Page 25 of Broken Country

I repeat what I have heard my parents say, that Churchill was once a brilliant politician but it was time for him to retire, and Eden had waited a long time. My parents are not fans of the Conservative Party but I decide to keep that to myself.

We talk about the recent hanging of Ruth Ellis. Like everyone else my age, I was appalled by the death sentence. “She was a mother,” I say, and Richard must hear how my voice falters for he reaches out to pat my hand. “And her boyfriend was abusive. It was so wrong.”

From time to time, I manage to steal the occasional glance at Gabriel and Louisa, still talking intently. I see the way she looks at him, not quite with adoration, but with full, rapt attention.

With some pressing, I manage to piece together information about the Scott family. They live in California, in theHollywood Hills. I picture a white mansion with a shimmering pool, a row of sports cars parked outside, Marilyn Monroe dropping in for sundowners. Richard is a film producer, recent credits includeSabrinaandRear Window, both of which I have seen.

“You know Alfred Hitchcock?” If my voice is starstruck, I can’t help it.

“Yes. Well, as much as anyone knows him. He keeps himself to himself.”

“What was he like to work with?”

Richard takes a sip of his wine. “?‘Challenging’ is probably the best way I can put it. He is not an easy man.”

“And do you know Marilyn Monroe? I’ve been trying not to ask but I can’t help it.”

Richard laughs. “Oh, ask away. I have met her. Hollywood is a very small world, everyone goes to the same parties. But I wouldn’t say I know her. We haven’t worked on anything together and she usually has an entourage around her.”

“Daddy?” Louisa calls out across the table. “Gabriel is writing a novel. I was telling him you’d probably have someone read it for him?”

“I can do that,” Richard says. “What’s it about?”

This is the thing about Gabriel. If it were me presenting an idea to a Hollywood producer in front of a room of people I knew, including my parents and my girlfriend, I would fall to pieces. Gabriel does the opposite. He takes his time to think about what he’s going to say, composing his thoughts while we wait.

“I’d describe it as an upside-down love story. Instead of the girl being desperate to marry the boy, it’s the other way round. The girl wants to explore her sexuality and live freely like a man. She’s batting off his proposals while shesleeps with whomever she chooses and he’s left at home waiting for her, hoping she’s going to come back.”

“I like that,” Richard says. “Subverting the trope. How does it end?”

Before he can say any more, Tessa interrupts. “No prizes for guessing who the racy heroine is modeled on.” She allows her gaze to rest on me, her meaning clear. “Beth, answer me honestly,” she continues. “If the offer of a great marriage came along, would you turn it down?”

There is a sudden hush in the room. Across the table I see Gabriel watching, and I know what he is thinking.Don’t rile her. Please, let it go. It’s a tightrope Edward and Gabriel walk when Tessa is drinking.

“What constitutes a great marriage?” I say, avoiding the question. “I think we’d probably have different ideas on that.”

Yours, Tessa, for example, is more flawed and destructive than any I’ve ever seen.

Across the table, Gabriel shakes his head at me. And I realize, once again, he is leaving me to flounder. Or defend myself alone. When it comes to Tessa, Gabriel doesn’t have it in him to stand up to her. He doesn’t want me to spoil his chances with Richard Scott either. This is how inner circles work: You meet the right people, doors open, you are ushered through. Join the club. You’ll fit right in. So long as your drunk of a mother doesn’t ruin things for you.

“Marriage is the last thing on my mind, to be honest. This beef is delicious, Tessa. So tender.”

I notice, when the meal is finished and Louisa starts to pile the plates nearest to her, one on top of the other, Tessa simply thanks her.

“Stay where you are, Louisa,” she says. “We have a girl in the kitchen washing up. Beth and I will fetch the pudding.”

Another girl from the village has been serving the dinner, so there’s no need for me to help, unless it’s an excuse for Tessa to talk to me alone. My stomach clenches with dread.

“Louisa seems lovely,” I say, as soon as we are in the kitchen.

“Isn’t she? She and Gabe hit it off immediately. I knew she’d be his type.”

“It was a good idea of yours to invite them. So nice for him to start university with a friend.”

I’m saying everything Tessa wants to hear. But it’s no good. She fixes me with dark, contemplative eyes, and a small, pitying smile.

“Dear Beth, I do worry about you.”

“Oh? I don’t know why.”

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