Juliet was silent, surprised by this bit of academic snobbery from Rachel. Plenty of people did fine with BTECs, herself included. “Is she even interested in biology?” she asked, and Rachel rolled her eyes.
“Don’t you start, as well. The point is, she needs decent A levels to get into a decent university—” She broke off, herexpression hardening. “So many people take it for granted. University’s anassumption—”
“Loads of people don’t go to university and are fine,” Juliet answered mildly. It felt good to be talking about someone else’s issues instead of dwelling on her own. “Myself included.”
“You?” Rachel looked surprised, and then discomfited. “I thought . . .”
“I dropped out after the first year. Wasn’t for me. And maybe it’s not for Lily.”
Rachel shook her head, fierce again. “Lilywillgo to university. She’ll be the first person in our family to get a degree.” She held up a hand. “And I’m not going to argue with you or anyone about it, Juliet.”
Juliet was saved from replying by the sound of the door opening, and then Lucy coming into the kitchen. Rachel eyed her with undisguised interest; they hadn’t met yet, and Juliet could see her examining Lucy’s colorful outfit—a dress in sky-blue corduroy that resembled a bright potato sack, matched with green tights and chunky ankle boots. At least the shoes were sensible, more or less.
“Rachel, this is my sister, Lucy. Lucy, Rachel,” Juliet said briskly. “Rachel helps out with the laundry and cleaning.” She was determined to keep this normal, and to keep Rachel from asking Lucy any awkward questions about their relationship.
“So you’re Lucy,” Rachel said, and Juliet suppressed a groan.
“And you’re Rachel,” Lucy answered lightly. “Although I can’t say Juliet said anything about you to me.” She glanced at Juliet, her expression both curious and guarded. “But you obviously know who I am.”
“Juliet mentioned you were coming to stay,” Rachel told her. “And not much escapes notice in this village. How are you finding Hartley-by-the-Sea?”
“Friendly,” Lucy answered, her tone cautious. “For the most part.”
Friendly, save for the half sister who didn’t want her here? Juliet remembered laughing with Lucy last night and she decided to make more of an effort, although whether it was to prove to Lucy, Rachel, or simply herself that they could get along, she wasn’t sure. “How did you get on today with the big discussion?”
“What big discussion?” Rachel asked, and Lucy shot Juliet another one of those looks she couldn’t quite decipher. Was her sister angry or annoyed or hurt? Something fairly negative, at any rate.
“You don’t mind if Rachel knows,” she told Lucy. “She can keep a secret.”
“Ooh, this all sounds quite interesting,” Rachel said, propping her feet on another chair and taking a sip of tea. “Tell all.”
“Alex Kincaid’s daughter Bella needs a bra,” Juliet stated. “And Lucy was the one to inform him of the fact.” She glanced back at Lucy. “You did talk to him, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Lucy poured herself a cup of tea from the big blue pot and joined them at the table. She seemed to have relaxed a bit. “Most awkward conversationever.”
“Talking to Alex Kincaid about bras?” Rachel snickered . “But he is a hottie.”
“Which made it even more awkward,” Lucy answered. She leaned her head back against the chair. “But the kicker is, he asked me to go with Bella to buy her the bra.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped and Juliet shook her head. “He did not!”
“He did.”
“That’s hardly in your job description,” Rachel said, and Lucy sighed.
“I’m doing it as a favor.”
“What a chicken he is,” Rachel said, seeming to luxuriate in this statement. “I bought my sister Lily her first bra. It’s not that bad.” There was a moment’s silence, and Juliet wondered what Lucy was thinking, if she wished her big sister had been around to buy her bras and tell her about getting your period. By the time Lucy had hit puberty, Juliet had been out of her life for six years.
“My mother bought me my bra and it was awful,” Lucy said after a moment. “She kept speechifying about how I was entering the realm of womanhood, a flower with buds of femininity.”
Rachel let out a crack of laughter and even Juliet managed a smile. When she’d needed a bra or anything at that age, Fiona had given her some money and dropped her off at the Meadowhall Centre in Sheffield. She’d shopped for herself, and Fiona hadn’t even asked about her purchases. But at least there had been money then; before Fiona had made it as an artist, when they’d been living in a council flat and eating beans on toast nearly every night, Juliet hadn’t had new clothes at all. A kindly neighbor had passed on her daughter’s well-worn hand-me-downs, which Juliet had accepted gratefully. Fiona had neither noticed nor cared.
But now Juliet decided she was glad she’d bought a bra for herself at age twelve rather than Fiona posturing so ridiculously, using everything in her life to make some kind of cultural or political point.
Although would she have preferred it when she was twelve, or would she have rather Fiona shown an interest in her, any interest, even if it was just to throw yet more attention onto herself?
That was a question Juliet couldn’t answer.
