The Truth Club Read Online Free PDF Page A

pockets of his jeans.
    I feel like crying. He knows how I feel about April. He knows that what he just said will hurt me. I don’t want him to leave like this. I want him to keep wanting me.
    I say something I know I shouldn’t. ‘I do love you, Diarmuid.’ It’s so easy to say those words; so seductive. ‘It’s just that…’
    He turns away from me. This love I’m talking about no longer impresses him. I almost race to the phone to ring Aunt Aggie, like he wants me to. But his expression is so hard and aloof that it seems pointless trying to soften him. He wants to know why I left him and if I’m going to come back; he wants an explanation, and I can’t give him one.
    ‘Tomorrow, Diarmuid… let’s go to that dinner and film tomorrow. I’d love that.’
    ‘I’ve got a lecture.’
    ‘The night after that, then.’
    ‘I’ll phone you tomorrow and we can discuss it,’ he says coldly.
    Oh, dear. I just know that now he’ll really get into this advance notice thing; he might just possibly bring around a wall chart. I look anxiously out the window as he gets into his old maroon Ford Fiesta. Diarmuid’s patience is wearing thin. I simply must make up my mind about our marriage soon.
    I return to my advice about how people can transform their bathrooms – not that I really care what they do to their bathrooms. They could all go out and buy tin tubs and I wouldn’t care.
    At last it’s ready, and I press the ‘Send’ button and stretch my arms and lean back in my chair. The ceiling needs to be repainted. There are so many things in this house that need to be repainted or replaced or grouted. I wish builders used less technical words. Talking to them is like trying to explain things to a computer help desk. I just don’t know most of the terminology. Maybe love is like that too. Maybe you have to learn a whole new language.
    I grab a quick supper – watercress and salami, with some tomatoes and low-fat cheese; I feel very virtuous as I race out the door. I feel rather less virtuous after I am lured into the newsagent’s and buy myself a KitKat. I wonder if I should buy one for Aunt Aggie too, but I buy her mints instead. She’s very fond of mints.
    As I wait for the bus, I think of Alex’s wife. I wonder if she knows that her husband has got quite so fond of Erika. Maybe she’s turned to her yoga teacher for solace. Then I think of all the poor women who find their husbands are being unfaithful, and wonder how I could care so much about Diarmuid’s mice and the spermicidal cream and his spurious spontaneity. All husbands and wives must disagree sometimes. Surely the trick is to learn to talk it out.
    Sometimes, when you’re waiting at a bus stop, you get this feeling that the bus may never arrive and that you may be left standing there for ever. I get that feeling now, so I distract myself by thinking about DeeDee. I begin to wonder if DeeDee ran off with another man’s wife. Maybe that’s why no one in the family wants to speak about her. And maybe they’re right. Maybe she is best forgotten. As I begin to eat one of Aggie’s mints, I decide to forget DeeDee as well. After all this time, it would be impossible to find her.
    I remember Diarmuid’s expression as he left the house. Yes, we really will have to visit that marriage counsellor again. As soon as possible.

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    ‘I want you to find DeeDee.’ These are the first words Aunt Aggie says to me – or seems to say to me; I must have misheard her. I pull up a chair and sit beside her bed.
    ‘I want you to find DeeDee,’ she repeats, her big brown eyes shining. ‘I must see her.’
    ‘Why do you want me to find DeeDee?’ I can’t believe that Aggie is talking about her lost sister – especially now, just when I’ve begun to wonder about DeeDee myself. I sit on the edge of my seat, clutching my handbag, and wait for Aggie’s answer. I haven’t even taken off my navy linen jacket.
    Aggie lies back on her