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“I thought you were here to boss Dad around,” Harriet replied with some of her former spirit. “It’s nothing to do with me.”
“That’s not true.” Rachel tried to keep the hurt from her voice. “I came home because of Dad, it’s true, but I stayed…” She stopped, because suddenly she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue. How could she explain the complicated tangle of feelings that had brought her back home, especially when she doubted them herself?
“You stayed…?” Harriet prompted, with more than a touch of sarcasm, and Rachel suddenly decided to be honest,totallyhonest. Why not? What, really, did she have to lose, when it came to her relationship with her sister? A depressing thought, perhaps, but unfortunately a true one. The closeness they’d once had as children was sadly long gone.
“I stayed because it felt like the right thing to do,” Rachel stated before adding matter-of-factly, “And because I thought that if I did, maybe you’d stop blaming me for everything.”
“What!” Harriet’s jaw dropped as her eyes blazed righteous indignation. “Wow, thanks. Thanksa lot.”
Rachel suppressed a short sigh. All right, maybe she shouldn’t have beenthathonest. She wasn’t even sure she meant it, anyway. Not entirely, at least. “Do you think we could stop fighting,” she asked, “for just a few minutes?”
Harriet let out a hard laugh. “You ask that after telling me I blame you for everything? How could I, when you’re not even here ninety-nine per cent of the time?”
“I’d say it’s more like ninety-five,” Rachel replied rather flippantly, and was rewarded with the very tiniest quirk of a smile. Beneath her prickles, her sister had a soft heart. She had, Rachel realised, always known that, really. It was just they’d both built layers of armour to protect themselves, and it was hard to peel them back.
“More like ninety-six,” Harriet returned, just as flippantly. “Or really, ninety-six and a half.”
Rachel gave a sudden burst of laughter, like a bubble escaping her. She shook her head slowly as Harriet smiled, her expression almost, strangely shy. “Harriet,” Rachel asked, “why were you crying?”
Harriet looked away. “I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.” Rachel kept her voice gentle; she realised then just how much she wanted to know. How much she wanted tohelp. “Your eyes are red, and your face was blotchy. It’s not now,” she added quickly, before Harriet could fly at her, although for once her sister did not look as if she were working herself into something of a rage. “But you were crying, Harriet. You have to admit it. Won’t you tell me why?”
Harriet hesitated, nibbling her lip, and then she let out a long, weary sigh. “I don’t even know,” she said, and while it felt like at least part of the truth, it also sounded like an excuse.
“You must know at least a little,” Rachel said, and her sister shrugged, the movement seeming restless.
“The Old Bakery doesn’t want my bread. I suppose that’s what kicked it off.”
“They don’t? But it’s so delicious.” Rachel tried for a smile. “I should know.”
Harriet let out a tired laugh as she acknowledged Rachel’s quip. “Yeah, well, they decided it was easier to make their own. Then they don’t have to worry about whether my bread is compliant with all the hygiene regs and stuff like that. Or so they told me. It’s not that big a deal, I suppose, but I was really hoping for a proper, ongoing contract. Not just these parties and events and things like that, where I think people are really just doing me a favour.”
“A favour? What do you mean?”
“Sometimes I think everyone in Mathering feels sorry for me,” Harriet stated bluntly. She looked up to give Rachel a direct, bleak look. There was no accusation in it, no condemnation or judgement. She was just stating fact, one that thudded through Rachel because she’d never thought that way before…and yet why shouldn’t she have?She’dpitied her sister, more or less, for staying in Mathering.
“Why would they feel sorry for you?” she asked now.
“Because I’ve never got my act together, have I?” Harriet tried for another laugh but this time she didn’t manage it. “Kicking around here since school, never had a proper job or a decent boyfriend. Everyone looks at me and thinks ‘loser’. And this isn’t a pity party,” she said, with something of her old fire. “Idon’t think I’m a loser. I’m just saying that’s how it is.”
Slowly, her mind reeling from this information, Rachel eased herself down into a chair at the kitchen table. Harriet folded her arms, looking mutinous. She probably regretted saying so much, but Rachel wanted to get to the bottom of it, if she could.
“You’re hardly the first person to stay in Mathering,” she pointed out after a moment. “Far from it. Most people do. I’ve always felt the odd one out for leaving.”
Harriet shrugged. “But I was going to leave, too, wasn’t I? Just like you did.”
“Whydidyou stay here, Harriet?” she asked. It was a question, she realised, she’d never actually asked before, maybe because she hadn’t wanted to know the answer. “You had uni offers. You could have gone, like you were going to.”
“Actually, I couldn’t have.” Harriet glanced away. “I didn’t take my A levels.”
“What?” Rachel stared at her in blank incomprehension. “What do you mean you didn’t take your A levels?”
Harriet glanced back at her, smiling a little although her arms were still folded, her jaw set. “Exactly that. I didn’t take them.”
“But…” Rachel shook her head slowly. “How did I not know this?”
“You were busy at university, and then that internship in London. You didn’t come back home all spring, when I would have had my exams.”
