The Right Time (2 page)

Ellen smiled. ‘We should.'

They took their seats and Evie rooted around in her bag, finally retrieving her phone.

‘Do you need to call home?' asked Ellen.

Evie shook her head as she glanced at the screen. ‘No, just checking for messages. I don't need to call, Craig's mum's over for the day. I figured that way I don't have to worry. And she loves to do it.' She popped her phone back in her bag. ‘Did you see the cakes as you walked in? They look absolutely delicious!' she squealed with delight. ‘I know I shouldn't, but what the hell, I'm having lunch with my sisters, and that's a special occasion, so I'm going to treat myself. If I have a salad without any dressing, and maybe just a bit of lean chicken, it won't be so bad. And I'll only have something light for dinner tonight.'

Just then Emma came into view, gliding past the front window, her filmy scarf floating on the breeze behind her, big dark glasses shielding her eyes so you couldn't tell for sure if she was looking at her reflection in the glass. But Ellen knew she most likely was. She entered the café much as a celebrity might walk into a social function, posed, ready for the cameras. Ellen loved her sister, she loved all of her sisters, but sometimes it felt as though she and Emma had been raised in different families, even on different planets. The things that mattered so terribly to Emma were of little or no interest to Ellen, and Emma was well aware of it. Ellen
did make an effort to take an interest, sometimes, when she could, but Emma always seemed to be on the defensive with her, and Ellen didn't know what she could do about that.

Evie jumped to her feet as Emma marched over to the table in a cloud of scent.

‘Hi Em, isn't this great!' Evie exclaimed. ‘I was just saying to Ellen that we don't see each –'

‘So Liz hasn't turned up yet,' Emma interrupted, leaning her cheek in Evie's direction to receive her kiss while her eyes remained trained on Ellen. ‘I have rushed the entire morning to make it here on time, and now we're going to have to wait around for Liz. As – per – usual.'

‘I'm not sure if she had appointments this morning . . .' Ellen offered by way of excuse.

Emma shook her head as she sat down. ‘I had appointments too, and I still managed to be on time.' She sighed theatrically. ‘This had better be important, Ellen, Saturdays are my only day for catching up on everything. I had to be at the gym at five-thirty so I could fit everything in. It was just as well I had my colour done last week so today was only a short appointment at the hairdressers, because my light therapy was scheduled for this morning and I simply cannot miss that. It's not an option.'

‘Light therapy?' asked Evie, frowning. ‘Are you depressed, Em?'

‘No of course I'm not depressed, Evie. Why would you say that?'

‘It's just that I've heard light therapy is used –'

‘I'm talking about “photo-biostimulation”.'

Evie blinked. ‘Huh?'

‘It's the very latest skin therapy,' Emma explained. ‘And it's incredible. It's like a facelift, except it's totally painless and noninvasive. I'm telling you, it's better than plastic surgery.'

‘How does it work?' Ellen was trying to sound interested, but she feared her inner cynic was showing.

‘It's a machine,' Emma began, ‘which uses different wavelengths of LED light to penetrate deep into the tissue of your skin.'

‘What's LED?' asked Evie.

‘We got some LED Christmas lights last year,' Ellen offered. Emma ignored that. ‘It stands for light-emitting . . . something.'

‘Diodes,' said Ellen. ‘I think that's the term,' she added apologetically when Emma looked annoyed.

Evie bit her lip. ‘Is it safe? It's not like a sun bed, is it?'

‘Sun beds are perfectly safe,' Emma dismissed. ‘You shouldn't listen to all the scare mongering, Evie.'

‘People have died, Em,' Ellen pointed out.

‘People have died driving cars, but no one's suggesting banning them.'

That was typical Emma logic.

‘Honestly, we're living in such a nanny state these days,' she went on. ‘We can't turn around without a regulation telling us in which direction. Adults should be left to make their own decisions about what they do to their own bodies.'

This from someone who made a living telling people exactly what to do with their bodies, their hair, their clothes, their makeup . . .

‘Anyway, Evie,' Emma continued, ‘light therapy isn't like a sun bed at all. It's not about getting a tan, it works from the inside out.'

‘What's the point of that?' Evie frowned.

