by Sarah Morgan
Clare stared at her. “You think we outgrew each other?”
“Don’t you? It’s not a crime, Clare. People change. Friendships change. You met when you were four years old. No one is the same person at forty as they are at four. Even saying that aloud sounds faintly ridiculous.” Her mother topped up her tea. “It has always fascinated me that we’re prepared to end a romantic relationship that is no longer working but are generally reluctant to do the same with friendships. Not all friendships are meant to last for life. People evolve, and friendships evolve with them.”
It would never have occurred to her, even in the worst moments, to end her friendship with Becca.
But why not? Was it because she genuinely loved her friend? Was it because she couldn’t imagine not having Becca in her life? Or was it, as her mother had suggested, because she’d been afraid?
She stared into her tea, trying to remember the last interaction with Becca that had made her feel good. Not the last month of her life, that was sure. Becca had demanded too much of her and put Clare in an impossible position.
But that wasn’t all Becca’s fault, was it? It was hers, for allowing it. Her mother was right about that. Clare could have refused. She could have stood her ground and said that she wasn’t prepared to support her this time. She could have ended the friendship.
Even the thought of it made her heart race.
“Did you ever end a friendship?”
“Several times.” Her mother was calm. “And I’m not pretending it was easy, but nor did I ever regret it. Life is too short to fill it with friends who don’t care about you or bring you joy. Moaners, the people who drain you or use you, flaky friends who never show up when they say they will—unless those flaky friends make you happy of course, in which case keep them. But bad friends are like the old clothes in your closet. They’re the stained shirt, the sweater with the hole in it, the dress that no longer fits. They have no place and should be cleared out.”
Clare gave a wobbly smile. “I had no idea you were so ruthless.”
“It’s not ruthless to have respect for oneself. And being selective about who you spend your time with is part of selfcare. Maybe it’s to do with getting older. Time is precious. Time is always precious of course, but when we’re young we squander it dreadfully.”
Clare had a feeling she wasn’t doing it right. “So you not only decluttered your house, you decluttered your social calendar.”
“I did. And I can honestly say that I enjoy all my current friends immensely.” She leaned forward. “Did you enjoy Becca? Really? Did you have fun together? Did you laugh? Did you know that she had your back and would always fight for you? I don’t think so. Friendship has much in common with romantic love—caring about someone, loving them, should make you generous. You should want the best for them. You don’t try to use them for your own ends.”
Clare blew on her tea to cool it. Did her mother somehow know what she was carrying? Had she guessed?
“Becca was complicated.”
“You won’t find me arguing with that. I don’t know what she did to upset you so, and perhaps it’s best if you don’t tell me because it might not be good for my blood pressure, but it’s time to do what you couldn’t do when she was alive and let her go. And you can do that without guilt. You have my permission. Don’t let her control your life any longer. And remember it’s never too late to make new friends.” Her mother helped herself to another cookie. “Talking of which, how have you been getting on with Flora?”
Clare felt herself blush, knowing her mother wouldn’t have been proud of her if she’d witnessed the first day of Flora’s visit. “I’ve never been good with strangers, as you know, and it felt a little strange having her in the house. I had this ridiculous feeling that I was being disloyal to Becca.”
“And now?”
Clare sat up a little straighter. “Flora is a special person. She’s very relaxing to be with. She lacks Becca’s competitive instinct. I’d never realized how exhausting that side of her was.”
“Poor Becca. She felt she had to prove herself continually. It must have been exhausting for her, too.”
Clare turned back to the photos. There was Becca in a swimsuit, her arm looped around Clare. “I remember that day. She challenged me to a race. I won, and she sulked for two days so I made sure I never beat her again. It wasn’t worth paying the price.” And in that way she’d been a people pleaser, too. Just like Flora, she’d taken the easy route to keep someone happy.
It was ironic to admit that she and Flora probably had more in common than she and Becca ever had.
She placed her hand on the photo, touching Becca’s face. “I miss her. Even though I’m angry with her, I still miss her. And maybe you’re right that I should have ended the friendship, but that would have meant losing touch with Jack, Izzy and Molly.”
“Well fortunately you no longer have to make that decision. You were a good friend to Becca, Clare.” Her mother stood up and took her cup to the dishwasher. “Now let her go.”
Clare knew she was right. Everything that had seemed murky and difficult now seemed clear. She wished she’d talked to her mother sooner. On impulse she walked across the kitchen and hugged her. “Thank you.”
“For what? Saving you from spiders in the loft? Introducing you to the idea that your sex life will still be good in your seventies?”
Clare laughed. “For always being wise. And for keeping the photo albums and labeling everything. I aspire to your level of organization.”
“It’s easy. You just have to be prepared to throw things out.”
And she was going to do that, she really was.
Her mother was about to say something when there was a sound behind them.
They both turned.
Izzy stood in the doorway, with Flora directly behind her. Flora’s hand was on Izzy’s shoulder in a comforting manner.
Clare waited for Izzy to shrug her off, but she didn’t. Did that signal a truce? “Hello you two! Sorry we took so long. There was a long queue of people before us.” She noticed that Flora’s clothes were wrinkled.
