Page 129 of The Honeymoon Affair

When will you be home?

Ariel

This is a monumental clusterfuck. I’d like to say it’s all Charles’s fault, but it isn’t. I was the one who stepped in to save the day and I’m the one who very much didn’t. For once in my life, I’m at a complete loss as to what to do, and I’m relieved when Ellis suggests that everyone goes upstairs while she puts the kettle on for a cup of tea.

‘I think we could do with something stronger than tea,’ says Pamela.

‘Ellis is right,’ says Charles. ‘Come on, Mum, Iseult.’

He takes both of them by the arm and leads them out of the kitchen. With their departure, I feel the throb of my hand and the hammering in my head lessen.

‘You should go upstairs too,’ says Ellis.

‘Are you kidding? I’d only fan the flames again.’

‘You’ve had a shock,’ she says. ‘You need tea.’

‘I’ll have it here.’

Ellis says nothing, but fills the kettle and takes a patterned teapot from the shelf. I bought that teapot. I’d planned to have it in the mews, but Janice Jermyn gave me a pretty teapot as an office-warming gift, so I left this one in the house.

‘Where did it all go wrong?’ I sigh.

‘Nothing’s really gone wrong,’ says Ellis. ‘The meal was great, by the way. I know it was pre-prepared, but you did a fantastic job anyway. Honestly, Ariel, you’re amazing!’

Amazing. I wish. I recall the desserts in the fridge and tell her about them.

‘I’m not sure anyone is up for dessert,’ she says.

‘Maybe not,’ I concede.

‘Are you sure you want to stay here?’

‘I might sneak over to my office.’

‘I meant down here,’ says Ellis. ‘Don’t even think about going to your office. It’ll be cold, and you don’t want to be cold. Don’t go anywhere until I come back down to you.’

I’m too wrung out to do anything. I sit on the sofa while Ellis makes tea and pours a cup for me before going upstairs again. I sip it as I imagine what they’re saying about me and how Charles is going to salvage the situation. I know Iseult heard him say he loved me. What I don’t know is if she believes he means it. Or, indeed, if I do.

My stomach rumbles. Despite having cooked the meal for them, I haven’t had anything to eat myself, and I’m suddenly ravenous. I put down my tea and open the fridge door. I take out one of the mango and lime trifles and eat it sitting at the counter. Ellis made a mistake by not bringing them upstairs. It’s delicious.

Feck the Miller family, I think, as I lick the spoon.

Then I take out another trifle and eat that too.

Iseult

We don’t return to the dining room, but go instead to the living room, where Ellis pours tea from a pot. I’m with Pamela Boyd-Miller in thinking that something stronger is called for, but I take the tea anyway and warm my inexplicably cold hands on the delicate cup.

Nobody speaks. We’re probably all struggling with what to say. All I want to know, though, is if Charles meant it when he told Ariel he loved her. Maybe that’s why they haven’t yet got their divorce. Maybe it’s because deep down he truly doesn’t want to divorce her. And she doesn’t want to divorce him. Who in the wide world cooks dinner for her ex’s fiancée? I don’t want to be the one to bring up the whole tangled relationship scenario. I don’t want to be the one who says anything.

In the end, it’s Charles who speaks.

‘If I write another murder mystery, that’s a scene I’ll use,’ he says.

‘Huh?’ Ellis stares at him.

‘It’s so good,’ he tells her. ‘Everyone gathering in the kitchen. High tension. First and second wives – almost. And maybe a hidden murder weapon. A cleaver, I suppose.’

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