Feeling less than gracious, I find some clean sheets and make the bed up for her. When I’ve done it, I look at my handiwork and am absolutely sure that she’d be happier in a hotel. The whistle on the kettle starts to blow so I smooth the duvet down and go to join her.
We sit by the warmth of the fire, nursing cups of tea. Edie has taken off the white coat again and has laid it across the only chair. Diggery is eyeing it as a possible cosy place to curl up. That would look great covered in dog hair. I’m sure Edie wouldn’t mind at all.
‘Come here, Digs.’ I pat my knee, trying to avoid disaster. Obligingly, he jumps onto my lap.
Edie grimaces.
‘He sleeps in your room,’ I tease.
‘He’d better bloody not.’
I think The Dreamcatcher is looking very pretty in its Christmas clothing. I’ve strung some fairy lights around the picture frames, along the top of the galley cupboards and outside in the well deck. The little tree that was in the loft has been squeezed into the corner of the sitting area. Some of my favourite old decorations grace its branches and I’m sure that Edie must recognise them from our childhood. If she does, she makes no comment.
I sigh. ‘What are you doing back, Edie?’
‘I told you. I thought it would be a nice surprise for me to be here for Christmas.’
I’m pretty sure that it’s not simply a desire to spend Christmas with her nearest and dearest that has driven her across the ocean. I’m her only relative, of course. Technically, a half-sister. And it’s fair to say that relations between us are somewhat strained. Perhaps she hopes this will smooth over the ripples.
‘What’s Brandon doing for Christmas?’ I also know full well that this will have a bearing on Edie’s decision to be here. Perhaps, as usual, he’ll be spending it within the bosom of his family. He has, in the past, flown them all to Mauritius or Bali or somewhere equally exotic for the holiday period, while declaring undying love for Edie and his reluctance to spend any more time than necessary with his wife. A likely story.
‘Brandon and I are going through a difficult time,’ she says tightly.
‘Oh.’ That pulls me up short. ‘You didn’t mention it.’
‘I don’t tell you everything, Fay,’ she snaps. ‘I find you very judgemental.’
‘Have you finally realised that he’s never going to leave his wife for you?’
She turns and regards me with cool eyes. ‘That’s exactly the sort of comment I can do without.’
‘I’m trying to be supportive, Edie. I’d love nothing more than for you to leave Brandon and move on. Then you’d have a chance of finding someone who’s free to love you.’
‘How very Mills and Boon,’ she says.
‘I mean it. Wouldn’t you like a partner who could be with you all the time? You could settle down, have children?’
‘Live on a knackered old boat?’
I don’t take the bait. ‘We love it on here,’ I tell her. ‘I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.’ The cold weather is testing us sorely. We’ve yet to try to get out of the ice to pump out the loo and we can’t last for much longer. That time will come even sooner with three of us on board. Oh joy. I haven’t even told Danny yet that we’ve got a lodger. At least it will only be for a few weeks until after Christmas.
‘I couldn’t live in close proximity with anyone,’ she announces.
‘Well, at least you have the money to buy yourself a nice place.’
Edie snorts. ‘It’s a fortune for a shoebox in New York.’
‘You could live somewhere else,’ I suggest. ‘Couldn’t you? Now you’re not so tied to Brandon.’
‘Oh, I’m still tied to him,’ Edie says, grimly. ‘In ways that you couldn’t begin to understand.’
And, though I try my level best to press her further, her lips are firmly sealed.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lija sleeps for the whole of the afternoon while Rainbow and I hold fort in the café. Despite our beautiful Christmas tree and all the lovely songs extolling the virtues of the season, I have lost my festive mood. I want to crash and bash things. I want to tell Andy Williams who’s crooning ‘The Most Wonderful Time of the Year’ that he really has no idea!
Thank goodness Rainbow, with her preternaturally cheerful disposition, is oblivious to my black humour.
I left Edie on the boat sorting out her stuff and huffing and puffing at the inadequacy of our living arrangements and treating me as if she was doing me a favour by staying on The Dreamcatcher. I tell you, I was a hair’s breadth away from ringing the nearest Premier Inn for her.
