Charlotte and Edie were sitting at the kitchen table. Charlotte was wrapping Christmas presents, and Edie was busy totting up the cash from that afternoon’s Christmas sale at the women’s refuge and putting the piles of coins into small plastic bags from the bank. There was more than a week to go before she had to leave for Altrincham but it was impossible to break the habit of a lifetime, and Charlotte had always liked to have everything prepared well in advance. Besides, there were the gifts for everyone she was leaving behind here in Clapham and their relatives. She was in the habit of giving small but luxurious presents and she enjoyed choosing them throughout the year. They went into a deep drawer and came out at the end of the second week in December. The routine had been laid down over years.
‘What’s Val up to?’ said Edie, skilfully cutting some invisible Sellotape with silver scissors. Not for her, thought Charlotte, the undignified chewing of the tape with her teeth. Or for me. Edie had just stuck a rosette of silver ribbon to the parcel and held it up to be admired. ‘Jo Malone for Joss,’ she said. ‘The new one she said she liked so much … Pomegranate Noir.’
‘Lovely!’ said Charlotte. ‘She’ll love it. Mind you … ’
To give credit where it was due, no one was quicker than Edie when it came to picking up hints. Charlotte could see her friend’s eyes open a little wider and it wasn’t more than a second or two before she asked, ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘No, not really.’
‘That means yes,’ said Edie, ‘doesn’t it?’
Charlotte sighed. She wasn’t sure whether it had been intentional on her part, but now that it had happened she was quite grateful for the opportunity to discuss Joss with Edie. She said, ‘Joss isn’t as happy as she ought to be. That’s it.’
Edie picked up some pretty, holly-sprinkled paper and began wrapping the flat box of Caran d’Ache crayons she’d chosen for Isis. She said, ‘How happy ought she to be?’
‘Happier than she seems now. She’s won that prize, and she’s had a trip to Paris. She should be looking forward to having her whole family around her at Christmas, yet when I speak to her, she seems … It’s as though there’s a shadow behind her. In her voice. Somewhere. Oh, take no notice of me. It’s probably nothing.’
‘What’s probably nothing?’ Val came into the room bearing armfuls of holly and ivy. ‘I’ve been in search of stuff for decorations. And I’m dying for a drink. Whisky, anyone?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Charlotte. ‘We’re talking about Joss. She doesn’t seem very happy.’
Val had her back to them as she reached for the glasses on the top shelf of the dresser. ‘Could be the menopause, couldn’t it? It’s hard for some women, I know.’
‘I don’t think it’s that. Or let’s say if it were that, she’d have told me.’
‘You could,’ said Edie, ‘ask her what’s wrong. She’d tell you, wouldn’t she?’
Charlotte nodded. ‘I might. If the chance presents itself.’
Val spoke soothingly as she poured drinks for all of them. ‘Don’t worry about it, anyway. Joss is very sensible. I’m sure it’s nothing too terrible.’
Charlotte wondered whether she’d have shared the details of her anxiety with Edie if Val hadn’t happened to come in when she did. Somehow she’d felt that if she told more than one person, her worries might acquire some sort of substance; some truth. As long as it was just Edie who knew what she thought, Charlotte could delude herself that maybe she was imagining things.
It was a careful reading of The Shipwreck Café that had first aroused her suspicions. After going through all the poems more than once, Charlotte had come to the conclusion that Joss was in love. Before the Madrigal Prize ceremony, she’d thought it might just be a terrific imaginative feat but after that dinner in the restaurant, there couldn’t be any doubt about it. It seemed to her that Graham Ashton was besotted with Joss. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her for more than a second. And Joss, for her part, had been flushed and agitated. As far as Charlotte knew, they’d never met, apart from once, briefly, in this house last May. And at that time, she’d had a migraine and hadn’t exchanged a word with him. Could they have struck up a friendship somewhere else? It was a mystery, and she meant to get to the bottom of it. She’d nearly asked on the phone, but something in her niece’s voice held her back. They’d been discussing who was going to be in Altrincham this year. Adrian, Zannah and Isis … It was then, at that point, that Charlotte had mentioned the Ashtons, and Joss had waited a long time before answering. At last she said, ‘They’re going to South Africa to see Jonathan, Adrian’s brother.’
Perhaps there was something on the line, but Charlotte heard a hint of anguish in that disembodied voice. She’d said, ‘Joss, darling, are you okay?’
She waited for the ‘fine’ but it didn’t come. Instead, Joss had answered enigmatically, ‘I’ll be all right.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Nothing. Really. It’s just … Never mind. I’ll be fine.’
Charlotte hadn’t pressed her but now, thinking back, she made up her mind. There would be a chance to speak alone with Joss over the Christmas weekend, and she wasn’t going to be fobbed off. Joss was like a daughter to her and she knew she wasn’t simply being nosy. She pulled her thoughts away from this problem and tuned in again to what Edie and Val were discussing.
‘Something old, something new, et cetera,’ said Val. ‘Is Zannah going to be doing that? I’ve got such a pretty blue handkerchief. I must show her next time she’s here. It’s lace-trimmed. From Bruges.’
‘And I,’ said Edie, ‘have got something old that I think she might like. A very beautiful handbag that once belonged to my mother. Small, a lovely shape embroidered with a pattern of butterflies with tiny pearls dotted all over it. I’ve only ever used it a couple of times, not being the butterflies-and-pearls type, but I think it would make a wonderful present. Mother must have bought it in the twenties, and I’m sure it would be perfect with the kind of dress Zannah’s thinking of.’
‘That’s enormously kind of you, Edie,’ said Charlotte. ‘Zannah’ll be thrilled. But what about your daughter-in-law?’
Edie smiled. ‘I love her dearly, but she’s even less butterflies-and-pearls than I am, if you can imagine such a thing. She’d think it was dreadfully old-fashioned. Zannah would appreciate it properly and therefore ought to have it. I’ll show it to her next time she’s here.’
‘That’s lovely,’ said Val, and turned to Charlotte. ‘Don’t you worry, though. Everything will work out.’
Outside, dusk had fallen. The winter solstice was nearly upon them: the longest night of the year. On the table, the whisky glasses stood among the scraps of wrapping paper and curling ribbons of scarlet and silver and gold. Val, in spite of her experience of neglect during her childhood and violence in her marriage, in spite of years in prison, always thought things would work out for the best. Charlotte tried to relax and be more optimistic. She would make a point of talking to Joss as soon as she could.