Page 83 of Outlier
“You want to help muck out?” I asked with no small amount of curiosity.
Claire loved horses, but whilst I was more into the caretaking aspects, she tended to just ride them, and even then, only when they were groomed and tacked up and ready for her.
I didn’t ride horses. The two week stints I spent at Buckingham Manor over those summers were too brief to learn properly, and then with the few lessons that were offered to me, I’d always been too scared about the lack of control. I preferred to keep my feet on the ground. The last thing a horse needed was me having a meltdown on its back.
She shrugged. “Don’t look so shocked. I can muck out a stall. Plus, it’s good exercise.”
“Oh, okay,” I agreed, handing her a spare fork.
We worked alongside one another for a few minutes before she spoke again.
“I know you have Lottie to help you read people and situations,” she said, and I nodded. “But I think you’re a better judge of character than you realise. You were right about Blake.”
I shrugged again. “I am observant about physical changes and patterns of behaviour. That was how I knew Blake had an alcohol problem. He was also very mean to me. People like Blake are particularly mean to people like me––people they consider vulnerable.”
“Vicky, why didn’t you ever tell me how mean he was?” Claire asked.
“You were not receptive to my opinions on your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” she said firmly.
“Ex-husband,” I repeated. “Any attempts to impart my misgivings regarding Blake to you were firmly rebuffed.”
There was silence for a moment, during which Claire stood very still with her rake in her hand, staring out of the stall door. “Bloody hell, you’re right,” she muttered. “I’m a shit sister. Aren’t I?”
I frowned. “Claire, I’m only your half-sis–”
“Don’t say it!” Claire snapped, and I flinched. “Sorry, Vicky.” Her voice was softer now. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but please don’t say anymore bollocks about only being my half-anything. I was a total dick when I said all that as a shitty teen. I’m your sister. End of.”
“Er… okay,” I replied, not quite sure what to make of this new, full-sister-wanting Claire.
Now, mucking out a stable is hard work. After the second trip to the manure pile, I was boiling. So, without thinking, I took my jumper off, leaving my arms exposed.
“Oh my God, Vicky!” Claire said in a shocked voice. I knew what she was seeing. It was the same thing that made Mike’s jaw go tight and his eyes flash.
“Your arms. Are those all from that man at the wedding?”
“Um… well, some of them are from Mum,” I said with a shrug.
Claire sucked in another shocked breath.
“What?”
“The ones on my upper arm here are from Mum. She grabbed me after the ceremony. The ones on my wrists and lower arms are from Darrell.”
“Yourmotherdid that?”
“Well, some of it.”
“Ollie says that…” Claire trailed off before she swallowed and squared her shoulders. “He says that your mum hurt you when you were a kid.”
I shrugged. “I annoyed Mum and Rebecca. I wasn’t an easy child. You must remember? I annoyed you too.”
Claire’s face was very pale now as she stared at me. “I didn’t know that…” She took a step towards me but then stopped and rubbed her hands down her face before crossing her arms. “Listen, Vicky, I was a real bitch to you back when we were kids, and I?—”
“You weren’t a bitch to me,” I said, my forehead creasing in confusion.
Claire sighed. “Vicky, I think you have a pretty low bar for what constitutes someone being a bitch. I ignored you. I-I-I’ve always ignored you.”
