The Secret Art of Forgiveness (20 page)

So, yes, she missed being selfish.

Sally beamed and tugged on Emily's hand. ‘Show her the ring. Go on. Oh, my God, it's amazing. Tiffany, and everything. Oh… where's the bling? Don't say you've lost it?'

‘Oh no. It's just upstairs for safekeeping. I was gardening and wanted to protect it.' And somehow, as she'd taken it off, it felt as if she'd lifted a weight from her chest. This couldn't go on. She'd sit down and talk things through with him properly when she got home. ‘I'll show it to you later.'

‘Well, we'll be going, then, love. Sean's waiting down the road.' Greta pulled her in for a hug that was warm and friendly and hopeful. ‘Don't be a stranger, okay? Come back very soon. And friend me on every social media platform you can – I want to know everything about your life! And I'll try not to fill your feeds with goofy pictures of my two – although there may be the odd photo slipped in when they're being especially cute. So, probably when they're asleep, then. Bye, hun.'

‘Bye, Greta, and give those lovely two bubs a kiss from me.'

Oh, God, this was hard. She hadn't thought it was going to be as difficult to say goodbye as this, especially with an audience. There was nothing private about living here. It had made her claustrophobic years ago, but now she saw it as having people in her corner. Which was perfect at this very moment, with Tam and Tilda breathing fire over her.

It was Sal's turn to hug her next. ‘I'm sorry everything was so hard, Em, but promise me you'll be back?'

She would not cry. ‘Yes. I'll be back as soon as I can. Hey, come visit?'

‘Send me an invite and I'll be on the first plane over – oh, yes… the wedding! I'll be there for that and don't think for a minute you can't invite me.'

‘Oh, I will… yes, the wedding.' Whenever that was going to be. ‘Let me know about Liam, okay?'

Then it was Tom stepping forward. ‘Come here, give me a hug.'

She wrapped her arms around his young frame and squeezed until his bones almost cracked. ‘If I'd had a brother, I'd have wanted him to be just like you. Thank you for looking after The Judge for me. Keep an eye on things, eh?'

‘Sure will,
el capitaine
.' He saluted.

She hugged him again. ‘If Liam and Sally aren't an item by the time I come back, I'll hold you entirely responsible.'

‘Right you are. Matchmaking services up and running.' He grinned. ‘See ya.'

With a heavy weight sitting on her chest she walked them to the door and waved them down the gravel driveway, laughing as they waved to her right until they reached the bottom of the drive.

Then she walked slowly back to face the music.

Tam and Tilda had poured themselves each a glass of water by the time Emily had sauntered – very slowly – back inside. They were discussing something but broke off immediately she walked into the room.
Awkward.

Tam looked up. ‘That was very touching, I must say. All pals again, I see?'

‘Yes. Kind of. Well, we're working on it, anyway.' It had been excruciating when Em had all but pushed her way into Sally's life again, but it had been worth it and they'd bridged that chasm between them.

She doubted that was something she could do here with the girls, and yet she suddenly wanted to try. If not for their sakes, then for The Judge's.

Em sat opposite them, a glass-topped coffee table between their knees. She tried to adopt an adult, organised and entirely professional tone with them. ‘Okay. My flight's early tomorrow, so I have a taxi booked at a silly time. So, er, why don't we use our time efficiently and get a few things sorted out? Calmly, you know, like grown-ups.'

Professional, it wasn't.

‘We are –' Tam's voice rose as sharply as her shoulders, then stopped as Em barked back, unable to stop herself; living, breathing proof that she was really eleven again, ‘No we're not. You've just come in here and shouted at me as if a decade hasn't gone by. As if we're not capable grown-ups. There wasn't even a
hello, how are you
?'

It was the wrong thing to say, but she didn't know what the right thing was either. She felt her cheeks flush as deep as Greta's had a few moments ago. This was so hard.

She softened her voice. Trying. Trying. Wishing it could be easier but knowing it wasn't all one-sided. Tam and Tilda hadn't welcomed her with open arms all those years ago, but she'd hardly been the perfect little sister either. They had a lot of catching up to do, and some more growing up, too. ‘I mean, we need to calmly talk things through. We need a plan. I know it's hard, Tam, I've been here a week and I'm exhausted.'