“I wondered—” Izzy broke off and glanced at Flora who gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I wanted to talk to you.” Her hair lay damp across one shoulder and her face was pale. “I didn’t know you were busy—”
“She’s not busy, sweetheart! I’m the one who is busy and I shouldn’t be sitting around here chatting.” Clare’s mother walked to the door, hugging Izzy on the way. Then she smiled at Flora. “Would you be kind enough to walk me to the Gatehouse? It will give us a chance to chat, and I’m feeling a little woozy after my accident.”
Clare doubted her mother was feeling in the slightest bit woozy, but she was grateful for her tact. She just hoped she wasn’t going to scandalize Flora with naked photographs and talk of vibrators.
As the kitchen door closed, Izzy shifted awkwardly. “Sorry. I hope she didn’t leave because of me—”
“She didn’t. I’m so pleased it’s just you and me. We seem to have been surrounded by people since you arrived and haven’t had a chance to catch up properly.” In truth they’d had plenty of chances to catch up, but Izzy had ignored all of them.
But not this time.
She sat down at the kitchen table. “This is—honestly, it’s awkward.” She nibbled at the corner of her fingernail. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Just plunge right in.” Clare poured her a mug of tea. “And there is no awkward between us, Izzy. I’ve known you since you were born.”
“I know. And you knew my mom. You were her closest friend.”
Was that what this was about? Becca?
“I was.”
“And that’s why it’s awkward. Because it isn’t about me. It’s about her.” Izzy started on a different nail. “I need to talk about my mother. About something that happened the night before she died.”
19
Flora
Flora walked Clare’s mother back to the Gat
ehouse. She felt weighed down. She knew she should be thinking about poor Izzy and she was, but right now she couldn’t stop wondering why Jack hadn’t confided in her. This was huge. Knowing, might have helped her understand Izzy a little better. Why had he kept it to himself? What else was he keeping to himself? She’d thought their relationship was honest and open but it seemed that the only person who had been honest and open was her.
What was she going to do? In her previous relationships she might have ignored it and kept up the pretense that everything was fine until the whole thing crumbled, but she couldn’t do that this time. How could she ever hope to be part of a family if she didn’t really know them?
She struggled to focus as Carolyn chatted away.
“Poor Izzy must have had a very tough time.” She paused at the entrance of the Gatehouse to tug out some weeds.
“Yes.” The best she could manage was a monosyllabic answer.
She forced herself to stop thinking about her relationship with Jack, and focus on Izzy’s relationship with him. It seemed that Izzy had somehow taken the fact that she wasn’t his biological daughter and spun that into a scenario where now that her mother was gone, he wouldn’t want her.
To Flora, who had no additional knowledge or information, it made a twisted sort of sense.
But how could Jack not have known Izzy might be feeling that way? She had more questions than answers and felt helpless and frustrated that she couldn’t help Izzy.
Carolyn patted her arm, calm and steady. “Don’t look so worried. She’ll stumble through it, as we all do. Life is like a garden, don’t you think? Sometimes glorious, and sometimes a disaster. It’s messy, but always real. And sometimes all we can do is forge ahead, and if that means flattening a few daisies on the way, then so be it.”
She’d craved real. She’d thought she had real and honest, but it turned out she’d been wrong about that. She was still being shut out. Once again, she was on the outside.
She’d been close to euphoric when Jack had left this morning, but after spending several hours with Izzy she no longer felt that way. She felt like an addict coming down after a high.
She made her excuses to Carolyn and returned to the Lodge, bypassed the kitchen and went straight to her room where she took a shower, scrubbed the last remnants of the lake from her skin and her hair, and looked critically at the clothes she’d packed for the trip.
Try to learn more about Becca, yes. Try to understand her, yes to that, too. But dress like her? Act like her? No way. And that was something else that she could no longer ignore. Jack rarely talked about Becca. He dodged the subject, changed the subject, looked uncomfortable. She’d assumed it was his way of handling grief, that he’d share when he was ready, but what if she’d been wrong about that? What if there was something else he hadn’t told her? Knowing what she now knew, it was hard not to wonder if there were other secrets he hadn’t shared.
This time she didn’t need guidance on what to wear. She grabbed a dress in a cheerful flowery print and pulled it over her head.
Hearing voices in the garden, she looked out of the window and saw Jack. He and Molly had just returned from sailing and he was deep in conversation with Todd, while Molly ran around the garden after Chase.
Flora pondered the best way to handle this. She hated confrontation. All her life she’d been afraid of it, believing that it would ultimately lead to rejection, but she saw now that fearing rejection had stopped her having honest relationships. Ironically that approach had led her to feel more lonely, not less. It had stopped her connecting with people. It had made her reluctant to make herself vulnerable. She’d tiptoed through her life instead of striding confidently forward. Clare’s mother was right that sometimes you needed to trample a few daisies.
She had to decide if this relationship had a future, and the only way to do that was to confront Jack.
She was going to talk to him calmly and honestly about her feelings, but first she was going to make him talk about Izzy. She was the priority.
