Her old bossy demeanor is beginning to reassert itself, but I’m more interested in the Demeter I saw just now. The vulnerable, tearful Demeter.
“Demeter,” I say hesitantly as we move out of the stable yard. “Are you…all right?”
“Of course I’m all right!” she says, without looking me in the eye. “Just a bit tired, that’s all. I’m so sorry I lost control. Very embarrassing. It’s not like me at all.”
She’s right. It’s not—at least not the Demeter I know. But maybe there’s a different Demeter that I don’t know about? And all the way back to the farmhouse, I’m thoughtful.
—
Lunch is served in the barn and is a chance for everyone to chatter about what they got up to that morning. All the adults who did willow-weaving are already there as we approach, and there’s a happy hubbub. I glance at Demeter, wondering if she’s feeling a bit wrung out, if she’ll take a backseat for once.
But oh no.
Already her chin has lifted and her pace has quickened. I can see her eyes flashing with the old Demeter determination.
“Hi!” She interrupts a conversation between Susie and Nick with her usual energy. “How was the willow-weaving?”
“It was great,” says Susie. “How was your morning?”
“Oh, it was marvelous,” says Demeter. “Absolutely wonderful. You know I did a bespoke-activity morning?” she adds airily to Susie. “A special mind-body-spirit program. I can thoroughly recommend it. I mean, it was challenging but absolutely worth it. I feel empowered now. I feel radiant. Oh, is that vegetarian lasagna? Is it wheat-free?”
As the meal progresses, I listen as Demeter regales every single adult with how brilliant her morning was: much better and more authentic than theirs. “This ancient practice Vedari…Oh, haven’t you heard of it? Yes, very niche…I really sensed the aura….Well, I am rather a yoga expert….”
Everyone is chattering about their mornings, but Demeter’s voice rings out above the hubbub, a constant, show-offy, clarion sound.
“Absolutely empowering experience…Gwyneth Paltrow, apparently…I could feel the natural heat emanating from the stones….”
No, she bloody couldn’t! I saw her with my own eyes. She was freezing! But now she’s talking as though she’s just met the Dalai Lama and he said, Well done, Demeter, you’re the best.
She hasn’t once mentioned Carlo, interestingly. Let alone the fact that he hugged her and she wept. It’s as if she’s squashed the only real, truthful bit of the morning away where no one can see it.
Then a growing sound of shrieks and laughter heralds the approach of the children. As they all come piling into the barn, hot and excited from their obstacle course, Demeter rises from her seat.
“Coco! Hal! There you are. And James. Were you watching the children? Come over here, I’ve saved you seats.”
As Demeter’s family slide into their chairs, I edge closer in fascination. So here they are: the perfect family in their perfect outfits, having the perfect holiday. I expect they’ll make intelligent conversation about the environment now. Or that new hip indie band they saw at the weekend, all of them together, because they’re such a close family.
But in fact none of them starts talking at all. They all get out their phones, including James.
“I thought we said no phones at mealtimes,” says Demeter in a strange, jokey voice I haven’t ever heard her use before. “Hey, guys. Guys?” She waves a hand to get the attention of her children, but they totally ignore her.
I’m slightly goggling. I’ve never seen anyone ignore Demeter before.
“So, how was the obstacle course?” Demeter puts a hand over Hal’s phone screen and he glowers at her.
“It was all right,” says Coco briefly. “This phone is crap. I need a new one.”
“You’ve got a birthday coming up,” says Demeter. “Perfect. Let’s go and choose one together.”
“My birthday?” Coco fixes Demeter with a malevolent glare. “You want me to wait for my birthday?”
“Well, we’ll see,” says Demeter, and she gives her daughter a smile I’ve never seen either. It’s kind of eager. Craven, almost. It’s kind of…desperate?
No. I must be seeing things.
“Try the salad.” Demeter passes it to Coco. “It’s organic. Delicious.”
“Granny says organic food is a total con,” says Coco, in a pert voice that makes me want to slap her. “Doesn’t she, Daddy?”
“Well, it is,” says James absently. “It’s all bollocks.”
I nearly fall over flat. What? James isn’t into organic food? How can this be? It’s Demeter’s religion.
Coco leans her head on James’s shoulder as I saw her do this morning—only now it doesn’t look friendly. It looks…I don’t know. Cliquey. As if she’s trying to shut her mother out of the gang or something. I glance at Demeter and I see a flash of pain cross her face. Her brow’s furrowed. She’s taken her own phone out now, and as she scrolls down, she looks weary.
It’s as if the mask has dropped again, and there she is: The other Demeter. The tired, stressed-out Demeter, who needs a hug with a horse.
And suddenly I’m aware of a disconcerting sensation. Do I feel…sorry for Demeter?
I’m so agog that I don’t even notice that someone is tugging at my sleeve.
“Excuse me? Katie?”