‘She’s had a sore back,’ said Louisa. ‘She said she was getting old and it was expected.’
‘She’s been so tired,’ Addie put in. ‘And she’s had frequent headaches. Her appetite has been off too, but I put that down to her being busy with the business and organising the living funeral. She was never one to sit still for five minutes. Although that’s what’s different this time, she’s not been on the go. I putthatdown to her being in her seventies.’
‘And it might still be that she’s getting older,’ Susanna interjected. ‘Let’s not panic until we know more.’
Sitting there, thinking about all the dramas of this evening, Addie realised something. ‘Susanna, you were all right on the boat crossing. You didn’t feel sick. That’s the first time in a long while.’
Susanna smiled. ‘I think the emergency was such a distraction, my body knew it couldn’t misbehave.’
‘I’m so glad we managed to get here,’ said Addie, looking across at Gayle whose eyes were closed. They all had so much to work through, she only hoped they got the chance. If she had pancreatic cancer like Harry, they might lose her quickly, and she wasn’t sure she could bear it if that happened before they all made their peace properly. To a certain extent, she and Susanna had already repaired some of their relationship with their aunt by being here, by staying at the cottage and by not leaving as soon as they knew about the mix-up with the living funeral. But there was so much more to talk about for all of them, especially with Louisa now in the picture.
They stayed at Gayle’s bedside a while longer before they said goodnight to her and headed for the guesthouse a short taxi ride away. They checked in, and whatever Mateo had told the owner, the man at the front desk was kind enough to ask whether the girls wanted anything to eat. They settled on a pot of tea and some toast with jam to be eaten in their rooms.
‘Can we have all of it brought to room nine?’ Addie requested and to Louisa said, ‘Come on, we all need to talk for a bit. You can’t go to sleep straight away after all that’s happened.’
They filed up the stairs, along the corridor, first to room eight where Louisa left her bag and then on to room nine where Addie slumped on the bed. Susanna and Louisa flopped onto the paisley sofa near the window. The toast and jam arrived not long after.
They ate quickly, all of them finally hungry again after all the earlier puddings.
‘That was the best toast I’ve ever had,’ Addie declared, using her finger to pick up the last of the crumbs.
Louisa piled the plates on top of each other and set them on the edge of the dresser.
‘Do you really think Aunt Gayle might have pancreatic cancer, like Dad?’ Addie asked, figuring she might as well come right out and ask the question. ‘Or she could have heart problems like her sister.’
Susanna pulled a few crumbs from her top and dropped them into the bin. ‘Let’s keep everything crossed that it’s neither.’
‘Gayle will be one of the lucky ones,’ said Addie. ‘She has to be.’
The room quietened.
Addie broke the silence. ‘You know, for so many years I thought our dad was so bloody perfect.’
‘Nobody is,’ said Susanna.
‘Well, to me, Dad was. I guess by eight years old I hadn’t quite worked out that people weren’t necessarily all good or all bad. I blame those movies with princesses and villains, the evil and the good, no in between.’
Louisa moved from the sofa over to the bed when Susanna pointed out there was only one blanket and it was getting chilly.
‘I always fantasised about who my dad might be,’ said Louisa once she was settled. ‘I’m embarrassed to say that for a while I lied. I told the boys in my class that he was off fighting for his country. I said he didn’t get to come home often but we missed him and wrote to him all the time. I’m not sure if they knew I was lying but it made me feel better.’
‘How?’ Addie asked.
‘Because otherwise I was Louisa Miller, mother Lily Miller, father absent. I hated the thought of people asking me about him, so I made stuff up. When I went to high school, I changed the story to something far more exciting. I said that my dad was a hotshot film director in Los Angeles. That one came back to bite me, though, because it turned out the teacher had a sister in the LA film industry.’
Susanna began to laugh. ‘What were the chances?’
‘I know!’ Louisa was laughing now too. ‘She took me aside one day. She said that she had met my mother at parents’ evening and knew that my dad wasn’t on the scene. I burst into tears, not just because nobody else would think he was a hotshot film director but because I had to remind myself that he wasn’t and that he wasn’t a part of my life.’
‘It must’ve been really hard for you,’ said Addie. ‘I had Dad for eight years at least.’
‘I had him for fourteen,’ said Susanna.
Addie rolled onto her back, extricating herself from beneath the blanket. She was warm enough now. ‘Susanna… did you idolise Dad even a little bit, before… well, you know…’
‘Before the day I overhead him admit to the affair? Of course I did, he was Dad. He was strong, funny, capable.’ And then a sadness came over her face. ‘I couldn’t look at him the same way when I knew that he’d cheated on Mum. I had a lot of resentment stored up inside of me for a while and held him at arm’s length. The only thing that made me feel compassion for him was knowing that he had been trying to do the right thing by telling Mum the truth. I loved him, but… well, I never let go of some of that anger. And then he got really sick. I hated myself then, Addie.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘By the time we were sent to Anchor Island, I loathed myself and thought I’d made his life so miserable at the end.’
Addie turned onto her back again. ‘You didn’t make Dad’s life miserable, Susanna. He was always saying how proud of you he was, when you won those go-karting medals and beat all the boys in the local area, you should’ve heard him.’
