Page 34 of A December to Remember
Simone shrugged. “Who the hell knows! I won’t be like that with my children, child... if I have any.”
“Maybe the sale of some of this crap will be enough for another round of IVF?” Maggie suggested.
“I’m not sure it would make any difference at this point.”Simone twiddled her wedding ring. “I’ve spent so long focusing on becoming a mother that I stopped being a good wife.”
“Evette knows how hard this must be for you,” said Star. “She’s lovely. Far too nice for you.” She poked out her tongue, and Simone smiled.
“Even Evette has her limits. Trust me, I have pushed all the way to hers and back again.”
“That’s why you’ve booked the cottage,” said Maggie.
“Yeah. Evette thought some time apart would do us good. And if it doesn’t, I guess I’ll be moving in with you, Maggie.”
Maggie laughed, but Star caught something behind it that she was too drunk to place.
“Or you could move in here with me.” She grinned. “Roomies ride again.”
“Absolutely not,” Simone deadpanned.
There was a lull in the conversation as each sister disappeared into her own thoughts. The shop had its own set of noises: creaking pipes, the tick of the newly wound cuckoo clock, a dripping tap in the kitchenette, and the gentle hiss of the heater. It was all so familiar; this whole shop was a time capsule in which they were comfortably cocooned from the outside world.
“I’ve missed you two,” Star said quietly. “Idomiss you.”
“I haven’t been anywhere but here,” said Maggie, a little defensively.
“But we’ve been distant, all of us have, emotionally I mean, as well as physically.”
“That’s true,” Maggie agreed.
“I’m afraid the company you keep has a lot to do with that, Star.” Simone raised her hands. “I’m not trying to start a fight, I’m simply stating a fact.”
That stung, but she let it pass. “I hear you, but I don’t accept that it’s the only reason.” Star kept her voice even. “We’ve been distant for years. I think it’s partly because we were only ever summer sisters, and outside of here our lives were poles apart. But we’re adults now, and I don’t believe that our different upbringings should make us irreconcilable. I’d like us to be, I don’t know, full-time sisters. You’re the only family I’ve got, apart from Perdita and, well, she’s... flaky at best.”
“I haven’t got any family other than you two and the kids,” agreed Maggie.
“You’re right. We shouldn’t take each other for granted,” Simone began, and for a moment Star wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “I adore Patrick and Verity and I’ve missed so much of their childhoods; I regret that. I haven’t been a very good aunty. I’d like to think that if I do ever become a mother, my children will at least know their aunties.”
“It is what it is.” Maggie shrugged. “Anyway, you always send birthday cards. Unlike Aunty Star...”
“I’m not good with dates,” Star protested. “But I always remember Christmas!”
“You’re not good at adulting—full stop.” Simone sneered.
“Ah, but you included me in the ‘aunties’ for your kids, so you must think I bring something to the party.”
“Of course,” she replied with her usual abruptness. “I’ll need to use you as an example of whatnotto become.”
Star felt the gibe like a gut punch and her breath caught.
“I’m kidding! Don’t give me those Bambi eyes. You’re family, of course I’ll want my children to know you. Even if I don’t always like you very much, I do still—well, obviously—of course I love you, stupid girl.”
Star was so relieved she burst into tears.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “You know, Simone, you really need to work on your interpersonal skills,” she chided. “You’re the only person I know who can make ‘I love you’ sound like ‘fuck you.’ ”
Star wiped her eyes and heaved herself up out of the chair. “For the record,” she said, sniffing, “I love you too.” She wandered unsteadily to the sideboard and disappeared down behind it, then reappeared holding aloft an unopened bottle of honey-infused Scotch whisky like it was the Olympic torch. “I found this earlier.” She grinned lopsidedly and waggled her eyebrows. “I don’t think Dad would mind.”
Her sisters clapped and whooped in response.
