The Truth Club (60 page)

A couple wearing thick knitted jumpers under open wax
raincoats come into the shop. They both have fair hair streaked
with rain. They are hand in hand; they are close and obviously
happy. DeeDee smiles at them, and they smile back.

‘Hi, DeeDee,’
the woman says. ‘We came in for some of that scrumptious
marble cake of yours.’

‘Help yourself, dearie,’ DeeDee smiles. ‘I think there’s a few slices left. There’s been quite a run on it today.’

‘You… you were saying that you were in the pub with Joseph…’ I prompt, afraid that she may decide not to tell me the
story after all. Surely she has tried very hard to put it behind her.

‘Yes.’ She turns towards me again. ‘We talked about Aggie –
how special she was, how loving, even though she sometimes hid
it out of shyness. We talked about the wedding, and of course we
talked about hats. Joseph was laughing, and he seemed so
carefree. Then suddenly I knew I should go. I’d stayed too long
with him. I wanted to get the bus; I didn’t want him to drive me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because when I looked into his eyes, really looked, I saw he
wasn’t being truthful. He didn’t want to discuss hats or Aggie. He
wanted to forget himself. He wanted to leave behind the Joseph
everyone had come to know and expect. He was hearing whispers
from another life he might lead, one that wasn’t so bound by
convention. It must have been devastating to him; he was usually
so controlled and correct. I brought it out in him, you see. I was everything he disapproved of and suddenly wanted.’

The words seem to cool the air around us. I sit stock-still. I can
almost feel Joseph’s fear and longing, the heat in him, the confusion.
‘What happened then?’

‘We started to have a stupid argument about public trans
portation. We suddenly wanted to place a distance between us – the one that had always been there before. I said there should be
more buses and Joseph said there were quite enough already. And
I said he only said that because he had a car. He debated this
hotly. All affection between us seemed to have evaporated. I got
up and went out of the pub, but he followed me and insisted on driving me home. It was raining outside and I didn’t have an
umbrella. I got into his car.’ She looks away towards some unseen
point in the distance.

‘And in the car he asked me why I had been flirting with him.
I told him that I hadn’t been flirting. I reminded him that it was he who had come to the shop; I hadn’t sought him out. Then he
asked why I had agreed to have a drink with him. I said it was to
discuss Aggie’s hat, and he laughed as though I was lying. It was like we were in Eden and I had handed him an apple.’ She smiles
ruefully. ‘I suddenly realised he was the kind of man who saw
women as saints or wives or whores, and I was pretty sure which
category he had placed me in.’

She cradles her blue mug. ‘He lived in his head, you see. His mind was trained to categorise and judge and apportion blame.
He couldn’t live with ambiguity. All he felt was his own hunger,
and his need to tame what he felt I was doing to him. It was the cruelty of weakness.

‘Of course, I wasn’t thinking these things at the time,’ she continues, almost briskly. ‘I just wanted to get home and away
from him. He was drunk – I saw that suddenly. He started to
drive me home, and I noticed we were taking a strange route, one
that wandered off on small side roads into the mountains. I asked
why, and Joseph said we were in no hurry, after all. He said he
wanted me to see the lights of the city in the distance. I said I just
wanted to get home, but he didn’t listen. When he was changing
gears, his hand brushed against my leg; I moved it away from him, and I saw his hand trembling as it moved back to the steering-wheel. I told him I was thirsty and asked him to stop at a pub so that I could get a drink of water – though, of course, I would have run away from him if he had.’

She looks towards the window. The rain is pouring down, belting against the window in small, deft droplets. I haven’t
moved for five minutes. I wish I could step back in time and yank
her from the car. I wish I could have saved her.

‘Of course, part of me just felt I was being foolish,’ she continues matter-of-factly. ‘Joseph wasn’t that sort of man. But, e
ven so, my mouth was so dry with panic that I could hardly
speak. He handed me a thermos flask – he said it had cold tea in
it, from a picnic he and Aggie had gone on that weekend. I gulped
back most of the contents without thinking – it was about a third
full. Then I coughed and spluttered and screamed at him. It was
neat whiskey. He apologised and laughed. He said he’d forgotten
it was in there; he’d mislaid his hip flask. I didn’t believe him. I told him to stop the car; we were on a small side road in the middle of nowhere, but I said I would walk home, or go to the nearest house and call a taxi. I said I couldn’t stand being with
him any longer. I said he was a liar and not good enough for my
sister. Then I lunged for the door-handle. He stopped the car. We
started to struggle. I bit his arm and scratched his face and kicked
him on the shins, but it only seemed to make him more
determined.’

DeeDee’s face is flushed, and she is twisting her thick silver
bracelet round and round her arm. ‘I suddenly realised I was far
too drunk to fight with him properly. He was very strong. I felt
the weight of him on top of me; he was holding the door-handle. I realised I would have to stay in the car and try to humour him, tell him I hadn’t meant what I said. But he didn’t listen. He said,
“I love you, DeeDee” – he actually said it; only of course I knew
he didn’t. It was just an excuse to press his lips on mine. To force
his tongue into my mouth. To undo my blouse and pull up my skirt. To force himself on me and not listen to my cries.’