Tam's shoulders relaxed. ‘Okay. Yes. Let's be adults here.'

If that was possible.

An hour later and they'd reached a sort of consensus. Emily wrapped things up. ‘So, to be clear; you're happy for the visiting service to come in. He's going to try the day-care centre and you want me to sell off half the land –'

Tam shuddered and her face was as white as the walls. ‘At the southern end so we don't have to drive past every day and see what we've been forced to do.'

‘Yes, the southern end. And with some of the proceeds we can sort out the roof, do up some of the outhouses and rent them out as offices or homes. First priority is to try to leverage some cash as a matter of urgency so we can get the holes in the roof fixed here. You'll talk to the bank on Monday.'

Tam nodded curtly. ‘I'll add it to my extremely long list. I do have to do my job as well as look after him and now this, Emily. Not to mention I've found myself chair of the fair committee –
as usual –
because if I didn't do it, who would? But it all takes its toll.'

‘Still at the insurance company in Cheltenham?'

‘Yes. And they've always been very supportive and let me work from here a lot of the time, but they're not going to tolerate me using work time to do all this extra…' She paused. Hauled in a breath. Tam's hands hadn't stopped wringing throughout the conversation. She
glanced towards the door, then back at Emily. ‘He'd hate it. He'd hate that we're selling off his life. I promised him I wouldn't. And I promised him I wouldn't put him in a home.'

So she did have a heart. Emily knew she had, but was surprised to see her stepsister so animated and… open. ‘It hasn't come to that, yet. But it might. Dr Shepherd said we need to discuss what's going to happen to him long-term. It's hard, I know, to think about him going into care, but there will come a time when he can't be here, for his own safety. Even if you did make him promises, sometimes you have to admit that it's just too hard to keep them.'

Tilda nodded. ‘When I think of him up here on his own even for a few hours during the day I worry so much. I've even brought some of my work up and tried to do it and keep an eye on him – but it's hard to concentrate on being creative and being a babysitter, too.'

‘The art, then? Still doing that?' She'd seen some of Matilda's art on her website. She was good; cutesy quirky animals with a backdrop of the Gloucestershire landscape and landmarks. The animals doing very human things, like carrying shopping baskets or sitting on bicycles, their eyes made bigger, anthropomorphic. It wasn't Emily's kind of thing, but she could see the tourist appeal.

‘Yes.'

‘And how's it going?'

Matilda looked down at her hands. ‘It'll be fine. I'm sure.'

‘What? Have you got artist's block?' She meant it as a joke.

But Matilda replied so quietly that Emily had to strain to hear her, ‘Something like that.'

Tam huffed. ‘Oh, come on, you might as well tell her, she's going to find out sooner or later.'

Tilda glared at her sister. ‘I… well, I'm going to –'

Tam huffed again. ‘She's going to leave Stuart. She's going home right after this and she's going to pack her things and come and stay with me. I know my cottage is tiny, but we'll muddle through, won't we?'

Things were clearly not going well in most parts of her sisters' lives. Emily's heart twisted. She hadn't been there for them. They hadn't been there for her either. That wasn't how families were supposed to be. And then she remembered Tam's email about Matilda needing time out, or something. ‘But, why –?'

‘It's all decided.' Tilda smiled, weakly. ‘I just have to be brave enough to get the words out.'

‘That's hard on you. I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be. I don't think he will be. Well, he might miss having his dinner cooked for him seven days a week, but he can always get a ready-made in. I'm not staying around just because someone needs feeding. He's got two hands; he can fix something for himself. Unless he's died of starvation while I've been away. Although I doubt it.'

It was the most she'd said since she'd arrived and she clearly wasn't happy. ‘But what's happened? Sorry, I shouldn't pry, it's really none of my business.'

