‘You know I visit Oxford sometimes.’
‘I do know. But I thought you went to the city.’ And she’d never pressed for details.
‘I usually do, but the café is only a short walk from the main drag. Isaac even has a favourite order there – lemon and blueberry muffin with a glass of milk.’
‘You never told me, Addie.’
Addie took a deep breath, and when she eventually spoke it saddened Susanna to hear what she had to say. ‘I didn’t want to talk about the café because that would lead to talking about Dad, and we know what happens between us when we do.’
She felt terrible that her own sister hadn’t felt able to tell her about visiting the café, but then again it was her own fault. She hadn’t divulged the truth, she’d kept it to herself, so how could Addie ever understand why she felt the way she did?
She wondered what else Addie didn’t want to go on about because seeing Addie here on the island made Susanna admit to herself that her sister had felt a lot more attached to the place than she ever had. She’d tried to deny the glaring fact for so long, bury it and start over back on the mainland. She hadn’t been fair in doing that though, had she?
She moved away from the direct subject of their father. ‘You know, I can’t imagine Dad and Aunt Gayle working together.’
‘I can’t imagine Aunt Gayle taken orders from anyone,’ said Addie.
‘Nor Dad,’ they said at the same time, making them both laugh.
Addie wasn’t unpacking anything else; she was looking at Susanna in a way that suggested she had more to say.
‘I’ve been looking up living funerals on the internet,’ Addie blurted.
‘And what did you find?’
‘Not much. It seems people do them the way they see fit, a bit like a funeral, I suppose. But… there are eulogies, or I guess they’d be called speeches if she isn’t actually dead. I was thinking…’
Susanna knew where this was going. ‘You’re thinking of giving one, aren’t you?’
‘Well, we might have all lost touch, but sheisour family. And we’ve all had some really good days lately.’
‘We have. But… Addie, I can’t do it. Gayle and I have had so much between us for so long, it would feel false. I know everything is good at the moment, but we’ve not talked about what happened. And I just don’t feel I can stand up in front of a crowd and go on about the aunt I’m not sure I ever really knew properly.’ She took out another framed photograph.
‘I understand. But would you mind if I said something?’
And there it was. The very different relationship her sister had had with their aunt, and if Addie gave a speech everyone would know it more than they probably already did.
‘I’ll say it’s from both of us,’ Addie leapt in. ‘So it’ll sound like we wrote it together. And it won’t be gushing, it won’t be saying we had the best childhood ever… I just think a few words would be nice and the right thing to do.’
Susanna thought for a moment. ‘Would you read me the speech before?’
‘Of course. Then you’ll know what’s coming.’ She gave her sister a hug. ‘And it won’t be long. I hate long speeches, so I’ll keep it brief.’
‘You’re a good person, Addie.’
‘As are you. Now, what’s that picture?’ She nodded at Susanna’s hands.
Susanna smiled when she turned the framed picture over and saw that it was a photograph of her in her mother’s arms.
‘How old are you in that one?’
‘I must’ve been about three, I think.’ She was dressed in a ballet tunic, her little dark bunches protruding from either side of her head.
‘You’re so cute.’
‘I don’t remember the ballet lessons.’ What she did remember was their mum’s hugs and the Dior perfume she wore, the way it would comfort her and linger on her clothes, even after the cuddle had long finished and they were separated again. Those sorts of memories were incredible, evocative, and it pained her that Addie would never have as many as she needed.
‘When you came along, she was so careful not to exclude me,’ Susanna went on.