She looks away. ‘It was over quickly. Afterwards he straight
ened his clothes and just sat there. Then he turned on the light in
the car and told me to tidy myself up. He was cold, almost angry.
He said I must realise that this hadn’t really happened. It had been a mistake. It was the kind of situation any man might find himself
in, with an attractive woman of my type.’

‘Your type?’

‘Yes. He didn’t explain what he meant, but he didn’t have to. I h
ad seduced him, tricked him somehow. He said I mustn’t tell
anyone, and if I did they wouldn’t believe me. The whole family
knew I was fanciful, prone to exaggeration, and they also said I was jealous of Aggie’s engagement to him – why else would I criticise him? He had heard what I’d said about him behind his back. Aggie had told him.’

The couple who came for marble cake are leaving. It seems like
they arrived only seconds ago.

‘And then… you found out you were pregnant?’

DeeDee nods. ‘I couldn’t believe it at first. I’d kept the whole
thing to myself, like Joseph had told me to. I’d been a virgin, but
I felt ashamed somehow; I had almost convinced myself that I was
the “type” of woman he’d talked about, and that it was my fault.’

‘But then you told your family, and they didn’t believe you.’

‘Yes. Joseph told Aggie that I’d tried to seduce him several
times and that he had, of course, resisted. A few of his friends told
her that I had tried to seduce them, too; he must have got them
to lie for him. He portrayed me as a loose woman, someone who
was quite prepared to steal her sister’s fiancé out of petulance.
The family took his side because he was, after all, Joseph, a man
of impeccable character, whereas I… Well, they didn’t know what
to make of me, especially when I said I wanted to be an actress. I
think they thought I was acting.’ DeeDee actually laughs.

‘But eventually my father did believe I was expecting a baby.
I’d moved to a poky flat in Ballsbridge, and he visited one day and
saw the bulge under my dress. He hit the roof. He said it was
because of the kind of life I’d been living. He said he would give
me money to go abroad and have the child and put it up for adoption. He would tell everyone I had been studying Italian in Tuscany – he wanted me to take Italian lessons, to make the
whole thing more plausible.’ DeeDee’s eyes crinkle slightly at the
absurdity.

‘My mother visited the flat a few times, and cried quietly and s
aid the situation was terribly difficult for them all. And Aggie was furious with me. She said I had tried to blame her darling Joseph for my own foolishness; she said I had clearly got drunk
and couldn’t remember who I’d slept with. Then she started to cry
and said, “Why are you so jealous of me and Joseph? Why couldn’t you just find a nice young man for yourself?”’

‘Oh, DeeDee, I can’t believe they were so horrible to you.’ I feel
like crying, though DeeDee seems quite cheerful.

‘They didn’t think they were being horrible,’ she says. ‘They
felt they were trying to get me to mend my ways. My father even
found a pleasant young engineer who had often admired me at parish fêtes – we had once had quite a long conversation about topiary; my father was prepared to give him a large cheque to
encourage his affections. Once I’d had the baby, I was told, I must
return to Ireland and marry John – that was his name – almost
immediately. That’s when I knew I had to go. I couldn’t stand all
the lies, and the narrowness of their hopes for me. And, of course,
I was outraged that they believed Joseph instead of me.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘One day I got up very early and packed my most essential belongings, and got the ferry. I scarcely thought about it. It just seemed like something I had to do. My father had given me the cheque so that I could go abroad, so I had enough money to last
me for months. I didn’t even say goodbye. I just wanted to forget
about them all and start again.’

DeeDee looks away from me, and we sit silently for a few
moments. Then I decide to change the topic of conversation. ‘Did
you get to Rio? I’ve heard you wanted to go there.’ I decide not to mention that it was Aggie who told me.

‘Only recently, dear – about ten years ago, with my late
husband Alfredo. We spent two blissful weeks there.’

‘So you married!’ I exclaim happily.

‘Yes. I’m DeeDee Bertorelli now. Alfredo was Italian.’

‘I… I thought you might have changed your name for… other
reasons.’

‘Oh, no. I married Alfredo in my forties; before that, I was DeeDee Aldridge.’

Dear God
,
I think.
The family could have found her so easily
if they’d just looked in the right phone directory. But they
wouldn’t have, because that wasn’t the cryptic story they had told themselves about her. In their version, she had hidden all her
tracks and travelled great distances. She had become a stranger –
and all the time she was just across the Irish Sea.

‘It took me a long time to learn how to be happy. When I first arrived in London I was heart-broken and lost and...and very
annoyed
.
’
She smiles at me conspiratorially. ‘The details of my past seemed so very unsatisfactory. I had wanted my life to be big and beautiful...but suddenly it seemed so small. I began to blame myself for not being more lovable.’