But what choice did she have? She certainly didn’t want Sarah knowing Ben had stayed the night – not yet anyway. She swiped onions and carrots from the chopping board into the pan, deciding to make soup. She was just adding celery when Sarah appeared at the kitchen door.
Although she was still pale and puffy-eyed she appeared much more composed. Her features had settled back into their usual impassive expression and her lips were pursed together into such a tight line Eva wondered if she was now regretting her earlier outburst, perhaps regretting coming here at all.
‘I took a shower,’ she informed Eva. ‘I used those little bottle things you had.’ The little bottles in question being the locally sourced organic toiletries it had taken Eva an age to source and were actually quite expensive. Eva had no problem with her using the guest toiletries but wouldn’t mind her sounding a little more gracious about it.
‘That’s fine,’ she replied evenly, gripping the wooden spoon in her hand tightly.
Sarah’s eyes scanned the room as she came in, pausing to look intently at the various photographs dotted about. Images of Jamie wearing his school uniform on his first day at school, another of Jamie and Fraser playing on the beach. Eva wondered what she was thinking.
Seeing her sister in her kitchen Eva was struck by how different they appeared. Sarah’s clothes – impeccably cut dark blue trousers and a beautifully soft-looking cream jumper – appeared wrinkle free despite her lie-down and they reeked of unmistakable quality. Eva looked down at her own jeans and rubbed at a dark mysterious stain that could well be animal-related.
‘Feeling better now?’ Eva asked.
‘I’m fine,’ Sarah replied flatly.
‘I’ll make us some coffee,’ Eva said. As she busied herself finding cups Eva wondered where on earth to start, sure that anything she said would come out sounding wrong. Sarah was clearly feeling the injured party here and Eva couldn’t help feel sorry for her. But she also knew that if they were going to come anywhere close to having a reasonable conversation – something they had been incapable of recently – Sarah would have to play her part.
She turned the heat down under the pot on the stove and joined Sarah at the table with coffee. ‘Does Mum know you’re here?’ she asked.
Sarah shrugged. ‘I left a message on her answering machine to let her know I’d be here for the night.’
‘Oh, so you’re staying the night?’ Eva swallowed down her irritation at her sister’s presumption.
‘Is that a problem?’ Sarah eyed her coolly.
‘No, no. I have guests arriving on Monday though so I might have a few things to do.’ Sarah didn’t appear overly interested and Eva’s eyes darted to the clock above the door to check it was afternoon and therefore acceptable to have a drink. If Sarah was staying the night, then alcohol was called for.
‘Actually, how about a glass of wine?’ she suggested. Sarah nodded and Eva swapped the coffee cups for glasses and a bottle of white.
‘So, Mum and this man –’ Eva began.
‘George Cartwright.’
‘George Cartwright,’ Eva repeated. ‘Do you think it’s serious?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. They certainly look happy together.’ She let out a little huff.
‘I understand what a shock it must have been,’ Eva responded gently. ‘To see Mum with a man after all this time. But if she’s happy, isn’t that a good thing?’
Sarah blinked as if not understanding the question. ‘How can it be a good thing?’
‘Well, for Mum to have someone.’
‘But she has me!’ Sarah exclaimed petulantly.
Eva fiddled with her bracelet, not sure what to say. She was struggling to see the problem. If their mother was in a relationship, then wasn’t it her business? She couldn’t really see the problem but clearly there was one to Sarah. But as Eva glanced sideways at Sarah, she saw genuine anguish on her face. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation, Sarah had come to her in her moment of need. Could this be the chance for them to build a few bridges between them?
Putting aside any uncharitable thoughts – mostly that Sarah was acting like a spoilt brat stamping her feet because Mum dared to have a life – Eva tried to adopt a gentle approach.
‘I know you’ve been there for Mum and have done so much for her and she appreciates that. But just because she has a relationship with a man doesn’t mean you won’t still be part of her life. It might not even be serious; it might not last. Maybe it’s just a … a fling?’ After all, why shouldn’t women in their sixties have flings?
Sarah’s shoulders suddenly slumped as if all the life had been taken from her.
‘I don’t know. I suppose so. But where does it leave me?’ she asked, her voice full of self-pity. Eva was taken aback to hear her usually so confident sister sounding so vulnerable and quite frankly, a bit pathetic. Eva’s instinct was to reach out and put an arm around her but was afraid it wouldn’t be welcome.
‘Well, you have your career …’ Eva stopped, not sure what else to say. The gulf created by years of non-communication was blindingly obvious.
‘Oh yes, my wonderful career,’ Sarah spat out sarcastically.
‘But you love your work! You’re always so busy and … involved.’
Eva blinked in surprise as her sister rounded on her. ‘You really don’t get it do you?’
‘No, I don’t think I do. So why don’t you tell me.’
‘Let me ask you something.’ Sarah looked at Eva, her eyes suddenly flaring with anger. ‘Why did you go away after Dad died?’
Wow, she hadn’t seen that coming. It sounded like a question she’d been waiting to ask for a long time. Eva looked down and blinked, giving herself time before meeting Sarah’s direct gaze.
‘After Dad died, you moved back from Aberdeen and bought the house near Mum’s. You both seemed happy with that arrangement; you had each other.’ She shook her head, recalling how terrible that time was. While Sarah went shopping with their mother, Eva had preferred to stay at home with their dad. With the radio on and a flask of tea, they’d potter about in the shed – the one place Helen Devine didn’t rule or dominate – making things or planting seeds.
‘You were always closer to Mum than me but I didn’t have Dad any more. Mum seemed to have my life all mapped out – do you remember that horrible office where I was working?’ Eva could vividly recall the day Paul asked her to join him in France. It had been a rainy Monday, a week after their father’s funeral and Mr Sinclair had unceremoniously dumped a pile of filing on Eva’s desk.
‘When Paul said he could get me a job waitressing in France, I didn’t really think about you too much if I’m honest. I thought you were happy. You had Mum and your career. I just went,’ she finished with a shrug.
‘Yeah, well while you went off, I built my life around Mum.’
‘I
