The chauffeur pulls into the driveway, safe behind the gates where the mob of reporters vied for blood and what photo they can grab from the comings and goings of the Richmond home of Ife and Tristan.
Josephine Walden lets herself out of the back seat beating the chauffeur to it, and the front door to the house is immediately open from inside as if they’d been expecting her.
‘Granny!’ Zoya is the first to hug her paternal grandmother imbibing her warmth despite the cold. The children were going stir-crazy having been couped up inside the house since coming home. Seeing their grandmother goes someway to comfort them.
‘Hi Granny.’ Astor joins her sister and grandmother in a group hug.
‘My darlings I am so sorry for this.’ Josephine squeezes them a little tighter, happy to be in their company away from her husband. Things at home have been hell on earth and being here is in defiance to her husband who has forbade her to come. She did it anyway. The first time in their forty-year marriage she’d defied him. Tristan was absolutely the dominant character in their marriage, everything revolved around him, and his moods. He’d been apoplectic with rage these past few days, refusing to accept the truth of his son, a truth that was always evident to her. Had always been. Truth that was evident to her friends, that would see her best friend come to her rescue time and again. Truth that is threatening everything they’d worked so hard to hide.
Tristian appeared at door of his study, shoulder leaning against the frame watching his mother and her granddaughters comfort each other. He knew his father would have forbidden her to come here today, amidst the furore surrounding his marriage, and things must be hell for her at home, but here she is anyway. It seems everyone around him is being bold in their actions rallying around him but here he is still hiding behind the truth of the matter. His eyes connect with his mother’s. She knows, she has always known, and she has protected him all his life.
‘Hello Mum.’ Tristan joins his family but makes no move to embrace them something about him feels dirty in this moment, he is putting his family through this ringer and for what?
‘Darling.’ Josephine hugs her son hoping to impart what comfort a mother can to a son embroiled in his own turmoil. ‘How are you?’
‘I’ve been better.’
‘You’ll be better daddy.’ Zoya says, leaning in to hold her father in a half hug. Astor takes the other side of him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek. They know what turmoil he must be going through. All their life, they have only known him to be the best father to them, never once slaked in his duties, alongside their mother, they grew up in a loving household regardless of what is happening now and the hell about to descend on them, they are a family if only they could find their mother and have that long needed conversation. And to let her know they will always be a family. The siblings spent a long time talking amongst themselves and confused and upset as they are, nothing will ever trump the love they have for their parents. Nothing.
‘What can I do son? I feel responsible for this, I pushed and pushed and made things worse with Ife, and now here we are. I need to do something to fix this.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ He knows she is taking this harder than usual, and he knows why.
‘How can it not be my fault? How?’
‘Because I’m an adult, a father, responsible for young adults, I let things go this far.’
‘Have you heard from Ife?’
‘No.’ Tristan heaved a heavy sigh, he has no idea where Ife is, she has gone to ground not taking any of their calls, and who can blame her? The press has gone to town on her, absolutely mauling her to pieces, never mind that he was the one who broke up his home. No one need know anything else but based on that fact alone, there is bonfire of laughter, people dancing on the death knell of their marriage. He always knew the public thought her cold, aloof even, but she had her cheerleaders, they had a respect for her even if grudgingly, but the comment section of these websites were ruthless. They were celebrating the demise of her marriage; he’d never seen anything quite like it. They blamed her for his cheating, called her frigid, desperate… if only they knew. There is nothing remotely desperate about her, never has been. Ife has been the champion behind the scenes, got his team together, got the family together, showed up for her side of his campaigns and charities but still had the time to be Co-Chair of her family’s investment firm. She was way out of his league and never once dropped a ball. He dropped all his balls with this betrayal.
‘I tried calling her, but it’s been going to voicemail. And her voicemailbox is full.’
With his messages no doubt. He smiled ruefully.
‘Where are Rellie, Zainab and Jacob?’
‘Putting out more fires whilst I stay holed up in here. Hiding.’
‘You’re not hiding.’
‘Really? What do you call this?’
‘Being there for your family the only way you know how. Christopher listen to me, I know this feels like a lot right now, and I had a hand in getting you here, I am so sorry.’
‘Mother, please stop.’ Tristan’s nerves are frayed, he is just about surviving his wife’s absence in his life, but to see his mother fall apart would kill him.
Josephine did not see how she could stop, not least because she knows the truth, knows the sacrifice of his marriage, how it had chipped away at his own truth. She never wanted Tristan to go into politics like his father, but her husband had been right; he is naturally gifted as a politician, has a knack for connecting with people and has been a successful MP, now the same people he helped were crucifying his wife, and by extension, him. If only they knew the truth about how much Ife had given up for him, how much she constantly gives up for him. She hadn’t given her a chance to live her life, her and Evelyn had simply railroaded her life, but deep-down Josephine knew what they did was wrong, and this was the comeuppance. She needs to find Ife, make amends before it is too late. She needs to tell the secrets she’s been holding on to for far too long a time.