It almost burst out of her that Steph should’ve known or should’ve at least suspected the man would have wanted to come out smelling of roses. But Faye had long since given up being her sister’s keeper, the responsible one, the one Steph could run to whenever things went wrong for her.
The girls were sixteen when their mother upped and left. The family had already emigrated to Australia as a foursome. They were living quite the life in Queensland; the girls had sunshine, freedom, and plenty of friends. Their dad’s water-sports business was growing but a few months before their mother walked out for good Faye had noticed a change in Daria, who was spending more and more time away from the house with friends she’d met at yoga. Some of those friends lived in the hinterland in smaller country towns with rainforest walks, and soon Daria was spending nights there, then weeks, and drifting away both emotionally and physically from her family more and more.
Faye had seen her dad looking weary but trying to put on a brave face, and one night Faye had asked him whether they were getting a divorce. He’d sat her down and said that he honestly didn’t know. This move to the southern hemisphere had been initiated by Daria all along, and Faye wondered then whether their dad had agreed to it in an attempt to save his marriage.
Their parents never really had a big row after that day or even a significant argument; they literally drifted a bit like a tide falling away from the shore but never returning again. Daria moved up to Far North Queensland, some eighteen hours away by car or a three-hour flight, leaving the girls with their dad. Steph took it really hard. It came as more of a shock for her because, unlike Faye, she hadn’t really seen it coming. She’d been wayward as a teen, often in her own little world with little regard to what was going on for everyone else, so when their mother upped and left it came out of the blue.
Steph got progressively worse and the more trouble she got into the more Faye wondered whether her younger sister was just like their mother and only able to think about number one. She’d yelled at her once that she only thought about herself and Steph had broken down, sobbed, asked why their mum had had to leave, asked whether they were such terrible daughters. Faye had ended up crying that day too and had called her mother, telling her in no uncertain terms that her shitty parenting had consequences before she slammed the phone down.
Daria had turned up three days later, showering both girls with presents – little cloth bags with smelly soaps, decorative hair accessories Faye wasn’t sure either of them would ever wear, some chocolates that had partially melted in her bag, a T-shirt each although Faye’s had been far too small. The only good part about their mother showing up that day was that she’d apologised to Faye when Steph was in the bathroom, and later on Faye had heard Daria telling Steph the truth: that her leaving had nothing to do with her daughters and whether they were good enough, it was because she just couldn’t be this person any more. She needed to be free, she didn’t like the suburbs, she wanted the freedom and lushness she’d found up north. Faye hadn’t really cared what she’d found, only that she put things right. But how could she?
In the years that followed, Steph liked visiting their mother but Faye eventually chose not to. It never appealed to stay in a house with a bunch of strangers, her mother’s so-called wider family who all seemed as lazy – or maybe stoned – as each other. None of them worked, they were happy to live in a mess, they all shunned technology and hated mobile phones. The only thing they’d allowed was a landline at the property so at least there was a way to know that Daria was okay. The lifestyle they chose was so cut off, but Daria insisted that was the brilliant thing about it. She was a strange woman to understand but slowly, over time, Faye had found it easier to deal with the fact.
Steph somehow managed to finish school with some qualifications despite her lack of interest and her partying, and she even got a job as a personal assistant locally while Faye trained as a hairdresser. For a while it seemed that Steph was settling down too, but her life outside her work had so many ups and downs that Faye felt like she was on the roller coaster with her at every single dip. Steph had been thrown out of a bar in her early twenties after she followed a friend into the toilets where they had sex – their dad had picked her up when the owner of the bar called the emergency contact on Steph’s phone. Soon after that she made a pass at Faye’s then-boyfriend, Charlie, and Faye had seen that one with her own eyes. It resulted in an almighty row, radio silence for over a month, and even though Faye had ended things with Charlie for reasons other than her sister, she’d never forgotten the betrayal. Of course Steph had been remorseful, said it was only a joke to see whether he could tell he was kissing the wrong twin, and she promised she’d do anything to make it up to her, but Faye wasn’t interested. She was getting used to having a sister who acted first and thought about it later.
When Steph was twenty-one she got caught stealing a lipstick from a department store and because their dad was out on the ocean and uncontactable Faye had taken the call at home. It was she who called in to work to explain she was dealing with an emergency and she who had gone to see whether she could help. As she’d pulled up in the car park near the department store she’d wondered whether she should turn right around again. Perhaps if they came down hard on Steph it might teach her a proper lesson.
When Faye arrived at the office in the department store she’d gone in to see Steph with her red blotched tear-stained cheeks, a wobbly bottom lip and more regret than Faye had ever witnessed. The manager had given Steph a stern talking-to, Faye had explained that there was trouble at home and their mother had walked out – she didn’t point out that that was almost five years ago. Steph was let off with a warning, Faye paid the money for the lipstick and apologised profusely, promising it wouldn’t happen again, and they’d left the store in shock.
What shocked Faye more, however, was when Steph began laughing as soon as they were in the car. ‘What a high!’ she’d exclaimed. ‘What a rush!’
Faye tried to distance herself from her sister after that. It pained her to do so but gradually, with less and less time spent together, Faye realised she had more individuality without Steph in the background. She wasn’t heaving around her sister’s personality as well as her own, making excuses for her, worrying so much, trying to fix everything. They saw one another, but Faye stayed away from Steph’s dramas, and it was always a relief when Steph went away to stay with their mother for a while.
At least that was how it had worked until the scandal broke.
Faye smiled when her dad turned off the main road now. ‘This is more like it.’
‘England’s roads, half the width of Aussie ones,’ he said with amusement.
‘And with two-way traffic.’ A tractor was coming towards them and she almost breathed in as it passed. ‘Did it take you a while to get used to these roads again?’
‘You wait until we’re closer to Moreton.’ Moreton was the small village in Dorset where Uncle Frank lived. ‘This road is like the freeway in comparison.’
‘Steph wouldn’t like it.’ Her sister didn’t like driving much at all. She was terrible at parking, and she would never cope with these dinky roads.
‘She’s been driving a ute around at her mother’s. Can you imagine?’
‘Not really.’
‘I think she’s staying on a while longer.’
‘Hiding a while longer you mean.’ Steph never had been one to face the consequences. ‘And rather her than me.’
‘You never were a fan of the outside dunny.’
His remark about the outside toilet at their mother’s house had her lighten up a bit. There was an inside bathroom but if it was occupied, which it often was with between four and eight people living there on and off, then you had to go out in the elements. Bad enough that you had to go outside to the toilet anywhere, but in Far North Queensland with its wildlife it was no joke.
‘Dad, would you mind if we took a bit of a detour before we go to Uncle Frank’s?’ Simultaneously they flipped their sun visors down at the change of light now they were trundling towards the Dorset village.
‘Detour?’
She explained about Howard and Driftwick Bay. ‘He never misses a book club, you see, and I’m getting worried about him.’
‘You know where he lives?’
‘Well, no, but he bought the bookshop, Driftwick Bay Books, so if we drive into the town I could pop in.’
Her dad was happy to take the detour and she reprogrammed the satnav as he drove. She couldn’t wait to see Howard’s face when she walked into the bookshop, took him by surprise. Meeting her friend in person was something she never thought would happen, but now she was actually going to do it and it would be wonderful.
