A December to Remember (66)

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad she is. It means she’s looking out for you and that makes me happy.”

“Who looks out for you?”

“Oh, I look out for myself. I am quite self-sufficient.”

They were tootling along behind a tractor they’d encountered almost as soon as they’d left the main roads. Simone was keeping her distance after a stone had flicked up out of one of its huge wheels and chipped the corner of her windscreen.

“Do you ever think about doing more with your life? You’re an intelligent woman. You could be anything you want to be.”

Star threw her arms up in exasperation. “I’m so sick of people saying that to me. It’s such a cliché, ‘you could be anything you want to be.’ How? I barely went to school. The knowledge I have doesn’t translate to a recognized education and doesn’t mean shit in an interview. In fact, it doesn’t even get you through the door. But all of that is beside the point because I don’t want that life. I want to live small and happy, I want to leave only the tiniest footprint on the world. Why isn’t that something to aspire to? My life goal is to feel contentment; to me that’s the only thing worth striving for.”

For once Simone didn’t argue with her. “You’re right. I am judging you through the same lens that I view myself. That’s the way I’m programmed. In my family, achievements were measured by certificates and qualifications that could be framed and quantified. Sometimes I think my mum studied art less for the love of it and more to conquer the enigma of it. ‘Contentment’ could only be achieved through accomplishment; anything less would simply be laziness.”

“But surely that’s relative, or at least dependent on your definition of ‘contentment.’ Dad was at his most content when he lived out of his van.”

“Our father was the reason my mum pushed me so hard. She was terrified I’d inherit his lackadaisical nature.”

“No chance of that.”

Simone laughed grimly.

“Whatever could have made Rene fall for Dad? I mean, I can totally see it with my mum—two stoned wanderers, makes sense. And even Lilibeth I can sort of see; she was older and lonely, and Dad was friendly. But your mum? What was that all about?”

“God only knows. I can only imagine that he must have talked her into bed.”

“He was a very smart man,” Star agreed.

“Knowledge is like catnip for my mother.”

“And here we both are. Unlikely sisters.”

Simone smiled at her baby sister. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there that summer.”

Star was quiet for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I was trying to figure out what I was doing that year that kept me from coming to Rowan Thorp. And the answer is not very satisfactory. I wasn’t doing anything much, hanging out with friends and going to parties, nothing that was worth leaving you to go through that on your own.” She bit her lip as though considering whether to go on. “I know that you tried to reach out to me. I remember my mum saying you’d called the house and I didn’t call you back. I was feeling guilty about not coming down and I didn’t want to have to talk to you because I knew I’d feel worse. And now I feel really bad. If only I’d not been so selfish.”

This was an unexpected admission from her sister. She hadn’t meant to make her feel bad; she’d only wanted her to understand that she was serious about her offer.

“It’s in the past. Looking back, I can see why you wouldn’t want to come down.”

“It must have been frightening.”

“Yeah. I was terrified.” Star gave a little half laugh, to lessen the awfulness. “I’d so hoped you’d be there; I knew you and Maggie would help me. And when you weren’t . . .” She’d felt so lost. That whole summer had a nightmarish quality to it. “Well, it all turned out in the end. Luckily I was only six or seven weeks gone, so it was very straightforward. It could have been a lot worse.”

Simone pursed her lips. “And Perdita never knew?”

“No. She wasn’t neglectful, exactly; she is a very loving person, she just wasn’t very present. She never would have coped.”

“She wouldn’t have coped? You were just a kid! You deserved better.”

Star shrugged. Laying blame never solved anything.

They sat for a while in companiable silence as they crawled along behind the tractor. This was new. Simone and Star were only usually silent with each other because they’d had a fallingout or simply had nothing to say to each other, nice or otherwise. Star couldn’t remember a time since childhood when they had been simply happy to sit quietly and enjoy being together. It was nice. Peaceful. She sent a little prayer of thanks to the universe.





31





It was the thirteenth of December—unlucky for some, which was rather how Patrick felt when he was woken by Maggie that morning. She had entered his bedroom, proffering hot tea and using the voice she reserved for when she was going to ask him to do something he didn’t want to do.

“You want me to do what?” His hair was mussed, and his eyes puffed with sleep. Maggie suspected he’d had another heavy night with his old school friends.

“Dig a pit in Granddad’s garden.”