‘No, you’re not, Sadie. You’re talking about my daughter.’
Miranda glanced between the two of them. ‘Look, I can see both sides, astonishing as that may sound.’ Miranda realised she was quite enjoying the position of peacemaker between Sadie and Clementine. ‘But it’s really up to Clementine to decide the best approach. We have to do whatever she thinks is right. Okay, Sadie?’
Sadie didn’t answer.
In her room later that night, Clementine thought over the conversation with Sadie. She had to stay levelheaded. It was true, she couldn’t have got to where she was without Sadie. All mothers had to make sacrifices. ‘You’ll feel pulled between your baby and your own life from the moment they’re born,’ one book had cautioned. ‘Whatever choice you make, you’ll wish sometimes you’d made a different one.’
Clementine loved Maggie dearly. Completely. She treasured the time they spent together. She couldn’t remember what life was like before Maggie arrived. But – and that was the word that triggered all the feelings of guilt – she also loved her study. She loved the feeling of being the first to discover data about the bird species they were studying. The unpredictability of it, not knowing what they might learn, the beautiful order of their work, the meticulous planning, the timetables they followed, the minute detail of the data they were collecting. When she thought about Maggie, it was with a rush of loving feeling but also, if she was honest with herself, a feeling of confusion, uncertainty and, yes, exhaustion. That had been Sadie’s gift to her – taking on so much of the day-to-day minding of Maggie, allowing Clementine to enjoy the bedtime stories and cuddles – leaving her plenty of time and room in her head to do her work.
She was grateful to Sadie. But she was feeling something else as well. A feeling of competitiveness mixed up with guilt that she had been able to go to university full-time while Sadie only went part-time. All of that, combined with resentment. Too often these days it was as if Sadie viewed Maggie as her property. More than her niece. Her surrogate daughter, almost.
She thought back to the morning of Maggie’s fifth birthday.
Clementine knew she should have been grateful for the scrapbook. She should have been touched that Sadie had gone to so much trouble, but she wasn’t. Her reaction was so powerful and so sudden it shocked her. She was angry. How dare Sadie do this, appoint herself the documenter of Maggie’s life like this?
She managed to say thanks. She managed to turn the attention from her by saying to Maggie what a lucky girl she was to have an auntie like Sadie. Then she excused herself and went into her bedroom to try and calm down, be rational about it. It was just a scrapbook. But a voice inside kept saying, yes, the scrapbook you should have done for Maggie.
Clementine had kept smiling, even as she realised the scrapbook hadn’t just made her feel guilty. She actually felt uneasy about it. Sadie should have been doing things for herself, not spending so much time gathering material about Maggie. Clementine also realised Sadie must have gone through her room to find the birth certificate, for example. How dare she?
She didn’t feel this way when any of her other sisters gave Maggie gifts. She loved seeing their different ways with Maggie as well. Juliet’s spoiling, Miranda’s teasing, Eliza’s teaching. She also loved seeing Maggie with Leo. Theirs was a special friendship. Full of rituals and games, her adoration of him as obvious as his deep affection for her.
She tried to be rational about it. It would have been worse, surely, if Sadie didn’t love Maggie so much. Clementine knew she should be thankful. She was.
But she still didn’t like it.
In her room, Miranda was sorting out clothes. It was still weeks before she left, but now the decision was made she wanted to get on the plane and go. Her real life was about to start, she knew it. No more days spent on her feet in the pharmacy, dressed in an unflattering uniform, smiling politely at sniffling people, cranky old customers, demanding salesmen, crying children… She stopped short, remembering her conversation with one of the trainers at the airline interview. ‘You have to be realistic about it. Yes, a lot of it is glamorous – luxury hotels, constant travel and excellent pay – but remember, much of the time you’ll be on your feet, dealing with rude people, scared people, drunk people. Once they see that uniform you’re their slave, not a human being.’ Miranda laughed out loud. She was swapping one job for another very similar one, she realised. The difference was she’d be handing out drinks, food and safety tips rather than haemorrhoid treatments, tablets and skincare products. And of course she’d be high in the sky rather than earthbound on a Hobart shopping street.
