by Jenni Keer
‘Noooooo …’ she cried. It was the straw that snapped the back of the fragile, limping camel and she knelt by the pieces, her sobs coming out in painful rasps.
Her mum came rushing in from the living room, where she was returning the tablemats to the sideboard, and looked at the fragments scattered across the tiles.
‘Oh, darling. Your lovely tea set. Such a pity. Never mind. Here, let me get the dustpan while you take your call.’
Maisie glanced at the screen in case it was Lisa’s number, but it wasn’t. Her gaze returned to the smashed cup, as her mother began to sweep the pieces into the dustpan and walk towards the swing-top bin.
‘No!’ she squealed. ‘Don’t throw the bits away. It has to stay together.’
‘Don’t be daft. What are you going to do? Keep them in an envelope? It’s beyond repairable, love. Chuck them out.’
‘You don’t understand,’ she sobbed. ‘Bad things will happen.’
Her mum looked at Maisie’s distressed face and sighed. ‘It’s just a cup.’
‘No, Mum. Meredith said, “Split the set; split the family”. I know it sounds ridiculous but as I’ve been gathering the pieces, we’ve all been coming back together. I thought it was all coincidence at first, but now I look back, every time I located more of Verity’s set, the scattered Meadows family began to reunite – even a half-brother I didn’t know existed until today turned up on my doorstep the day Joanie passed over the jug and sugar bowl.’ In fact, the realisation Josh’s first visit was on that day was the spookiest of all.
‘I never had you pegged as superstitious.’ Her mum shook her head but swept up the pieces and put them in a cereal bowl on the side as Maisie stood watching and wringing her hands. ‘I hope you know it’s all a lot of silly nonsense. How can bits of china possibly influence our decisions? Zoe had been planning to return for months before she called us and you’ve been talking about a family gathering for weeks. You gathered us together. Not an inanimate tea set.’
But it was all too much for Maisie as the floodgate swung open and a cascade of unhappiness gushed down her cheeks. Wordless and zombie-like, she felt her mum’s comforting arm guide her back into the living room and they both flopped onto the sofa, Maisie giving the cushion a final adjustment as she did.
And even Nigel, who had been haring around all afternoon, getting high on the delicious aromas from the meal, was unusually silent and still.
The phone rang late that evening. After her mum had left, Maisie retreated to the spare room and painted lots of angry colours and violent lines to ease her troubled emotions, all the time wondering whether Lisa would return to the house or had bolted for York. Continued attempts to contact her via her mobile had proved fruitless.
‘Darling? It’s Mum.’ From the panicky breaths and emotion-laden voice, she knew something was seriously wrong – like ‘my head is on fire’ wrong.
‘I’ve just had a call from the West Suffolk Hospital and I’m heading out the door now. Lisa’s been admitted and they’ve asked me, as her next of kin, to get there as soon as I can.’
‘Oh my God. Admitted for what?’
‘I’m not sure exactly but it’s serious if they’ve rung. I know how it is – we’ve had it a hundred times with my old dears. You get the relatives there as soon as you can without panicking them. You don’t want to end up causing a crash as someone hurtles through the night at ninety miles an hour. They wouldn’t give me any details over the phone but I’m thankful I wasn’t opening the door to a police officer on the doorstep, because that would have been much worse news.’
She heard a beep down the line as her mother unlocked her car. ‘I’ll join you as soon as I can,’ Maisie said, already grabbing her bag and making for the hallway.
A motorcyclist had seen Lisa’s car leave the road and called 999 almost immediately. The ambulance was with her within fifteen minutes, by which time she had regained consciousness. The priority for the emergency services had been Lisa, and so it had taken several hours for any information to filter down to the immediate family.
Maisie and her mum arrived at the hospital simultaneously and were told by a nurse she had sustained severe bruising, was suffering from whiplash and had a fractured wrist.
Everyone realised it could have been so much worse.
‘Does Dad know?’ Maisie whispered as they sat by Lisa’s bed.
