27. Vicky has no idea
Vicky has no idea
Vicky
“Vicky?” Claire’s soft voice sounded from the end of the yard, and I turned to face her as she walked towards me. “Er… hey, do you need a hand? Florrie’s off at Hetty’s with Legolas, so I’m free to help muck out.”
I’d come here to stroke the horses’ velvety noses and see if Tony, the yard manager, would let me take some work off his hands. Tony had been the yard manager at Buckingham Manor for decades. He was a quiet, stoic man, more at peace with animals than humans.
As a child, I’d loved that, finding someone almost as silent as me, someone who didn’t ask relentless questions.
Tony was a man of action rather than words. When I’d arrived today, he handed me a wheelbarrow and a fork and nodded towards one of the stables.
I’d done one stall and was moving onto Margot’s horse, Bertie.
“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.”
“Your mother did 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.”
“Well, ignoring me isn’t being a bitch. You never hurt me.”
“But I did, didn’t I? I hurt your feelings.”
I blinked as I turned to Bertie who was tied up next to his stable.
He nuzzled my face, and I stroked his velvety nose in return.
I thought back to arriving at Buckingham Manor when I was six, how imposing the building and grounds were, how scared I was when Mum shoved me out of the car and drove off, how frustrated everyone seemed that I wouldn’t speak, how embarrassed I was that first night when I sat for the family meal, but there was nothing on my plate that I could eat.
Ollie hadn’t returned from boarding school at that point, so it had just been me, Claire and Margot sitting at the table.
I’d never met anyone as posh or as glamorous as either of them.
Even fourteen-year-old Claire looked like something out of a magazine.
I’d snuck out of my room that night, unable to sleep as I was so hungry, but stopped on the stairs when I overheard Claire shouting.
“Why do we have to put up with Dad’s attention-seeking little bastard?
It’s weird, Mum. How am I going to explain her to my friends?
Oh yeah sorry guys, this is just my illegitimate little sister.
My dad not only likes to shag around, but he also expects us to take care of the consequences for him. ”
“I’m not any happier than you, believe me,” snapped Margot. “But I’m sure she’ll stay out of your way. It won’t affect your summer too much, darling.”
“She had better stay out of my way.”
I’d scampered back up the stairs then, too worried about being caught to risk going to the kitchen to find something I might be able to eat. After that, I made a concerted effort to stay out of Claire’s way.
By the time Ollie came home, I’d perfected the art of staying out of everyone’s way.
But one morning after he’d been home for a week, when I hadn’t eaten any breakfast, yet again, he took me to the kitchen and pulled out nearly everything in the fridge and cupboards, then held up each item, one at a time, until I nodded.
And okay, he didn’t make my breakfast himself, he was a future duke after all, but he did instruct the cook to do it.
Then, one day, he even sought me out in my room, saying, “Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding,” and took me out with him to the stables. So, not everyone ignored me completely, but Claire certainly had as much as possible.
Then as the years passed, and after Dad died, I sensed the open animosity from Claire lessen. The birth of her daughter, Florrie, definitely helped play a part in this, as even when she was a baby, Florrie always gravitated to me at the family functions I was invited to.
I found Florries’s unexpected devotion to me incredibly special—she was one of the first humans to give me a spontaneous hug.
But despite her daughter’s likely misguided affection for me, Claire maintained her distance.
Florrie’s dad was never really in the picture, and then Claire married Blake, which didn’t help my relationship with her at all.
I absolutely hated Blake. He was the first one to start the ice princess nickname, and he always smelt of stale alcohol. I have a very overdeveloped sense of smell, and that man made me want to gag if he was within five feet of me. Luckily, he was out of the picture now.
I sighed. “It’s fine, I was invading your space here. Invading your home.”
Claire scoffed. “You were hardly invading anything, Vicky. I barely saw you. Listen, I had no idea what your family was like at home. But even before all this happened and everything came out, I was feeling terrible. I know I’ve been a bad sister to you, but?—”
“Half-sister,” I corrected automatically.
Claire sighed, and I heard her feet on the cobbles as she came nearer.
“ Sister , Vicky, remember?” she said softly. “You’re my sister. My daughter calls you her auntie. You’re family.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say to that.
“I should have done this a long time ago but… can I hug you? I know there’s a certain way you like to be hugged. Ollie practised it with me, so that I would get it right.”
“You practised hugging me?” I turned to her. My chest felt tight, and my throat was burning now.
When I looked at Claire, there were tears in her eyes.
“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to fuck up my first hug with my sister.
” There were two beats of silence as I stared into her tear-filled eyes.
Then on instinct, I launched forward into her arms. “Oh, okay,” she said, surprised, as she hugged me back tightly.
“Well, that was easier than I thought.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you forgive me, darling?”
I pulled away and stepped back to frown at her. “There’s nothing to forgive, Claire. You weren’t cruel or mean to me.”
“Yes, I was,” she said fiercely. “You just think that if someone’s not hurling insults at you or hurting you, that’s a win.
You’ve been taught to have low expectations of people.
And I’m a big part of the problem, but I’m going to do better.
I promise. Look, I came down to fetch you.
We’re going to play croquet, and that man of yours is looking grumpy that you’re not up at the house. ”
“Mike’s here?” I smiled.