‘It’s fine, I told you all I didn’t want to do anything.’
It had been hard enough to convince her parents that she really wouldn’t be coming back to Hay-on-Wye for Christmas, so they were disappointed when she said she also didn’t want to make plans for her birthday. For a while she worried they were going to turn up anyway but then she played the widow card, and they thankfully backed down. Ever since Joe’s death her parents have treated her like a fragile vase, tiptoeing around her and being especially gentle. Harper’s approach, on the other hand, has been to treat her like abrokenvase that needs fixing.
‘You didn’t have to bring food again. I could have ordered us something.’
‘Well, I’m here now and I figured you could probably do with a proper meal.’
‘I eat proper meals.’ Tilly thinks of the pesto pasta she’d planned to make later.
‘Pesto pasta is not a proper meal, Tilly.’
A memory enters her mind of Harper calling her when she first left home to go to university, two years after Tilly, freaking out because her jacket potato had exploded in the microwave and covered the inside in molten cheese. Back then, Tilly managed to calm her down and talk her through how to clean it before her new housemates found the mess, but thejacket potato days seem a long time ago for Harper. Since Joe’s death Harper has kept Tilly’s freezer well stocked with Tupperwares of home-cooked stews and curries, made using recipes picked up on her travels.
‘Well, this does smell great. Thank you. Remind me where you were this time?’ Tilly asks as she helps Harper peel back the lids from the takeaway cartons, the satisfying smell of spices filling the air.
‘Phang Nga. So this takeaway was probably a terrible idea, because there’s no way it will be as good as the real thing, but I’ve been missing Thai food since I got back.’
Harper’s job at luxury online travel magazineVoyageurtakes her all around the world. Growing up, Harper was adamant that she was one day going to see the whole world, whereas Tilly was always more comfortable reading about places than actually visiting them. Harper stopped travelling as much for a while when Joe died, but she’s back to her usual workload now – a workload that can see her in several different countries in the same week.
When Harper asks what’s new with her, Tilly tells her about work, then hesitates for a moment. ‘And I actually received an unexpected gift on my birthday. Something Joe arranged for me before he died.’
‘Wow, that’s amazing,’ Harper says, once Tilly has explained the gift. ‘AndMatildais the perfect choice. I remember you obsessing over that book when we were kids and becoming convinced youwereMatilda. Do you remember when we tried to master telekinesis?’
‘Oh god, I’d forgotten about that,’ replies Tilly, a smile breaking across her face. ‘We broke so many mugs.’
‘So, have you reread it yet?’ Harper asks as she munches on a prawn cracker.
‘Not yet.’
‘Isn’t it aimed at seven-year-olds? It’s the perfect thing to get you out of your reading slump.’
Tilly has tried telling Harper that her inability to read is more than just a reading slump, but she doesn’t seem to get it.
‘Not yet. Work has been crazy. I’m working on a new memoir that’s set to be a big one …’
‘Your work has always been crazy. Yet you still used to find time for reading. You’ve always been a reader. It’s just who you are.’
Tilly thinks of the line in Joe’s letter. What her sister doesn’t get is that the person she used to be died when Joe did. She’s different now, in a way that she isn’t sure Harper will ever really understand. There’s a darkness to her that wasn’t there before, that sometimes feels like a fog and at other times like a stone lodged in her chest. She carries the darkness with her everywhere, all the time, even if on the surface she might look the same as before.
‘The food was great, thanks for bringing it.’
Harper opens her mouth, as if to push her again about the book, but instead she stands up, saying, ‘Let me help you tidy.’
Harper loads the dishwasher, stacking things in a haphazard way that Tilly will correct later.
‘When are you going to clear some of this stuff?’ Harper says when they’re sat on the sofa nursing cups of tea. She gestures at Joe’s desk behind them. One of his jumpers is still draped over the chair and the desk is covered in papers and framed photos of his family. Teetering piles of files and boxes litter the floor. ‘It’s pretty depressing in here, Tils.’
‘It doesn’t bother me.’ She just has to do a light amount of parkour over the living-room furniture to get from one side of the room to the other without knocking any boxes over.
‘But it’s been over six months … I could help you? Itmight be easier if we do it together?’ Harper has always loved a project. Tilly just wishes she wasn’t it.
‘Thanks for the offer, and I’ll let you know if I change my mind,’ Tilly says firmly. ‘Now tell me, where are you off to next?’
Tilly listens as Harper tells her about a trip to Oslo to review a new restaurant for a feature on the best restaurants in Europe. When Harper disappears to the bathroom Tilly lets herself sink lower into the sofa, her eyes drifting up to the blue urn on the bookshelf.
‘I know I probably should have sorted things by now. But it’s hard to know where to start. Hey, we talked about going to Oslo, didn’t we? And Paris, of course. I really wish we’d gone to Paris –’
‘Who are you talking to?’
