‘She has?’
‘Absolutely! Anyway, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say hello and that you’ve got a lovely sister. Of course, you already know that.’ She laughed and I laughed with her, wondering who she’d met becauselovelywas not a word I’d apply to Marianne. Grumpy, disagreeable, awkward, bitter… I could go on. But lovely? I’d never seen it myself.
‘Have you lived here long?’ I asked.
‘We moved here in September two years ago.’
‘And you see a lot of Marianne?’
‘Not as often as when we first moved in. I was on maternity leave with my second back then and desperate for adult company so your sister had no choice but to become my friend. I don’t manage to see as much of her now I’m back at work but she usually stops by for a cuppa and a chinwag at some point over the weekend and, of course, she joined us earlier for Christmas dinner.’
She’d had Christmas dinner with her next-door neighbour? How was I supposed to respond to that when I’d been sent packing after ten minutes? My sister clearly favoured her young neighbour over her own flesh and blood.
‘I thought you’d be staying longer.’ She clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘That sounded like a criticism. I didn’t mean it that way.’
She looked mortified at her faux pas. ‘It’s fine. I thought I’d be here longer too but Marianne’s tired.’
‘Aw, bless her. We all thought she looked tired earlier. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately.’
‘Hasn’t she? Did she say why?’
‘Just that she has a lot on her mind.’ A gust of wind ruffled Amelia’s hair and she grabbed for her paper hat. ‘It’s freezing out here so I’d better get back inside. Happy Christmas! Nice to finally meet you.’
‘Same to you.’
Amelia waved as I reversed off the drive. In my rear-view mirror, I watched her go into her cottage – Mrs Kellerman’s and Cliff’s former home. This day was becoming increasingly bewildering.
When I reached the end of the track, there was no traffic in sight but I didn’t pull out. What had Amelia said?She hasn’t been sleeping well lately… she has a lot on her mind.I’d asked Marianne several times if she was ill and she hadn’t given a direct answer; just claimed she was tired. I wasn’t convinced. What if being tired was a symptom of something else? What if the mess in the cottage was also symptomatic? Lifting the floorboards seemed to tire her so it would stand to reason that lugging a heavy bin bag out to the wheelie bin then dragging it down the long drive for collection would be exhausting too. It didn’t sound as though she’d confided in Amelia but Amelia was clearly much closer to my sister than I was so she might be the person Marianne opened up to about any health challenges.
I opened my handbag, pulled out a notepad and pen and scribbled down my name and phone number before reversing the car back down the track and stopping outside number three.
‘Hello again,’ Amelia said, smiling widely as she answered the door.
‘Sorry for interrupting your family time but I wanted to give you this.’ I handed her the piece of paper. ‘Just in case.’
She glanced down at my number and nodded. ‘I’ll keep it safe.’
‘Thank you.’ I turned to leave, but stopped and pointed to the adjoining cottage. ‘Have you ever been inside?’
‘Can’t say I have.’
‘Has she ever given you a reason why?’
Amelia scrunched up her forehead. ‘It’s never cropped up. It’s easier for her to come here because I’ve got the kids. Why do you ask?’
‘Just wondering.’ There was a burst of laughter from the lounge and I felt bad for encroaching. ‘I’ve taken enough of your time. Enjoy the rest of your Christmas and do make sure you call me if anything seems…’ I hunted around for a suitable word, ‘…amiss.’
‘You look worried.’
I shrugged. ‘I am. She wasn’t herself but, whatever it is, she didn’t want to talk about it.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’
Before getting in the car, I paused to look back at my childhood home, sadness engulfing me. I wished Marianne had escaped like I had. Things might have been different between us if she’d had friends, a partner, a life. We might have been close. She might have opened up to me about whatever was going on with her. But if things had been different for her, there probably wouldn’t have been anything to open up about. I shook my head and sighed. So many what ifs and maybes.
As I drove away and the cottage disappeared from view, I pictured my sister’s pale face against the backdrop of mess, and guilt joined the sadness. Should I have insisted on staying? Should I have demanded she talk to me? Should I go back now? Nervous butterflies swirled round my stomach at the mere thought of it. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face being pushed away again. Marianne’s repeated rejections of me on Fridays after school and Dad throwing me out and refusing to ever speak to me again were painful memories which still affected me decades later. Why keep putting myself through that?
