“Meghan.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Why are you being so cagey about this?”
“Maybe because I don’t want people interfering in my life?”
“When have I ever interfered in your life?” Rachel demanded. “I’ve never even asked you who Nathan’s father is.”
“You just did.”
“That was not asking.” Rachel blew out a breath. “Look, I’m not trying to pry, but your behavior affects us as a family. I need to be able to count on you.”
Meghan let out a sharp laugh as she turned around to face Rachel. “Count on me? Are you serious? When have you ever done that?”
“What are you talking—” Before Rachel could finish Meghan was pushing past her and then clumping up the stairs in her high-heeled boots. So much for tiptoeing.
Rachel listened to the door close upstairs—just short of a slam—and then Nathan’s predictable sleepy cry, quickly silenced by Meghan.
Rachel let out a long breath, sagging against the counter. There was so much she didn’t understand or even know about her sister, and she felt her ignorance keenly now. Meghan was right; Rachel had never felt she could count on her. She’d never tried, and Meghan had most certainly never offered to step up and go the extra distance for the sake of the family. She workedher nights at the pub, did the minimum work at home Rachel asked of her, and spent the rest of her time watching telly or going out.
What on earth was going to happen when their mother returned from the hospital? Mr. Greaves had made it clear that Janice would need much more care than she had before. She could never be left alone in the house, and she’d have to go to rehab several times a week, driven by either her or Meghan, which meant a reshuffling of her cleaning jobs.
And what about Meghan? Her sister might be lazy and unreliable, but at least she was there. If Meghan took off, who could stay home with Janice?
The sound of her mobile ringing brought Rachel out of her grim reflections. She didn’t recognize the number, but she answered it anyway. Someone who called at eleven o’clock at night was either drunk or had an emergency.
“Hello?”
“Rachel?” The cultured male voice didn’t register with her for a moment, and then he clarified with a touch of impatience, “It’s Andrew. Andrew West.”
“Is Claire all right?”
“And you think I baby her?” he returned with a touch of amusement.
“I can’t imagine why else you’d be calling me,” Rachel answered. “Especially so late at night.”
“Is it that late?” Andrew sounded surprised.
“It’s after eleven.”
“Oh, sorry. I was working from home and I didn’t realize the time. Were you in bed?”
The question, ridiculously, made Rachel’s cheeks warm. “No. I was just in the kitchen reading Meghan the riot act, as usual.”
“As usual?” Andrew repeated, and Rachel surprised herself by explaining.
“We always fight. I don’t think she does enough to help out, and she thinks I’m being sanctimonious.” She gave a little laugh. “You probably agree with her.”
“I think you have a great many demands on you,” Andrew answered. “Besides, I’m hardly one to talk about being sanctimonious.”
“Wait, did you just make a joke?” Rachel dared to tease.
“No, actually, I was simply stating a fact. I’m aware of how I come across, especially with Claire.”
She walked into the sitting room and sank onto the sofa, distantly noticing the empty crisp packets and soda cans on the coffee table. “So if you’re aware, do you think you’ll back off for a bit? With Claire?”
“I’ll try. Claire asked me to, so I suppose I should respect her wishes.”
“Good.”
“Have you seen her lately? Is she all right?”
