I am so tempted to take a selfie with her right now. But, no. That wouldn’t be the act of a kind, mature daughter-in-law.

“Elinor.” I shake her gently. “Elinor, wake up!”

“Huh?” She comes to with a start and rubs at her eyes while I watch in alarm, half-expecting flakes of skin to start falling off her face.

“Have some more water.” I hand her the glass and look at my watch. “Tarkie and Dad should be here soon.”

“If they come,” says Luke, who is tucking into bacon and eggs and feeding every other forkful to Minnie.

“ ‘If they come’?” I stare at him in dismay. “What do you mean? Of course they’ll come.”

“Kidding,” puts in Minnie emphatically. “You’re kidding.” She looks around proudly and pinches a strawberry off Mum’s plate. But Mum doesn’t even notice. She’s also staring at Luke in consternation.

“What makes you say that, Luke? Has Graham been in touch with you?”

“Of course not,” says Luke patiently as Suze sits down again. “But it’s ten past nine now. If this appointment was going to happen, I think they’d be on time. I just have a hunch about it.”

“A hunch?” says Mum suspiciously.

“What do you know?” demands Suze. “Luke, what aren’t you telling us?”

“Luke doesn’t know anything!” I say hurriedly. “And his instincts are usually wrong. I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

But I’m lying, of course. Luke’s instincts are usually spot on. Why else has he done so well in business? He can read people and situations and think ahead of everyone else. And then, as we’re sitting there silently, sipping our drinks, my phone rings. I pull it out and see Dad on the screen, and my heart plummets.

“Dad!” I exclaim determinedly. “Great! Are you here? We’re sitting at the big circular table, next to the huge display of fruit.”

“Becky—” He stops, and there’s silence and I know, I just know.

“Dad, I’m passing you over to Mum,” I say in a kind of fierce, bright way. “Right now. You’re talking to Mum.”

I’m not being the messenger anymore. I can’t do it.

I hand the phone to Mum and furiously start cutting up a melon slice. My head is bowed over the plate, but I can hear Mum’s voice getting shriller and shriller:

“But we’re all sitting here, waiting! Graham, don’t you tell me not to worry….Well, then, tell me the truth….I think I’ll decide what’s important or not….Go back to L.A.?…No, I haven’t visited any vineyards….No, I don’t want to visit any vineyards….Stop talking about bloody vineyards!”

“Let me talk to him!” Suze keeps chiming in. “Is Tarkie there?” At last she wrests the phone off Mum and exclaims, “I need to talk to my husband!…Well, where is he?…What do you mean, a ‘walk’?” She’s practically snarling at the phone. “I need to speak to him!”

At last she switches the phone off and slaps it back down on the table. She’s breathing hard and her cheeks are pink. “If one more person tells me to relax…”

“I agree!” says Mum vociferously.

“How can I relax?”

“Vineyards! He wants me to go and visit the vineyards! I’ll give that Graham what for when I see him. He kept spouting nonsense, like, ‘This isn’t a big deal….I’ve only been away for a couple of days….What’s the problem?’ The problem is, he’s keeping secrets from me!” She bangs her cup down on the table. “There’s another woman. I know there is.”

“Mum!” I say, shocked. “No!”

“There is!” Tears rise in her eyes, and she dabs at them with a napkin. “That’s what he’s ‘putting right.’ Something to do with another woman.”

“No, he’s not!”

“Well, what else can it be?”

And there’s silence. The truth is, I have no idea what it can be.

—

We sit there for forty minutes longer, even though we know they’re not coming. It’s as though we’ve all been stunned into inaction.

Plus, you know, the buffet really is excellent. And my appetite has greatly recovered after a few cups of coffee. In fact, I’ve decided to switch from the 5:2 diet to the “get the most from your buffet because it’s costing you a fortune” diet.

Meanwhile, Elinor has revived and is deep in conversation with Danny. It turns out they know all the same society ladies in Manhattan, because Elinor goes to events with them and Danny sells dresses to them. Danny has even opened up his sketchbook and is drawing outfits for Elinor, while she watches over his shoulder.

“This would do for the opera,” he’s saying, as he shades the skirt with crosshatching. “Or gallery events, tea parties…”

“Not too much of a peplum,” says Elinor, regarding his sketch with a critical eye. “I do not wish to appear as a lampshade.”

“Elinor, I’ll give you exactly the right amount of peplum,” Danny retorts. “Trust me. I have the eye.”

“I have the money,” Elinor shoots back, and I stifle a snort. These two are a good match. Now Danny is drawing a sweeping coat with a massive funnel neck.