This'll be good.

‘It stimulates natural cellular regeneration and repair.'

‘Oh . . .' Evie looked more confused now. ‘How does it do that?'

‘I don't know, I'm not an expert,' said Emma. ‘But the results speak for themselves, wouldn't you say?'

They both gazed blankly at her.

‘My facial tissue and muscle tone have improved out of sight. See how fresh my skin looks?' Emma held her face up to them and they drew closer.

‘Mm,' Evie murmured appreciatively, though Ellen knew she was only agreeing with Emma for the sake of it. Evie always tried so desperately to please.

‘And fine lines, well, you can hardly see them any more,' said Emma.

‘You mean those ones around your eyes?' Evie asked guilelessly.

‘But you have to look closely to even see them now, don't you?' Emma insisted.

‘It's true, they're very faint.'

Emma nodded, sitting back. ‘What did I tell you? Incredible. But the thing about it is you have to stick to the program for it to work. It's scientifically designed, and you can't fool science.'

But you can fool some of the people some of the time.

Emma glanced at her watch. ‘I wonder how long we're going to have to wait for Liz? I really don't know why we had to do this today, Ellen. If it's about the anniversary party next weekend, you realise there is such a thing as email. Or even the phone. Besides, I thought we were pretty well organised, aren't we?'

‘Well, I know I am,' Evie piped up. ‘I've made five dozen mini quiches already, because they freeze really well. And I've planned my week for the rest. I'll start Wednesday with the spicy meatballs, and Thursday I can do the cheese puffs.'

‘Evie, you do realise it's being catered?' Emma interrupted her. ‘I wouldn't overdo it.'

‘I won't, I'm only making my specialties. I've set aside the whole of Friday for the cake.'

‘What cake?' asked Emma.

‘You know,' she smiled coyly, ‘
the
cake.'

‘You're not doing
the
cake, Evie. We discussed this.'

‘I don't remember . . .' Evie faltered. ‘What are you saying?'

‘You're not doing
the
cake,' Emma repeated. ‘Come on, Evie, this is not one of the kids' birthday parties.'

‘No, it's Mum and Dad's anniversary,' said Ellen. ‘And I think they would love one of Evie's cakes.'

Emma groaned. ‘We discussed this.'

‘I don't remember discussing it,' said Ellen. Evie was shaking her head in solidarity.

‘We may not have discussed it in person,' Emma maintained, ‘but I'll have it on file.'

Now Ellen groaned.

‘I've been sending updates regularly, it's not my fault if you girls don't read your emails,' Emma said curtly. ‘Anyway, it's a moot point, I've already paid a two hundred dollar deposit to the patisserie –'

‘The
deposit
is two hundred dollars?' Ellen gasped. She felt sick. They had agreed to go ahead with all the arrangements and work out the money afterwards. She realised that Emma didn't know
how radically her circumstances were about to change, but Ellen should have known that Emma would overdo things. She should have suggested a budget.

‘Oh chill, Ellen,' Emma was saying. ‘The deposit was more than half, it's only another hundred and fifty.'

Evie looked stunned. ‘The cake cost three hundred and fifty dollars?'

‘Congratulations, you can add up,' said Emma. ‘Look, would everyone just get over this? You obviously have no idea how much an “event” cake costs these days – and I got a sizeable discount. I've used this particular patisserie before, given them lots of publicity, they were bending over backwards for me. Wait till you see what they're going to do, it's sensational.'

‘It'd want to be,' Ellen muttered. ‘It'd want to have George Clooney jumping out of it for that kind of money.'

Evie stifled a giggle.

‘Oh, yeah right,' said Emma, rolling her eyes. ‘George Clooney is going to jump out of a cake for three hundred and fifty dollars.'

‘Is he?' said Liz coming up behind them.

Evie jumped to her feet. ‘Liz, we didn't see you come in!' she exclaimed, hugging her sister.

‘Where have you been?' Emma accused darkly, as Liz bent to kiss her on the cheek. ‘God, you look awful, have you just got out of bed?'

Liz gave Ellen a wink as she dropped into a chair. ‘Yeah, I have actually,' she said. ‘And I need caffeine desperately,' she added, looking around for a waiter.

