Page 50 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
“I’ve been here with Quinn,” she explained. “They do lovely cakes.”
She ordered them all a pot of tea and an iced bun while Anna and Rachel both seemed only to stare into space.
“Well, that’s that, then,” Harriet said finally, and she almost sounded relieved. “Five thousand pounds isn’t something to sneeze at.”
“Isn’t it?” Rachel returned dryly. “I know Dad wasn’t a millionaire, but a hundred acres of North Yorkshire moorland…the last time I looked, that would be valued at six or seven hundred thousand pounds, and that’s without the house. With the house it’s probably double.”
Harriet winced. “Well, even so…” she managed before she trailed off, shaking her head.
What really, Anna wondered, could there possibly be to say? Could any of them really understand why Peter had done what he’d done?
“Mum,” Rachel said, sounding confused but also a little bit accusing, “why didn’t you tell us about Daisy?”
“I should have,” Anna told her daughters, grimacing in apology. Why had she kept it from them—to protect them or herself, and the inevitable emotional fallout? “I know I should have. I thought about it, especially in the last few weeks…”
“How long have you known?” Harriet asked, and Anna sighed.
Before she could formulate an answer, Rachel figured it out. “That’s why you left, isn’t it?” she exclaimed softly. “You must have found out about Daisy then.”
Slowly Anna nodded. Thirteen years on, the memory was still painful, sharp enough to take her breath away. Time didn’t heal that.
“How?” Harriet asked. “Did…did Dadtellyou?”
“No,” Anna replied after a moment, taking a sip of tea to steady herself, knowing how much this would hurt them both. “At least, he didn’t mean to. It was just before Christmas, and a parcel came. It was addressed to him, but we’d had so many parcels coming for Christmas that I assumed it was one of the presents I’d ordered. I opened it—and saw it was a charm bracelet, with the letter D as one of the charms. Well, I knew it couldn’t be for one of you girls. And it couldn’t be for—for Ruth. At least, I didn’t think it could, although by that point I wanted it to be. I confronted him about it, and he admitted Daisy’s existence.”
Rachel let out a huff of hard laughter. “A charm bracelet? I don’t remember Dad ever buying me anything.”
“Me neither,” Harriet agreed quietly. Her expression was sombre as she stared down at her tea; Anna knew it would take a while for both of her daughters to adjust to this new reality. She wasstilladjusting to it, and it had been thirteen years.
“So, did he have a relationship with her?” Rachel asked. “I mean, he must have, to buy a bracelet like that.”
Anna’s heart ached, because she heard the child’s question underneath the practical one—did he love her more than us? “I don’t know about a relationship,” she answered carefully, “but when he was visiting Ruth, he was visiting Daisy, too.” She sighed. “I know that much.”
Another silence, this one feeling heavy. “Why didn’t you tell us before?” Harriet asked. “When you were talking about why you left?” She frowned. “If there hadn’t been this thing with the will, would you have ever told us?”
“I…” Anna stared at them helplessly. “I didn’t tell you for a long time because I didn’t want to hurt you. And, really, it didn’t feel like my news to share. I hoped your father might tell you, in time, but he never did.”
“Well, he told us in his will,” Harriet chimed in, unable to keep from sounding bitter. “Thanks a lot, Dad.”
“I’m so sorry…” Anna began, but Harriet shook her head.
“Mum, we don’t blame you.” She sighed. “I don’t even want to blame Dad, at this point. I just wish things had been different.”
“Do you think there’s anything in the letter he wrote you?” Rachel asked. “About the will and why he did it the way he did?” She clearly wanted Anna to open the letter right there and then, but she was reluctant to, in the busyness of a touristy tea shop, with her daughters craning their necks to catch a glimpse of what their father had written to her. Whatever it was, it had to be personal.
“Maybe,” she replied. “I’ll open it later, in private, and I’ll tell you if there’s anything relevant, of course.”
Rachel sighed, deflated. “Fair enough.” She slumped against the back of her seat, shaking her head slowly. “We have ahalf-sister. I can’t even get my head around that.”
“A half-sister who has our house,” Harriet filled in. She paused, trying to organise her thoughts. “I know I keep saying it isn’t about the money, but it sort of is, at least a little. I mean, we were Dad’s daughters as much as this Daisy was. If he wanted to be fair, why not split it evenly between us all? I would have accepted that, absolutely.”
Anna shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you why.”
“You must have known a little bit about what was going on in his head, Mum,” Rachel pressed. “You were married to him for twenty years, after all.”
“Oh, Rachel.” Anna let out a broken laugh. “I wish. I don’t think I ever truly understood your father. I let myself believe things about him that I’m just not sure were true, simply because I wanted them to be. I do think he loved you both, in his own way, but how much affection he was actually capable of…” She sighed. “He grew up in a family that didn’t deal in emotions, pure and simple. A Yorkshire farming family from the 1950s… Well, you can imagine.”
“We don’t need to imagine,” Harriet broke in. “We lived it.”