Matilda sighed, her shoulders looking as if they were weighed down. ‘He's not the man I married. I mean, we all change, right? It's called growing up. He used to adore me, you know. Couldn't get enough of me. But now he never has a good thing to say to me or about me. Nothing drastic. He just can't see any positives in me and… well, I can actually. I'm a nice person. He's always ridiculing my art, but I have sold a few paintings. My website gets lots of hits every month and there's a gallery in Cheltenham which said I could show some work. When I told him he just laughed and said no one would buy anything and how embarrassing that would be.' There was another, heavier sigh. ‘But I want to try. It's a step. It's a shot at what I want to do.'

Oh, poor Tilda.

Emily had never thought she'd think that, or feel it, but she did. All these years she'd snubbed them, and they her… but now she found herself wanting to know more about them. Slowly she was being pulled further into their lives. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. ‘I had no idea. I'm so sorry, that must hurt.'

‘No. Well, it doesn't do to complain, does it? Sometimes if a thing isn't working, you've just got to call it quits.'

Something in that sentiment resonated with Emily at a deep level. ‘You're right. So why don't you come and live up here with Dad?'
Dad.
It still felt strange to say that, but it felt right, too. ‘There's more room here than anywhere in the village. And you can keep an eye on him and spread out your canvases. It's the perfect solution.'

Tilda smiled. ‘Except the last time I brought some work here, I popped out for a few hours and when I got back Daddy had painted over it, thinking he was in the middle of his own artwork. You know, I don't remember him having done any. He's too hard to be around with precious stuff. And I need to be able to breathe and think.'

God, give me strength.
Which was an uncharitable thing to think, because what did she know about being artistic? Or leaving a marriage? Or being Matilda? ‘Oh, well… in that case we'll definitely have to use some of the money for a carer then. Just get as good a price as you can, Tamara.'

Tam looked across at her, her features hardening again. ‘And we'll keep you informed, is that it? You'll go back to America and wash your hands of this whole problem.'

‘I'm going to come back.'

‘When exactly? Next decade? When you can be bothered? His funeral?'

‘That's so unfair, Tam. You didn't even tell me he was sick. I'm going to come back as often as I can but I do have a job, too. And a life.' And with that she stood up, her heart thundering with indignation. And possibly because her sister was right – she hadn't done enough, nowhere near enough. But they hadn't let her in. They'd never let her in. ‘I don't want to argue. It's my last night with The Judge and I want it to be happy. There's some lasagne in the freezer, I'll heat it up and we can have a nice dinner. Together. As a family.'

***

‘What the hell have you done to his hair? He looks like… I can't even… it's…' First time ever Tam had been stuck for words. Her eyes were popping as she looked at him. Her mouth taut in a fixed grimace. ‘He looks like… something from
The Walking Dead.
'

‘It's not that bad.' Emily tried not to laugh. ‘I was going for the tufted look, but… well… he kept getting distracted and I…'

‘Can't cut hair?' Tam growled and pressed her lips together as if she was holding in a roar or scream or something. ‘Another mess for me to sort out?'

‘I like it. It makes him look younger.'

‘It makes him look lopsided. Like he's had a little stroke or something. I mean… Emily Jane, can't you ever get anything…?' She was clearly past trying to control her mouth and for a moment it curled into a smile. An actual smile that bordered on a laugh.

Almost.

Then she laughed and Tilda with her.

And it was a surprising punch in Em's chest. She'd never made her sisters smile before. ‘Use the gel in his bathroom to tuft it up a bit; it looks better like that. But you have to approach him from behind and do a quick slick and stick, otherwise he flat-out refuses.'

‘I'm not surprised.' Tam shook her head. ‘And I'm not attacking him with gel. I'll get Sally to fix it.'

‘I was going to ask her, but you got back too soon to…'

‘Cover your tracks?' Tam's eyebrows rose and the laughter was just a memory, but the mood was lighter. That was something for their last night at least.

It was ten-thirty by the time the lasagne had thawed out enough and heated properly for human consumption. The conversation had frittered between mundane and humdrum and Emily had worked hard to steer clear of any bumps that might take them towards an argument. She didn't want The Judge to witness that on her last night. Plus, she didn't have the energy to bicker. It had been an emotional day and exhaustion was seeping into her bones.