Lisa had been staring at the ceiling when they first arrived and had now closed her eyes. Whether she was actually asleep or just pretending in her continued efforts to shut them out, Maisie didn’t know.
‘Of course. I rang him first and he’s on his way. He may be an absolute shite of a husband but he’s always been a good father.’
It wasn’t long before her ashen-faced dad joined them, desperate to be updated.
‘She rolled the car. Lucky to be alive, they said.’ Her mother stood, shoulders stooped and wringing her hands together as if that would mend her broken daughter. ‘Thankfully no one else was involved.’ It was an unspoken relief to everyone that Lisa’s actions hadn’t impacted on an innocent party.
David reached for his wife’s arm but she turned sharply away before he made contact.
‘No, David. Whatever happens with Lisa, this is where our story ends. Fool me twice, shame on me …’
‘I know I handled this badly. When I got home, I realised what a fool I’d been and called Maisie to apologise but you didn’t pick up, love.’ He looked over to his daughter questioningly.
Maisie’s heart thudded out a violent and irregular rhythm. This could not be happening. She put both her hands to her cheeks as she worked through her startling thought processes.
Lisa’s crash happened about ten minutes after she’d stormed out from the meal, so roughly when Maisie’s mobile rang, but it wasn’t this coincidence that upset her. Much more unnervingly, this meant Lisa had crashed her car when Maisie had smashed the cup. Her stomach collapsed like a detonated building.
Some guardian of the tea set she’d turned out to be. She’d almost killed her sister.
Chapter 52
At various points over the next twenty-four hours, every single member of the Meadows family gathered around Lisa’s bed. There wasn’t much conversation; they weren’t there to mend bridges or dissect the events of the disastrous family meal, they were there for Lisa. For most of those visits, she lay, pale and bruised, with her eyes closed. Despite the arguments and the unpleasantness, there was a silent acknowledgement that they loved each other – why else would they be there? – but for that state of affairs to continue it was best that any verbal interaction was kept to an absolute minimum.
With the social media farce at work still hanging over her, but her priority to be with her sister, Maisie tendered her resignation by email on Monday morning with immediate effect. She cited her gross error of judgement and the resulting bad publicity for the company, along with personal circumstances. It felt cowardly not to speak to either Johnny or Theo but, on top of Lisa’s accident, she didn’t feel strong enough to face them. For the remainder of the week, Lisa was her priority, even though her sister barely spoke during the visits.
After rushing to Lisa’s bedside that first day, her parents avoided coinciding visiting times. It was a wise move – no one wanted any more members of the family admitted to hospital. The family juggled visits and a disorientated and badly bruised Lisa started to mend physically and mentally – although the high level of alcohol in her system had other implications. A police doctor had taken a blood sample shortly after she’d been admitted but everyone knew she was well over the limit. Lisa had to get better and then she had to face the consequences of her actions.
As Maisie approached her sister’s bed one evening, a middle-aged man she didn’t recognise stood from the chair, politely made his excuses and withdrew.
It was the first time she’d seen Lisa sitting up and the first time she’d seen her sister engage with anyone other than hospital staff. Maisie approached the b
ed but didn’t say anything. The bruising across her sister’s face was working through the colours of the rainbow but the swelling was down. Lisa’s eyes bored into hers. They were both waiting for the other to make the first move.
‘I know my behaviour was stupid. I’m sorry,’ said Lisa.
Well, that was a first. Her big sister had spent a lifetime turning things around to absolve herself of blame. Whatever the stranger had said to Lisa, he had almost certainly instigated this breakthrough. Perhaps some good could come of this awful accident.
‘And I understand there will be serious repercussions for this, not least the loss of my driving licence,’ she continued. ‘But when I think that I could have killed someone, it seems a small price to pay. Imagine if a car had been coming the other way? I can’t even begin …’ Lisa’s hands went to her face and she let out a couple of soft sobs.
‘But there was no other car,’ Maisie said. ‘Be thankful and move on.’
Realising she wasn’t going to get the expected crushing embrace and soothing words, Lisa let her hands drop and nodded.
