‘It’s me. Amelia,’ she clarified again to the groggy voice at the end of the line. Had she totally got the time difference wrong? She double-checked on her phone but she hadn’t. ‘What’s up? I thought you’d be about to leave for work.’
‘I’m not going in today, I’m not feeling great.’
‘Ah, your work Christmas party by any chance? Hangover from hell?’
‘Busted,’ Connie replied, still half asleep.
Over the years Amelia had enjoyed seeing Connie let her hair down after everything she’d been through with Stuart and Kyle. But right now, when she was tired, Amelia didn’t seem able to summon the same forgiveness. ‘Aren’t you going to ask about Kyle?’ Her voice demanded an answer, she was ratty because she cared.
‘How is he?’ Woozy still, most likely dry-mouthed from alcohol, Connie sounded more asleep than Amelia was and it only served to wind her up all the more.
‘He’s fine. Bit of attitude, accused of stealing, in trouble because of a girl, the usual thing.’
Connie cleared her throat and Amelia could imagine her sitting up in bed. At least that was something. ‘Start from the beginning.’
So Amelia did. She relayed everything that had gone down since they arrived, starting with the accusation of theft in Madison Square Park, finishing with Kyle and Scarlett and Nathan’s manhandling of Kyle at the inn.
‘I’m sorry he’s not behaving better.’ Connie sounded shattered. ‘How’s the work at the market stall?’
‘That’s going well.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘I wish you’d talk to him more, try to help him.’
‘I never seem able to get through to him,’ Connie replied, coughing before she even got to the end of her sentence.
‘Have you really tried though?’
‘Of course I have.’
‘He’s still grieving about his dad and having me to talk to isn’t the same as you.’
‘Ease up, Amelia, I can’t deal with this right now. I feel really bad.’
She resisted the urge to yell about her partying and her carefree life with Kyle out of the picture. If Connie had a man in bed beside her then Amelia would truly lose the plot. ‘You need to deal with it, it’s not going to magically go away.’
‘I know.’
Amelia softened at the hopelessness in Connie’s voice. ‘He’s hurting, Connie.’
‘He’s so angry most of the time. At me, at the world.’
‘I expect the anger is bundled up with his grief and he hasn’t separated the two, but the more you back off, the worse he’s going to get. He needs you.’ She was about to snap and demand a reply when she realised Connie was crying. ‘I’m doing my best, but I’m not his mum.’
‘I know.’ Connie sniffed her tears away. ‘I tried to tell him to work harder at school but at the same time I didn’t want to nag. Then he got in with a bad crowd and I just didn’t know what to do.’
‘He doesn’t want to hang out with them, you know. I can tell. Coming here has really helped him to see how things could be if he turned his life around. He hasn’t said as much but it’s obvious.’
‘I really appreciate you doing this, Amelia. You’re a good sister.’ Exasperated, her voice rising with frustration, she said, ‘I bet you see this all the time at work – I’m another hopeless parent who needs to get it together.’
She didn’t argue otherwise. ‘Just promise me you’ll take steps to work on this when we come back to England.’
Coughing on the other end of the phone gave away that Connie had likely succumbed to a cold, most probably the result of too many shenanigans with her new-found freedom. ‘I’m sorry I’m so hopeless. I really am grateful for everything you do, and I know I don’t tell you enough.’
Amelia was drained from the heavy conversation and she lay back against her pillows as they moved on to safer topics for some semblance of normality. ‘We got a tree at the apartment.’
‘I’m impressed. Did you make Kyle help you decorate it?’