‘OMG!’ Rainbow says. ‘Did you see Celebrity Love Island last night? Did you? Did you? That Kelly thingy, the one with the blonde dreads that was going out with that bloke from the band. You know the one. She snogged the face of David Do-Dah who used to be in Holby City. Or do I mean Casualty?’
I have no idea. ‘We don’t have a television on the boat, Rainbow.’
‘OMG! No telly? How do you even manage?’
Even if we did have a telly, I still wouldn’t have a clue who these people are that Rainbow chatters on about. I like to think I’d be watching worthy documentaries on BBC Two and old films starring Gene Kelly.
Rainbow is still aghast. ‘What do you do all evening?’
I don’t tell her that Danny and I read together or talk long into the night or make love. As Rainbow would say, ‘TMI!’ Though quite how that will pan out now that Edie is sharing our small space is anyone’s guess.
‘My nan says that I’ll get SQUARE eyes from watching too much telly. Is that even possible? I’ve never seen anyone with square eyes and, like, LOADS of people watch telly now. LOADS.’
‘Do you ever read a book?’
‘Noooooooo!’ Rainbow says as if I’ve asked her if she’s planning to go to the moon sometime soon. I think I might add one to her Christmas present.
‘Whatsername from Geordie Shore’s written one,’ she says. ‘I bet it’s BRILLIANT. She’s a right laugh, she is. I LOVE her.’
That should be the one then. I make a mental note.
‘I’d LOVE to write a book. OMG! That would be AMAZEBALLS. Me, an AUTHOR. I could go on book tours and EVERYTHING. But I haven’t done anything to write about. My nan says that EVERYONE’S got a book in them. I don’t think I have. Though I could write a novel about mascara and EVERYTHING. I know about THAT.’
And on she goes. When I take Stan his tea, I’m feeling no better.
He’s downstairs now and happily pottering about, no longer poorly enough to be spending his days in bed. On the surface, it looks like business as usual. Yet if I catch a glimpse of him while he thinks I’m not watching, then he’s more frail, moves a little more slowly, is slightly unsteady on his feet. He lets me in and sits back down on his sofa, cosy in front of a roaring fire. He puts the film he’s watching on pause.
‘Do you want supper on your lap or at the table?’ I ask.
‘On my lap,’ he says with a grin. ‘I’m feeling rather decadent.’
‘And why not?’ I fix his meal in the tiny kitchen and carry it through to him. I take the lid off the little casserole pot and, as I put his tea tray down in front of him, say, ‘Irish stew and a bit of soda bread.’
‘Lovely.’ Stan’s eyes brighten. ‘My favourite.’
The stew’s been cooking all afternoon in the bottom of the oven and it smells mouth-wateringly good. I’ll be taking some back to the boat for our dinner too.
I sit down next to him while he tucks in. ‘We’ve got a visitor, Stan.’
He looks at me, quizzically.
‘Edie’s back.’
‘Ah. The return of the prodigal sister.’
‘Quite. I’m not exactly planning on killing a fatted calf to celebrate though. I’m struggling to try not to kill her.’
‘Still not forgiven her for all her misdemeanours?’
‘I guess not.’ A lifetime of small misdemeanours, culminating in one great big one, is takin
g some getting over – even for me who is generally considered one of life’s pushovers.
‘I hope she makes it up to you.’ He shakes his head. ‘Poor Edie. She’s a very misguided young lady.’
‘That’s one word for it,’ I agree. Then I sigh. ‘I want to love her, Stan, but she drives me bonkers. Now she’s inveigled her way into living on the boat with me.’ And I’ve still yet to tell Danny. ‘Lija’s refusing to have her in the house – and I can hardly blame her. How on earth will we cope?’
‘She could stay here, if I had the room.’
‘I wouldn’t inflict her on you, Stan. She’s a nightmare. You’d be on the sofa and she’d take your bed.’
He chuckles. ‘You said she’s been the same since she was a child.’
‘I know. There’ll never be any changing her.’
