Paulette nodded. ‘I don’t understand why she’s digging her heels in so hard. Saffy caught the train across to Birmingham on Saturday, I drove down to meet her and we cleared her room together. Now Andrew and Joanne aren’t speaking to me.’
‘Oh, Paulette, I’m so sorry. But what did they expect you to do? Abandon Saffy when she needed you?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s been a difficult start to the year to say the least but it’ll all come out in the wash eventually.’
‘If there’s anything I can do…’
Paulette smiled. ‘I appreciate that. What I need right now is cake but it’s Veronica’s turn and it had better not be carrot, beetroot or parsnip.’
‘She’s made parsnip cake before?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t put it past her.’
As it turned out, Veronica had baked the most divine red velvet cake with a mouthwatering cream cheese frosting which had Paulette and I salivating and longing for seconds.
Milly usually favoured needle felting but had brought a cross-stitch kit with her today – a beautiful sunset view of Castlerigg Stone Circle – and Paulette was knitting a cardigan for Saffy, but I wasn’t the only one working on my journal. Veronica, Laughlin and a few of the other members had brought theirs with them and I was impressed by the way Saffy passed round us all, checking we had enough materials and giving design ideas. All the while, she had a smile on her face which was amazing considering the turmoil she must be feeling right now.
‘Did you go with Saffy’s questions?’ I asked Veronica when she returned from the kitchen with a fresh cup of tea for me halfway through the meeting.
‘I rather liked her suggestion of making a journal full of favourite recipes so I decided to make one each for Rebecca and Felicity.’
I pulled my chair closer to hers and she showed me what she’d created so far.
‘We did a lot of baking together when they were little and I always made them a special birthday cake so I’ve got quite a few photos of them baking and blowing out candles and I thought it would be a nice touch to include them all.’
‘That’s such a lovely idea,’ I said, smiling at a photo of them as young girls licking cake mixture from wooden spoons. ‘I used to bake a lot with my mum too and I seem to remember her taking a photo of me doing that.’
I flicked through the rest of the journal. ‘I’m sure your daughters will love it.’
‘I hope so but, if they don’t, I’ve loved the process although it won’t be quite as enjoyable making an exact duplicate.’
‘You’re not making them different?’
‘I wouldn’t dare! They might live in different countries but I guarantee they’ll compare them and if Rebecca likes something in Felicity’s journal more than in hers, or vice versa, I’ll never hear the end of it.’
Veronica sounded fed up, which wasn’t like her. ‘They’re really that bad?’
She nodded. ‘Everything’s about one-upmanship. They claim it’s just a bit of fun and I should lighten up, but how does onelighten upwhen one’s eldest daughter questions why one’s youngest heard the news of their father’s death first?’
I pressed my hand to my mouth, shocked that Veronica’s daughter would make a comment like that at such a terrible time. And it had clearly had a lasting impact on Veronica, given her strained voice and pained expression.
‘They were six and nine in this photo,’ Veronica said, lightly tapping the image with her index finger. ‘They were so close but it all changed around the time Felicity hit her teen years. Now, if there’s a family gathering, they’re all smiles and politeness but I see an undercurrent. Something happened to drive a wedge between them but, any time I raise it, they tell me I’m imagining it. I’m not. My girls despise each other and I don’t know why.’
The pain in her voice and the hurt and confusion in her eyes made me think of Mum’s disappointment that Marianne and I weren’t close. I wished I could offer Veronica some advice or a solution but nothing Mum or I had tried had ever yielded positive results.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I hope you know it’s not your fault.’
Veronica looked up at me. ‘How did you know I was blaming myself?’
‘Because my mum blamed herself for my sister Marianne and me not getting on, but it wasn’t her. She did everything she possibly could have to make us friends and, for whatever reason, Marianne didn’t want to know. Sometimes siblings just don’t get on and there’s nothing anyone can do about it so please, pleasedon’tblame yourself. This is between them and maybe one day something will happen to make them address it and maybe it won’t, but the most important thing is your relationship with them.’
She gave me a weak smile. ‘This might sound foolish but I fear for what will happen to them when I’m gone. Hopefully that’s a long way into the future but I don’t want my legacy to be a broken family. I don’t want my girls to lose contact, especially when it isn’t just them – it’s their children too. Family was always so important to Carson and me. No matter where we lived, we always stayed in touch with our extended family and I have this fear of it ending.’
‘Have you ever shared this with them?’
‘Goodness, no.’
‘Maybe you should. It won’t be easy but it might make a difference.’
