I have a sudden, awful thought. ‘Are you ill?’
She glares at me. ‘Ill?Do I look ill to you?’
‘Then what’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange all day.’
She sighs. ‘I’ve been trying to find the right time to broach something with you.’
‘O-kaaay.’ I don’t like the sound of this.
‘It’s Selena. And before you pull that face you need to hear me out,’ she says.
I pullthatface anyway. I always pull it when Mum mentions Selena – which, thankfully, isn’t that often. At first, it seemed to be every time I visited her. But eventually she resigned herself to the fact that Selena and I were no longer in touch and stopped pestering me. I often hoped that she had lost touch with her too.
‘What about her?’ Dread swills in my stomach.
‘She rang me in a bit of a state. She’s leaving her husband. He sounds a nasty piece of work. She asked if she could stay here for a few days.’
‘What … what did you tell her?’
‘That I’d speak to you.’
I feel a surge of anger. How dare Selena try to wheedle her way back into my life after all these years, just when Adrian and I are starting afresh?
‘I haven’t seen her for almost seventeen years,’ I say, my jaw clenched. ‘She’s not going to want to come here.’
‘She has nowhere else to go. We’re the only family she’s got.’ She looks at me pleadingly. Her eyes are huge behind the thick frames of her glasses.
This is so typical of the Selena I remember, leaning on Mum for everything, getting herself into trouble. Mum’s never been able to say no to her. And I know why. After Natasha died and Mum and Dad adopted Nathan, Selena’s family fell apart so Selena spent most of her time at our house. She filled the gaping hole Natasha had left and, I’m not going to deny it, we were close. Once. But that was a long time ago. Before Selena’s lies destroyed our relationship.
‘What about Aunt Bess? Or Uncle Owen?’
My mum whistles through her teeth. ‘Bess is a waste of space.’ She’s an alcoholic. I often wondered if Selena had turned out the same way. ‘And Selena lost touch with her dad after he walked out. I don’t think she ever forgave him.’
Or maybe he never forgaveher.
I clear my throat. I can’t have Selena here. I just can’t. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I don’t want her here. It’s been too long. It would be awkward. And this is a guesthouse not a women’s refuge.’ I’ve gone too far. I didn’t mean it – but, knowing Selena, she’s probably embellished the story. I bet she just wants to have a nose round the Old Rectory.
‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’ Mum looks appalled. ‘She’d be a paying guest. She has money, by all accounts. She’s not a scrounger.’
I look down at my hands, feeling guilty. How do I tell Mum that I can’t have Selena back in my life? That she’s dangerous.
Before the secrets, the lies and the anger, we were inseparable. I put it down to there being only nine months between us but, really, we just got on. We had the same sense of humour and, although I was the elder, I looked up to her. She had courage, which I lacked back then. She threw herself into everything. She had no inhibitions and no fears, while I was shyer, more cautious. She brought me out of myself. She made me do things I’d never have done otherwise, like smoke my first cigarette, drink cider in the park when we were underage, and get chucked out of a shop for putting knickers on my head. At heart, though, I was a good girl. I didn’t like to break rules. She relished it.
Mum watches me, waiting for an answer. ‘You know,’ she says slowly, ‘she’s got a little girl not much older than Evie.’
My head shoots up. ‘Really?’
‘And her little girl isn’t well. She’s in a wheelchair, poor child.’
I glare at her. I know what she’s doing.
Mum smiles triumphantly and stalks off to the office. She leans over the desk and opens an A4 leather-bound diary with gold-edged pages. The diary I’d bought with such excitement only a few weeks ago from a little shop in the next town, thinking of all the potential guests’ names that would fill it.
Mum flicks through it now, with a tight smile. ‘Okay,’ she says, when she finds the right date. She picks up a scratchy blue biro and taps it against her teeth. My heart sinks. I’d bought a fountain pen to write the names of forthcoming guests neatly, so that we can look back in years to come and remember our first customers, as well as the excitement, the nerves. Adrian had tried to convince me to use an online booking system, but I’d much rather have something tangible. Something we can keep. And I told him computer software was an expense too far right now. Adrian calls me a perfectionist, a high achiever. And it’s a good job I am because he is disorganized and messy. He was a lawyer for years, great at his job, but he had a secretary to sort him out. ‘I’ll stick Selena and Ruby in here then, shall I? It’s the day before the first guest arrives so you’ll have a chance to catch up. Apple Tree will be best because of the wheelchair.’ She doesn’t wait for an answer as she scribbles on the page.
‘I don’t want Selena here!’ I cry, shocked by the strength of my anger and resentment even after all this time. I sound like a toddler and I despise myself. But I’m desperate. My mother still brings out the child in me.
Mum breathes in sharply, holding her chest theatrically. ‘Kirsty! There’s no need for that. It’s my home too, and I think we should let her stay.’
