The Truth Club (34 page)

‘
Of course he won’t.’ I decide to be very firm and authoritative,
even though I have no idea whether Zak would leave or stay.
‘He’s not that sort of person. He’d be angry and
think
about
leaving, but he wouldn’t. It’s not as if you’ve been unfaithful.’

‘But I have, in a way, haven’t I? He’s so convinced Milly is his
baby.’

‘And she is, in every way that matters,’ I say. ‘Anyway, he’ll probably never find out that she isn’t.’

Fiona’s eyes widen plaintively. ‘But he wants her to have a blood test.’

This is worrying news, but I manage not to change my
expression. ‘Why?’

‘It’s just something his family does, apparently. They keep charts with key medical details, including blood types. They’re very organised about healthcare.’

‘Well, tell him she’s a bit young. And then he’ll probably forget
about it. Anyway, it’s not as if he wants them to do a DNA test.’

‘I think he will!’ she cries. ‘He’ll want them to do all sorts of tests. He believes in doing everything thoroughly. I had to go to four gynaecologists before he found one he liked.’

I put on the kettle. Erika may come in at any moment and wonder where the tea is.

‘It’s his sperm, you see.’ Fiona’s eyes are puffy and red. ‘He’s
worried that his slow sperm may have affected her development
somehow – that it mightn’t have had enough oomph in it, or something.’

‘He’s just being a bit neurotic.’ I rub her back. ‘I’m sure you’ll
be able to make him see sense.’

‘I think he’s suspicious, too. Sometimes he looks at Milly as if
he suspects something. I bet that’s why he really wants her to have
a blood test.’

I’m not surprised. The truth is, Milly’s eyes are beginning to look a bit Asian. Even her hair is coal-black.

I sit down beside her. ‘Have you ever thought of just telling him?’ I tear off a piece from the paper-towel roll and hand it to her. ‘He knows you love him. You could tell him you thought he’d be a great father and desperately wanted to have a family with him.’

Fiona blows her nose noisily. ‘He’d leave me.’

‘You keep saying that, but maybe he wouldn’t.’

‘He hates lies – you know that. He hates any kind of deception.’

‘Well… maybe you could say you’d gone for a fertility test or
something, and the receptionist didn’t speak English properly.’ Fiona looks at me as if I’m a Tibetan yak. ‘You could say there
was a misunderstanding and… and they snuck the sperm into you
without you knowing.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Sally.’ Fiona makes another honking sound as she blows her nose again. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

I hear the sound of Erika’s clattery sandals on the imported marble tiles. Fiona does too. She sniffs and dabs her eyes and is Fabulous Fiona again. You’d think she didn’t have a care in the world, if it weren’t for the slight redness of her eyelids.

‘Sorry for the delay, honey,’ she calls out as Erika comes in. ‘We
were just wondering if you’d want Lapsang Souchong, jasmine,
Earl Grey or green tea.’

‘I think she likes the cat!’ Erika beams. ‘She actually smiled and
gurgled.’

The main reason why we are here is to give Milly the cat Erika
made – a beautiful pink kitten, with a floral T-shirt that says
‘Born to Boogie’ in orange and turquoise letters
.

‘It’s a beautiful cat,’ Fiona says. ‘It’s… it’s an
heirloom.’

Erika sits down at the chrome and glass table and absorbs
these words delightedly.

‘What kind of tea would you like, Erika?’ I ask.

‘Whatever you’re having. Milly’s so beautiful, Fiona. I just love
her eyes; they’re so –’

‘And a biscuit,’ I interrupt sharply. ‘What about a biscuit, Erika?’

‘I’m completely off biscuits,’ Erika says smugly.

‘So am I,’ I say. ‘I haven’t eaten a biscuit in… in twenty-eight
hours.’

‘But who’s counting?’ Fiona laughs her bright, happy laugh. I
really don’t know how she keeps up the pretence. She’s already been in touch with people at work to discuss conferences and
manuals and some new database that virtually cooks dinner. And
she’s knackered, of course, because of feeding Milly in the wee
small hours and attending to her screeches, which may happen at
any time. I’m amazed that she’s sleeping so quietly in the next room while we talk. As far as I can tell, the nanny is mostly a backup who helps with the household chores.

‘Sally must really like Nathaniel, because when she got home
she found an uneaten bar of chocolate in her pocket. She had forgotten all about it.’ Erika looks at Fiona excitedly.

