Chapter Fifty-Two
‘Are you frickin’ kidding me, Mum?’
‘I’ve never been more serious,’ Cassie answered her daughter. ‘There’s something about it all that just doesn’t sit right with me.’
Emily rolled her eyes. ‘You mean Rosalyn doesn’t sit right with you. From the moment you knew of her existence you’ve had it in for her!’
‘That’s an outrageous thing to say and simply not true!
’ Cassie remonstrated, although of course it was completely true.
Ever since Emily had gone to Dubai to stay with Drew and had reported back about what a great time she was having with her father and Rosalyn, Cassie had tortured herself with daily observations of not only Emily’s Instagram and TikTok accounts, but Rosalyn’s.
Every single one of Rosalyn’s posts had thoroughly rubbed Cassie up the wrong way.
‘This has nothing to do with my feelings about Rosalyn,’ she added in a more subdued voice, conscious of their surroundings.
‘It’s about instinct. Something feels off to me. Don’t you feel it too? Just a little?’
Using a long-handled teaspoon, Emily prodded at the surface of her oat milk latte, obliterating the cute heart the hot Italian barista had put on it. ‘I don’t know what I feel,’ she said morosely.
Cassie had taken the afternoon off from work and she and Emily were having what she hoped would be some much-needed quality mother-and-daughter time together in town. Cassie had dressed it up as doing some early Christmas shopping, but in reality she had wanted time alone with Emily.
It was just over a week since Rosalyn had shared her revelations about Drew and for some reason it had galvanised her.
Within no time she’d decided on a school for Finlay and applied for a place and was now actively looking for somewhere to rent within the catchment area, as well as job-hunting.
Before going to Dubai with Drew she’d managed a beauty salon and was looking for something similar.
The change – yet another change – in her was extraordinary.
But weird too. She seemed unnaturally upbeat.
It made Cassie suspicious, and she now doubted that the grief Rosalyn had previously displayed had been genuine: it had been nothing but an act to cultivate sympathy.
Admittedly Cassie had a suspicious nature, but piecing everything together she had reached the only conclusion that made sense: Rosalyn was a narcissist. Having listened to plenty of podcasts about narcissists, in particular the dangerous sort, Cassie reckoned Rosalyn displayed many of the tell-tale traits.
Like the constant need for attention and the desire to be at the centre of things.
Then there was the inability to think or care about others and being overly sensitive to any perceived criticism.
There was also the aspect of alienating people, cutting herself off from anyone who disagreed with her.
Was this why Rosalyn hadn’t had a rush of friends to help and support her after Drew’s death? Had they all been dropped?
Then there was the story she’d told about her parents.
Cassie had never been able to get her head around the idea that Rosalyn’s mother and father wouldn’t have wanted to patch up whatever differences they’d had with their daughter so they could get to know their grandson.
But according to what Rosalyn had now shared, it was Drew’s coercive behaviour that had isolated her from her parents.
But what if that was a lie and it had been Rosalyn who had pushed them away because they could see through her act?
Because if Drew really was to blame, why hadn’t Rosalyn contacted them now that he was dead?
None of these suspicions had Cassie dared discuss with Emily.
She’d discussed them with Ben and as ever he’d cautioned her to stand back and just let Rosalyn get on with organising her new life.
He’d admitted that he’d be hugely relieved when Rosalyn and Finlay were gone so they could focus on arranging their wedding. They still hadn’t set a date.
‘But where does Emily fit into that new life Rosalyn is suddenly so eager to arrange?’ Cassie had asked Ben.
‘That’s not really our problem,’ he’d said.
‘It is if Emily ends up hurt.’
‘Then we’ll be there to pick up the pieces. Like we always have been.’
But of course, Cassie was incapable of standing back. She wanted to avoid there being any pieces to pick up; she wanted to protect Emily from being hurt in the first place.
In contrast to Rosalyn’s sudden burst of energy, and the constant breezing in and out of the apartment with Finlay, it seemed that Emily’s energy had been depleted.
She spent much of her time avoiding Cassie, and when she offered to help Rosalyn with looking for somewhere to live, Rosalyn said she had it all in hand and she’d taken up enough of Emily’s time already.
Poor Emily, thought Cassie as she observed her daughter’s downcast face, she had to feel rejected after everything she’d done to help.
She was also having to come to terms with everything Rosalyn had said about Drew, shattering in one fell swoop the version of her father she’d come to believe and had perhaps begun to love.
So far, and despite Cassie’s attempts to encourage Emily to discuss it with her, she had refused to do so.
Which was why they were here in town having coffee and cake together. Obviously, Cassie was meddling, but that’s what a good mother did. Meddling was one hundred per cent part of the job description. It was how you protected your daughter.
‘I just don’t get you,’ Emily said, looking up from her latte, ‘I’d have thought, given how much you hated him, you’d be only too happy to discover my father was an abusive husband.’
Ignoring the jibe, Cassie said, ‘I know you’re very fond of Rosalyn, but what if she’s made stuff up? What evidence do we really have that your father did any of those things she claimed he did?’
‘Yeah right, wasn’t that what MeToo was all about, women coming forward and actually being believed?’
‘Absolutely. But hand on heart, Ems, I never once experienced any kind of coercive behaviour when I was with Drew.’
‘You said he lied to you. You said he tried to make you believe you were imagining that he was seeing other women. Isn’t that coercive behaviour?’
‘Well, yes, but … but look, he was no saint, and he often lied to cover his tracks when he was with another woman, but I never felt threatened by him. That’s quite a different matter.’
