“You can retake it anyway,” Rachel cut across her, her mind racing. “We can say you weren’t feeling well. You’ll have to delay entrance a year, but you can still sit it next year.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Damn it, Lily.”
“I’m not going to take it next year, Rachel.” Lily’s voice was almost gentle. “Or ever. I don’t like biology. I don’t want to study it in university. I certainly don’t want to take out forty thousand pounds’ worth of student loans to study a subject I’ve never enjoyed.”
“But . . . but you’re so good at it.”
“And you’re good at cleaning people’s houses. Does that mean you want to do it for the rest of your life?”
“It’s not the same—”
“Maybe it is,” Lily returned evenly. Suddenly she seemed very grown-up. “More than you’ve ever been willing to believe.”
Rachel raked her hands through her hair, unable to formulate any coherent or measured response. This was so unexpected, and yet maybe that was simply because she’d been so willfully blind. Meghan had warned her. Lily had been trying to tell her. But for her sister to simply throw everything away...
“Why?” she asked finally. “Why didn’t you at least sit the exam? Since you studied for it? You could still turn down Durham, but at least you’d have had the qualification.”
“Because I knew I’d cave to pressure and go anyway if I did,” Lily said.
“Pressure? You mean... from me?” Lily nodded. Rachel’s breath came out in a rush. “Is that how you see me?” she asked. “As someone who is pressuring you? Nagging you?”
Lily hesitated. “Sometimes,” she said. “Yes.”
Rachel walked into the sitting room and sank onto the sofa next to Nathan, who immediately curled into her, leaning his head against her shoulder. Absently Rachel stroked his hair, and Lily followed her into the room; she sat opposite and waited, her hands tucked between her knees.
“Are you angry with me?” Lily asked in a small voice.
“Angry?” Yes, she was angry. She was bloody furious, but even more than that, she was sad. So terribly sad. “I’m not angry, Lily,” Rachel said wearily.
“Really?” Lily sounded skeptical—and no wonder.
Rachel had spent a lot of time being angry or irritated or just impatient, so sure that she was doing the right thing. The hardest thing. And it hurt to think that maybe, all along, she hadn’t been.
“I don’t know what I feel,” Rachel admitted. “Sad, mostly.”
“Because I’m not going to Durham?” Lily’s voice had thickened, as if she was fighting back tears.
“Yes,” Rachel admitted. “I had such plans for you. And I still think going to Durham is the best thing for you.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the sofa. “But I recognize that decision is not one for me to make. You have to make your own choices, Lily, and that means making your own mistakes.”
“So you think staying at home is a mistake.”
“I’m afraid it’s a mistake,” Rachel corrected carefully. “You don’t realize the opportunities you could have....”
“Actually, I do. I went to Durham, Rachel, remember? I saw the beautiful old buildings and the student union and all the rest of it. I know what I’m giving up. Mostly.”
“Then why . . . ?”
“Because I don’t like biology. I don’t want to be a biologist—”
“You know a degree from a good university can get you just about any job—”
“Not the kind of job I want.”
Rachel fell silent. She knew there was no point to this argument; Lily had already made her choice. “So what is your plan exactly?”
“I’m going to apply for a part-time course at the Lakes College, in art and design.”
Rachel closed her eyes, struggling not to wince. To give up a place at Durham for a part-time course at a community college. It felt wrong. “And live at home?”
“Yes. I thought that might be better.” Lily’s voice was hesitant. “I could help with Mum.”