‘I’ll try. You’ll still be there for me, won’t you?’ Lisa asked, finally looking up.
‘I’ll always be there for you,’ Maisie said. ‘I always was. And yet you kept this massive secret from everyone and lived a charade of a life. You must have known it would all come tumbling down?’
‘Huh, you’re a fine one to talk.’ Lisa shuffled up the bed and once again locked eyes with her sister.
Maisie frowned. ‘I’m not posting pictures on social media of a fake life or lying about my job. What you see is what you get.’
‘Apart from the room you shut away from everyone? I may be a selfish, self-absorbed cow but I’m astute enough to recognise my baby sister has spent a lifetime wanting and creating order, yet one look at your paintings and I’m pretty certain that for most of that time, you’ve been craving the exact opposite. You’re living just as much of a lie as me.’
They exchanged a look and Maisie realised her sister had a point. Why did she feel she had to hide her hobby? Did it matter what people thought about her daubings? The capable, coping person who created and maintained control was still a big part of her, and these skills made her good at her job, but she could be multi-faceted. She could go on a wild rampage with a paintbrush – it didn’t make her any less capable.
‘To be honest,’ Lisa said, ‘I loved you a tiny bit more when I found out about them. It made you seem more normal and therefore me less of a failure. It’s been hard living up to the perfection you exude.’ Lisa crept a tentative hand across the pressed white cotton sheet and Maisie took it in her own.
It seemed to Maisie that everyone’s perception of success was different. She admired Ben and Zoe so much for grasping their dreams with both hands and having the courage to leave the country in order to do so. She thought her mum was one of the most amazing and bravest women on the planet, doling out love and care to the people of Willow Tree House, despite the fact it ripped her apart emotionally every single day. And she admired Lisa for being honest and finally asking Maisie for support.
As they sat and chatted, Maisie detected subtle changes in her sister and some new emotions in Lisa’s repertoire: humble, thankful and repentant. Whether these feelings would last, remained to be seen, but she had softened – the magnitude of the crash a metaphorical and almost literal slap around the face.
‘Your earlier visitor. He’s not someone I recognised,’ Maisie finally said.
‘Yeah. Craig. A friend.’
‘But he’s a—’
‘Vicar. Yes, I do know.’ Lisa sighed. The dog collar was the first thing Maisie noticed as she entered the ward. ‘I met him when I went along to church a few times. I told you I was looking for answers.’
Lisa was being visited by a vicar? All the way from York? He must have really thought she was about to shuffle off this mortal coil. Dashing down to administer the last rites was one thing, but they were happily beyond that now.
‘And did you find them?’
‘Maybe. I thought I had. It was starting to make sense, all coming together. I was lost and alone, and church is like a family – a far more functional one than ours.’
‘We’re not so bad,’ Maisie bristled. ‘I guess we’re like pick and mix sweets – deep down you love them with a passion but you know they’re no good for you. We all have our own agendas and our own demons to fight. Perhaps church isn’t like that?’ Not being a churchgoer, Maisie was grasping at straws.
‘No, everyone cares and looks out for each other and I was accepted into the fold and embraced. I felt things, I guess I started to believe, and then things got … complicated.’
‘Theologically?’ Maisie frowned. She wasn’t sure she was following this conversation. Had Lisa wrestled with deep religious concepts, like hell or forgiveness?
‘No, romantically. Craig was the complication.’ Maisie was completely lost. ‘There was this connection,’ Lisa explained. ‘We both felt it, but he’s a vicar, Maisie. Not my style. I backed off. He persevered. And he’s so hot – totally wasted on God. We had a thing for a while and then he wanted a happy ever after so I stepped away a second time. After all, it’s what I do …’
Perhaps it was a family trait – bowing out when things got tough. It was what Maisie had done with both her disastrous work situations, after all, and it was starting to sit uncomfortably with her. She reached for her sister’s fragile hand again, noticing the chipped nails, and squeezed her cold fingers.
‘I’m not good for him. I’m a complete mess,’ Lisa continued. ‘And I mean, really, can you see me as a vicar’s wife? I’d be necking the communion wine behind his back.’ It was an attempt to lighten the mood but it didn’t work.
