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“Istill can’t believe she apologised,” Sophia says incredulously.

Tom’s out but the pair of us are finishing off decorating his flat for Christmas. We went to get a tree on Sunday, and are now adorning it with the eclectic collection of baubles that Tom managed to find in a box and some that I liberated from my flat.

Tom and I meant to get a tree weeks ago… but kept forgetting. He’s now at a meeting for the charity we’ve both been working with, but I think he’s delaying his return to give Sophia and I space. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since I spoke to Mum. Sophia texted me that afternoon to say that she’d also been to talk to her, but she’s had even less time than I have to let everything sink in. It’s now Monday evening, but two days still doesn’t feel like enough time to untangle nearly thirty years of interactions.

“Yeah,” I nod. “It was interesting to hear though, had she ever mentioned any of that stuff to you before?”

I don’t imagine she has, but my younger sister can be much more perceptive than me. Maybe she picked something up in the subtext that I never did.

Sophia shakes her head with a slight frown. “Not that I can remember. How are you feeling about it?”

“I’m still working it out, but yeah, it gave me a new perspective.”

“Me too. But I’m still not sure what to do with that perspective.”

I give my sister a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to figure it out today.”

It’s strange discussing our mother like this, as though we’re archaeologists examining a newly discovered artefact. It feels like we’re trying to reconcile two versions of her at once, and it’s making my head spin.

Sophia pulls out a tangle of Christmas lights and the pair of us look at the knots. I probably should’ve stored them better last year. The detangling process takes several minutes and a lot of swear words.

Once we drape them over the tree we pause to admire our handiwork. Not bad. The flat’s definitely looking more festive than it did this morning.

Sophia sighs and rubs her forehead.

“You ok?” I look at her with concern.

“Yeah,” she smiles at me. But it’s the sort of smile someone gives when they mean I’m not alright but I’m being polite. “Just work. That on top of everything with Mum feels like a lot right now.”

I know Sophia doesn’t enjoy her job, she hasn’t for years, but she’s plugged along with it because of our parents. She gets paid well, has great job security and is good at what she does. So good that she’s been promoted multiple times in just a few years, but I know her heart isn’t in it. Sophia’s always wanted to pursue pure science rather than coding for the financial sector, but our parents persuaded her out of it, saying academia was too unstable. The conversation with Mum earlier casts that argument in a new light.

Though it doesn’t make the last few years any easier for my sister.

“Hey. Maybe now Mum’s being better with all this stuff you could finally look for jobs in research?”

“Those jobs don’t want me anyway.” Sophia gives a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve been out of the game for too long.”

“Don’t put yourself down.”

Sophia’s the smartest person I know. I hate seeing her unhappy like this.

She gives me a crooked smile, and I survey her closely. My sister looks tired. Her blue eyes have shadows beneath them, and she looks paler than usual, which is saying a lot because she’s very, very pale even in the middle of summer. I open my mouth to say something, but before I can she interrupts me.

“We’re meant to be celebrating your new design role.” She pulls her hand away from mine and looks around the flat. “Let me make you a cup of tea, or we can open a bottle of wine.”

“Cup of tea would be good.”

I put some more decorations on the tree as she turns on the kettle. Unlike my parents’ house, which always has a single colour of bauble, the decorations I’ve randomly collected over the years are a bunch of colours. Or things that seem unrelated to Christmas. There’s a joke Christmas airplane, Christmas nodding dog and a rubber duck.

Tom, it seems, has the same approach to decorations.

“How’s work?” Sophia asks as the kettle boils. “The conflict of interest stuff?”

“I spoke to Damien first thing on this morning. Apparently Mum had already beaten me to it, she’d emailed on Saturday afternoon. All I need to do is sign a form.” I bite my lip. “It’s not the first impression I wanted to give the new team, but it seems to have gone down alright.”

“Good.” Sophia brings around the cup of tea and then toasts me with her own. “To my amazing big sister, who has a job she actually wants and a boyfriend who worships her and will happily debate naval warfare with her over dinner.”

I feel heat creep up my neck. “I’m excited about the design role.”