“Not anymore.”
“But you must have. It sounds like you were close.”
“We were, a long time ago. But I don’t miss someone who could do what he did. I won’t let myself.”
“Did he ever... ?” Lily hesitated, and Rachel tensed. “Did he ever get in touch? With you? Or Mum? I’ve never even asked. It always seemed like a complete no-go area.”
“I suppose it always has been. Easier that way. And no, he never got in touch.” Not one phone call or postcard or even a lousy text. Nothing.
Sometimes Rachel had wondered if he’d died, if he’d had some kind of accident. She’d even, way back when, called the police, who had told her to come in and fill out a missing person report. Then his mobile phone bill had come in the post, and she’d seen that he was still using it. A withdrawal from the bank, collecting his dole, and she’d known he was alive and well. Known he could be found if she tried, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t let herself.
“Do you mind me asking about him now?” Lily asked. She looked worried, and Rachel shook her head.
“No, of course not.” But she did, because talking about their father was like picking at a scab, only to discover it hadn’t healed over nearly as well as you’d hoped it had, and all of a sudden you realized you were bleeding. A lot.
“You must be angry at him,” Lily said. “For leaving. Do you think he knew you would come back from uni to take care of everyone?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t an avenue she’d let herself wander down, because she didn’t like where it led. Her dad had always been excited for her to go to university. When she’d had her offer from Durham, he’d taken her to the pub, just the two of them, and he’d ordered a whole bottle of champagne and toasted his wonderful, talented daughter. She’d had half a glass and he’d drunk the rest.
How could he have not realized she would come back? He’d known all along that Janice couldn’t cope on her own, and Meghan wasn’t much use. She’d only been fifteen then. He had to have known Rachel would come back, had probably been counting on it. And that realization was one she couldn’t bear to accept, not even ten years later. “I don’t know,” she said again, and started loading plates into the dishwasher.
Lily went upstairs to study, and an hour later Rachel heard the front door open again, very quietly, like someone was trying to sneak in.
“Not so fast.” She stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, while Meghan froze mid-tiptoe upstairs.
“What? I’m shattered.”
“I bet you are. Partying all night is exhausting, I’m sure.”
Meghan made a face. “It’s not even eleven yet.”
“Where were you, Meghan?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, actually, it does,” Rachel snapped. “We all need to pull together now that Mum’s in hospital, and instead you’re doing a runner.”
Meghan sighed impatiently. “I just went out with a friend, Rachel. Chill, okay?”
“Chill? Chill?” Rachel’s voice rose, and she took a steadying breath. “I’m not going to chill, Meghan. I don’t have time to chill. I’m working all hours and—”
“Oh, please spare me the I-work-so-hard spiel yet again. We all know you do, Rachel. Trust me.” The vitriol in Meghan’s voice surprised her. It went beyond the usual snippy sarcasm into something that felt almost like hatred.
Meghan went back downstairs and into the kitchen, and after a second Rachel followed her. “Fine,” she said as Meghan reached for a glass and filled it with water from the tap. “I won’t give you that spiel.”
“Thank God for small mercies.”
“But in return how about you tell me what’s going on? Where have you been going at night? And who with?”
Meghan shrugged, her back to Rachel. “Just to the pub. With a friend.”
“What friend?”
“A bloke I met.”
“Someone from the village?”
A pause. “No.”
