Page 96 of The Island Villa

What had she been expecting? Another confession? Your father didn’t die the way I told you. The revelations had clearly made her jumpy. She was questioning things she shouldn’t be questioning.

“You must have been relieved.”

Catherine hesitated. “It was a terrible time but yes, part of me was relieved. Does that make me a bad person? Maybe it does. I don’t know. I kept thinking that I’d been given a second chance, and that he could no longer hurt us.” Her mother gave a watery smile. “But he’s hurting us now, isn’t he? Dead for almost two decades, but he still has the power to hurt. Perhaps I should have told you, but I didn’t see why you ever needed to know. Your early life had been blighted, but you didn’t remember it. I had a chance to wipe the bad away for you, and I desperately wanted to do that. I had the skills to tell a good story, so why not use them this way? Why should you suffer for my bad decision? I hadn’t anticipated a time when I’d be forced to tell you.” She slumped in her chair, drained. “Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe I should have told you the truth. I discovered that sometimes being a parent means making impossible decisions. You do what you think is best, but one person’s best is another person’s bad decision. I’m sure you’re upset. I’m sure you’re angry with me. And I don’t blame you.”

Upset, yes. Angry? Maybe, a little. Hurt, definitely.

Cassie rubbed her fingers over her forehead.

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t process it. All her life she’d been waiting for a relationship like the one her parents had. But that had never existed.

“I need some time on my own.” She stumbled to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process and her mother half rose to her feet.

“Sweetheart...”

“I’m okay, really.” She grabbed her phone from the table and knocked over her glass. She picked it up and threw a napkin on the puddle of champagne. “It’s a lot to process. I’m fine. Don’t follow me. I’m sure Adeline has questions too, so maybe you can talk a while longer.” She flashed a smile, which she hoped would stop them following her, and sped from the terrace.

Her head throbbed. She felt weirdly detached. All these years she’d been telling everyone that her parents had the perfect relationship. And at first her mother had believed it was the perfect relationship. So how did you ever know? How did anyone know?

She’d been grieving the loss of her father, but the man she’d imagined never existed. He was a fictional character, and nothing more.

Now she had a different image in her head. An image where her father’s handsome face was contorted with rage as he flung a vase at her mother. Broke her wrist.

She pressed her fingers to her head, trying to delete that horrible image.

She’d reached the cottage and kicked off her shoes. The tiles of the patio were still warm under her feet and the peace of the evening was broken only by the faint sound of the ocean and the rhythmic chirping of cicadas. She dropped onto one of the loungers, feeling the press of heat around her. Her notes were still there from her meeting with her agent and publisher and she pushed them onto the floor, unable to look at them. If she hadn’t written the stupid book, she wouldn’t be sitting here feeling as if her whole life was a lie, and her mother wouldn’t right now be crying on the terrace.

How could such highs and lows happen all in the space of one day?

She felt muddled and confused and drenched in sadness. So she did what she always did when she felt bad and wanted to talk to someone.

She called Oliver.

He answered immediately.

“Hi, Cass. I got your message about the book deal. Congratulations. I hope you’re talking to me with a glass of champagne in your hand.”

Hearing his voice snipped the last threads of her control.

A scald of liquid seared her sunburned cheeks. Tears. Big fat tears. “Not really. Are you busy? You’re not on a date, are you?” The thought of it made her stomach plummet. She imagined a day when she’d call and the phone would be answered by some laughing girl who would say, Hi Cassie, Oliver will call you back when he has a moment. She’d hear giggling in the background and know this wasn’t going to be that moment and maybe he would eventually call back but it would be days because she was no longer the most important person in his life.

Why couldn’t her best friend have been a woman? It would have made things so much easier.

“I’m here,” he said. “At home. What’s wrong? Is it your sister?”

“No. She’s been great.” Where should she start? “It’s been a bit intense here. And I feel really...” Her emotions slid into her voice. She started to cry again.

“Cassie? Cass?” Oliver’s voice came down the phone, urgent and concerned. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“It’s all because of my stupid—b-book...” She stuttered out the words but couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Your book? You said they loved it. Have they changed their minds? Are they allowed to do that?”

“They haven’t changed their minds.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She scrubbed her hand over her face and tried to pull herself together. “I told my mother all about it.”

---