Blue

You can tell a lot about people from their bathrooms. I should know – I’m spending a lot of time in bathrooms lately. They’re my bolt holes - the most private room in any house. No one to disturb you, unless you have kids - not applicable in my case - now or any time soon. If you could see me at the moment, you’d understand.
Anyway, Jocelyn’s bathroom is blue, blue and white. It’s so pristine it looks as though no one ever washes, or leaves a dirty towel lying around on the floor. Typical. That’s how she wants us to see her life, of course – perfect, no nasty secrets, or skeletons in the cupboard – everything sanitised. As open and honest as a cloudless sky. As if.
She doesn’t know that I know, of course. That she’s a sham. That she’s carrying on behind my brother’s back. I wonder what they’d say if I told them? I wonder if they’d be so willing to drink her cocktails, and eat her canapés? I wonder if they’d line up to ensure the Christmas invitations? ’Course they would; they wouldn’t believe me - Jocelyn and David are well known, and I’m nobody. In any case, people don’t care about hypocrisy any more. The main thing is that you have to be seen in the right places, and rub shoulders with the right people. You can get away with anything these days - like Jocelyn does.
Cynical? Maybe – but with good reason. That’s why I needed to escape up here: couldn’t stand seeing her drape herself casually over Peter Grant or hear her going on about how lucky she’s been: how glad she is that David took that job: how everything with this house just came together at the right time for her, how glad she is that Elliot has gone to that school. I nearly said something, but then I didn't.

Blue

Not the time or the place. So I zipped it. David’s my brother after all. Time to go. Except that's easier said than done, and as usual, Marcus is nowhere to be seen He can’t take Jocelyn either, so he’s hiding again. He calls it being objective. I tell him he’s a coward, and he doesn’t contradict me. I’ll give him a bit of space - he deserves that much consideration.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bath, so that all I can see in the mirror is the door jamb, and when I shut the door, it’s as though I’m in a sort of heaven, all that blue and white. I wish. Blue is supposed to be the colour of serenity - the pigment was made up of the fantastically expensive lapis lazuli. That’s why many of the Renaissance artists painted Mary in blue, sitting with Jesus on her lap. Serenity personified. I should be so lucky.
Feeling sick again. Who said that revenge wasn’t sweet?