‘I believe you, sweetheart,’ she said holding her daughter’s hands. ‘But why did you run away from school to go to the party? Did you not think it would end up in trouble?’
Ruby looked at her mother for a long time before she spoke.
‘Amaryllis and Pandora are the richest, most popular girls in school and they wanted to be my friends. It made me feel special just being with them.’
‘You are special, Ruby. You don’t need those girls to make you feel it.’
‘I don’t feel special,’ Ruby said, quietly. ‘I feel lonely.’
Finally, tears started to fall from Cassandra’s eyes. She sat there on the sofa, hugging her precious daughter, sobbing into her hair, feeling more wretched and selfish than she had ever felt in her whole life.
67
‘Hello, Emma, what a nice surprise. What can I do for you?’
Although it was only eight o’clock in the morning when Emma called at Julia’s house, her aunt was up and ready for the day ahead. She led Emma through into the conservatory where breakfast had been set: two slices of toast, a glass of freshly-squeezed juice, a china pot of tea and a linen napkin were sitting next to the Daily Telegraph, and the whole homely scene was lit by the early morning sunshine flooding through the glass.
‘Sorry for not calling before,’ said Emma, ‘but I saw your car and thought you’d be in.’
‘What are you doing up and about so early?’
‘I had to collect a friend from Heathrow.’
‘Anyone I know?’
&
nbsp; Emma shook her head and looked away.
‘Well, can I offer you some tea?’
Emma stayed silent.
‘I know, Julia,’ she said slowly. ‘I know what you did.’
Julia picked up her cup and saucer and smiled at her niece.
‘Know what, darling?’
Emma knew that saying the words would rip their family apart. She knew how much it would hurt Cassandra and Tom, but she had to get to the truth or she thought she would go mad.
‘I know that you drove me off the road in Gstaad,’ she said calmly.
She watched Julia’s mouth do a down-turn as if in slow motion.
‘What a wicked thing to say,’ she whispered, putting down her tea cup with a rattle.
Emma took a piece of paper out of her handbag and passed it to her aunt.
‘I think you’ll recognize that car.’
It was a grainy faxed photograph of a black Mercedes.
‘I’ve never seen this car in my life.’
‘I think you have and I think you’ve driven it,’ said Emma. ‘On Boxing Day, the day of my accident.’
‘You evil girl!’ said Julia, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘What are you suggesting?’