‘For Ruby.’
She places her other hand on top of mine. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘No, I know that. It’s just … it’s so shitty. And I haven’t been there for you …’ I swallow the lump in my throat ‘… over the years.’
‘I’ve missed you,’ she says, in a small voice. ‘And Ruby, she could get better, you know. I’m still hopeful. There are issues, a lot of issues, but we’ve come a long way and she might grow out of them.’
‘What is she suffering from, exactly?’
Her shoulders sag. ‘We don’t know. She’s still being tested. But what we do know is that she has Crohn’s disease. Growth problems. Lots of physical issues … I think she has ME too, but the doctors, they’re not sure about that. Trying to get nutrients into her – that’s the main challenge when she’s allergic to dairy.’
I eye the porridge she’d been eating. Selena, following my gaze, adds, ‘She has to have porridge with water.’
‘And, um, how is she mentally?’
Selena smiles weakly. ‘She’s fine. A little behind, with having to miss so much school. We had a tutor for a while. But she gets so tired. That’s why we have the wheelchair. By the end of the day she finds it difficult to walk. Lack of energy. In the end I decided to home-school her, but there are definite gaps in her education.’
I think of her husband, Nigel. And of the man I saw her with last night. I’m tempted to ask her about it, but I feel we’ve reached some kind of understanding and I don’t want to ruin that.
I haven’t forgotten about the past, the lie. Of course I haven’t. But we were different people back then. Just kids. We’re adults now.
I find myself telling her that she and Ruby must stay, of course they must, for as long as they need to.
Evie’s out of bed, her nose pressed to the attic window, when I return upstairs. I stand behind her, wondering what’s holding her interest, and see Mum in the garden, placing Amelia’s rabbit in Ruby’s arms. There is mist in the air, obscuring the mountains and giving the garden an ethereal look.
When Evie senses me, she whisks round, her eyes bright. ‘Ruby can walk!’ she says, as though she’s Colin fromThe Secret Garden– her favourite book at the moment. ‘But what are those funny things on her legs?’
‘They’re leg braces.’
She chews her lip while watching Ruby cradle the black rabbit with Mum’s help. ‘Why does she have to wear them?’
‘Because her bones haven’t grown properly so she needs them to help her walk.’
‘Why haven’t her bones grown properly?’ She turns to me, one of her fine eyebrows raised.
‘Because of her illness.’
She frowns and opens her mouth to ask more questions.
‘Why don’t you get dressed and then you can play with them too?’ I suggest, trying to change the subject. It will be good for Evie to have another child to play with, someone nearer in age. Since we moved here Amelia has pulled away from her. She’s pulled away from me too. Everything I do or say is an embarrassment. I’ve seen her rolling her eyes at the school gates when I’ve waved goodbye. I try not to feel offended. I remember what it was like being on the cusp of puberty and embarrassed by your parents. Evie, on the other hand, still waves excitedly when I go to pick her up, rushing into my arms for a hug. And although Amelia has brightened since making friends with Orla, she still says she wants to move back to London. It’s been a stressful year for her, first with Adrian’s breakdown, then moving away from her friends. I’ve managed to shield Evie from Adrian’s illness but Amelia, five years older, notices more. I just hope that, in time, Amelia will start to see Hywelphilly as her home.
Evie darts from my room and across the landing to hers. I can hear her wrestling with her wardrobe door – we bought it from an antiques shop in town, sanded and painted it, and the door always makes a sucking sound when it’s opened. I’m still watching as, a few minutes later, she bounds out of the doors into the garden. I’m too far up to hear what they’re saying but Mum turns round, her face breaking into a grin at the sight of Evie. I smile inwardly when I see what she’s wearing: a summer dress and leggings. The fabrics and patterns all clash – floral prints with spots and stripes. Amelia would be appalled. Evie dresses with such abandon – she does everything that way – and I love it.
Evie pushes herself between Ruby and Mum and takes Princess from the hutch. The rabbit is so heavy she nearly drops it and laughs. Ruby steps back, looking a little unsure with Mrs Whiskerson in her arms. It looks cold outside. The children should be wearing coats.
I’m just about to move away from the window, my mind already flicking to the other guests’ arrival, when I see Selena has wandered into the garden. She’s standing to the side of the others. She has her arms wrapped around herself and is obviously unaware that she is being watched. I can see only the side of her face but her eyes are fixed on Evie. Something in her expression unnerves me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was hatred.
10
Janice Lowly is a big, busty woman resplendent in a flowered caftan, carrying a fawn-and-black pug under one arm. She stands on the doorstep wearing a huge smile on her ruddy face. I notice a red gerbera entwined in her white frizzy hair. I like her immediately, even though my heart sinks at the sight of the dog. We have a no-pets rule.
Evie, behind me, squeals in delight.
‘His name is Horace,’ says Janice, stepping into the hallway. Immediately, Evie is stroking him and cooing. He wiggles and squirms, his tongue poking out of his mouth. Janice beams. ‘Oh, he likes you, my dear,’ she says. She has a trace of a Welsh accent. Then she turns to me. ‘And you must be Kirsty. I think I spoke to you on the phone.’
‘That’s right. I hope you had a good journey.’
She nods beaming. ‘Yes, I don’t live too far away. Warwick. But I’m visiting my sister and she hasn’t the space to put me up.’ She turns to Evie. ‘And what’s your name, my dear?’