She sat in front of the mirror and smiled at her reflection. ‘Good afternoon. Welcome aboard.’ The smile turned into a grin.
Eliza was walking briskly down to the gym. Since she’d made her announcement about moving to Melbourne she’d been spending more time than usual working-out, and not just because it helped keep her nerves at bay. She wanted to keep away from the house in case anyone asked for more details.
The truth was there was no job waiting for her. She hadn’t spoken to Mark in a long while. She’d heard from a friend in her running group that he and his wife and kids were still in Melbourne, doing well. Still together. For a short time she’d considered going somewhere else. Sydney. Adelaide. No, she finally decided. She’d been focused on Melbourne for all these years and she wanted to see it through. She had a list of ten gyms there and she was going to go to them all and beg for a job if she had to. She’d get experience that way. Work as a waitress at night if she needed to as well. She’d save her money. Do her own research. Explore her business ideas. Make contacts. Then, when the time was right, she was going to start her own company, hire her own staff and build up her own group of clients. She didn’t care how long it took. She couldn’t wait to get started.
Leo went out to the shed after dinner as usual. He didn’t do any work, just sat at the workbench, thinking about the week’s events. He did a mental rollcall through his daughters, as he had done every day since they were born, thinking about each of them in turn. Juliet first. He was very happy for her. He liked Myles. A true gentleman. Juliet had her head screwed on, in any case. She deserved happiness.
He imagined Miranda as an air hostess. It was perfect for her in a way, with her glamour, sharp wit and need for constant stimulation. Not to mention those looks and that temper. He worried about her more than she knew. But she had got this far without getting into any serious scrapes. If anyone could look after herself, it was Miranda.
Eliza was different. Secretive. She always had been, even as a little girl. Prone to be judgemental too. But so determined. If anyone could make a success of a business like this fitness thing, it was her.
And Clementine. His clever Clementine. She consistently amazed him. To think that the work she’d be doing would be a world first. Even her solution to the care of Maggie while she was away on the field trips was inspired.
Leo had noticed Sadie’s reaction to Clementine’s suggestion. She’d been unhappy about it. She’d never been good at hiding her feelings. He would never say it to her face, but deep down he thought of her as the runt of his litter. A terrible word, but sometimes when he watched Sadie trying to keep up with the others, his heart would almost break. In her adolescent years, he had seen her comparing her own qualities with Juliet’s hard work ethic, Miranda’s fizz, Eliza’s determination, Clementine’s intelligence and finding herself wanting each time. He and Tessa had often talked about Sadie. ‘We’ll need to watch her,’ Tessa said once. ‘She’s not like the others.’
‘Life’s harder for her, that’s all,’ Leo said in her defence. ‘Poor little thing just sees the world as an unfair place.’
He knew better than most how unfair it was. At least he could now think of Tessa’s death without the same shudder of despair, the desperate overwhelming sadness. Time did heal. Time changed things. Life went on. All the clichés were true. What they didn’t say was that you never stopped missing some
one. He missed Tessa every day. He didn’t need July Christmas or birthday chairs to remember her. He’d been glad to discover he didn’t need her clothes in his wardrobe, either. He wished he hadn’t taken so long to share everything with the girls. They occasionally wore the different items that they’d divided between them, a scarf here or a necklace there. He liked seeing it.
Not that he’d shared everything with them. He’d kept one thing back himself. A small, silly thing. A brooch. He had given it to her the first day they met, after winning it in that sideshow stall. He could remember it so clearly. He still thought of it as the day his life had changed. His brother Bill ringing from college to say he was coming to visit for the day, bringing a good friend of his.
‘Another girlfriend?’
‘The latest in a continuing series,’ Bill had laughed, always the smoothie. ‘You’ll like this one.’
