Chapter 19 #4
She smiles, a soft, thoughtful smile. ‘I remembered what was good in my life. And I found someone who loved me and wanted to protect me in the right way. Richard would go to the ends of the earth to do what he thinks is right by me, even if he gets it wrong sometimes. You’ll be fine, Dayna.
You’ll find your someone special, and you’ll think everything that happened in life is somehow okay because it brought you together and resulted in a life you want. ’
My mother strokes my hair and rubs a thumb across my cheek. Regret weighs heavily on me.
‘Anna and I are going to have our nails done and get lunch together. Why don’t you come with us?’
‘Oh, that’s really not my—’ Building bridges, not burning them. ‘You know what, sure. That sounds nice.’
* * *
I feel slightly ridiculous walking behind Anna as she struts, in a dress, heels and fur coat, into the nail bar in Richmond as if she’s just stepped off 1950s Broadway.
She makes a screeching sound when she sees someone she knows which has me squinting and wishing I could turn down the volume of my ears.
Mum takes a stool next to Anna, and I sit on her other side. She signals to one of the beauticians. ‘Marybella, this is my daughter, Dayna. She’ll have the same as Anna and me.’
Marybella takes a seat on the opposite side of the bar and grabs hold of my hands, scrutinising my cuticles and mismatched nail lengths.
Manicured nails aren’t top of my list of priorities, especially when I spend half my days on rigs and refineries.
She gives me a giant keyring hung with false nails painted in various colours and asks me to choose one as another member of staff brings out three glasses of prosecco and places them down on the bar in front of us.
‘I think this one would be lovely on you,’ Mum says, leaning across my shoulder to pick up one of the plastic nails.
It feels peculiar to have my mother tell me which colours might suit my nails and sitting next to me drinking godawful fizz. As much as I want there to be a natural connection between us – FFS, we’re mother and daughter – there just isn’t. At least not yet.
‘Taupe it is,’ I say, trying to sound upbeat.
‘How’s Constance?’ Anna asks her friend. My ears prick up at the name – she knows Clark’s ex? It shouldn’t surprise me – the socialite circle is small in this world – but my pulse quickens.
‘A complete mess,’ her friend says theatrically. ‘I mean, it was only two weeks ago. They should have been on their honeymoon, then those pictures of Clark and Camilla Normen of all people were on Facebook.’
‘Urgh, she’s a whore.’
‘Anna!’ Mum gasps.
Anna turns to face her. ‘What? She is.’ She turns back to her friend. ‘So, Clark and Camilla?’
Her friend shakes her head and takes a sip of her bubbles. ‘No. It was apparently an unfortunately timed photograph.’
‘Like anyone believes that. Everyone knows his reputation.’
Irrational anger stirs in me. Clark does have a reputation, but I want to defend him. He wasn’t with Camilla Normen. But I just stare at my hands as Marybella gets to work.
‘Well, she believed it once he told her what really happened. Apparently, he was in Verbier with his ex-girlfriend and they slept together.’
I choke on my prosecco.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell Marybella, accepting a tissue.
‘No!’ Anna says.
‘Yep. He met Constance yesterday and told her everything, told her he’s in love with his ex, always was.’
‘Who is she?’ Anna asks.
Shit. Shitty fuck fuck fuck.
‘Mmm, I can’t remember.’
I exhale subtly and take another drink.
‘Dayna. That’s it. Dayna Cross!’
Holy mother of fuck. I spray my entire mouthful across Marybella.
It feels like the entire nail bar drops silent and all eyes stare at me, the mega-bitch.
In reality, I know other people look because I just spat prosecco all over the technician, not because they know I slept with Clark Layton days after he called off his marriage.
Not because Clark told his ex-fiancée that he’s in love with me and always was.
Anna’s stare could sear my flesh, but she doesn’t concern me. It’s the look on my mum’s face that steals my attention. The three Ds – disappointment, disgust and dismay.
‘You and Clark? Clark Layton? Layton?’
My mum has never known any of our story – not four years ago, not eighteen months ago, not that I’ve been in love with him for years. How could she have when we’ve never had those mum and daughter talks?
‘I didn’t know,’ I stutter. ‘It was before I found out about the affair.’
‘He’s in love with you?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Tell me he’s not the man you were talking about earlier.’
I can’t speak. My mouth is suddenly dry. Yes. He’s the only person I’ve ever wanted to spend my life with.
‘That’s why you’re so upset.’
She turns away from me and purses her lips as she watches the technician get back to work.
I continue watching her, waiting, but we finish having our treatments in silence.
Anna’s friend leaves as soon as her nails are finished.
She looks like she can’t get away fast enough.
I wonder whether that’s because the tension around us is palpable, or whether she’s desperate to get out of here and share her new gossip.
We leave the salon and if I had driven my own car, I would drive away from this mess. But Mum drove, so I’m walking behind her and Anna like the black sheep again.
The manager of the French restaurant my mother has already chosen holds open the door and welcomes her and Anna by name, kissing them on both cheeks.
‘I’m afraid I had to move you over here,’ he says, guiding us to a table set for three. ‘Your preferred table is only for two.’
Wow, even people I don’t know want to kick me in the gut today.
‘That’s fine, thank you,’ my mother says, still not acknowledging my presence but taking a seat at the table.
We look over the menus on the blackboards around the Parisian-feel bistro, still in silence. My mother orders a bottle of Burgundy without asking my preference.
‘Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the day?’ I snap, unable to keep a lid on my temper.
She raises her eyes to me but doesn’t speak.
‘You’re the one who kept everything from me, Mum. How was I to know Laytons are forbidden?’
She puts down the piece of bread she’s picked out of the basket in the middle of the table. ‘This isn’t just about the Laytons. This is about my daughter sleeping with a practically married man.’
I open my mouth to retort but her words resonate. She’s right. It was reckless to sleep with Clark. I was stupid to fall even deeper for him than I already had. I was an even bigger fool for believing he wanted me and that I wasn’t just a rebound.
‘For what it’s worth, we’re not together, and I’ve hurt no one more than myself.’
She glances at me, her eyes fleetingly full of sympathy, then she looks away to taste the wine brought to the table.
I stay and eat the coq au vin I’ve ordered, but I don’t drink the wine. There’s only one place I’m going from here and that’s home, with another rip in my heart because for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe I could change the past.