He pats my knee. ‘You got all the nice genes, Fay. Be glad of that.’
‘I just wish my sister wouldn’t take advantage of it.’
‘Don’t let her come between you and Danny,’ he warns. ‘She’s can be a troublemaker, that sister of yours. Keep a close eye on her.’
‘I intend to.’
‘I wish I could be of more help to you all. I’ll be glad when it’s spring again and I can come round to the café when I like and sit in the garden by the canal. I hate it that this cold weather is keeping me inside.’
‘It’ll be here before we know it. The baby too.’
‘How’s our lovely Lija doing?’ he asks. ‘I’ve been very worried about her.’
‘She’s fine,’ I tell him. ‘A bit traumatised. But they hope that the baby’s going to be all right. It’s looking OK, at the moment. Lija’s been told to rest and she actually went to bed when we got back and didn’t argue with me at all.’
‘Perhaps she’s growing up,’ Stan says. ‘She’s lucky that she’s got you to help her.’
‘The baby’s going to be a little girl,’ I confide.
‘How wonderful. Audrey and I would have loved to have a daughter.’ He wipes a tear from his eye.
‘I’m going to try to mollycoddle her so that she has a lovely pregnancy,’ I say. ‘If she’ll let me.’
‘Good luck with that one.’ Stan puts his knife and fork down, wipes his mouth.
‘Was that nice?’
‘Delicious,’ he says, appreciatively. ‘You do look after me well.’
I take his tray and then kiss his cheek.
‘I’d better be going. I’m hoping that Edie hasn’t sunk The Dreamcatcher in my absence. Or sold it.’ I wouldn’t put anything past her.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Danny comes home later. I hear the thump of his boots in the well deck before I see him and Diggery jumps down from the sofa to greet him. Edie, hogging the fire, turns to look what the noise is.
Danny’s in the cabin door before I can head him off and explain.
‘Hello,’ he says when he sees Edie. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’
For both of us, I want to add. I could also debate the word ‘pleasure’.
‘Here for Christmas,’ she says. ‘Sort of. Hope you don’t mind me squeezing into your love nest.’
‘No,’ Danny says and almost sounds convincing. He looks weary and I can’t help but wish that it was just the two of us.
‘Hello, love. Long day?’
‘Yeah.’ He looks all in. ‘I’d kiss you but I’m filthy.’
As Edie’s here, I don’t point out that I rather like the sound of a bit of filthy kissing. Instead, I ask, ‘Do you want a shower before supper?’
‘I need a good scrub down. I’ve been sanding crud off the bottom of a boat all day. I’m covered in paint, bitumen, weeds and probably duck poo.’
Edie wrinkles her nose. I don’t suppose Brandon ever got his hands dirty in his life. My blood might not yet be boiling, but it’s clearly at a slow simmer.
I borrowed a bottle of wine from Lija to smooth over the fact that Edie’s here, but my sister is already tucking into it and there might not be any left for us if she carries on at the rate she’s glugging it. ‘I’ve had some Irish stew on the go all afternoon. That’ll put a spring back in your step.’
‘A taste of the old country,’ he jokes. ‘Smells great. Give me ten minutes.’
I follow him through to our cabin and close the door behind us. We squash together in the tiny space next to the bed. Danny leans against the wall and raises his eyebrows.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’ve been meaning to text you all day, but I’ve had so much on.’
‘What on earth is she doing here?’
‘She turned up this morning. Completely out of the blue. I’d only just brought Lija home from the hospital.’
‘Lija’s OK?’
‘Yes. Weepy. Tired. But otherwise she and the baby are unharmed.’ I keep my fingers crossed as I say it.
‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘She won’t let Edie stay at the house and I don’t blame her. So it looks as if we’re stuck with her.’
Danny lets out a weary sigh.
‘I know. But she’s my sister.’
‘I can’t forget what she did to you. The woman is a complete nightmare.’
‘I know. I know. What can I do?’
‘You could tell her to sling her hook. Most normal people would.’
‘Do you want her to go? I’ll tell her if you do.’
