The Truth Club

by Grace Wynne-Jones

  ‘I’ve read your columns,’ a cousin called Seamus tells me. ‘I agree with you entirely about the importance of kitchen storage.’

  ‘Have you been doing any courses lately?’ a relative called Suki enquires. She is tall and blonde and could easily be a model.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I’ve been studying art history – it’s so fascinating, Sally – and…’

  I look as though I’m listening to her for the next ten minutes. She seems a nice enough person, and genuinely enthused by her subject matter. Then Mum nudges me sharply in the ribs.

  ‘How wonderful, Suki,’ I say. ‘I’d better go and… you know… mingle.’

  ‘What is it, Mum?’ I whisper, when we’re out of Suki’s earshot.

  ‘I’ve asked your father to head the taxi off at the entrance to the estate,’ Mum says agitatedly. ‘He’ll wave it down.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’ll get it to stop. And then he’ll ask April to get into the car, and drive her to a nice lunch at that hotel in Killiney she likes so much.’ Mum is almost quivering with subterfuge. ‘If she says she wants to make her – her announcement, he won’t argue with her; he’ll pretend that he’s going to drive her to Marie’s party later. Then he’ll get her drunk.’

  ‘Oh.’ I notice my father leaving the room hurriedly and dashing towards the front door. I’m rather shocked at this daring plan.

  ‘Orla, our daughter, has just met a lovely young man at her salsa class,’ a distant relation by marriage tells me. ‘Have you ever tried salsa, Sally? Apparently it’s great fun.’

  She’s talking to me as if I’m single, I think. She’s talking to me as if I was never married at all. But she must know I married Diarmuid. Everyone in this room does. Marie rounded them all up and got them to come to the wedding. They have given me wedding presents. They have showered me with confetti.

  ‘Dear Marie – she puts on a great spread, doesn’t she?’ Cedric says. I try not to stare at him as I recall what Marie said about him and Annabel’s mother. ‘How are you, Sally? Are you still involved in windsurfing?’ The man must have a great memory. My crazy windsurfing days were years ago. I only managed to stand up on the surfboard for about five minutes.

  ‘I’ve always rather liked the look of windsurfing,’ Cedric continues. ‘It must be wonderfully refreshing.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ I agree. He hasn’t mentioned Diarmuid, either. In fact, I don’t think anyone is going to. I thought they’d be pestering me with questions, but they seem to have edited the subject out of their conversations. I’m grateful, but I shouldn’t be that surprised: they have done that with so many other subjects already.

  I feel Fabrice watching me again, as she straightens the mohair rug so that it covers Aggie’s knees. Maybe she’s jealous of my friendship with Nathaniel. I would love to march up to her and ask her about him, but of course I don’t.

  I take a large gulp of red wine. I’m glad that Dad has decided to intercept April – and I’m so relieved that he and Mum finally believed me. Of course, now people are asking where April is, and where my father has gone; Mum is making vague comments about her being collected from somewhere at the last minute. ‘It will be so lovely to see her again,’ someone says. ‘She must be lovely and brown. I’ve always wanted to visit San Francisco.’

  I wonder how Mum will explain April’s non-appearance, I think, cramming crisps into my mouth. Marie is serving some sort of main course later. Whatever one may say about her parties, there is no shortage of food.

  ‘Sally, could you help me to bring in the plates?’ Marie says. Then she looks around and cries, ‘April. Oh, darling April!’

  I nearly drop my glass. What on earth is April doing here? She should be with Dad. Did she get out of the taxi and sprint past him? Where is he?

  ‘April, darling!’ Mum rushes towards her, arms outstretched. She is managing to hide any reservations very convincingly.

  ‘Hi, April!’ I hug her too. It is, after all, expected in the circumstances. April is looking very tanned and slim, though her expensive trouser suit is a little crumpled after all those hours on the plane. Other members of the family move forward to greet her and kiss her cheeks, and Uncle Bob hands her a large glass of wine.

  ‘You must be tired after your journey, dear,’ Mum says. ‘But you’ve arrived at just the right time. Marie is serving lunch.’

  ‘Why on earth was Dad waiting at the entrance to the estate?’ April leans over to whisper in my ear. ‘He wouldn’t let us get by. It was ridiculous.’

