certainly not without her clothes on. I think I still loved her although I wished, in a complicated, sisterly way, that her halo would slip, trip her up and send her flying.
“Would you sleep with a married man?”
At this, I practically screeched. “As taboo as doing drugs.”
“A bit of blow never hurt anyone,” Lenny chirruped.
One stern look from me took the tweet right out of her twitter. Pink zinged across her milk-white cheeks
“Sorry, Moll, I forgot about your brother.”
“A bit of blow, as you put it, was what got Zach started.” After that he snorted cocaine that made him over-excited and unpredictable, and heroin that turned him into an octogenarian overnight with memory problems and a tendency to fall asleep any time, any place and anywhere.
Lenny zipped it and, together, we flogged down the last two stairs, setting the drawers down with a mighty thump.
“Pit stop?” she said, suitably chastened, a rarity for Lenny.
About to answer, my phone rang.
The caller display indicated it was Dad. Some of my friends disregarded calls from their parents when at work. My dad was different. A former senior police officer he’d taken early retirement and authority coursed through his DNA. Quietly spoken, quiet in every way, he was not an easy man to ignore, although my big brother, Zach, had managed it with ease for all his teenage years, most of his adult too.
“Where are you?” Dad said.
“Barnard’s Green. House clearance.”
“Can you come home?”
“Now?” I pulled a face at Lenny.
“Scarlet’s been in an accident. An RTA.”
I took a sharp intake of breath and translated the copper-speak; car crash.
“Is-?”
“It’s bad,” he said, a catch in his voice.
I spiked with alarm, not so much because of what he said, but how he said it. My softly spoken father sounded at least ten decibels louder than normal. “Dad—”
“I’m going to the hospital and I need you to stay with your mum.”
“But—”
“Molly, she has one of her migraines and is definitely not fit to travel.”
God, she’d be doing her pieces. “I’ll be right there. You’ll keep in touch?” The line went dead.
I gawped at Lenny who, from simply reading my expression, cottoned on that catastrophe had struck.
“Go, I’ll deal with things here.”
“But the van?”
“You take it. I’ll shift as much as I can and pile it in the hall. I can load it later.”
Knowing I could trust her, I flew.
Blood sprinting, guilt poking, I was consumed by the darkest of thoughts: was I the reason Scarlet had crashed?
It took ten minutes to reach my parents’ house in Malvern Wells.
Mr Lee’s claws clattered across the hall the second he heard my key in the lock. Barely stopping to ruffle his soft Shih Tzu ears as he yapped and snuffled at my ankles, I headed straight upstairs and slipped into my parents’ bedroom.
In darkness, light peeped through the curtains, leaving a golden criss-cross pattern on the sheets. My mum lay, starfish-style, in the middle. Absolutely still. Eyes closed. Skin deathly pale, blonde hair a storm on the pillow. Even though I was her daughter, even though she was unwell, I saw how beautiful she was. Exactly like Scarlet who, with her generous mouth and petite nose and elfin features, took after Mum.
“Molly, is that you?” At the sound of her voice, Mr Lee darted inside, hopped up and parked himself at the foot of the bed. He cast me a reproachful look and rested his chin on Mum’s legs. Proprietorial. My mummy.
I kissed her forehead and sat down on dad’s side of the bed. Mum took my hand and gave it a squeeze. Even my sister’s fingers, long and fine, were like my mother’s. Only the nails were different. Scarlet’s were nurse short, mum’s long and highly polished. Me, with my dark hair, scary eyebrows and olive colouring, took after Dad. I got my practicality from him too. Unfortunately, my shortness of stature – I’m a shade over five foot – belonged to a throwback somewhere down the family line.
“It’s all right. It will be all right,” I said, not really knowing if it would. Suddenly ashamed, I wondered whether Scarlet had confided in Mum about our argument just days earlier. The anger of our exchange suddenly swamping me:
“You what?” I blazed. “I’m not as pretty as you. I’m not as clever as you. I’m certainly not admired like you. Was that what you were going to say?”
“Don’t be silly.” Scarlet spoke quietly, hurt in her eyes. “All I was going to say is that you need to speak to Mum and Dad. This isn’t my fault.”
With a superhuman effort, Mum’s eyes opened, tears pooling at the corners, bringing me out of my painful thoughts. “Oh Molly, it sounds so awful. They had to cut her from the wreckage.”
An icy shiver tiptoed along my spine. “Mum, I’m sure it will—”
“Her beautiful face.” While the situation seemed dire, I sensed that Scarlet’s face would be the least of her problems. Oh God.
“My phone,” Mum burst out, edging up onto the pillows, agitating. “What if your dad calls?” Her gaze darted in the direction of the window. “It’s over on the dressing table.”
I stood up, located her mobile and placed it in her hand. Meanwhile, Mr Lee snored softly, completely out of it. I wished I were dreaming too.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” I said. “Was Nate with her?” Nate was Scarlet’s husband. An architect, he worked with my father on his renovation projects. I jolted. Whatever must Nate be going through?
“No, Molly,” Mum said, with icy patience. “Nate called your father.”
“Sorry, yes. Any other vehicles?”
“A motorcyclist.”
“God. Poor him. Or her,” I added.
Mum’s expression briefly darkened. Bad form to express pity for anyone other than my sister. “Pass my water, would you?” Her voice was tight and clipped. I passed her the glass from the side of the bed and she took a sip.
“Do you know where the accident happened?”
“Not
