‘Who fancies a glass of wine?’ asks Joanne, as we gather in the living room, jackets and boots discarded in the hallway.
‘This fire is lovely,’ I say, warming my hands in front of the fireplace. ‘I’ve always fancied an open fire at home.’
‘It’s nice but it is a lot of work,’ says Joanne. ‘I’m assuming that’s yes to the wine for you all?’ We all agree that wine is a good idea and she heads off to the kitchen.
‘Have you seen this?’ says Andrea. She is on the other side of the room looking at the various photographs that are arranged in different frames on an old whatnot in the corner. ‘The owners must be proper royalists, they’ve put a picture of Diana and Charles on their wedding day in a frame and lined it up with their own photographs. How funny.’
My ears prick up at the mention of Diana and I wonder if it’s anything to do with my character card. I casually wander over to the photographs.
‘I didn’t think the Scottish were fond of the royal family,’ says Zoe, from her position on the sofa. ‘And if they are, why wouldn’t they have a picture of Charles and Camilla?’
‘Princess Diana fans?’ I suggest. I pick up the photo frame and make to casually inspect it.
‘Maybe.’ Andrea continues to prowl the room, looking at the books on the shelf along the wall.
‘I’m going to nip upstairs to change my trousers,’ says Zoe, getting up from the sofa. ‘Think I’ll put my tracky-bottoms on. Much more comfortable.’
‘I did suggest that when we came in,’ says Andrea. ‘Where’s Joanne got to with that wine?’
‘I’m doing it now,’ comes Joanne’s voice from the hallway. ‘Just had to nip to the loo.’ She comes back into the room with the wine. ‘Here we go,’ she says, placing the tray she’s carrying on the chest in the middle of the room and opening the bottle.
Zoe comes bounding down the stairs. ‘Hey, guys! Look what I’ve found.’ She opens the palm of her hand and a gold wedding band glistens in the firelight.
‘A wedding ring?’ I move closer to get a better look and pick it up from Zoe’s hand. ‘Where did you find that?’
‘It was on my bedside table,’ says Zoe. ‘Which is weird as I definitely don’t remember seeing it there before. I’m sure I would have noticed when I unpacked earlier.’
‘It must be the people who rented the croft before,’ says Andrea, taking the ring from me. She slides it on to her finger. ‘It looks like a woman’s ring. It’s too small and thin for a man’s wedding ring.’
‘You’d think they would have noticed by now that they had lost it,’ I say. ‘It’s not like a piece of jewellery you would wear only occasionally.’
Automatically I feel the ring finger on my left hand and thumb the bare skin. Joanne is watching me; feeling like a naughty child who has been caught out, I drop my hands from sight of her prying eyes.
‘A wedding ring should never be taken off,’ says Joanne. ‘I wear mine all the time. Don’t you agree, Andrea?’
‘I keep mine on twenty-four-seven,’ she replies.
Joanne looks at me again. ‘It’s not yours is it, Carys? You’re not wearing one?’
‘No, not mine.’
Fortunately, Zoe speaks before Joanne can say any more. ‘And it’s definitely not mine as I wouldn’t dream of wearing it. Not after what that cheating bastard did to me. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to make that mistake for a third time.’
‘A third time?’ says Andrea, raising her eyebrows in Zoe’s direction.
‘I mean, second,’ she says, and then to appease our looks of surprise goes on to clarify: ‘The first guy I was serious about, it was a long time ago. We weren’t married, only engaged, but that’s as good as in my book. He was another waste of space. I sure know how to pick them. So, back to what I meant to say: I wouldn’t make the mistake of getting married a second time.’
‘How old were you at the time?’ asks Andrea.
‘Oh, really young. Only twenty,’ replies Zoe. She takes a large gulp of wine. ‘We were just kids and had some romantic notion about love and marriage. I think my parents were more disappointed than I was when we broke up.’
‘Did you finish with him?’ Andrea continues with her questioning.
Zoe swirls the contents of her glass in small circular motions. ‘He finished with me, if you must know.’ Her brow creases into a frown and she drops her gaze, but not before I see the hurt and anger in her eyes.
I feel sorry for Zoe; from what I can tell, she hasn’t had much luck where men are concerned. No wonder she doesn’t like to talk about it, especially if she’s had a failed marriage and a broken engagement.
Andrea gives a sympathetic smile. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll meet someone one day who will love you as much as you love them.’
‘I know,’ says Zoe. I notice a small blush creep on her face which doesn’t go unmissed by Joanne.
‘My, my, Zoe, I do believe you’re blushing, again. Come on, what’s his name?’
‘There isn’t anyone,’ says Zoe. ‘No. Seriously. There is no one. Anyway, about this ring. We should let the owners know that we’ve found it in case the previous guests have reported it missing. It’s still a mystery how I didn’t see it before, though.’
‘Put it on the mantelpiece for now,’ says Joanne. ‘I’ll email them when we get home and let them know.’ She takes the ring from Andrea and pops it next to the photograph taken earlier. Then she turns to me. ‘How long have you not been wearing your wedding ring?’
I feel myself bristle but realise I will sound childish if I tell Joanne it isn’t any of her business. ‘About a year,’ I reply.
‘Don’t you feel strange without it?’ says Joanne. She passes me a glass of wine she has just poured.
‘Not now. At first I did, but it didn’t seem right to go on wearing it,’ I say.
‘You don’t feel a tiny bit disloyal to Darren?’ She passes the other glasses round and takes a sip from her own.
I feel obliged to answer. ‘No. I don’t, actually. We had separated and were going through a divorce.’
‘What about Alfie? How does he feel about you not wearing it?’
‘Really, Joanne, it’s nothing for you to concern yourself with. And Alfie’s thoughts are definitely none of your business.’
‘Don’t take offence. I was only asking.’
‘I’m not taking offence. Let’s just forget about it. It really isn’t important.’
‘Sure.’ Joanne gives a tight smile. ‘How is Alfie anyway? He said he was thinking of quitting counselling.’
I have no idea what Joanne is talking about. To say it irks me that she seems to know more about my own son than I do is an understatement. However, it is nothing compared to the hurt I feel knowing my son has confided in Joanne rather than me, his own mother. I compose myself, not wanting to give Joanne the satisfaction of having one over on me. ‘I don’t think now is the right time to talk about Alfie’s counselling.’ I look round at the others. Zoe looks down, suddenly finding her shoes very interesting and Andrea pulls a sympathetic, this is awkward face.
‘No, you’re quite right,’ says Joanne. ‘I’m sorry. Let’s have a toast to both our birthdays.’
We all join in with a degree of over-enthusiasm to disguise yet another awkward conversation. Zoe begins to chatter away about the latest diet she’s on, which will clearly go to pot now, but who cares, we’re here to party!
I force a smile and join in, although the celebratory mood has left me. I was foolish to think this weekend would be some sort of reconciliation. Right now, far from forgiving Joanne, I want to throttle her.