Chapter Forty-Two
The gulf between her and Daphne has never seemed as wide to Adelaide as it does now, when she needs her the most. She is aware that this is selfish.
She is also aware that her behaviour throughout their friendship has been selfish.
Taking Daphne’s husband as a lover was definitely selfish.
So was running away to Europe to forge a career and relying on Daphne to keep up the connection.
When Adelaide thinks of herself in this light, she can’t help but wonder why Daphne bothered.
She’s not a reliable friend, at all. Which makes the loss of friendship even more devastating because she so clearly took Daphne for granted.
Took her care and attention as if she was owed them. Took Hector as if she was owed him too.
She needs Daphne now because she has no idea how to be a mother, and Desmond seems to want some sort of motherly behaviour from her. He has been calling her, filling her in on his week. Asking her what she’s been up to – which isn’t much.
The other day she walked past the frock shop and looked in. She misses being there. She had come to enjoy it; not just being with Daphne but with the customers too. It had been another sort of performance, working there.
There was a teenage girl behind the counter, talking to Christina. But no Daphne. Adelaide was tempted to go in and say hello, just so Christina could tell Daphne that she’d been there. That she’d tried.
Except she hasn’t tried. She’s wanted. She’s lamented. But she hasn’t tried.
So today she is trying. Today she is going to persevere. Because Desmond wants to meet Hector, and the motherly thing to do is to try to get her son what he wants.
After swearing she would never come back to the house on Beaconsfield Road, she opens the squeaky front gate and takes the uneven path to the door, watching her step because at her age she has to check for potential snares.
From the corner of her eye she sees movement near the front window, then the front door opens before she’s reached it.
Janet is standing there, clearly furious. But this is Desmond’s half-sister. That’s how Adelaide needs to think of Janet now.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Janet rasps.
‘I’m here to see Daphne,’ Adelaide says as calmly as possible.
‘I am very sure that Mum does not want to see you.’
Janet is standing in the doorway but the door itself is barely open. Adelaide has to admire Janet’s ferocity in protecting her mother, even if Adelaide herself is the reason for it.
‘Please, Janet – there are things …’ Adelaide sighs. ‘We need to talk. There are things she needs to know.’
‘Like what?’ Janet’s chin juts out, her arms are crossed.
Daphne once called Janet ‘my little terrier’ and Adelaide couldn’t understand it at the time. But, then, she’s never known Janet well. Almost all the information she had about her was via Daphne’s letters.
The door opens a little more and Daphne materialises behind Janet. Adelaide would have expected her to look angry; instead she just seems sad.
‘It’s all right, Janet,’ Daphne says, pulling the door all the way back, which Adelaide takes as an invitation to enter.
‘Hector’s at North Shore,’ Daphne says as Adelaide steps inside.
‘Oh – I hope it’s nothing serious?’
‘We’ll see.’ Daphne walks slowly toward the sitting room.
Adelaide follows. ‘I’m not here to see him.’
‘No,’ Daphne says, turning toward her. ‘I imagine you’re not.’ The chill that emanates from her is palpable.
Adelaide can’t believe that her oldest friend is now so distant. Except she has to believe it, because that’s the reality.
Daphne gestures to an armchair and takes another, as far away from Adelaide as it is possible to get.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Adelaide blurts.
‘That’s never going to be enough,’ Daphne replies sternly. ‘So there’s no point saying it.’
What else should she say? Words are so inadequate in situations where emotions are vast and overlapping and have been steeping for decades.
Daphne has made her position clear, though, and Adelaide needs to respect it. They are adversaries, and that seems permanent. Which means treating this encounter as a negotiation, not a reunion.
‘All right,’ she concedes.
‘If you don’t want to see Hector, what do you want?’ Daphne says.
Adelaide decides to try one of the truths. ‘To see you.’
‘No point. What else?’
Is the pain caused by a knife to the heart worse when one has carved the knife oneself? Adelaide feels it might be. She winces, but knows she has to press on.
‘My son, Desmond, wants to meet Hector.’
Daphne’s face doesn’t move. Adelaide wishes she could be that implacable.
‘You’ve met him?’ Daphne says.
‘Yes. And we’ve stayed in touch.’
Daphne takes a breath and nods slowly. ‘So did you see him because you wanted an excuse to see Hector? To play at being a family?’
Daphne’s voice is so cold that Adelaide can’t recognise it, and the knife plunges deeper.
‘No!’ She’s vehement, even as she suspects that, subconsciously, she may have wished for exactly what Daphne is suggesting.
‘Hector is very unwell,’ Daphne says. ‘We don’t know when he’ll be coming home.’
Adelaide can hear Janet in the kitchen, making noise, possibly on purpose.
‘May I …’ Adelaide considers what to say. ‘May I call you in a week to see how he is?’
Daphne stares at her. If only Adelaide could know what her old friend is thinking; if only there might be a skerrick of affection still there for her.
‘I’ll call you when he’s home,’ Daphne says.
It’s more than Adelaide could have expected.
‘Thank you,’ she says.
Daphne sniffs in a breath. ‘I imagine you’re not coming back to the frock shop.’
‘I didn’t think I’d be welcome.’
Daphne purses her lips. ‘It’s closing anyway.’
‘What?’ That shop has been so important to Daphne – it was mentioned in every one of her letters.
‘The landlord is doubling the rent. Wants a new tenant.’ Daphne sounds almost nonchalant, but she can’t be.
‘Is there one yet?’
‘No. Probably asking too much. But it will happen. Eventually.’ Daphne pats the arms of the chair. ‘Just thought you should know.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Adelaide says softly.
‘Not half as much as I will be.’
Daphne pushes herself to her feet. Adelaide knows she needs to follow suit.
‘I’ll see you out,’ Daphne says.
When they reach the door Adelaide turns and, without thinking, kisses Daphne on the cheek.
Daphne stands there and takes it and says nothing, which is worse, Adelaide thinks, than telling her to go away.
No more words are exchanged as Adelaide leaves and the door is closed behind her. Then she’s back on Beaconsfield Road, wondering if she’s done the right thing or the wrong thing by coming here, and if there’s any way she will ever find out.