Danny softens and pulls me into his arms. He smells of burnt paint and there are black specks of bitumen stuck all over his face. He is, indeed, utterly filthy and I couldn’t care less. All I need is to be in his arms and everything else in the world seems better.
‘It’s Christmas,’ I remind him. ‘Where would she go?’
‘A hotel?’
‘I’ve suggested that. She says that she wants to stay with us and have a family Christmas.’
He snorts. ‘And you believe her?’
Now it’s my turn to sigh. ‘I’d like to.’
‘She can stay until the new year,’ he says, firmly. ‘Then she has to find somewhere else. If she starts any messing about, then she’ll have me to answer to. I’m immune to her charms.’
I know that she can twist me round her little finger. She used to do it to Dad too. He’d be horrified if he could see some of the things she gets up to now.
‘We’ll make the best of it,’ he says. ‘She’s family.’
I kiss him. ‘You’re a lovely man.’ Then I leave him to his shower and go to wrest the bottle from my sister before she swigs the lot.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Dinner is a slightly strained affair. There’s not much room in the cabin and Edie is perched awkwardly on the only chair. Even the warm glow of the Christmas lights fail to thaw the frosty atmosphere.
I offer Edie some bread. ‘No carbs for me.’ She screws up her face as if I’m offering her neat poison.
Clearly, even in the depths of a British winter, Edie would prefer to be eating edamame bean salad or something. Well, if she wants that, then she’ll have to cook for herself. Danny is working at a hard, physical job and needs man-sized food.
After dinner, I wash up and, thankfully, Danny finds another bottle of wine in the depths of the cupboards – one I’d forgotten about. We share this one and, after a glass or two, I’m feeling distinctly more mellow.
The wine has loosened Edie’s tongue too. ‘I’m feeling so adrift,’ she says. ‘My life hasn’t really panned out as I’d expected.’
‘You’ve made bad choices,’ Danny says. ‘We all have. Now you need to sort yourself out.’
‘If only it were so easy.’ She tucks her knees under her and regards Danny through heavy-lidded eyes. If she starts flirting with him, I will, so help me God, kill her with my bare hands. ‘I don’t know what to do next.’
‘I do,’ I say. ‘The wine has all gone. It’s time we went to bed. Danny and I have both got a busy day ahead.’
‘While I have more time on my hands than I know what to do w
ith,’ Edie finishes, tartly.
Danny locks up the cabin for the night and instructs Diggery to stay in his bed.
‘I was thinking of Skyping some friends in New York,’ Edie says.
‘It’s late. Go to bed.’
She holds up her hands. ‘OK. OK. Your house. Your rules.’
‘Yes.’
She tuts as she unfolds herself off the sofa. ‘Night, night.’ Then the sulky look goes from her face and is replaced by Lost Little Girl. ‘Thank you both for having me. It really means a lot.’
‘You’re welcome.’ I hug her and when I feel how thin she is, my heart softens. The trouble with Edie is that it’s hard to stay mad at her for long. ‘You can use the bathroom first.’
Edie heads off to her cabin and when we’re by ourselves Danny says, ‘That was fun.’
‘Don’t. It’s going to be a tricky Christmas if it’s like this. I feel as if I’m walking on eggshells with her.’
A few moments later, Danny and I go to our cabin and I hear Edie moving about in her own room, muttering. She bumps into the wall a few times and the resulting curses turn the air blue. I sit on the bed, head in hands. I thought she would be in the bathroom by now, but no. It takes a good ten minutes more before she heads there.
‘She’ll be in there for ages,’ I complain.
‘Hmm,’ Danny says. ‘How on earth can we amuse ourselves while we wait?’ He slides a hand round my waist and lowers me to the bed.
‘We can’t,’ I whisper. ‘She’s in the next room. She’ll hear everything.’ The walls are like paper and any movement rocks the boat. ‘She’ll know.’
‘Then you’ll have to be very, very quiet.’ Before I can protest further, he strips off my clothes and his own, both stifling our giggles. His body is above me. ‘Lie very still,’ he breathes.