Clara lifted her eyebrows. ‘It’s not always about you, you know.’
‘I know that. But I would have thought you’d have wanted to share that or to talk about it at some point. But you’ve never said anything. Ever.’
‘I didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t ready to tell the world I was pregnant. It was too early. We hadn’t had the scan. And then there was nothing to tell.’
Lucy shook her head in wonder. ‘Clara, I’m so sorry.’
‘Me too. I thought about the baby all the time. Whether it was a boy or a girl. What it might have looked like. And then I couldn’t get pregnant for ages until Molly came along years later, bouncing and healthy and beautiful. We’d been trying for another recently and it hadn’t been working out. We’re so grateful for Molly but … anyway that’s why John and I have been rowing a lot. Debating if we need IVF. Wondering if we could afford it. Wondering if it was worth the strain it would inevitably put on our marriage. That’s why I’ve been snapping a bit more than usual. And it allbuilt up. And then you said what you said and, well, I’m sorry,’ Clara finished.
Lucy nodded. ‘I don’t really know what to say. I’ve never been through it so whatever I say won’t be right, but I am sorry,’ Lucy said. Why did her sister suddenly feel like a complete stranger? How did she not know one of the most awful things that had happened to her? In Lucy’s eagerness to get away, to leave the island and her life behind, she had shed her family far too easily, stopped paying attention when it mattered, stopped being a sisterly shoulder to lean on. And look where it had got her. She and her sister had been so adrift from each other that Clara hadn’t been able to share something so awful as being pregnant and miscarrying. Lucy hated herself. But it wasn’t too late. They could fix this bond.
‘I should never have slapped you. It was awful of me. Just awful. I just saw red,’ Clara explained.
‘It’s all right.’ Lucy leant forward and reached out to hold her sister’s hand. Clara took it in hers and the two connected from opposing sides.
‘It’s not all right,’ Clara said.
Lucy looked at the dining table, at the grooves marked into the fabric of the wood from God knew how many years of use.
‘John and I are very much in love you know,’ Clara volunteered. ‘I didn’t settle by marrying him and staying here. It was actually what I wanted. I know that was never the kind of thing you wanted and so you couldn’t see what was right for me and how it differed to what was right for you. But I did.’
Lucy looked up. ‘I know.’
‘And John and I loved each other back then too. We got pregnant. We didn’t need to get married. And then we weren’t pregnant anymore but we still wanted to be together, to get married. We still do. So don’t feel sorry for me, will you.’
Lucy stared at Clara. ‘I don’t feel sorry for you. I’ve never felt sorry for you. I admire you. You built a good life for yourself withsomeone you love. You have an amazing child. And you did it all right here. You haven’t had to go in search of happiness. Happiness found you. I’ve never had that.’ Lucy stopped suddenly.
‘You’ve always chased the idea of a dream and then when you got it, you never quite liked it,’ Clara said far too perceptively for Lucy’s liking.
‘Probably, yes. The things you said to me weren’t exactly untrue. I realised that. But since I’ve been here, I’ve got better at not giving up on things, not taking the easy way out. I promise.’
‘Good,’ Clara said, ‘because you are worth so much more and you can do so much more than you give yourself credit for.’ Clara squeezed her sister’s hand warmly for a moment and Lucy squeezed it back.
‘Thank you,’ Lucy said.
Clara looked at the stack of files. ‘What’s all this?’
Lucy had left the documents on the kitchen table, the photographs that Will had developed, the notice about the concentration camp, the shorthand documents and the transcriptions she and Will had worked on together that glorious night at his cottage, and the photograph of the four at the beach in 1930 before war brought them all together and then tore them apart.
‘It’s the story of what happened to Dido and Persephone in the war. Will and I have filled in most of the blanks,’ Lucy started and then filled her sister in on what they’d discovered. ‘There are some things I don’t think we’ll ever know … such as what happened to Dido after she returned from the camp … if she ever found happiness. I hope so but I’m not sure we’ll ever know. But we do know what happened to Persephone.’
Outside, John and Molly played football and inside, Clara and Lucy held the photograph of the four on the beach taken before war changed their lives and wrenched them apart. ‘It makes sense we never even knew about Persephone’s existence, because she was gone so much earlier.’
‘Persephone died together with the man she loved, doing an incredible thing,’ Lucy said. ‘Saving people.’
Clara sighed. ‘I’d have done the same for you.’
Lucy nodded. ‘I know you would. And so would I. In a heartbeat.’
‘We’re so lucky we don’t have to face things like this,’ Clara said. ‘We’re so lucky our daily challenges are nothing compared to this.’ She reached out and held her sister’s hand again and the two girls smiled at each other.
‘I do love you, you know,’ Clara said.
‘I know. And I love you too,’ Lucy replied.
They were interrupted by the sound of the knocker on the door being lifted and dropped. Lucy went to open it and was confronted with Will, clutching a bottle of Champagne.
He kissed her on the cheek. Something he’d never done before. His face being against hers, the slight brush of his evening stubble on her cheek felt so alien and so entirely, wonderfully normal.