  ‘How… how did you get past him?’ I whisper back.

  ‘There’s another entrance, a smaller one. A kind of dirt track.’ April’s eyes are glinting. ‘He was trying to stop me coming here, wasn’t he? I can’t believe it!’

  She grabs a spoon and taps her wine glass imperiously. ‘Excuse me!’

  It takes a while for people to quieten. I try to grab April’s hand and lead her from the room, but she pushes me away. Mum is cowering in a corner, Dad has just arrived back and looks haggard with worry, and Aggie is watching the whole thing very closely.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ April says, when the room is almost silent, ‘but there’s something I’d like to share with you.’

  I can’t just let her blurt it out. I grab a wine glass myself and tap it furiously. Maybe I can give Mum and Dad a chance to bustle April away.

  I almost run into the middle of the room. ‘Yes, and I have something I’d like to share with you, too!’ I say, almost shouting. ‘My marriage to Diarmuid is over.’

  No one looks in the least surprised.

  ‘I left him because… because he was getting too fond of some mice.’

  I see a number of raised eyebrows.

  ‘I let them loose in the tool shed, only he lured them back with cheddar cheese.’

  There is a sprinkling of murmur.

  ‘Shut up, Sally!’ April roars suddenly. ‘Everybody knows about your ridiculous marriage, but they don’t know that –’

  ‘An honoured visitor is now going to sing us some songs from the shows,’ a tremulous voice interrupts. It’s Aggie.

  People glance at her kindly, but their gaze returns to April. Her face is flushed and there is an urgent, slightly crazy look about her.

  ‘Of course, not everyone likes songs from the shows,’ Aggie continues; she is now standing, with Fabrice’s help. ‘But I thought a little music before lunch might… might help the party atmosphere.’ She looks pointedly at April. ‘And, anyway, I thought that even those who don’t like musicals might enjoy them this time. Because this time they are being sung by…’ Aggie’s voice breaks. ‘By my dear sister DeeDee.’

  Every jaw in the room drops in amazement.

  There is uproar. People are pushing their way towards Fabrice – DeeDee – staring at her, wanting to clasp her hands. April is forgotten in the melee; I see Dad taking her hand and leading her carefully from the room.

  I just stand motionless for at least a minute. It can’t be true. How has that creature Fabrice managed to persuade dear Aggie that she is her long-lost sister? Is this what she’s been up to during all those visits? Fabrice bears absolutely no resemblance to the lovely woman I met in London. It’s outrageous. It’s dastardly. It’s… I stare at her more closely.

  Dear God, it’s true.

  DeeDee has taken off her wig, and I can see her face properly. The heavy make-up has been applied very expertly, but I can discern her features underneath it. DeeDee has come back to us – and she has arrived just in time.

  ‘Did you always plan to attend this party?’ I say, when things have calmed down a little and she has removed most of her camouflage. Even the lurid pink dress has been briskly pushed into a shopping bag; she is now wearing a rose-pink cashmere jumper and neat brown trousers.

  ‘No.’ She smiles at me. ‘I was very doubtful about it, actually.’

  ‘I’m so glad you came.’ I say. ‘In fact, if you hadn’t–’
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  ‘April might have told everyone about her father.’

  ‘You knew that!’ I gasp.

  ‘Yes. Nathaniel told me and I told Aggie. But Aggie knew about Al already; your father mentioned it to her shortly after you all returned from California.’

  Poor April. I suddenly long to hold her, comfort her. But Dad has probably taken her off to that lunch.

  ‘So… so did Aggie always suspect you were DeeDee?’ I say slowly.

  ‘No, not at first,’ DeeDee says. ‘She saw me as a rather dotty but entertaining new friend.’ I smile. ‘When I first visited her, it was mainly out of curiosity. And I wanted to see if I could pull it off; Aggie never believed I could be an actress. I didn’t really feel that kindly towards her, you know. Only then we got chatting and laughing, and Aggie kept saying how interesting I was, and I began to enjoy entertaining her with tall stories. And she talked about me – DeeDee, not Fabrice – and she seemed to genuinely miss me… I had only planned to visit her once, but for a while I even stayed in a guest-house in Dublin so I could see more of her.

