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Insecurity, Flora thought. It fitted with some of the things Clare had said when they’d been gardening together. “See that’s why you’ll be a good journalist.” She slotted a slice of cheese into her bread. “You’re finding the story beneath the facts. You’re asking the question why. Why did your mother feel she had to wear a long dress to a picnic? Do you have pictures? You could write it up and add pictures. Then if Molly wants to see it when she’s older, she can.”
Izzy wiped her fingers on her shorts. “Tell me a story about your mom. Not a what story, but a why story.”
Flora thought about it. “One day when I came home from school she blindfolded me and made me identify flowers just by the scent.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding. I smelled what felt like a hundred flowers.”
Izzy grinned. “You sneezed and ended up in the emergency department?”
“Almost. And she was so creative. She decorated our apartment with things she found lying around on the beach. Shells. Pieces of driftwood. Our table was made from crates, but she sanded them and painted them and it looked like a work of art.” Flora finished her food and licked her fingers. “That was delicious.”
“Yeah, it was. I wish I’d stolen some cake.”
“I can help with that.” Flora reached into her backpack again and Izzy stared at her.
“You brought cake?”
“You probably don’t want it, because bringing you my lemon cupcakes definitely falls under the heading of people-pleasing.”
“If you’ve brought cake, I’ll forgive you.” Izzy almost drooled as Flora pulled the packet out of her drenched backpack.
“They might not be entirely dry.”
“I don’t care what state they’re in. I’m eating them. Your lemon cupcakes are the best things I’ve ever tasted.”
While she digested the cake, Flora digested the fact that Izzy had just paid her a compliment. And made a joke about people-pleasing.
“I think you should talk to your dad. Tell him how you feel.”
“About what?” Izzy ate a second lemon cupcake, and a third.
“About leaving home. About not feeling loved or needed. He’d probably want to know what’s going on in your head.”
“He definitely wouldn’t.”
“Why not? Why can’t you talk to your dad?”
“Loads of reasons, but mostly because I don’t want to worry him or be a burden.”
Flora felt a crushing weight on her chest. “Izzy, you’re his daughter.”
The atmosphere changed in an instant.
“See that’s the thing—” Izzy scrunched up the remains of the picnic and stuffed it into her bag. “I’m not actually his daughter. Not his biological daughter. You already knew that, right?”
Flora forced the words out of her numb brain. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” She could see Izzy wondering why. Flora was asking herself that, too. She’d thought their relationship had reached a whole new level. She’d shared secrets with him she’d never shared with another person. She’d felt close to him, intimate in a way that wasn’t just about the physical. She’d assumed he was the same. Apparently not. And this wasn’t just about her feelings. How was she supposed to understand and support his family if he failed to pass on crucial pieces of information? “He probably didn’t want to invade your privacy.”
Flora knew this had big implications for her, but she also knew that right now her priority had to be Izzy. She was obviously feeling terrible and the reasons for her insecurity were now becoming clear.
Izzy shrugged. “It’s not a big secret. I’ve always known. Mom was pregnant with me when she met him. He married her anyway. He took me on. And we were a family, yes, but then my mom—” She broke off and stared out across the lake. “Well my mom isn’t here anymore. And he’s probably wondering when I’m going to leave and get out of his hair. You heard him. He wants me in college. And I don’t blame him. I’m not really his responsibility. I suppose in a way I never was. And now he wants me to make my own life. So I guess that’s what I’m going to do.”
Flora felt slightly sick. Sick for Izzy that she would feel that way, and also sick for herself.
