Nick slumps down onto the floor with his head in his hands next to where Madeline is passed out in the chair, as Toby tells me this preposterous thing.
‘I think I’d know if I did something as horrendous as killing my sister.’ I shift my gaze from Nick to Toby.
‘I’m so sorry, Zoe, but I’m telling you the truth,’ Toby says.
I shake my head as though I can dislodge his words. ‘Why are you saying this? Just tell me what’s really going on. Please.’ I bend down to shake my brother-in-law’s shoulder, trying to get him to look at me. ‘Nick! Tell me the truth!’
Toby gently pries my hand away from his brother and turns me around to face him. ‘I know it’s a lot to take in, Zoe. But let me explain what happened.’
‘Firstly, I don’t believe she’s dead! And second… second…’ There’s a high-pitched whistling in my ears and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I stagger sideways and my knees buckle.
Toby puts an arm around me. ‘Come on, Zo, come and sit on the bed, put your head between your knees.’
‘This isn’t real, is it? What you said, it’s some kind of sick joke.’ As I sit down, I’m frantically trying to make connections between what he’s saying and what happened in the past, but I have no memory of what he’s accusing me of. I rake my hands through my hair, pushing it off my face and then letting it fall back down.
I sense Toby’s gaze on me. He’s about to say something else, but I cut him off.
‘What about the affair thing?’ I latch on to that as if it’s some kind of lifeline. ‘What’s that all about?’ I grip the end of the king-size bed and do as Toby suggested, leaning forward with my head between my legs, trying to breathe. The patterned rug beneath my feet is making my head spin so I close my eyes, but that feels even worse.
Toby sits next to me. ‘Like Nick said, the affair was just something I told Madeline to throw her off the scent.’
‘I can’t listen to any more of this,’ Nick groans from the floor. ‘I just want it all to go away. Get out of here, Toby.’
‘Fine,’ he mutters. ‘Nick. You need to pull yourself together. Zoe and I are going to our room now. But, you and I, we’ll talk about this tomorrow when you’re thinking straight and you’re not so drunk. Now go to bed and don’t talk to anyone until you’ve spoken to me, okay?’
He doesn’t respond.
‘I mean it,’ Toby says through gritted teeth.
‘Okay, yes, I heard you, Toby!’
‘Good.’
‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ I tell my husband.
‘Can you hold on till we get to our room?’
The short answer to that isno. I run to the en-suite bathroom and vomit several times into the toilet. Toby follows me.
‘I’m so sorry I had to tell you like this.’ Toby rubs my back while I empty the contents of my stomach. ‘If Nick hadn’t started losing his shit, we could have just gone on as normal.’
I rinse my mouth out and splash my face. ‘How can any of this be normal?’ I turn to stare at him, feeling separate from my body, like I’m talking through someone else’s mouth.
‘You’ve had a shock,’ he says.
‘That’s an understatement. I just… I don’t believe what you told me.’ My teeth are chattering and I’m shivering all over. ‘First, you say I’m having an affair, then you say I’ve killed my sister – how can I believe anything you’re saying? It all sounds like you’re telling me one outrageous story after another.’ Toby takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. ‘It just can’t be true. I’d know if it was. And anyway, I saw Dina outside the salon. I’ve seen her twice now. How could I have seen her if you’re telling the truth?’
‘It obviously wasn’t her. Come on, let’s go to our room and I’ll explain.’
I let him lead me out of the en suite. Nick and Madeline are exactly where we left them. Madeline’s snoring lightly, but I’m worried about Nick, who’s still crouched on the floor, his head in his hands. It doesn’t seem right to leave him there. Toby doesn’t seem too concerned as we walk past him.
We head along the corridor to our room. I’m dreading going in there. Dreading what else Toby is about to tell me.
He opens the door and switches on the light. We’re in the recently revamped bridal suite – a vast room with lots of character – mullioned windows, wooden beams, an eclectic mix of traditional and contemporary. The same beautiful room we stayed in ten years ago, only now the décor has all changed. We checked in earlier, so our cases are already open, traces of our preparation for the party scattered around the room – make-up, a couple of empty glasses, a few discarded clothes draped over the ottoman at the foot of the bed. On the dining table are an enormous bouquet of flowers, an opened bottle of champagne, an exotic fruit basket and a selection of handmade chocolates – a celebration from another time, before my husband upended my world. Before this churning in my stomach and tightening in my chest. Before this nausea and tingling light-headedness.
I walk past all these redundant signs of celebration towards a pair of leaf-print armchairs arranged either side of a circular table in front of the window. I gingerly settle myself in one of the chairs, pulling Toby’s jacket around me, getting wafts of his spicy cologne. It smells at once familiar and foreign. Outside, the snow is still whirling, the night sky almost as white as the settled snow beneath.
Toby follows me and closes the curtains against the outside world. He sits in the chair opposite and starts talking.