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‘Oh, do call me Irma,’ she said. ‘We’re going to be family soon.’
‘Right, well.’ Fleur stood up to stop her stepmother from continuing. ‘Jimmy, if we’re going to avoid the queues, I suggest we get going.’
‘Off you go, you lovebirds,’ Irma said and won a scowl from Fleur.
‘Please don’t embarrass Jimmy, Irma.’
‘Oh, come on. You young things shouldn’t be so shy.’
‘We’re not, but we’re also not lovebirds.’
Irma tapped her nose and gave a knowing smile, as if communicating some great secret, and clutched at Henry’s hand, repulsing Fleur even more. This wasn’t some big emotional moment.
‘Shall we go, Jimmy?’ Fleur said pointedly. She moved around the table to kiss her father, who had been noticeably quiet this evening. She wondered if he was feeling as dismayed as she was to be seated around the table with its sinister intention . . . or was he as fatigued as he suddenly looked? She frowned at his pale complexion, which was bordering on grey. ‘Dad? Is anything wrong?’
He stood unsteadily and patted her hand. ‘All is fine. You look lovely tonight, Fleur.’ Then he leaned in so that only she could hear. ‘Your mother would be proud.’
Fleur wished he hadn’t said that in this moment, because it only made her more aware of the hole in their lives and the imposter who had claimed Mae’s place.
‘Goodnight, everyone,’ she said, letting go of her father’s hand, which felt papery dry. She let Jimmy say more formal farewells to the other two people around the table.
Outside the house she gave a sound of despair.
‘You all right?’ Jimmy asked, falling back into his normal way of speaking.
‘No, Jimmy, I’m not. I hate this charade.’
‘Shar . . . what?’
‘Forget it.’
Jimmy gripped her elbow a little too hard. ‘Don’t speak me to me like that.’
Fleur was determined not to wince and let him win the satisfaction of her pain. ‘Like what, Jimmy?’
‘Like I’m less than you.’
‘Is that what I did? Or did I just use a word you don’t know how to say, spell or understand?’ What was wrong with her, being this cruel? She’d promised her father she would try harder.
‘You won’t be talking down to me when we’re married.’
‘No, I won’t. Because we aren’t getting married, Jimmy.’
‘We are! I’ve been told.’
‘By Irma?’ Fleur shook her head with what he couldn’t know was despair for them both. ‘She’s lying. There’s nothing assured about this mad idea, Jimmy. I’m really sorry, but she’s got you hoodwinked because it’s not happening!’
‘But why?’ He frowned. He looked Neanderthal as his forehead creased, making his brow appear even more hooded and protruding.
She shook the churlish thought away, flicking her hair. Kindness – wasn’t that her mantra in the mortuary? And so it should be outside of it, she heard in Mae Appleby’s voice. There had been nothing kind or gentle about her words, so she tried again. ‘Let’s just say we aren’t suited and leave it at that.’
‘I think we are. And my father and your mother think so too.’
She wished he wouldn’t badger her. ‘She’s so far from my mother it’s not worth discussing, and it’s certainly not up to your parents who I marry.’
‘You’ll need a man when your father’s dead.’
She knew Jimmy didn’t mean it as an insult. He was too much of a blunt instrument to fashion anything so subtle; he was simply stating the facts as he understood them. But his words still managed to land a bruising blow, and she felt as though all the wind had left her lungs.
