“Is that what you really think?” Lucy finally asked in a low voice.
“And if it is?” Juliet answered. She had her hands on the Aga railing, her fingers curling around the metal bar so tightly her knuckles stood out like bony little hills.
“Then . . . then whydidyou invite me, Juliet? Why on earth did you invite me, when you seem to hate me so much? I barely know you. You’ve hardly ever spoken to me, and yet you act like you’ve had all thisexperience—”She broke off, and Juliet stared down at her hands.
“I’ve seen your updates on Facebook,” she said, which was about the lamest response she’d ever heard. Lucy must have thought so too, for she let out a snort of disbelief.
“Oh,okay, then,” she said. “And we all know how Facebook updates are an accurate picture of someone’s life, someone’s soul.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic.”
“I’m not the one who started this,” Lucy shot back. “I’m actuallytrying—”
“You don’t think I tried?” Juliet demanded. “I invited you here—”
“And it seems you’d rather I left!” Lucy took a deep breath. “Wouldyou like me to go?”
“Where to? You have a job, remember—”
“I don’t mean leave Hartley-by-the-Sea,” Lucy said, and shock jolted through Juliet. “I mean leave here. You.”
The flatly spoken statement, the rejection of it, made Juliet recoil. “No,” she said, and knew as she spoke that she meant it. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“But I don’t think you want me to stay, either.”
Juliet let out a long, weary sigh. “Look, Lucy, I admit I haven’t been all that friendly. I didn’t . . . I didn’t expect to feel so . . .” She broke off, unable to put into words just what she’d felt at having Lucy catapult into her life. Opening the door and seeing her half sister there, the daughter Fiona had chosen, had actuallywanted. . . “This isn’t about you,” she finally said. “I know it’s unfair of me to take it out on you.”
“You mean it’s about Mum,” Lucy said, and Juliet didn’t answer. She’d never, not once, called FionaMum, not even as a child. Fiona had never wanted her to. “What happened between the two of you?” Lucy asked, and Juliet pushed away from the Aga, reached for a sponge.
“I told you before, nothing happened. She never wanted me, that’s all.” She swiped at the already-clean counter.
“And you think she wanted me.”
“Considering she went the sperm donor route to get you, yes, I’d say so.”
Lucy didn’t say anything and Juliet kept wiping the counter. “I didn’t feel all that wanted,” she said after a long moment, and Juliet stilled for a nanosecond before she continued cleaning. “Trust me—”
“No,youtrustme,” Juliet cut her off. She was, quite suddenly, nearly shaking with rage. She could not,would notlisten to poor little Lucy’s sob story about how she’d felt ignored. How Mummy hadn’t hugged her enough at bedtime. “You have no idea what it feels like not to be wanted. No bloody idea, Lucy.” Juliet could feel Lucy’s shocked silence, and she turned around. “When you were six, Fiona threw you a pony party. Do you remember?”
Lucy blinked. “I think so,” she finally said hesitantly.
“You think so? Well, I remember it perfectly. She hired a pony to come give rides to all your friends, your entire class, in our back garden. And there was a cake, this huge pink sparkly thing with a little porcelain pony on top. And you had a new dress, as well as the most ridiculous little outfit for riding that damned pony. She bought a six-year-oldjodhpurs.”
Lucy blinked again. “None of that stuff—”
“Mattered? Well, it mattered to me.” Lucy looked confused and Juliet clarified impatiently, “I didn’t want a stupid pony party. I was seventeen. But it mattered because Fiona had never even acknowledged my birthday, not once, much less thrown me a party or given me a present.” She threw the damp sponge into the sink, where it landed with a wet thwack. “So yes, it mattered,” she said, quietly now, her rage depleted. “Stupid as that may sound.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Lucy answered after a moment. She sounded shaken. “I just never knew . . .”
“Well,” Juliet said tiredly, “now you do.”
Chapter eleven
Lucy
She’d forgotten about that stupid pony party. As Juliet left the room to go make up some beds, Lucy sank into a chair at the kitchen table. And to think she’d been so full of optimism, sodeterminedto reconcile with Juliet. What a joke. Juliet didn’t want to reconcile. Not remotely. Her sister’s anger had shocked her, because despite Juliet’s obvious reluctance to have her here, she hadn’t realized the emotion ran that deep.
She stared out the window, oblivious to the uncharacteristically bright sunshine, as she remembered that long-ago afternoon. The pony. The party. And, yes, the jodhpurs. What a miserable day it had been. Not, she knew, that Juliet would understand that. And maybe her sister had a point. She’d still had the party, something Juliet had never had. But it hadn’t been for her. She’d never even liked ponies and had been too scared to ride one on that awful, endless day.