“This neckline is your friend,” he says to Elinor. “Higher in back, lower in front. It’s going to frame your face. It’s going to look unbelievable. And we’re going to edge it in faux fur.” He’s drawing in the fur, and Elinor is watching avidly. To be honest, I’m quite fascinated myself. Elinor would look amazing in that coat.

“I need a muffin to help me think,” Danny says, suddenly leaping to his feet. “I’ll be back in a moment, Elinor.”

As I head to the muffin stand alongside him, Danny looks delighted with himself.

“I’m basing a whole new collection around Elinor,” he tells me. “Danny Kovitz Classic. Like, a semi-couture line for the lady of silver years.”

“Silver dollars, more like,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Both.” He winks at me. “You know, Elinor has a very good sense of style.”

“Well, yes…Only, she’s a bit rigid.”

“I don’t find that,” says Danny complacently. “I find her very receptive to new ideas.”

“Well, obviously she’s hit it off with you,” I say, a bit jealously. I had been thinking of myself as Elinor’s fashion guru. I mean, I’m the one who got her into wrap dresses. But now Danny will take over and claim all the credit. “Anyway, enjoy. How much are you going to charge her for all this?”

“Oh, not more than the price of a small condo in Mexico,” murmurs Danny. “I already googled the one I want.”

“Danny!”

“I just need to sell her three more coats.”

“Danny!” I give him a push. “Don’t exploit my mother-in-law.”

“She’s exploiting me!” retorts Danny. “Do you know how much work this will all be? Hey, I might get myself a waffle.”

As he heads to the other side of the buffet, I wander over to the Italian-themed counter, and I’m just reaching for a cannolo when my phone rings. I pull it out and stare at the display in astonishment. It’s Tarquin. Why’s he phoning me? Did he get the wrong number?

“Hi!” I say breathlessly. “Oh my God, Tarkie, hi! I’ll just get Suze—”

“No!” says Tarquin. “I don’t want to talk to Suze.”

“But—”

“If you get her, Becky, I’ll ring off.”

He sounds so adamant, I gape at the phone.

“But, Tarkie…”

“I phoned to have a conversation with you, Becky. That’s why I dialed your number.”

“But I’m not your wife,” I say, feeling stupid.

“You’re my friend. Aren’t you?”

“Of course. Tarkie…” I rub my head, trying to collect my thoughts. “What’s happened to you?”

“Nothing’s happened to me.”

“But you’ve really changed. You sound fine. In L.A., we all thought—” I stop before I can say, we all thought you were losing it.

And I know that sounds extreme—but, honestly, Tarkie was in a mess. All he wanted to do was spend time with Bryce. All he could talk about was how Suze was sabotaging him. It was miserable.

“I was in a bad way in L.A.,” says Tarkie after a long pause. “It was…claustrophobic. That can make any relationship go in a strange direction.”

He must be talking about himself and Bryce.

“But surely things are even more claustrophobic now?” I say, puzzled. “I mean, now you’re with Bryce all the time, things won’t get any better—”

“I don’t mean Bryce! Why would I mean Bryce? I mean Suze!”

“Suze?”

I blink at the phone. Does he mean— He doesn’t mean—

“Tarkie?” I begin in slight dread. “What do you—”

“You must have seen us, Becky,” says Tarkie, his voice gruff. “You must have realized things weren’t good between Suze and me. Well, they hit a real low in L.A.”

“It was a stressy time for everyone,” I put in quickly.

“No, it was really bad for us.”

I feel a kind of knotting in my stomach. I’ve never had a conversation like this with Tarkie before. Suze and Tarkie have never gone wrong before. They can’t go wrong. I feel like the world isn’t right if Suze and Tarkie aren’t happy.

“You must have realized,” Tarkie repeats.

“I…well…” I stammer. “I knew you were spending a lot of time with Bryce, but—”

“Yes, and why do you think that was?” Tarkie sounds so forceful, I jump. “I’m sorry,” he backtracks immediately. “I didn’t mean to lose my cool like that.”

Tarkie is such a gentleman. I’ve barely ever heard him even snap before. My head is spinning with worry and distress, and all I can think is: Suze.

“Tarkie, you have to talk to Suze,” I say. “Please. She’s so worried about you, she’s in a total state—”

“I can’t talk to her,” Tarkie interrupts me. “Not right now. Becky, I can’t cope with her. She’s so irrational. She makes accusations, she jumps down my throat….I needed to get away. Your father is wonderful. He’s so balanced.”

“But Suze needs you!”

“I’ll be back. We’ll only be a few days.”