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‘No. Claire…’ Carrie choked on the tears that suddenly welled up in her throat. ‘Claire… we were involved in a c-car crash. And Claire…’ She trailed off, unable to say the words.Claire died. And it was all my fault.
Carrie started to cry, unable to stop herself.
Gretchen sighed deeply, stood up, and enveloped Carrie in her be-cardiganed arms. ‘Oh, darling,’ she murmured, holding Carrie to her shoulder. ‘You poor girl.’
TEN
It was a while before Carrie could stop crying. Finally, she reached the hiccupping stage and was able to breathe a little more easily. She took some deep breaths. ‘I’m so sorry, Gretchen,’ she managed to gasp, her voice like a husk. ‘Claire was… it’s pretty recent, that’s all.’
‘And she was your sister,’ Gretchen finished for her. ‘You were close, I bet.’
‘Very.’ Carrie sniffed, and took the paper napkin Gretchen handed her. ‘Thanks.’
‘I was an only child myself, and I always wanted a sister,’ Gretchen mused. ‘Maybe that was why I didn’t think anything of being a single parent for my daughter. I was used to that kind of one-on-one attention, I must say, when my parents were around. Especially with my dear old dad.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I still miss him. Cantankerous old so-and-so, he was, but a heart of gold. He always supported my career, even when it meant leaving home. Mother didn’t want me to go to Edinburgh to live and work, but Dad said,The girl has an education – you might as well let her do something with it, Daphne.’ Gretchen imitated a deep, paternal voice.
‘Daphne was your mum?’ Carrie blew her nose in the napkin.
‘Yes, that’s right. She was more of the traditional Scottish stock. My dad had been in the air force, so he’d travelled the world by the time he met her. Daphne was born and bred here, in Loch Cameron.’
‘Why didn’t she want you to leave? If you had a good job offer, surely she would have seen it was a positive thing?’
‘She thought Edinburgh was a den of iniquity.’ Gretchen raised an eyebrow. ‘You have to remember that life was different then. She’d lived in a small village all her life. She didn’t approve of a daughter of hers going off to be around sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.’
‘And was it like that?’ Carrie asked.
‘No, of course not. I mean, yes, it was the sixties with all that entailed. But I was just a good Christian girl, living in a boarding house for unmarried women run by a very strict widow, Mrs Carstairs. We weren’t allowed gentleman callers, drinking or smoking indoors and she used to measure the length of our skirts before we left for work in the morning. With a tape measure.’ Gretchen met Carrie’s gaze with an indulgent smile.
‘That seems unnecessary,’ Carrie said, grateful to be distracted from the subject of Claire for a moment.
Grateful to be distracted from me? Charming,Claire’s voice said in her mind.
‘Yes, it was, but at the time I think she thought she was protecting us from the evils of the sexual revolution.’ Gretchen shrugged. ‘My mother wouldn’t let me go to Edinburgh unless I stayed with Mrs Carstairs when I got there. Some old connection of hers… I don’t know. Anyway, I went, I stayed there a couple of years and then I managed to move into a shared house with some other girls and I went on from there. No more skirt-measuring, and the seventies arrived. I spent those years working my way up into an editorial role. Very slowly, I might add.’
‘Did you always work in… publishing, was it?’ Carrie sipped her coffee, which had gone cold.
‘Yes. But, listen to me, gabbing on about me. Tell me about your sister. I remember her a little, but if I’m honest all I remember of the both of you is a couple of little redheads with plaits, running around in Maud’s garden, making daisy chains.’
‘Well, I was enjoying hearing about you,’ Carrie protested, but Gretchen waved her hand impatiently.
‘No. More important.’
‘I don’t know where to start.’ Carrie thought for a moment about Claire. How could she describe her to someone who had never known her? ‘She was… we were… very similar in a lot of ways, of course. She was only a year older than me. We had the same sense of humour, more or less. We had a lot of shared references, you know. I’d know what she was thinking a lot of the time. She could read me. She knew if I was lying or sad or uncomfortable.’ Carrie took a deep breath.
Gretchen nodded encouragingly. ‘Go on, dear.’
‘I kind of hated parties but she loved them. She was more outgoing than me. But she could tell if I was getting overwhelmed with people – that happens, sometimes – and she’d give me an out. She’d say something like, “Carrie, can you go out and get us some ice, we’ve run out,” or ask me to help her in the kitchen or something. She was caring, in a low-key way.’
‘And did she have a young man, or a young lady?’ Gretchen enquired.
‘Yeah.’ Carrie made a face and looked away. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’
‘Why not, dear?’
‘I just don’t. We… didn’t really get on.’
‘But she was happy with this person?’ Gretchen persisted. ‘Or not?’
‘They were happy,’ Carrie conceded. ‘I didn’t think he was good enough for her. It… came between us.’
