Chapter 35
Xavier
This evening is the oddest mix of turgid and charged, of endless and fleeting. I’d rather be anywhere else than in a room filled with people ten years my junior getting hammered and dancing to what I can only assume are the latest hits.
I feel a hundred years old.
Then again, Ivy is here, and I’ll endure all of it to know we’re breathing the same air for a couple of hours.
I keep catching glimpses of her with Flora.
I managed to drop into the conversation that I’m taking Selena for a late supper afterwards.
There’s a chance I won’t get to say goodbye to Ivy, and I can’t bear that she’d think I’d snuck away willingly.
My fiancée and I are making stilted conversation with Harry’s mother, who is some sort of distant cousin to Selena.
In my peripheral vision, my sister is talking and almost certainly flirting with the birthday boy over by the dance floor, but I haven’t seen Ivy in a while.
I’m chatting inconsequentially and attempting to search her out when a hand catches on my arm.
I turn and see, to my horror, that Ivy’s face is tear-streaked and blotchy.
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ she says in a panicked whisper. ‘But do you know where Flora is?’
‘Excuse me,’ I murmur to the others, pulling her off to one side. Then, more urgently: ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s just that I have to go, and I don’t want to leave Flora in the lurch. But I haven’t seen her since she went to chat to someone a while ago, and I don’t know what to do.’
‘She’s over there with Harry. She’s fine. Tell me what’s wrong. How can I help?’
Another head shake, tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘It’s nothing. Just a family issue.’
‘Ivy.’ I glance back at Selena, who seems genuinely interested in how Harry’s mother planned this event, before putting my hands on Ivy’s upper arms. I don’t care how it looks.
She’s clearly very distressed, and I’m not about to let her give me the brush-off.
‘Listen to me. Whatever it is, I’m coming with you.
No—no. Don’t look at me like that. It’s not up for discussion. End of story.’
I turn back to my fiancée. ‘Flora’s friend is having a family emergency, and I need to go and help. I’m so sorry. Can I put you in a cab, or will you stay?’
Selena looks from me, to Ivy’s tear-stained face, and back to her relative.
To her credit, she doesn’t make a fuss about the fact that I’m abandoning her, even if she’d never consider Ivy a serious threat.
People like Ivy don’t even make it onto the radar of people like my fiancée.
She arches one eyebrow as if to say Why on earth are you wasting your time on this girl? I ignore it. ‘I’ll stay for a bit.’
I nod. ‘Got it. Can you check in with Flora, please—let her know Ivy and I had to dash?’ She’s close enough to being family. It won’t hurt her to pull her weight.
We grab our coats from the cloakroom and I march Ivy outside to the cab rank. She’s still quietly sobbing. ‘Where are we going?’
She hesitates. ‘It’ll be way too expensive in a cab.’
‘Again, not up for discussion.’ I stand by the open passenger window so I can brief the cabbie on our destination, and something about the decisive note in my tone must break her, because she sighs through her tears.
‘St Agnes’ Care Home in Harlesden, please.’
I repeat the address to the cabbie and wrench open the passenger door.
‘Get in.’ I help her with her seatbelt and buckle myself into the middle seat so I can stay close.
Only after she’s secure and the cab is pulling off down the Mall do I wedge an arm behind her and tug her tightly against me, banding my other arm around her for good measure.
‘Sweetheart,’ I mutter into her hair, ‘this isn’t the time for secrets. For the love of God, tell me what the hell is going on and how I can help.’
‘You can’t help,’ she says with a sniff. ‘No one can.’
‘Well, even if that’s true, I can be there for you. For now, anyway. So spill.’
A long pause. Then: ‘It’s my stepmum. She’s injured herself.’
I blow out a breath. ‘I’m so sorry. Where is she—she’s in a home?’
Another pause, Ivy’s thin shoulders quaking beneath her useless coat. ‘Yeah. We had to put her in one a couple of months back.’
‘Jesus. I’m so sorry,’ I repeat. My mind races. Ivy told me her stepmother was formerly a librarian; I remember as much because it’s so rare that she shares anything about her personal life with me. ‘Can I ask why?’
She twists towards me, burying her face in my chest. I rest my chin against the top of her head, letting her know I’ve got her.
‘She has a form of dementia. It’s called LBD—Lewy body dementia. It’s pretty shitty. Anyway, it got so bad that I couldn’t look after her at home anymore, so she’s gone into a home.’
Jesus Christ. I’m not familiar with this condition, but if the poor woman has had to be institutionalised, it must be serious. A vision of my father, his bedroom now a state-of-the-art hospital room, appears in my mind. Privilege can buy you your way out of all manner of things, it seems.
‘That’s unbelievably tragic. How old is she?’
‘Fifty-four.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And what’s happened to her, do you know?’
‘Apparently they let her fall flat on her face. She’s completely banged up, two black eyes and a wrist fracture. They just brought her back from the hospital.’
‘Good Lord. I’m so fucking sorry.’
She sighs, her breath warming me through my shirt.
‘And your dad? How is he coping?’
A muffled sob. I cradle her head with my hand.
‘What is it?’
She shakes her head against my chest.
‘He’s not with us anymore—he died seven years ago.’
Bloody hell. The poor little duck. ‘I’m terribly sorry to hear that,’ I mutter against her hair. ‘So is it just you and your stepmother, then?’ I’m reluctant to ask where her mother is. Not with her in this state.
Her only answer is a fresh outburst of tears. I’m unclear as to how she’s ended up caring for her stepmother, but it seems her family situation is… not the tidiest.
But I’m here. For now. And I’m damned if I won’t get to the bottom of all of it.