‘Happy Christmas!’ I declared, the words coming out overly bright.
Marianne held my gaze for a moment but didn’t return the greeting.
‘I’ve brought you some chocolates.’ I thrust the gift bag towards her.
‘We said no presents.’
‘They’re athank you for having megift.’
She still didn’t take the bag and I wished I’d listened to her and not bothered. A gust of wind made me shiver. It was a bitterly cold day and I hadn’t put a coat on, not expecting to be outside for long.
‘Can I come in?’ I asked when she didn’t show any sign of moving. ‘If it’s still okay to visit, that is.’ Part of me wanted her to say it wasn’t.
‘Erm, yes. Come in. It’s a bit messy. I, erm…’
I followed her into the entrance hall and the first thing that hit me was the smell – that rotten food aroma you get when you’re stuck behind a bin lorry on a hot day, so strong you can actually taste it. The next thing that hit me was the mess. Everywhere. Plastic carrier bags, bags for life and bin bags containing goodness knows what were piled on top of each other along the hall and up the stairs, leaving only a small passageway beside the handrail.It’s a bit messy.That was the understatement of the century. I stared around me in shock. How had she let it get like this?
‘You still there?’ Marianne called from the lounge.
I took a deep breath, immediately regretting it as the stench made me gag. Marianne didn’t want the chocolates and there was nowhere to put them so I hung the bag on the door handle and stepped into the lounge, my stomach lurching. It was even worse than the hall! There were piles of books and newspapers so high that they’d have toppled over if it wasn’t for the towers of bags supporting them.
‘I warned you it was a bit messy.’ Marianne’s tone was defensive but, as I turned to her, there was nothing hostile about her body language. She was tugging at the end of her sleeves, her shoulders drooping, her eyes lowered, and my heart broke for her. How could she live this way?
‘How long has it been like this?’ I asked gently.
She shrugged.
‘You do realise this is more thana bit messy?’
‘I bet your house is immaculate.’ That defensive tone was still there.
‘This isn’t about me or my house. How long, Marianne?’
She shrugged again.
I looked around the lounge, my stomach churning. There was nowhere for me to sit. The sofa and one of the armchairs were covered in books, bags and clothes leaving only one armchair free which was presumably where my sister sat.
‘Are any of the rooms clear?’ I asked.
‘Yours is. It’s like it was before.’
‘Okay. Let’s go upstairs.’
I expected her to protest but she followed me as I carefully navigated my way up the stairs and along the landing. The bathroom door was closed but the doors to Marianne’s bedroom and what had been our parents’ room were open and they were both just as packed with stuff as the lounge. The door to my old bedroom at the front of the cottage was closed and I paused with my hand on the knob. My mouth felt dry, my body shaky from a combination of fear as to what I might find inside and memories of the last time I’d been in that room. The last time I spoke to my dad. The last time I ever saw him.
7
THIRTY-EIGHT AND A HALF YEARS AGO
‘I’ve already said no to him so why the hell would you think I’d say yes to you?’
Dad’s voice was low and controlled but the rest of his demeanour conveyed his anger. His face was red and a vein pulsed on his forehead as he narrowed his dark eyes at me.
‘Because I don’t understand why you’d say no.’ It was hard to keep my voice steady when I was fuming with him. He’d pretty much ignored me my whole life and now he wanted to control me?
‘He’s too old for you,’ Dad snapped.
‘We’re both in our twenties.’
