Inside, Vik worked at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of her. Martha flicked on the kettle. ‘I ordered some pizza from Pam’s. I didn’t think you’d be up for cooking tonight.’
She supposed that meant she couldn’t disappear just yet. She collapsed onto the seat beside Vik, distracting herself by fussing over the dogs at her feet. Milly climbed into her lap, giving her a wet kiss on the cheek.
‘I’m knackered.’ She eyed Martha warily. ‘Things didn’t seem too awkward with Cam.’
Martha shrugged. ‘We’ve both moved on, now. We can be civil.’
‘Thank God,’ Vik mumbled under her breath, fingers clicking away on her keyboard.
Rae snorted, burying her face into Milly’s patchy brown fur. The dog still smelled like Dad’s cologne from their final cuddles this morning, and it provided her with much-needed comfort, but also another wave of emotion. She was overwhelmed and hadn’t had time to process anything that had happened today. Maybe it was time to lock herself in the laundry cupboard for a while.
‘Do you mind if I go for a shower before we eat?’ Rae asked.
She was already standing, feeling too brittle to linger. With Martha’s gaze stamped on her back, she trudged up the stairs, slipping straight into the cupboard’s cottony darkness. She tried to control her breathing, in for four seconds, out for eight. In, out, in, out.
You’re okay. Dad’s okay. Things with Struan will settle, and Martha will forgive you, and—
‘Is there room for two?’ a voice asked outside the door.
Martha.
Rae’s head dropped into her knees. She hated herself for the dread that crept upon her whenever Martha was near. She’d done the one thing she’d been afraid of, let her feelings for Struan drive a wedge between them, and now it was stifling just to be in the same room as her best friend.
But she couldn’t say so without making that wedge bigger, so she forced out a ‘Yes’ instead.
The door clicked open, light pouring into the cupboard before it was pushed out again. Martha adjusted a rack of towels to sit opposite Rae, their legs cramming together.
‘I knew all this would overwhelm you. Struan never thinks,’ she said.
Rae tamped down a protest. Coming home to find people who cared about the farm, about her, was the one good thing that had made the worry of today bearable, but Martha needed a reason to convince herself that Struan had done wrong.
In the silence, Martha shifted impatiently, jabbing her toe into Rae’s hip. ‘We can talk about it.’
‘I don’t think I want to,’ Rae admitted. ‘I just needed quiet.’
‘I can do quiet.’ It wasn’t true. Martha liked to fix things, a lot like her brother, only usually with words rather than actions. She intellectualised everything, made everything into a debate that needed a hypothesis and empirical evidence and a practical assessment like the scientist she was.
Rae could do without that. She could rationalise with her brain all she liked, tell herself that this was just a stressful day, that it would all turn out okay in the end, but it wouldn’t alleviate the heaviness in her chest. She’d spent a lifetime trying to stave off that anxiety. For once, she needed to find a way to exist with it. In this very cupboard, she’d learned that it would drown her if she didn’t let it in.
Martha began drumming her fingers against the wooden floorboards not five seconds later. ‘Your dad’s going to be fine. He’s in the best place possible.’
‘I know.’
‘The fair will turn out great. Every customer we had in the farm shop today was talking about it. They’re so excited.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh, and you almost sold out of the strawberry and chilli jam!’
‘Okay. I’ll make more tomorrow.’
Martha popped her lips listlessly. ‘How long is this going to go on for, Rae?’
‘What?’
‘The thing with my brother. How long are you going to make me feel bad for it?’
Rae frowned. ‘I’m not. I’m trying not to talk about him at all.’