‘Maybe he changed,’ Emily said flatly.
How many times had she said that in defence of her father when Cassie had been so tempted to say that leopards couldn’t change their spots. Now Emily was using it to condemn her father.
‘Women generally have an instinct,’ Cassie said warily, ‘did you ever feel uncomfortable around your dad? Did you ever witness him saying or doing something which you thought was out of order?’
‘No,’ Emily said. ‘But abusive men are calculating, aren’t they?’
Cassie tried another tack. ‘You must admit that it does seem odd that Rosalyn is now sharing online on all her platforms how coercive Drew was and that she hated living the lie she’d put across to her followers.’
Odd was putting it mildly. Cassie had been disgusted watching Rosalyn’s posts.
There she was with her flawless make-up and her eyes enlarged with false eyelashes and smudgy eyeliner, pouring out her heart in a breathless little girl’s voice.
‘You need to know it wasn’t what I wanted to post, but he made me do it.
He wanted everyone to see what a perfect dream life we had.
And all the time it was a nightmare, and I couldn’t tell anyone.
I hope you can forgive me for lying to you. ’
The support that followed her posts was instant and quickly grew and with each new post of Rosalyn claiming she’d been gaslit or forced to do things she didn’t want to do, Cassie was ever more convinced that Rosalyn was lying, and playing yet another role.
Never would Cassie have imagined that she would want to defend her ex-husband, but a dead man unable to defend himself just didn’t seem right.
Not all the online replies were positive. Men, probably pathetic and angry incels, had been quick to weigh in, telling Rosalyn she undoubtedly deserved what she’d got, that she was just another freeloading bitch who’d had it coming.
Such was the volume of responses to the posts, Cassie had wasted hours scrolling through the comments, but it was a needle-in-a-haystack task. What she was searching for was someone who knew Drew personally and who was prepared to call Rosalyn out for lying.
In answer to Cassie’s question, and after finishing her latte, Emily said, ‘It’s not that odd what Rosalyn’s doing; people are used to living their lives online, it’s as natural as breathing. It’s not like it was back in your day.’
Cassie smiled. ‘Make me feel a hundred and ten, why don’t you, and here I am convincing myself that forty is the new thirty!’
Emily smiled faintly too. It was the first time Cassie had seen her look anything but completely miserable in the last nine days. ‘You’re okay, Mum, don’t stress it.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks.’
For a few moments Emily stared out of the window and Cassie followed the direction of her gaze.
Directly opposite the coffee shop was King’s College and through a parting in the gunmetal-grey sky, a shaft of brilliantly radiant light shone like a laser beam on the magnificent old building, giving it an unworldly appearance.
‘If Rosalyn is lying,’ Emily said, turning to look at Cassie, ‘or exaggerating, how do you explain what Finlay said about Dad throwing him in the swimming pool to punish him?’
‘I don’t know, not for sure,’ Cassie said, ‘but when I think back to what Finlay told me, he didn’t actually say the words “Daddy threw me in the pool”. He said something about it being a secret and that Daddy would be cross if he told anyone.’
‘Wait, you’re now saying you misinterpreted what Finlay said?’
Cassie shook her head. ‘Not exactly. But look at it this way, a child can be very easily manipulated. What if it had been a game Drew was playing with Finlay and then Rosalyn twisted it round to make it seem like it was a punishment that Drew had carried out? Cleverly done, a small child can be convinced black is white and white is black. And, what if it was Rosalyn who threw Finlay into the swimming pool as a punishment and told him he mustn’t ever tell Daddy about it because Daddy would be cross, not with Finlay, but with her? ’
Frowning, Emily said, ‘I can’t believe you of all people would be standing up for a man you’ve hated ever since I was a baby.’
‘I can’t believe it either,’ responded Cassie. And because Emily seemed receptive, she told her about her theory that maybe Rosalyn had a narcissistic personality disorder.
The frown deepening on her face, Emily said, ‘Why are you so bothered about disproving Rosalyn? Why would you care?’
‘I care because Drew was your father, and he mattered to you.’
Emily picked up her napkin and began tearing bits off it.
Cassie watched her. ‘Ems,’ she said, ‘can you think of anyone back in Dubai who knew your father well and who might be prepared to dispute Rosalyn’s claims?’
‘Not really. But what I could do, seeing as I have so much free time now that Rosalyn doesn’t seem to need me, is check out her socials to see if anyone is sticking up for Dad.’
‘I tried doing that, but I’ve been so busy with creating a new website and helping Nina at the gallery, I didn’t have the time to scroll through all the comments. There are thousands of them.’
Emily tossed aside the last remaining piece of the napkin as though she’d lost interest in it.
‘Well, like I say,’ she said with a shrug, ‘I do have time on my hands now. Which leads me on to something I wanted to tell you. And whatever you do, please don’t say, “I told you so” or that you knew all along I’d regret chucking it in, but I think I’d like to go back to uni next year, to finish off my degree.
Meanwhile I’ll get a job to help fund myself, but can I stay on with you and Ben until, you know, I’m properly sorted? ’
Nothing could have pleased Cassie more. But knowing it was always better to play it cool, especially in public, she resisted throwing her arms around her daughter and said, ‘Of course, Ems. And you know what,’ she added with the happiest of smiles, ‘you can help me plan the wedding.’
‘Oh, great, it’ll be 24/7 brain-numbing wedding talk, will it?’
And just like that, Cassie knew she had her daughter back. Her wonderfully sharp-tongued, sassy Emily, with all her mocking sarcasm and eye-rolling condescension. Welcome back, Ems!