Novels No. 117

  

Elizabeth Day. One of Us. NYC: Viking, 2025.

Invitations to the funeral of Lady Felicity (Fliss) Fitzmaurice present a nexus for assorted individuals who lament her accidental death in Bali. Martin Gilmour was a longtime friend of Fliss’ ambitious brother Ben—Ben, a government cabinet minister. Having kept a felonious secret of Ben’s for years, Martin was recently and unceremoniously dumped from Ben’s life. His shock at the rebuff turned into a wish for revenge; the invitation is a surprise. Ben’s wife Serena sent it; her late conversion to feminist ranks has made her less tolerant of her husband’s casual womanizing. An affair with Ben’s bankroller Andrew Jarvis is Serena’s revenge. The invite was also a surprise to Richard Take, a former MP caught watching porn at the office, who overcame disgrace by guesting on reality TV and podcasts to capture the enthusiasm of a younger generation. Cannily, Ben chooses Richard as his wing man for the party leadership campaign; it’s understood Ben is almost anointed as next prime minister.

Unknown to her parents Serena and Ben, teenaged Cosima is a secret eco-warrior, seriously committed to protests and demonstrations against Big Oil. She was the only family member who appreciated wild and unhappy Aunt Fliss. When Cosima is identified by her fellow protesters and her parents at a demo gone wrong, long-suppressed criminal acts face exposure. The effects caused by Fliss’ death are as important as how she died. Martin is the main observer here as the characters collide, realign, or deteriorate.

One of Us is a delicious, sometimes vicious, satire of traditional upper-class behaviour. So well-written, the novel runs the gamut from cold-blooded assaults to laugh-out-loud moments. More than that, author Day penetrates the complicated turmoil of motherhood, fatherhood, and needy children.

Messages

▪ She understood, too, her role in Ben’s life as he scaled the political heights. She was the wife who looked good in Sunday newspaper supplement photoshoots while keeping all the necessary secrets. (34)

▪ “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I quite heard ... Did you say ...” I tread carefully. “That Fliss ... killed herself?” (88)

▪ This time, I’m motivated not by a need to belong, but by a need to bring them down. The whole bloody lot of them. (101)

▪ She thought Jarvis boorish and unprepossessing – an impression that lasted for several years, until he started bailing Ben out financially. (114)

▪ “Is it all just a fucking massive ego trip, Dad? Is it?” (142)

▪ She thinks of River, his slumped body on the ground, the shouting of the truck drivers and the strange silence of everything else. (145)

▪ Andrew Jarvis had stolen the last of her. And her brother – her beloved little brother – had done nothing to stop it. (198)

▪ “Burn the fuckers down,” she said, placing one of her heavy, capable hands over his. “Then throw away the matches.” (268)

Ruth Mancini. The Day I Lost You. USA: HarperCollins, 2025.

The opening scenes had me so nervous for this woman I wondered briefly if I should stop. Lauren Hopwood and her two-year-old son Sam are hiding in Spain. It’s pure luck that a neighbour – Gabe – is friendly and caring; he whisks her away after the policía come to inspect her and Sam’s passports. She’s told that a couple back in England accuse her of abducting their child. Hope Dunsmore and husband Drew contacted the police, but they waited until well after it happened. The chronology of events and Sam’s biology are unclear, increasing the tension at each step. Desperate Lauren realizes she can’t live on the run forever, especially with a child. Knowing she must return to the U.K. and face the problem, she engages a criminal lawyer in advance. Trusted Gabe agrees to keep Sam safely hidden in Spain.

Rolling back a few months at a time, even to pregnancy days, the author’s reverse construction is ever so clever. Each woman’s past actions only add to the mystery and confusion; it’s not my place to spoil straighten it out here. There was some kind of accident trauma, hospital stays, disconnect from reality, possibly two baby boys? Learning that Hope is a grief counsellor, Lauren arranged to be a client, concealing her identity. But Hope and Drew were acting strangely (it is a strange story!) before Lauren and Sam disappear. In real time, when Lauren arrives in the U.K. to face the music, she’s arrested. Ultimately none of the characters react the way you expect.

It’s a challenge to follow the lies being told to protect baby Sam—or to choose what or whom to believe. Coincidences can be annoying, but convoluted trauma, loss, grief—Mancini creates unbearable tension that only lapses a little when the end approaches.

Jabs

▪ “How could you?” I snap. “How could you tell them I’m not Sam’s natural mother?” (66)

▪ But, as a therapist, I should have known better; I was the last person on this planet who should have been counselling her, and I should have known that. (71)

▪ We have to find Lauren. We have to find her ourselves. Because there’s a very good chance that unless we find her before the police do, we may never see Sam again. (72)

▪ I haven’t worked it all out yet, but my gut instinct tells me that it’s too much of a coincidence that Hope Dunsmore was giving birth to her baby while I was losing my baby, in the exact same hospital on the exact same day. (116)

▪ “No, Drew,” I say. “You won’t. You know you won’t, because if you call the police, they’ll find out what you did.” (158)

▪ I tell her what I’ve told everyone else: that I can’t remember anything about that day except waking up and being cut out of the car by firemen. (206-7)

▪ “But ... what if you felt differently once you got to know me. What if I’m not the person you think I am?” (239)