‘And how’s Diarmuid?’ Fiona enquires. She can never entirely
forget that I’m married, which of course is quite true and
something I should be more aware of myself.

‘I don’t really know. I phoned him about his exams, and he
seemed pleased enough with how they went. Then he said he had
to go because he was busy. He wants to meet up tonight about
something – probably to discuss a divorce.’ I get a familiar
fluttery feeling in my stomach.

‘Oh, come on, Sally, he might just want to see you,’ Fiona tells
me. ‘It’s important to keep the lines of communication open.’

‘But he hasn’t wanted to see me for weeks. I thought he’d call
round after the exams, but he hasn’t. I think he’s found someone
else, actually; he might even be back with Becky. I can’t blame him, really.’

‘He might just have been busy,’ Fiona says soothingly. ‘Are you
sure you don’t want a biscuit? These are really delicious. They’re
home-cooked, from the deli.’

‘I don’t even want to
look
at them,’ I reply firmly. ‘Keep them
in that jar or I’ll leave the house.’

‘Nathaniel sounds lovely.’ Erika has opened the biscuit jar and
is sniffing it. ‘I wish I could meet him.
’

‘He might be going back to New York.’

‘
Oh,
no!
He mustn’t!’ she cries, dipping her hand into the container and extracting a thick shortbread cookie stuffed with hunks of chocolate
.

‘He sounds like a nice…’ Fiona pauses. ‘A nice friend. And he’s
really cheered you up.’

‘He’s more than a
friend,’
Erika protests. ‘He wanted to
kiss
Sally.’

‘But he didn’t, did he?’ Fiona says loftily. ‘He didn’t kiss her
because she’s married to Diarmuid and he’s dating Eloise. He knows there is such a thing as
loyalty
.’

‘
But… but Diarmuid wasn’t loyal to Sally,’ Erika protests. ‘He
was unfaithful with the mice. He left Sally alone for hours and hours every evening.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Erika!’ Fiona splutters. ‘You can’t have an
affair with a mouse.’

‘You can have an
emotional
affair with a mouse,’ Erika says
heatedly. ‘If a husband is getting more intimate with his mice than
his wife, I think it’s a perfectly good reason to leave a marriage.
Especially if he also loves a woman called Becky.’

‘Diarmuid never said that.’ I feel a need to defend him. ‘He never said he was in love with Becky.’

‘But
you
said he was.’ Erika glares at me.

‘Look, there are hundreds of reasons to leave a marriage,’ Fiona
says with great authority. ‘But there are more reasons to stay.’

‘
Such as?’ Erika demands. She is clearly thinking of Alex.

‘You
make
a marriage,’ Fiona declares. ‘That first passionate bit is only the start of it.’

‘But Diarmuid and Sally didn’t even have that,’ Erika inter
rupts. ‘They were more like friends… you said it yourself. There
was none of that glowy stuff. They didn’t even hold hands when
they went for a walk.’

It’s sort of fascinating to be discussed as if I am not present, but
I’m not sure I like it. ‘Diarmuid is shy about that kind of thing,’ I
interject. ‘He’s not very physically demonstrative in public.’

‘Look, it’s all right for you, Fiona. You’ve found yourself your
perfect partner,’ Erika mumbles rebelliously.

‘Zak is not a perfect partner. There are loads of things about him that annoy me.’

‘Why do you stay with him, then?’ Erika demands.

‘Because I like being married to him. I actually
like
working things out together. It’s like a journey you take with someone.’

‘But… but what if the other person is off doing yoga three nights a week and then going for herbal tea afterwards with the teacher?’ Erika demands.

Fiona raises her eyes to heaven. ‘Look, I’m not going to discuss
Alex with you, Erika. Whatever he and Whatsher-name–’

‘
Ingrid.’

‘Whatever he and Ingrid are getting up to is their own
business.’

‘So…’ I begin hesitantly. ‘So you think anyone could marry anyone else and be happy, if they worked at it?’

‘Of course not. Some people just aren’t suited – but they should
try to discover that
before
they get married, not afterwards.’ She
looks at me a little reproachfully. ‘People go on about finding the
right partner, but it’s also about
being
the right partner. Being prepared to grow together.’

She is, of course, right. Sometimes I get tired of Fiona being right. Erika is shifting restively in her chair.

‘Some people keep moving on to the next partner, thinking
everything will be different.’ She’s getting into her stride. ‘But they
don’t realise that, for things to be different,
they
need to be
different too.’