‘Whoa, steady on. The poor chap was probably thinking a few dates and take it from there. You’re jumping ahead a bit. It’s not like he proposed.’
Lisa lifted her eyes and didn’t break contact with her sister’s.
‘Oh. When?’
‘After the first couple of months. Like I said, we really connected. And I felt like I was some bloody project for him. Let’s rescue this poor damaged girl and make her whole again. And then what? It wouldn’t take him long to realise I was unlovable and he’d walk away.’
How sad, thought Maisie, that her sister couldn’t see she was the one doing the walking. From leaving home at the first opportunity, to haring up to York after a half-promised job to escape her tiresome family and prove something no one needed her to prove.
‘Maybe you should let him be the judge of that.’
‘He doesn’t give up. All the time he’s in my peripheral vision, lurking like an unidentifiable odour. Even now, after everything I’ve done, he’s here trying to save me, telling me he loves me, and that we can get through this. I don’t deserve his love. I’ve been a complete cow.’
‘But do you love him?’ It was the obvious question, the one Lisa hadn’t addressed.
‘Yeah,’ she whispered. ‘I really do.’
Chapter 53
After submitting her resignation at the start of the week, Maisie switched all notifications on her phone off and focused on her sister. She didn’t want to see sunny social media posts, nor did she want to deal with the response from Theo or Johnny. It was easier to shut work out than deal with it, even though she knew she was behaving like Lisa. But on Friday evening, there was a knock at Maisie’s door and there stood the joint proprietors of Gildersleeve’s.
‘We need a little tête-à-tête, dah-ling,’ said Johnny. ‘Or perhaps, more accurately, a tête-à-tête-à-tête.’ She let them follow her into the living room as her shoulders slumped south. She couldn’t bear to look at Theo.
‘Ah, Mesocricetus auratus,’ said Johnny, peering at Nigel over his half-moon spectacles as he passed the sideboard. ‘Syrian hamster,’ he explained.
Maisie gave a half-smile but wasn’t in the mood for hamster-related small talk. She wanted this visit over with, so sh
e gestured for them to sit, removing a bundle of her own discarded clothes from the chair. Perching on the arm, she waited for someone to speak, preferably not in Latin.
‘You do not appear to be responding to our electronic mail but I’m afraid that we cannot possibly accept your resignation, dah-ling, not only because under the terms and conditions of your employment, you are required to give us a full month’s notice …’
Maisie sighed. ‘Of course. I’ll work the month.’ She’d hoped they wouldn’t be petty over details, instead pleased to see her go. Wickerman’s let her leave immediately, probably because Gareth didn’t have the balls to sit opposite her knowing he’d been such a two-timing snake.
Johnny leaned forward and tried to make eye contact but Maisie’s head was low. ‘We would simply miss you too much and cannot contemplate the future of Gildersleeve’s without you as part of the team. So we shall pretend we haven’t seen your initial email and say no more about it.’
Maisie looked up from the intense study of her lap.
Theo, who hadn’t said anything since arriving, put a gentle hand on her knee. ‘If you need more time, we completely understand. Come back when you’re ready.’ Those eyes bored deep into her head again and she squirmed under his scrutiny.
‘Ella?’ She could only summon up one word, but it said everything she needed to.
‘Oh, dah-ling, no horrors are insurmountable,’ Johnny said, wriggling uncomfortably and pulling a silky balcony bra from behind his back and dropping it in horror. ‘And although you deleted the posts faster than an elegantly swooping falcon, our little shy maiden had been alerted to their presence and saw many of the comments. She will, however, survive.’
‘Poor girl.’ Maisie’s stomach rolled. She’d hoped Ella had been spared those nasty posts obliquely referring to her birthmark and misconstruing her hashtag. ‘What have I done?’ Her head fell to her hands.
‘Indeed. What have you done?’ Johnny gave one of his dramatic pauses. ‘For amongst the hurtful snipes, she saw a profusion of posts commending her fortitude.’