Chapter 36
AMBER
Simone glitters as she sits at the head of the table, a glass of champagne in her hand, the candlelight catching the gold locket at the base of her throat.
Her glossy mahogany hair is swept up into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, tendrils framing her face.
She is wearing a black silk kimono-style dress that clings to her taut figure and a slash of red lipstick. Queen of all she surveys.
Once we’ve ordered our food, she rubs her hands together like a child at Christmas. ‘Is it present time yet?’
Felix pulls a small, square, beribboned box from his jacket pocket and hands it to her with a flourish. ‘Happy birthday, darling. I hope you like it.’
Simone grasps the end of the ribbon and tugs, then pulls out the contents of the box with a squeal of delight.
‘Is this what I think it is?’ she says, waving a set of keys in her husband’s face.
‘It is,’ he says smugly. ‘It’s at home waiting for you. A brand-new Range Rover Evoque in Carpathian Grey. I know you love the Audi, but it’s getting on a bit and a four-wheel drive is so much more practical.’
‘Yeah, for all that off-roading you do.’ Willow rolls her eyes. ‘Still, at least it’s not as if we’re teetering on the brink of a climate catastrophe. Oh, wait. We are.’ She glares at her stepmother but Simone is too busy planting a kiss on Felix’s cheek to notice.
‘It’s OK. It’s a hybrid,’ Felix tells his daughter. ‘See? I do listen.’
‘You can give yourself a pat on the back if you want, Dad, but half measures won’t save the planet. We need radical, systemic change to prevent mass extinction and rising sea levels.’
‘Darling Willow, our little ray of sunshine. What would we do without you?’ Simone’s voice drips with dislike. ‘Who’s next?’
Victoria holds out a paper gift bag. ‘Just a little something from us. Barney chose it so blame him if it’s not your thing.’
As Simone delves into the bag, I wonder what Barney ended up buying from the bric-a-brac stall at the market. But she pulls out three jars of honey with A taste of Thalassia printed on the front.
‘Lovely,’ she says, peering back into the bag as if she’s expecting something else, brightening when Dom hands her a small, book-shaped package wrapped in expensive-looking paper.
‘I saw it and thought of you,’ he tells her, leaning forwards in his seat.
I watch my boyfriend gaze at Simone as she rips off the paper, trying to read him. She takes a small, hardback book from the expensive wrapping paper, her eyes lighting up.
‘The Great Gatsby!’ she cries, pushing her chair back and coming over to give him a hug.
Dom is smiling from ear to ear. ‘It’s not a first edition, I’m afraid. They were out of my price range. But it’s a limited edition, published in the fifties and signed by the illustrator.’
‘I love it, Dom!’
Felix tops up his glass, his gaze tracking from Dom to Simone and back again. His eyes are narrowed as he takes a long slug of wine.
‘What’s so special about The Great Gatsby?’ Barney slurs.
‘Dom and I were both reading a copy when we met in the library at uni during freshers’ week,’ Simone gushes. ‘Then we found out we lived virtually next door to each other in halls. I know. What are the chances? Anyway, Gatsby’s sort of become “our thing”.’
‘They used to rent the old Robert Redford and Mia Farrow film from Blockbuster so often I’m surprised it didn’t wear out,’ Victoria says with an indulgent smile.
Everyone falls silent as waiters arrive with our starters. I look at my plate of shiny, plump dolmades, knowing I won’t manage even a mouthful. My stomach is too busy tying itself in knots at all this cosy reminiscing.
I studied The Great Gatsby for my GCSEs.
Back then, I thought Jay Gatsby’s doomed love for Daisy Buchanan was the height of romance.
All those parties and mansions felt impossibly glamorous compared to life in Gran’s cramped flat on the South Langley Estate.
But now, the parallels with F Scott Fitzgerald’s tragi-drama about the rich and privileged feel less romantic and more like an omen.
Across the table, Willow catches my eye, her expression – to my surprise – sympathetic.
‘Aren’t you going to open my presents?’ she asks Simone, passing three parcels wrapped in newsprint to her stepmother.
‘I thought they’d come in handy, now you’re middle-aged,’ she adds, as Simone unwraps a jar of night cream, a book of Sudoku and some Tena incontinence pants, her lips growing thinner by the minute.
Felix guffaws and Willow smirks into her glass of champagne.
Simone whips round to face her husband. If looks could kill, we’d be standing at his graveside as his last rites were read.
‘I’m glad you think it’s funny,’ Simone grouses.
‘Oh, have a sense of humour, for Christ’s sake.’ Felix starts attacking his sardines with gusto. Simone’s face is flushed, a vein throbbing in her temple.
Dominic touches my arm. ‘You have a present for Simone too, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’ I reach down for the brown paper bag the man on the market stall gave me and pass it to Simone. ‘I hope you like it.’
She pulls the soft leather handbag out and inspects it as if she’s looking for a designer logo. When she doesn’t find one, she drops it back into the paper bag and deposits it on the ground behind her, clearly unimpressed. ‘Very sweet of you, Amber.’
I want to tell her that bag cost me an entire day’s wages. That I spent almost an hour choosing something I thought she’d like. I want to tell her she’s an ungrateful bitch. But I don’t, of course. I apologise. I actually apologise.
‘I’m sorry if it’s not your thing. I wasn’t sure what to—’
‘Don’t be silly. I love it,’ Simone says.
But we both know she’s lying.