She walked out onto the lawn, her dress brushing softly against her legs. It fell to midcalf, but was nowhere near as modest as a first glance might have suggested. She saw Jack’s eyes darken as he caught a flash of leg. At another time she might have been flattered by the look he gave her, but this wasn’t that time. Right now she only had one thing on her mind and it wasn’t getting Jack Parker naked. Unless you counted stripping him down to bare thoughts and emotions. That, she intended to do.
He caught her round the waist and pulled her in, allowing himself a quick kiss even though Molly was within range.
“How was your day?”
Flora thought about the overload of emotion. Izzy yelling at her. Izzy crying. Her crazy boat ride. Almost drowning. The revelations. “It was interesting. Can we take a walk, Jack? Somewhere private?”
He must have detected something in her tone because he gave her a curious look. “Sounds good to me.” Still with his arm round her waist, he flashed a smile at Molly. “Stay close to Todd. Don’t go in the water. Flora and I will be back soon.”
Todd winked at them and Flora thought that they wouldn’t be exchanging such smug man smiles if they knew why she was extracting Jack from the group.
She took the trail to the boathouse, knowing there would be no one there. The dark clouds were back, hovering above like a threat. There was going to be a thunderstorm. The air was close and crackled with tension. She wondered if some of that was generated by her own stress.
When they were well away from the Lodge, Jack stopped and would have tugged her against him but she stepped back.
“We need to talk.” She wasn’t going to be deflected. She wasn’t going to let fear push her onto another path. She was going to flatten as many daisies as she needed to. “We agreed to be honest. To share. You said that was what you wanted.” She felt her voice rise and took a deep breath. This conversation had to be calm.
“It is what I want.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about Izzy?” She’d expected him to look shocked, even a little guilty. She hadn’t expected him to look bemused.
“What about Izzy?”
Did she really have to spell it out? “I know you’re not her real father.”
The shock came then. It flashed across his features as he stood without moving. “Who told you that?” There was a harshness to his voice that she hadn’t heard before.
“She did.”
“She shouldn’t have—”
“Yes, she should, Jack, because it was important information. I’m trying to build a relationship with your girls, and how can I do that if there are major things I don’t know? I’ve been stumbling around in the dark trying to understand Izzy, and now I discover that she isn’t your child! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I honestly didn’t think of it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously, because she is my child, Flora.” There was a fire in his eyes that made her wonder if she’d misunderstood.
“Jack—”
“In every sense that matters, she’s my daughter.”
It started to rain, just a few drops at first and then a steady patter that slid from leaves onto her shoulder. “In every sense that matters?”
He tugged her under the shelter of a tree. “It’s true that Becca was pregnant when I married her. Biologically Izzy isn’t my child. I knew that. It was never a secret, and we were straight with Izzy from the moment she was old enough to learn about parents and families. She was fine with it. I was fine with it. And I’ve loved Izzy as my own from the first moment I saw her. You ask why I didn’t share it—the answer is because I don’t think about it. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to mention it. I’m struggling to hold everything together here—I’m trying to remember not to put ham in the sandwiches, to make sure both girls get where they’re supposed to be going, wearing what they’re supposed to wear, and I lie awake most nights counting the ways I’m screwing this up and wondering w
hat impact that will have on them. My head is so full it feels as if it’s going to burst. And I can understand why you’re upset, I really can. I can see how this might look from the outside and if I’d thought of it, I probably would have told you, but I didn’t think of it because in my head and my heart, she’s mine.”
I can see how this might look from the outside.
She was the one on the outside, but she couldn’t think about that now.
Her cheeks were damp. Rain and tears mingled. She wished Izzy could have heard that speech. She needed to hear that speech. “You’re not screwing up, Jack. And when it comes to families, I’m a total beginner but I don’t think it’s about being perfect. It’s not about always getting it right. It’s about trying your hardest, and caring—” her voice broke “—and you do all that. You do that. The most important thing is that the kids know you love them.”
“I don’t know why Izzy would raise it with you now, but it isn’t an issue.”
“It is a huge issue to her.” The rain was falling harder now, sliding through the thick canopy of leaves. “She’s feeling desperately vulnerable and insecure.”
“She lost her mother.”
“And that has made her insecure about her place in the family. She’s scared.” She didn’t want to add to the pressure he was already feeling, but how could she not speak up about this? “I believe that you don’t think about it. And maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to Izzy. And it matters to me! If I’d known sooner, it might have helped me understand her.”
“There’s nothing to understand. She’s mine. That’s the end of it. There was no reason for her to ever tell you.”
The words were a slap. “So you’re saying that you would never would have told me? If Izzy hadn’t mentioned it, I would never have found out? Oh Jack—” Her whole chest ached. Her throat ached with the emotion she was holding back. How could they ever be a family? She’d been kidding herself. She wanted to curl up in a ball and sob, but she couldn’t do that because there was Izzy to think of, and Jack still wasn’t hearing her. “Forget it. Right now you need to focus on Izzy. She needs to be able to talk to you, Jack.”