‘It’s too late to jump now. Far too many people about.’

Margery sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed, which she had circumnavigated several times in order to make tidy again. ‘Well, it could be said, Cecily, that you, my greatest comfort, have been my undoing. Twice.’ She wiped her eyes with her hanky, and after some time she said, ‘Actually, that’s not fair. It’s me. You couldn’t help dying and Dad was right, I should have let go, then perhaps things wouldn’t be the mess they appear to be.’ She allowed herself to weep again for a short time. When she was composed again, she said, ‘I suppose I’ll have to admit, it does seem as if I may have let people down. Three feet of ice does not come from one day of freezing weather, as they say.’ Then, in an effort to console herself, she added, ‘At least Judith’s finally got the pearls.’

She gathered her handbags and was heading to go down for breakfast when the receptionist arrived with a tray: tea, milk, juice, toast, jam, butter and fruit compote. ‘You’re Mr Boyle’s mother-in-law, aren’t you?’

‘He’s an adulterer as well.’

‘Your family are on their way; they’ve been very worried about you.’

Margery said, ‘That’s nonsense. I’ve been a dam in the river of everyone’s life forever.’

‘I’m sure you haven’t.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t know, would you? Why did you tell them I was here?’

The receptionist put the tray on the table and pulled out the chair for Margery to sit down. ‘A policeman phoned your son-in-law when he arrived for a breakfast meeting. That’s all I know. Sit down and have your breakfast.’

Margery sighed, sat down, turned the teapot three times and lifted the lid on the plate. ‘Eggs. No point letting them go to waste.’

‘No.’ The receptionist stayed while Margery scoffed her breakfast down, and as she was pouring her second cup of tea, the Blandons arrived – Walter and Anita, Barry and Judith. The receptionist left, closing the door behind her.

Walter rushed to his mother and threw his arms around her. Her tea spilled into the saucer. ‘You alright, Mumsy?’

Judith slapped her forehead with her palm. ‘Jesus Christ, Marge. We’ve been frantic!’ Anita checked Margery’s shin and studied her swollen nose and black eyes. Then she sat back and looked at Margery, who poured her spilled tea back into her cup, refusing to look at anyone. ‘Why did you come here?’

‘I needed to get away.’ Margery sipped her tea.

‘Why not just go to the library, or the park?’ Barry asked.

Margery slammed her cup into its saucer, spilling the tea again. ‘All my life I’ve done the right thing – and look what’s happened. My choice is my husband’s mistress or a home for mad, incontinent old people.’

‘You talk to yourself.’

‘Shut up, Barry,’ Judith said.

‘It’s not fair to blame Cecily. She’s the best company I’ve got! It would have been better had I died along with her.’ Margery looked defiantly at her children. ‘If she’d stayed alive everything would have been much better.’

‘You wouldn’t have us, Mumsy, we’ve been very concerned –’

‘Nor would I have had a husband who had a mistress for fifty years. Their illegitimate child is standing over there, and she’s forty years old!’

‘Thirty-nine,’ Anita said.

Walter stood and, using a wise and reasonable tone, said, ‘It is understandable that you don’t want your husband’s friend to live with you, but –’

‘It’s outrageous!’

Walter hung his head. ‘Mumsy, I’m sorry.’

Margery glared at him then looked away.

Barry suggested that times had changed and went on to make the point that Florence wasn’t a bad person, that Lance might have felt good knowing that she could find refuge at the house. ‘After all,’ he said, looking at Judith, ‘everyone’s entitled to a home.’

‘She can have my room at your retirement village.’

Judith said, ‘There is no village, Marge,’ and Barry shook his head, ‘There’s nothing . . .’

‘Don’t try to make yourself look good, Barry, just because you’re giving me and DeeAndra the house.’ The BlackBerry in Barry’s hand buzzed and he silenced it immediately.

‘Look, Marge,’ Judith said, ‘as it stands now, the thing is, you don’t have to live with Flossy forever, but she’s got nowhere to go so, just for the time being, can she stay with you? In the circumstances, it’s the right thing to do.’

‘Please,’ Anita added.

Margery sipped her tea.

‘Lance stuck by all of us, in his way,’ Walter said. ‘He didn’t abandon you or Floss, he did the right fing.’

‘He lied, betrayed me.’

‘But you can’t blame Flossy, Mrs Blandon. It’s not right.’

Margery looked Anita in the eye. ‘“Right” is whatever anyone prefers “right” to be, it seems.’

Anita threw up her hands. ‘Well, Mum lost her job and her home at the pub when Lance blew it up, and now she’s homeless again.’

‘As far as I’m concerned, what she did wasn’t right.’

