‘Yes,’ she said again.
PART ONE
1
Monday
Not many people can say they’ve been at their parents’ second wedding– Eden Tallisker twirled her pen, stared out of the window and wondered if this sounded funny or sarcastic as the start to a speech. There was such a fine line between the two.
As a politician and the daughter most-likely-to-love-making-speeches, Eden had been picked as the Robicheaux daughter to speak at the wedding on Saturday.
‘Please,’ her mother had begged, holding on to Eden with her elegant, soft hands into which she’d obviously rubbed copious amounts of hand cream. Eden never had time for hand cream.
Thepleasehad two meanings – please speak at the wedding, darling, and please accept the notion of your father and I marrying again and at such speed. For Stu and Meg were only back together a year.
A year! Eden’s father had proposed – was re-proposing a word? Eden wondered – in April and, suddenly, at the start of June, they’d set the date. For the end of June.
It was like a shotgun wedding without the weaponry.
‘You want to get married in three weeks’ time?’ Eden had asked, aghast.
‘Three weeks?’ Indy had repeated.
Meg had brought her four daughters out for lunch to tell them. It was the first Saturday in June and the wedding would be on the last Saturday of the month.
Rory had been late.
Indy would have to leave early to take her daughters swimming.
Savannah said she wasn’t hungry and Eden had a meeting at two-thirty.
‘You’re joking, right?’ said Rory, the colour having leached from her face.
Meg had shaken her head mutely. It was as if she’d steeled herself to tell her daughters the news, that she was remarrying their father, whom they all loved but whose wildness had created chaos all their lives and ultimately had lost them their home.
‘I know it seems sudden and it’s hard for you all because of—’ Meg paused; Stu’s gambling and drinking had broken up their family many years ago – ‘because of what Dad did but he’s changed, he’s different. He loves you all so much. And me, he loves me.’ Her eyes were wet.
Indy noticed and felt a huge pull of love for her mother, who’d been so broken by their father’s gambling and the loss of their home and yet had carried on taking care of them. Putting herself last.
Dad was great, Eden thought. They all loved him, for all his flaws. He adored his girls. But still – Dad and Mum remarrying …
Then she’d seen the tears brimming from their mother’s eyes, the same sea-green as her own and the twins’. Meg never cried. She was a lioness, stoic and strong. Had taken care of them all when their home had gone, worked two jobs, been there for them emotionally and physically. Seeing her crying was like a blow to the solar plexus.
Indy stepped in. She’d risen and hugged their mother.
‘We all want you and Dad to be happy,’ she said, looking at her three sisters over their mother’s silvery blond head. ‘We hate thinking that you’re lonely.’ This, she said more sternly. None of them had the right to stop their mother finding love with their father again if it was what she wanted.
Indy was the peacemaker, gentle and fluid, Eden reflected. She was the voice of reason and expertly defused rows.
Rory caused rows. She was like their father: mercurial, although she’d be very annoyed if anyone said as much.
Savannah reached out to their mother.
‘Happiness is everything, darling Mum,’ she’d said hoarsely.
Savannah was so thin, Eden thought. Once, she and Savannah had looked the same, had the same body shape. They were very different in other ways but how they looked and how they laughed – a deep throaty laugh – were identical. Both had been ambitious, determined. When Savannah had been setting up her company, she’d been fierce in her way. Focussed. Still gentle with that belief that all people were good. But she’d been going places. Now Savannah had an air of transparency around her. Her drive, even her laugh, were muted. As if she had put up an invisible wall and was hiding behind it.
‘Eden,’ hissed Indy.
