“It was the early morning, and no,” Sam snapped. “You know Dad’s policy. He would have told you anything you wanted to hear about Deborah.”
“If I asked?”
“Sorry, Tab,” Nix murmured. “Maybe weshouldhave said something, but Mum was gone, and we didn’t…”
“Think I needed to know? That right, Sam?”
“Stop it, Tabby.” Nix’s voice took on the brisk tone it always did when she defended Sam. “I know it’s easy to get mad at us, but we were kids when she left, too. We thought you forgetting Mum meant you had a chance to start over without the bad memories.”
Tabby felt a hot lick of shame down her neck. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Nix said, visibly softening. “But Sam and I were only eight, and we didn’t understand what was happening either. We just wanted our baby sister to be okay.”
“Right…”
Tabby knew she should be crying, tearing up like Sam, Nicole, and Scott, but she mainly felt blank—blank and all too aware of Noah’s focused attention.
I need to get out of here.“Thanks for telling me,” she said loudly. “As long as you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d recover a bunch of repressed memories and go nuts.”
“Of course we didn’t,” Nix said, but Sam and Scott glanced at each other.
Tabby chose to ignore it. She stood, desperately wanting to leave. “If that’s everything, I might go… have a shower.”
“What about tracking down Mum?” Sam demanded.
The word sounded so unfamiliar coming from her oldest sister’s mouth that Tabby stared.
Sam slapped her palm to her lips like she’d sworn in a room full of kids. “Bitch. Stupid fucking…”
Scott took Sam’s hand away from her mouth. “It’s okay, Sammy. We don’t have to do anything more tonight. Everything’s very raw.”
“I want to find her,” Sam burst out. “Can’t we just Google Candour House and see if she’s on there?”
Tabby’s heart jolted. “I want to Google her too. I think it would make me feel better. Closure and what have you.”
It was a lie, but only Noah seemed to have reservations, glaring suspiciously at her as Sam and Scott agreed it was good to have closure, and Nix started hunting for her tablet.
“Candour House has a guest artist page,” Nix said, tapping the screen. “I’ll bring it up.”
Tabby dropped back into her seat again, her heart hammering. She knew before Nix said anything that Jo would be on the website in some form or another. Felt it, just as she felt that Jo had told her about her guest spot hoping she—not Sam or Nix—would Google Candour House and come and find her.
Mum trusted me, and I forgot.
“Jo Spencer,” Nix whispered. “There’s a headshot. A phone number as well…”
Tabby didn’t remember moving, but there she was, crowding around Nicole’s shoulders with Sam, Noah, and Scott. She saw Jo’s sleek black and white headshot. A small bio that said she was from Queensland, worked in pottery, prints, and oils, and was a qualified art therapist.
“Art therapist?” Sam hissed. “Where did you get the money to get that qualification, Debbie?”
“Her art’s got a separate page,” Nicole said, clicking another link.
“Bitch,” Sam muttered as the new page started to load. “Talentless, useless, selfish cu?—”
“Oh my God…” Nicole sighed. It sounded like the last of her breath running out.
“What?” Sam and Scott demanded, but Tabby already knew. Some of the paintings their mother had contributed to Candour House were visible: bright, splashy depictions of horned animals, naked women, cursed-looking waterfalls, and demonic suns. If they had been on the skin instead of canvases, they might have been hers. The colours, the lines, and the vibes were so like her style that, for a crazy second, she wondered if Jo had hacked her.
But that was mad. Half the stuff on the screen she’d never even sketched. It was like peering into another universe where an alternate version of herself had gone to art school and made a name in prints.
