‘Please, Janet – there are things …’ Adelaide sighs. ‘We need to talk. There are things she needs to know.’
‘Like what?’ Janet’s chin juts out, her arms are crossed.
Daphne once called Janet ‘my little terrier’ and Adelaide couldn’t understand it at the time. But, then, she’s never known Janet well. Almost all the information she had about her was via Daphne’s letters.
The door opens a little more and Daphne materialises behind Janet. Adelaide would have expected her to look angry; instead she just seems sad.
‘It’s all right, Janet,’ Daphne says, pulling the door all the way back, which Adelaide takes as an invitation to enter.
‘Hector’s at North Shore,’ Daphne says as Adelaide steps inside.
‘Oh – I hope it’s nothing serious?’
‘We’ll see.’ Daphne walks slowly toward the sitting room.
Adelaide follows. ‘I’m not here to see him.’
‘No,’ Daphne says, turning toward her. ‘I imagine you’re not.’ The chill that emanates from her is palpable.
Adelaide can’t believe that her oldest friend is now so distant. Except she has to believe it, because that’s the reality.
Daphne gestures to an armchair and takes another, as far away from Adelaide as it is possible to get.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Adelaide blurts.
‘That’s never going to be enough,’ Daphne replies sternly. ‘So there’s no point saying it.’
What else should she say? Words are so inadequate in situations where emotions are vast and overlapping and have been steeping for decades.
Daphne has made her position clear, though, and Adelaide needs to respect it. They are adversaries, and that seems permanent. Which means treating this encounter as a negotiation, not a reunion.
‘All right,’ she concedes.
‘If you don’t want to see Hector, whatdoyou want?’ Daphne says.
Adelaide decides to try one of the truths. ‘To see you.’
‘No point. What else?’
Is the pain caused by a knife to the heart worse when one has carved the knife oneself? Adelaide feels it might be. She winces, but knows she has to press on.
‘My son, Desmond, wants to meet Hector.’
Daphne’s face doesn’t move. Adelaide wishes she could be that implacable.
‘You’ve met him?’ Daphne says.
‘Yes. And we’ve stayed in touch.’
Daphne takes a breath and nods slowly. ‘So did you see him because you wanted an excuse to see Hector? To play at being a family?’
Daphne’s voice is so cold that Adelaide can’t recognise it, and the knife plunges deeper.
‘No!’ She’s vehement, even as she suspects that, subconsciously, she may have wished for exactly what Daphne is suggesting.
‘Hector is very unwell,’ Daphne says. ‘We don’t know when he’ll be coming home.’
Adelaide can hear Janet in the kitchen, making noise, possibly on purpose.