After that drama, telling Vonnie had been a balm.
‘Do the girls know yet?’ Vonnie had asked after a suitable period of squealing with excitement.
‘No, I haven’t told them,’ said Meg.
‘They’ll be thrilled!’
Meg wasn’t so sure. She’d endlessly gone over each daughter’s prospective reaction in her head.
Her mental list started with Indy, who had serenity seeping out of every pore, saying: ‘Whatever makes you happy, Mum.’
Indy was a midwife and reminded Meg so much of her own mother, a woman who faced calamity and happiness with the same clear-eyed gaze and determination to make the best of things. Indy was the family peacemaker.
Eden, who had always been a straight-talker, would stare at her and possibly blurt out: ‘Seriously? You’re remarrying Pops? Why?’
Eden did a lot less blurting out now that she was in local government and she was being groomed for national politics, was having media training, no less. It had been years since Eden had spoken first and thought afterwards. But still, Eden talked straight.
Savannah’s reaction to her parents remarrying was the one Meg was most sure of – Savannah would immediately ask what she could do to help. That was Savannah’s way: to do things for other people. Obsessively, almost.
Meg’s youngest daughter, Rory, might easily shrug and say nothing – these days, Rory was a big fan of looking thoughtful so that nobody knew what she was really thinking. She’d been cagey when this was remarked upon.
‘I’m observing stuff for my novel,’ she said shortly. ‘It won’t be fresh if I tell you all about it before I write it.’
‘Families share things, daughters share things,’ Meg had said with a hint of irritability the last time Rory had grandly pronounced this. Rory had always been writing in notebooks since she’d been a kid. Scribbled bits of poems, little stories. She could retreat to that dream world very easily and advertising had seemed the perfect job for her. But then she’d begun writing a book, which she’d been working on for years.
In truth, Meg was slightly anxious about the novel. What was itabout? A memoir? Perish the thought. Yet Rory had wanted to see old family photos and had interviewed her grandmother at length. How was family history involved in a novel?
In the past year, Meg had barely seen Rory and Chantal apart from Ann O’Reilly’s grand ninetieth birthday celebrations.
‘They’ve got busy lives,’ Stu said blithely, when she shared her sadness at not seeing her daughter. She’d kept her concern about what the so-called work of fiction was about to herself. ‘They’re young, Meg – having their lives. We’re boring old farts to them now.’
And Meg, who remembered how she and Rory had been so close during the years when Rory had been coming out, had felt slighted.Shehad been her daughter’s champion.
Now Rory insisted nobody should have to come out, that making an event of claiming one’s sexuality was unnecessary. Which was true, Meg thought, except that it had been different when Rory was thirteen, and Meg, along with Rory’s sisters, had been her strongest allies.
Meg had known she would physically murder anyone who hurt Rory or made homophobic remarks.
Stu had been the one who’d kept her calm, incredibly enough, despite the fact that he was merrily ruining the family’s fortune at the time.
‘Rory’s a smart cookie, with brains to burn. She’ll be fine,’ he’d said confidently.
And she had.
Indy had hugged her and said: ‘I’m so happy for you both.’
Eden’s reaction had astonished Meg most of all.
‘Married? To Pops?? I’ve got an election coming up, Mum.’
‘The election’s in the autumn. We’ll be long married before that,’ said Meg, hurt. What was wrong with the girls?
Eden was normally very empathic, but Meg wondered was the world of politics hardening her up? All that taking dogs’ abuse from random members of the public and the nastiness of social media against female politicians – well, it had to hurt. But still. There was no need to take it out on her mother.
‘You don’t have to come if you object,’ said Meg hotly.
Eden appeared to take control of her emotions. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What would that look like? Of course I’ll come. I just wish you’d consulted me is all.’
Savannah had embraced her silently, tightly, and Meg could have sworn she’d seen the glitter of tears in her daughter’s eyes when the embrace ended.