Leo had more than liked her. He was a scientific man, but he would swear with his hand on his heart that he had fallen in love with Tessa on the spot, the moment she stepped out of his brother’s car. She reminded him of Elizabeth Taylor, with her heart-shaped face, pale skin, dark eyes and dark wavy hair. She was dressed in a light pink suit, three-quarter sleeves and a knee-length skirt. Leo noticed every detail of her appearance, down to her shoes and her bag, all of it so feminine. There was something fragile about her, something that made him want to protect her, but a spark in her eyes at the same time. She was laughing as she got out of the car, and he felt like he was basking in the warmth of her smile as they were introduced. ‘And I thought Bill was handsome,’ she said. ‘Good looks certainly run in your family.’
‘Didn’t I tell you she had fine taste?’ Bill said.
Leo couldn’t remember what he’d said back to her. All he recalled was a sudden feeling of happiness, as though someone for whom he’d been waiting for a long time had finally arrived. It hadn’t bothered him to see Bill link arms with her, pay her the courtesies of the dating gentleman he was. Leo had known in his heart that Tessa was just a passing dalliance for Bill.
They’d gone to a local fair, Tessa smiling between the two of them, linking both their arms. At the hoopla, Tessa had picked out a lovely brooch. She had two tries to win it, before Bill told her she wasn’t meant to have it. Leo had never told Tessa this, but that afternoon he’d spent more than ten pounds throwing hoops until the man behind the stall took pity on him and handed over the brooch.
That night the three of them went to dinner. Leo learned Tessa wasn’t just lively and beautiful, she was also smart. Funny. A great storyteller. And an even better flirt.
When Bill and Tessa left him back at his lodgings, he felt a stab of jealousy – sharp and pure – when he saw Tessa lean her head on Bill’s shoulder, when he saw the silhouette of their kiss before Bill started the car and drove away.
The next day he surprised them, and himself, by catching a bus and arriving unannounced at Bill’s house before ten o’clock. ‘I had so much fun yesterday, I want more. Shall I fix breakfast?’ he’d said when a sleepy Bill answered the door.
He’d followed his brother into the kitchen, trying not to react at the sight of Tessa’s clothes strewn on the sofa in the living room. Of course she and Bill were lovers. Hadn’t it been obvious? What he hadn’t expected was how much it hurt.
‘So you and Tessa are serious?’ he asked from the stove, cooking eggs while Bill smoked cigarettes and read the paper. Tessa still hadn’t appeared, though Leo had heard movement upstairs.
Bill twirled an imaginary moustache. ‘So many women, so little time. What do you think?’
‘She’s special.’
‘She is,’ Bill agreed.
‘Don’t hurt her.’
‘Of course not.’
Tessa finally came down, kissing Bill on the cheek and touching Leo on the arm. ‘Lucky me,’ she said. ‘Two Faraday brothers for the price of one.’ They spent that day together as well. They fell into a pattern over the next few months, Leo joining them on an outing most weekends or a night out at least once a week. Leo lived for those meetings. Even if it was Bill’s arm she took, Bill’s shoulder she leaned on, it was enough for him to be close to her.
One Saturday afternoon, twelve weeks after he’d first met Tessa, Leo arrived at Bill’s house as expected. He knocked at the door and waited nearly five minutes before his brother answered.
‘Tessa won’t be coming today. She may never be coming back.’ A long drag of his cigarette. ‘We had something of a fight last night. Or was it this morning? It was dark when she stormed off, anyway.’
‘You didn’t do anything to her, did you?’
Bill laughed. ‘The other way around, more like it. She was hurling cups around the kitchen like nothing else.’
Leo noticed then the pile of broken china pushed into a corner of the kitchen, the broom resting beside it.
‘She said I’d been flirting with another woman.’
‘And had you?’
‘I tell you, Leo, I’m starting to think she’s a bit —’ He made a gesture with his finger close to his forehead.
Leo chose to misunderstand. ‘Excitable. That’s one of the lovely things about her.’
Bill laughed. ‘Excitable? Bonkers was the word I had in mind.’ Another slow drag of his cigarette. ‘No, I’ve been giving this some thought. She’s too intense for me. When she comes back to get her things, I’m going to call it quits.’
Leo hadn’t stayed at Bill’s for long after that. He caught the bus home and sat in the living room, close to the phone. He’d known she was going to ring. Some sixth sense, he had never been able to explain it. When she did, in tears, he was there, saying the right things. He caught a bus straight to her house. When he knocked at the door, she opened it.