  ‘And after a while I sometimes forgot to be Fabrice. We fell into our old ways, the types of conversations we had before.’ She looks down at her hands. ‘Anyway, after a while I think I wanted her to know. I dropped some hints. And then, after your visit, I came over to see her again and decided to broach the subject of Joseph. I said… I said I’d heard from someone that DeeDee had lied to her about Joseph. I needed to see if she was still bitter about it. I knew she would never accept the truth, but I hoped that time had lessened her resentment.’

  ‘What happened?’ I’m almost falling off my chair with curiosity.

  ‘She burst into tears, and I started to apologise. I said I shouldn’t have mentioned something so obviously hurtful; I was, after all, just someone she had got to know quite recently.’

  ‘What did Aggie say?’

  ‘She said she longed with all her heart to see DeeDee again, so she could beg her to forgive her. She said she knew DeeDee hadn’t lied – it was her own husband who had deceived her.’

  ‘Oh, DeeDee, you must have been so relieved!’

  ‘Yes. I told her who I was then, of course. I took off the wig and told her about the layers of make-up, and we just sat there hugging each other for at least ten minutes. “I always knew there was something special about Fabrice,” Aggie kept saying. “Something familiar.”’

  ‘How did she know you had told the truth about Joseph?’

  ‘Shortly before he died, he told her he had raped me.’ DeeDee’s voice is almost a whisper. ‘He couldn’t live with the guilt of it any longer. At first Aggie thought she shouldn’t look for me because I wouldn’t want anything to do with her. She was sure I would never forgive her.’

  ‘What made her change her mind?’

  ‘Her heart,’ DeeDee says softly. ‘She listened to her heart. She… she says the angels helped her.’

  ‘She thought they were floating sheep at first.’ I smile.

  ‘Yes, she told me.’ DeeDee chuckles. ‘I don’t know if I believe in these angels of hers, but I still feel grateful to them.’

  Suddenly I feel grateful to them too. It seems to me that we accept many extraordinary things as normal – birth, life, death, the sun and the moon and the stars, love. So why shouldn’t we leave room in our hearts for the possibility that there are tender, wise beings out there who want to help and guide us, if we ask for their assistance?

  ‘Did I really stand up and tell everyone I left Diarmuid because of some mice?’ I say.

  ‘Yes, you did, dear.’ DeeDee smiles and brushes a stray strand of hair from my face. ‘I’m sure you oversimplified matters, but it was very valiant of you.’

  ‘But it was no match for your bit of theatre. You put on an amazing show as Fabrice. You’re an excellent actress, DeeDee Aldridge.’ I kiss her cheek very tenderly.

  Then Marie marches up behind me and grabs my hand and drags me into the conservatory. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this!’ she splutters in outrage.

  ‘What?’ I reply, wondering if she has somehow discovered that I visited DeeDee in London.

  ‘About April, of course!’ Marie snaps. ‘That your father isn’t her real father. Your mother came up to me and just announced it in the kitchen. I’m sure Cedric overheard her.’

  ‘Oh.’ I try, but I just can’t hide my smile.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  It is nearly spring, and the first snowdrops are nudging their way through the earth in my small garden. During the winter we almost lost Aggie a number of times, but she’s still with us and as curious about my love life as ever.

  I don’t tell her I have no love life to speak of, though Erika, Fiona and I often rent passionate DVDs and develop major crushes on the leading actors. We watch these DVDs in my cottage so that Lionel and Zak are spared the sight of their beloveds drooling over some hot young Hollywood heart-throb. Love hasn’t dented Erika’s and Fiona’s admiration for a nice bum or a pair of well-toned biceps. I, of course, am free to ogle any hunk I want to. Being single really does have many advantages, including a complete absence of mice.

  Nathaniel has gone to London instead of to New York. He has some social-work job there and occasionally sends me cheerful postcards. I haven’t asked him, but I suspect he may have finally chosen someone from his horde of female admirers; he hasn’t actually said as much, but on the one occasion when he phoned me, he said ‘we’ when he mentioned a walk in Hyde Park. ‘We’, of course, is a word that couples get used to. They say it almost without thinking.

  Eloise is a ‘we’ too. She got married last month, to a fabulously rich and handsome man; it must have been a very short and passionate engagement. Glamorous photos of their wedding were splashed all over the papers.

