidding?’ I say.

Leonard jumps down from his chair and starts barking.

‘I’m not joking and nor is my greedy son.’

Ed and Hester turn in first, to the master bedroom with the en suite at the front of the cottage, enough of a distance we don’t fear disturbing them by staying up.

Justin has carried a storm lantern to a picnic table outside in the freezing dark, where he can have a cigarette. He encouraged me to bundle in a coat and refilled my glass: ‘Ten minutes, max. It’s mybirthday weekend.’

‘This welcome is as warm as the one I got from Ed and Hester,’ I whisper, teeth chattering, petting Leonard, who makes plaintive noises and then goes back indoors.

‘There’s a bit of an atmosphere between those two,’ Justin says, voice quiet, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth. ‘Last night was all “can you pass the salt, PLEASE.” I get the feeling that planning a wedding in a few months flat is taking it out of them. I don’t see why it has to be so fast? Hester’s drinking plenty, so it’s notthat.’

‘Do you know about my fight with Hester at the wake?’ Justin shakes his head. ‘Brace yourself …’ I fill Justin in on it all, from the letter when we left for university that got lost with water damage, so long ago, to my seeing the Susie letter in the box of secrets the day before the funeral, about the Rock City shagging.

‘I know you knew, but I didn’t know all of it,’ I say. I don’t find this disclosure difficult, possibly due to practice with Finlay. For the first time, I truly and fully comprehend that I should’ve told Susie, and Justin, and even Ed how I felt, back when it mattered more. This information’s eternal power source was in part, in its unsaidness.

Again, I test my feelings: imagining Ed and Susie wound around each other in a toilet stall, her long legs gripping him, his carnal grunting. Nope … nothing? An anthropological kind of curiosity, but no pain. Yes, I feel foolish for being protected from the truth, like some Mrs Rochester fragile hysteric. But I don’t feel that sensation of my stomach being scooped out by a doctor with cold hands. Maybe it’s having had this much red wine.

‘You didn’t know about that? I thought we all knew but were never going to mention it again. The most macabre coupling since Steve Coogan and Courtney Love. Brrrr.’

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