‘Well, that's just great,' said Emma. ‘You've been home having a nice sleep-in while we all rushed around to make it here on time.'

‘I was up all night at the hospital,' Liz interrupted her. ‘I got home about seven this morning and thought I could fit in a few hours' sleep. Sorry, I forgot to set an alarm.'

‘What kind of dermatological emergency has you at the hospital all night?' Emma sniffed.

‘Skin cancer,' she said bluntly. ‘A longstanding patient of mine. She's been in the care of an oncologist, of course, but her family called me last night. She died at three this morning. She was only thirty, had two little boys . . .'

‘Oh,' Evie sighed, reaching over to touch her arm. ‘Are you okay, Lizzie?'

She nodded. ‘I will be once I get some caffeine.'

Ellen raised her hand to attract the attention of the waiter. Liz wouldn't want them all fussing over her. She probably wouldn't have mentioned it at all if not for Emma's carry-on. At least it had silenced her, for now.

When the waiter arrived at their table, it seemed practical to order their food as well. Ellen wasn't really hungry, her stomach felt like jelly, but she ordered a sandwich so as not to draw attention. She didn't know why. She was about to draw so much attention that what she ate was hardly going to be noticed.

The waiter left and Emma and Evie settled back in their seats, with a vague air of anticipation. Ellen met Liz's eyes. She knew. She'd known what had been going on for some time now, and while Ellen hadn't had the chance to talk to her recently, she could tell Liz knew what was coming. And she was glad for that.

‘So, okay, what else about the party do we need to go over?' asked Emma.

‘I'm a little worried about final numbers,' said Evie. ‘There's been hardly any RSVPs.'

‘Girls,' Ellen interrupted suddenly. She couldn't stand it any more. ‘I didn't ask you here today to talk about the party.' She was surprised by the sense of foreboding in her own voice.

‘What is it, Ellen?' Evie asked nervously.

She didn't know why this was so hard, they were her sisters. They loved her.

The problem was saying it out loud. This thing that had hung over her for years was finally going to be out in the open. It should have felt liberating, but in fact it felt a little terrifying.

‘Ellen?' Emma prompted.

She stirred. She wondered how long she'd been sitting with her mouth slightly open, poised to speak.

She cleared her throat. ‘I'm just going to say it, okay? Tim and I are separating.'

‘What?'

That was Emma. Evie just looked baffled. Liz sat forward, slipping her hand over Ellen's.

‘I don't understand,' said Evie.

‘You're separating. You and Tim. You've got some issues you're working through, you're getting counselling,' Emma rattled off, as though she was going through a checklist of facts. ‘This is one of those trial things.'

Ellen blinked. ‘No . . . no, it's not a trial. It's for real.'

‘So you're getting a divorce?'

Evie gasped audibly.

‘No.'

‘So you might get back together?' Emma persisted.

‘We're not getting back together.'

‘But you're not getting a divorce?'

‘God, I don't know, Emma,' Ellen groaned. ‘I haven't thought that far yet.'

‘Well, I'm just saying, this seems to have come out of the blue, yet you're so certain it's for real, but at the same time you're saying no divorce.'

‘I'm not saying anything, Emma,' Ellen almost snapped. ‘Only that we've separated. Can we take one thing at a time?'

Emma shrugged. ‘I'm just trying to make sense of it.'

‘Then why don't you drop the inquisition and give her a chance to explain?' Liz suggested.

‘Fine.' Emma sat back again, folding her arms.

‘What happened, Lenny?' said Evie in a small voice, her eyes wide. ‘Is there . . . is there someone else?'

‘Come on,' Emma sniggered, ‘we are talking about Tim.' Then her eyes narrowed. ‘Or is it you . . . Are you having an affair, Ellen?'

‘No,' she insisted. ‘There's no one else involved. No one did anything wrong. We just . . . fell out of love.'

‘What, just like that?' Evie asked, tears welling in her eyes. ‘This is so sudden.'

‘But that's the thing, Evie, it's not sudden at all,' Ellen started to explain. ‘This has actually been coming for a long time.'

Evie was shaking her head, bewildered. ‘I don't understand. You two have the most amazing, solid marriage.'