  In the circumstances, it’s probably best that Nathaniel is out of my vicinity. I probably wouldn’t be able to fit him into my schedule anyway, because of my new interests in gospel singing and cookery and my torrid affair with the well-known actor Mel Sinclair. This relationship is wonderfully undemanding, since Mel doesn’t know I exist. I rent him when I need him.

  During Nathaniel’s one and only phone call, I managed to unearth the truth about his unlikely friendship with ‘Fabrice’. It turns out he found out Fabrice was DeeDee on the day they first met in Aggie’s bedroom. After their visit, he offered her a lift into town and she accepted; and as she was sliding herself cumbersomely towards the passenger seat, Fred grabbed playfully at one of her dangling earrings and pulled off her wig. When the wig was reclaimed, Nathaniel was going to ask Fabrice why she was wearing a wig in the first place – she did, after all, seem to have nicer hair underneath it, and the wig hid large parts of her face – but then he studied her more closely and found himself saying, without thinking, ‘DeeDee?’

  ‘Yes?’ she said; then she suddenly realised her mistake and frowned. ‘Why are you calling me that name?’ she added brusquely. ‘My name is Fabrice, dear.’

  ‘Oh, DeeDee!’ Nathaniel flung his arms around her, and that was that, really. He disarmed her, like he seems to disarm all of us. She ended up telling him her story, though of course she swore him to secrecy. He said he had almost told me many times.

  ‘That’s why I kept wanting you to know her better,’ he explained.

  ‘Where did you go, that time you both flew off someplace?’ I asked, feeling as though I was, at long last, finding the missing pieces of an extremely large and unlikely jigsaw.

  ‘London. She was travelling back there anyway, and she wanted me to see Extravaganza and meet Craig. I kept telling her she should be sharing these intimacies with you and the rest of her family, but she seemed more comfortable with a total stranger.’

  A Beautiful Stranger, I thought. You do make a very Beautiful Stranger.

  ‘When exactly did you first meet DeeDee?’ I found myself asking. ‘DeeDee told me you’d been into Extravaganza with a friend and met her quite a while ago,’ I commented. �
�She said you phoned her when you heard me mention my lost great-aunt.’

  ‘Actually, that was a fib.’ Nathaniel sighed. ‘We had to make you believe I knew about DeeDee without implicating Fabrice. She was still very undecided about whether she could face Aggie as her real self; and she thought that, if you knew about her visits, you’d be even more frustrated about her doubts. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, well. I eventually found out the truth.’ I smiled. ‘I suppose one sometimes has to build up to it gradually.’

  ‘I knew you’d understand.’

  ‘Do you ever see her now?’

  ‘Yes.’ Nathaniel laughed. ‘In fact, I think I’m addicted to her marble cake. They may have to start a twelve-step programme for it. You should pop over; she’d love to see you again.’

  But what about you, Nathaniel? I wanted to ask. How would you feel about seeing me again?

  ‘Tell Fred I miss him far more than I should, given that he’s a disrespectful, jewel-thieving mongrel,’ he added cheerfully. Then he was gone, and I sat down on the sofa and cried for a bit because I missed him. But I quickly dried my eyes and told myself not to be so stupid. How could I have forgotten that I was actually enjoying being single? My social life had expanded, and I was eating far fewer biscuits.

  Another good thing about Nathaniel’s absence is that I get to borrow his dog. Fred needs plenty of entertainment and exercise if he is to be prevented from stealing jewellery (Greta’s gold bracelet was eventually located under the hydrangeas when Nathaniel hired a metal detector), so he and I regularly stroll along the shoreline together. Fred is a wonderful aid to slimming, though of course walking makes me hungry and I have to sternly avert my gaze any time I pass an ice-cream pusher, in his van, virtually trying to force a large cone into my mouth.

  Greta is immensely grateful to me for helping her to look after ‘that mongrel’. She also sometimes insists I sit in her Provençal-style kitchen and says things like, ‘So, Sally, have you found someone else?’ She’s beginning to sound just like April, but for some reason she also looks a bit worried. The other day, to cheer her up, I mentioned that I’d been dating a guy called Brian Mulligan. I made it sound like Brian was a real find. In fact he makes me want to stick my head into a hot towel with boredom, which is why I don’t plan to see him any more, but I felt I could spare Greta these unimportant details.