‘I made sure she ate!’ Maria pronounced.
‘Oh, dear, I’m sure I’ve put on pounds!’ Maxine Grantham admitted, as if that was a crime. But then, if her father had been here, for her mother to have gained even half a pound would indeed have
been a crime.
‘Do you think I want a fat wife?’ he had berated her often enough, if he’d thought Maxine was looking anything less than fashionably stick-thin.
Talia’s eyes darkened. As usual, her mother had done whatever it took to please the husband she was devoted to—including taking the slimming pills that had weakened her heart.
And what might I have done to please a man? The man I was devoted to until the veils were ripped from my eyes.
She sheared her mind away and silenced the pain inside.
‘Well, it suits you—you look much healthier,’ she said firmly to her mother, smiling brightly.
She would not let her mother think about her controlling husband. Instead she told her again how well she looked, and thanked Maria for her care of her.
Maria bustled off to make supper, refusing Talia’s offer to help, leaving her to sit down beside her mother and enjoy the last of the evening sunshine. Low sunlight glinted on the pool beyond the terrace and bathed the garden in warmth.
‘I’m so glad you’re home, darling!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘Maria has been an angel, but I’ve missed you!’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Now, tell me—how did it go? Tell me all about it!’
Talia braced herself. She’d known her mother would ask questions—known she had to find something to say. Because it was the safest thing, she launched into a description of the island, knowing it would divert her mother. But as she rattled on pain and bitterness twisted inside her.
All the long journey home she’d kept hearing Luke’s words to her. Words that had stripped from her the pathetic illusions she’d been building up. Words that had shown her—brutally and unambiguously—what he truly thought about her. Behind the smiles and the kisses and the passion there had always been this.
He had reduced her to the most abject and contemptible of human beings. He thought her a pampered doll, useless and worthless, totally talentless, amusing herself with pretending to be a designer. He thought she had a sky-high sense of entitlement and he believed she thought the world owed her not just a living but a deluxe lifestyle. The man she loved saw her as a spoiled princess, to be indulged and sheltered from life’s vicissitudes, unable to cope with anything at all. A pet who had to be tossed bracelets and baubles to keep her happy, to make her feel valued and protected.
No! She couldn’t bear to think of it! Couldn’t bear to face what Luke truly thought of her.
She bit her lip to stop the emotional pain, making it physical instead.
‘Darling, what is it?’ Her mother’s hand pressed on her arm. ‘You look upset. Oh, darling girl, don’t worry if you don’t get the commission after all. It would be lovely if you did, but as soon as your father gets home we won’t have to worry about anything like that any more. He’ll be taking care of us again soon.’
Talia tensed, as if jerked on a wire.
‘Mum, don’t!’ Her words were blurted out, harsh and angry.
Her mother looked hurt and shocked, and Talia tried to soften the impact. To hear her mother still mouthing such impossibilities, still believing in them, was galling. But it was more than that for Talia—her mother’s words were an echo of Luke’s promise.
Luke said he’d take care of me.
She hauled her mind away. She must not let herself hear those words in her head again. She had to banish him completely.
Pain and bitterness twisted again, and she cast about to find some way of replying to her mother’s useless longing.
‘Mum, he’s not coming back. You mustn’t think that’s going to happen. You have to face the truth.’
Her mother’s expression hadn’t changed. ‘No, darling. We mustn’t give up on him. We mustn’t give up hope. He’s simply sorting things out. He’s off somewhere, making everything right again. You’ll see. He’ll be home soon and everything will be back to normal—just the way it should be. We’ll get back our lovely home by the river and—’
Something snapped inside Talia. She couldn’t stop herself. The gruelling journey had left her dog-tired physically—but infinitely worse was the despairing bleakness inside her, which had left her at the very edge of self-control. And now it snapped like an elastic band that had been stretched tighter and tighter.
She leapt to her feet. ‘Mum, stop it! Just stop it! Dad isn’t coming back. He’s left us here to cope with nothing. No money, no assets—nothing. Everything’s gone—including this villa.’
‘No, don’t say that—please. I can’t bear it.’
Her mother’s face had contorted and Talia cursed herself for losing her rag the way she had. Her mother couldn’t cope with the brutal reality into which her husband’s ruin and disappearance had forced them.
‘You told me you’d sorted it all out,’ her mother rushed on now. ‘That the villa is ours.’