‘Oh, Leo,’ she said.
He’d taken her in his arms. Nothing had ever felt so good.
It was that simple. He told her the truth that same day. That he loved her. That he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. That his brother must have been mad but thank God he was, otherwise this would never have happened.
Miraculous event followed miraculous event. He kissed her for the first time, kissing the tears away from her eyes, then responding as hungrily as she did when she kissed him back, wrapping herself around him. They made love for the first time that night. He wanted to ask if it was too soon, hadn’t she only just broken up with Bill? But he silenced himself. This was what he wanted, more than anything.
They were married within four months. Bill was the best man. ‘Of course I have to be,’ he’d said. ‘And of course I’m not heartbroken. I was Cupid, wasn’t I? A roadtesting Cupid, no less.’
A rush of anger. ‘Never say that about her.’
‘Leo, come on. It happened. I had her first. There’s no denying the facts.’
Leo had walked out of the room before he said something he’d regret.
Bill’s history with Tessa had something to do with Leo’s decision to pack up everything and move to Tasmania. He couldn’t deny it. He wanted to put as much distance between them as he could. Not that he could stop Bill from visiting. He just wished he hadn’t noticed Tessa change when she knew Bill was on his way. A shimmer, was how Leo described it to himself. He also knew she saw Bill when she went back to the UK to visit her parents. It would have been worse if she’d been secretive. More suspicious. Even so, he’d once dared to ask her the question.
‘You don’t feel you made a mistake, do you? Think you married the wrong brother?’
‘Of course I don’t,’ she’d replied, with that laugh he loved, the upward glance. ‘I was just practising on Bill, waiting for you to turn up.’
He’d wanted to ask her again and again, to hear her words cancel out every bad feeling he’d had when he heard the two of them laughing together during Bill’s visits, or when he heard her talking to him on the phone, on the rare occasions Bill rang. It was a terrible thing to be jealous of his own brother. But it had all come good
in the end, hadn’t it? He and Tessa had truly fallen in love. A proper, enduring love, a mature, serious love, not the flash-in-the-pan days she and Bill had shared. He and Tessa had produced five beautiful daughters. A wonderful future ahead of them, cut so short after nineteen years together.
He remembered Bill ringing when he got the news about Tessa’s death. Juliet took the call. It wasn’t until weeks later that Leo was able to speak to him. He hadn’t wanted to hear what Bill had to say. He was terrified that Bill would mention something that he and Tessa had done together, something Leo would never be able to get out of his head. Something he and Tessa would never be able to replicate. That was the only way he had been able to cancel out Bill’s history with her. Anything she and Bill had done together, Leo had made sure he and Tessa had also done. Weekends in Paris. Dinner at the most expensive restaurant in London. Train trips to Brighton. Once they were done, he’d felt confident enough to start making their own life together.
His contact with Bill was now down to an occasional postcard. Bill drank too much, Leo knew that. If he wasn’t an alcoholic, he was just one or two glasses away from it. But if he was to arrive in Hobart, or if Leo were to go to England and track him down, he knew the feeling of rivalry would start in a moment. One wisecrack from Bill and Leo would be twenty years old again, in his brother’s shadow.
Oh yes, he understood how it felt to be jealous of a sibling. To want something a sibling had. Which was why he had been able to recognise in Sadie something he’d experienced himself. It was the one shadow over what Leo thought of as a beautiful time for his family, after all those years of sadness. Maggie’s arrival had been a blessing, and not just to Clementine. She had given them all so much enjoyment. Looking after Maggie had also given Sadie real purpose in her life, Leo thought. He had been pleased to see it. She definitely had a gift with children. With her niece, at least.
But all that aside, he still had an uneasy feeling. It had been slowly building over the past few years. Small things had triggered it at first. Sadie watching with an almost hungry expression as Clementine and Maggie shared a close moment. Sadie taking Maggie to get new shoes, to the dentist or to buy new clothes without checking with Clementine first.
Those Faraday Girls Page 17