“Loch,” Rachel replied. “It’s spelled L-O-C-H. Loch. As in Scottish lake.”
“I knew that. What else does it say? That, and the necklace, are for you when you’re older. You’ll know how to use them when the time comes. I know you both have a lot of questions and I will answer them one day but not now. It’s not the right time for me or you. I love you both. Mom.”
Rachel picked up the fallen box and looked inside. At the bottom was a small silver key, the metalwork marked with the swirling M she’d already seen twice that day. There was no sign of a necklace, either in the box or on the floor, no matter how much she rummaged.
“What’s that key for?” Alan asked as she continued to search.
“I’ve no idea.”
Alan opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to notice he was pressing the blanket to his cheek. He coughed, shaking his head before putting the blanket back inside the box. “We should go back downstairs,” he said, shoving the letter into his pocket. “Let the past be the past.”
“Can I see the letter again?”
“No point, Rachel. It’ll only upset you.”
“I want to see it anyway.”
“I said no,” he snapped. “She’s dead and this is just your pathetic attempt to get me worked up. It won’t work. The will says I get the house and you can’t do anything about that so don’t even bother.”
“I don’t want the house, Alan. I just want to see the letter, please.”
“No. Why did you have to come and rake up the past? Why couldn’t you just let things lie?”
“You invited me, remember? Say goodbye to our mother.”
“And you never came to see her while she was ill.”
“I tried. She wouldn’t let me in.”
“You always hated her.” He was spitting the words out, his face bright red.
“That’s not true.”
“Get out.”
“What?”
He lowered his voice to a whisper, “You don’t get the house, I do. I win.” He pulled the letter out of his pocket and, as she reached out to it, he began tearing it into shreds, the pieces falling to the floor like confetti. “She abandoned us. You should stop worshipping her like that.”
“Why did you do that?” she asked as he smiled coldly at her.
“Because I always win. She loved me, not you and you can’t take it.”
He turned away, walking slowly downstairs and leaving her alone. She knelt, picking up the pieces of the letter but the only word she could make out was love. She pressed the fragment to her heart before slipping it into her coat pocket.
Why was he like that? Why was he so filled with hatred. She had heard him rant so many times when they were children. We were abandoned. Julia is our mother now. She responded in kind. She loved him. She did not love Rachel. Would she ever understand why?
She only had to close her eyes to remember lying on that bed and sobbing, the nail marks on her arms stinging but hurting nowhere near as much as the feeling of being unwanted.
By the time she went downstairs Alan was nowhere to be seen. Nor were any of the other mourners. The house was empty. She looked outside. A group of them were heading up Main Street to The Fleece.
She guessed she wasn’t invited. That was probably for the best.
She looked around the house one last time. Would Alan continue living in it? Sell it?
She sighed, pulling the door closed. She found she didn’t care. Let him do what he wanted. She had a sign that her mother was real. She had lived and she had loved them both. It wasn’t much but it was enough.
Alan had torn up the letter but he couldn’t tear up the key as easily. She had an actual gift from their mother. He had the house of their adoptive mother. No doubt he believed he’d got the better deal.