‘In some people’s eyes, yes, but two wrongs don’t make a right, and all they did was be happy together, and Lance still did the right thing by you. He didn’t throw you out, he didn’t hurt you on purpose. You know what it’s like to be lost and lonely, you found that out when you were fifteen.’

‘How dare you! That’s not fair.’ Anita flinched and turned to look at the view. ‘What I did was right. I stayed faithful to my husband because a marriage is a marriage.’

‘That’s only according to God,’ Walter said, and looked at the view with Anita, but he could still feel her eyes on his back.

In the silence, Barry spoke, directing his words at Judith. ‘And was it the right thing to do? For the kids, for your husband, for you?’

Judith said, ‘Shut up, Barry,’ so he held his hands up in surrender again and stood at the window with Anita and Walter.

‘If Dad was feeling lost and lonely, then okay, he found compensation in the arms –’

‘Compensation?’ Anita cried.

‘But imagine how Marge feels? Lost? Lonely? Lied to? Take it from me because I know what it’s like to learn your husband prefers someone else, that whenever he looks at you he’s lying to you, repulsed –’

‘Now come on, Jude, that’s not how I feel about you.’

Walter put his hand on Margery’s shoulder. ‘I feel like a bit of a dill myself.’

‘We all do,’ Judith said.

‘I have morals I’m prepared to die for. He betrayed me, you all betrayed me – even you, Walter.’

Judith said, ‘Walter knew less than I did, Marge. Bloody Morris is the one who knew everything.’

Anita added that all Walter ever does is try to help, and Margery shot back, ‘He was trying to help your mother.’

‘He was trying to help you too. And I’d like to point out that Floss could have easily marched across the street and told you the truth and broken up your home and family for the sake of her own happiness, and mine, but she didn’t.’

‘Well, two cheers for her,’ Judith said.

Anita sighed. ‘We don’t want to put either of you in a home. We know now that you must have felt terrible putting your own poor mother into a home.’

The teacup and saucer slipped from Margery’s hands, bounced on the carpet splashing tea across the hibiscus and lyrebirds. Anita and Walter reached for the cup and saucer, and Margery put her hand out to Judith, indicating she needed to get to the bathroom quickly. Her legs buckled beneath her and she leaned heavily on Judith’s arms, but they got there. Margery clutched the handbasin. ‘Thank you, Judith. I’ll be alright now.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, dear.’

Judith closed the door.

‘Don’t lock the door,’ Anita called, but she did. It was like the day in the park; bells were echoing and her chest was thick with the weight of her labouring heart when it became clear that Cecily could not be found in a room or a street nearby. She put the toilet lid down and sat, taking deep breaths, her hand over her heart. When she felt she could, she raised her eyes and looked at her reflection, looked past the bruises and her swollen nose into her eyes. She removed her broken glasses, put them in her handbag, and confronted herself.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘there it is. Nailed to my own principles with my own words, and at this very minute I’m feeling just how my mother felt when I put her in a home. Let the punishment be equal with the offence.’

Judith knocked at the door. ‘Talk it over with us, Mum, your family, we’re in the next room alive.’

Margery sat up straight, cleared her throat and said, ‘Our parents brought us up to live by principles of right and wrong, but I know now that sometimes people can be wrong. They think what they’re doing is right, but it turns out it isn’t. You’ve got to be able to see things as they are, and then do what’s best. And so here I am and, as I see it, I’m expected to go against all my long-held principles about what’s decent and good, what’s responsible and right, in order to do what all those other people out there think is morally correct. They’re asking me to embrace my enemy for the sake of what’s “right”.’

She smoothed the wet handkerchief, folded it neatly and put it in her handbag but had to reach for some toilet paper to stop the tears falling onto her lap. Through the door Walter said, ‘Mumsy, you still in there?’

She rolled her eyes, ‘Tsk’, and reached for the doorknob, but she made herself stop and look again. ‘Go on, Margery, say it.’ She reached for more toilet paper and muffled another sob. ‘There’s a lot I didn’t know, but if I’m honest, I know now I have to look to myself to see why.’ Her breakfast rose into her throat, but she swallowed it down and took a deep breath. The she powdered her tender nose, adjusted her hat and smoothed her coat. ‘It all seems so clear now.’

They were relieved to see their mother, dry-eyed, standing as straight as her stoop would allow, her expression composed and somewhat preoccupied, as usual. Margery looked at her children. Usually they presented so well, but Walter’s hair was stringy and dangling from his bald patch, and Judith was wearing a faded tracksuit. Anita was sitting on the bed, her arms and legs crossed tightly, her knees jigging. Margery realised it was the perfect opportunity to be what everyone needed her to be. ‘What about your exam, Walter?’

Judith looked at her watch. ‘It just started.’