Chapter 12 Zoe Spring 2025 #2
‘You might still have children,’ Sara says. ‘You’re only, what, thirty-five. Plenty of time.’
Zoe shakes her head. ‘I don’t want children, really. And I’d need a partner first.’ She thinks back to Ben and swallows. ‘I thought one day that I might foster. There are so many kids in awful circumstances. And I could do that on my own.’
‘That would be an incredible thing to do,’ says Steph.
Steph gets it.
‘Did you never want kids, Fi?’ asks Sara.
Fiona widens her eyes and does a mock shudder. ‘God, no.’ She turns to Sara. ‘No offence to you, Sara, I’m sure being a mother is great. But it wasn’t for me. And I couldn’t be a mum and have the career that I have.’ There is a sadness about Fiona that Zoe hasn’t noticed before.
‘You don’t work, do you, Sara? I mean, outside the home. I’m not being offensive, I’m sure the kids are a lot of work.’
‘You’re not offending me, Zoe.’ Sara smiles at her.
‘I think because we’d tried for so long, I wanted to enjoy every second of it and was lucky that we could afford to live on just John’s salary.
So I gave up the job in the City when I went off on maternity leave with the twins.
’ She takes a deep breath. ‘It’s hard though, being a full-time mum.
You’re so busy all the time, but when you look back, you wonder what you’ve been doing all day.
John’s great but I’m sure he thinks I just sit around chatting.
It’s been good being here in some ways, because I’ve been away from the family and I feel we achieve a little something more every day.
When Katy goes to school, I’d like to go back to work, earn my own money. And do something with my brain.’
‘What do you think you’d do?’
‘It would be hard going back to what I used to do. I don’t think they’d accept me part-time and I couldn’t go back full-time – the hours in the City are crazy and I’d never see the girls.
So I might do something locally. Given how lucky John and I have been with money, I could do something to give back. ’ Sara’s eyes glisten.
Zoe reaches forward and clasps her hand.
‘That sounds great, I’m sure there are loads of things you could do in your local community.
Flexible hours to fit around the girls.’ Suddenly her irritation about Sara and her daughters melts away.
Now that she’s seen them at the funeral, she understands.
They’re part of her sister, literally flesh and blood.
Steph leans forward. ‘You’re a bit far from me, but you’re always welcome to help out at my shelter.’
‘Thanks, Steph, but it probably is a bit far away. And I love animals but I’m not as passionate about them as you. I was thinking maybe something with children. Training as a teaching assistant, or even just starting out as a volunteer in schools.’
‘That’s important work,’ says Zoe. ‘What about you, Steph?’
Steph turns to face her. ‘What about me?’
‘Are you happy at the rescue centre?’
Steph nods. ‘Yeah. I’ve worked there forever and then took it over when the previous people retired and I love it there. What we do makes a real difference to the animals. But also to the people who want to adopt a pet.’
‘Mum said you’d wanted to be a vet when you were a kid.’
Steph sighs. ‘Yes, when I was young I was desperate to be a vet. But I had some tricky times as a teenager, as you know.’ She swallows and looks away for a second.
‘By the time I’d got back on track, it was too late to go down that route.
And I’m not sure it would ever have been for me anyway.
But I’ve learned so much about animals from this work.
Obviously I’m no vet but I can treat them for most things.
And I’m happy. And that’s the main thing. It feels like you’re happy too?’
‘I am,’ says Zoe. ‘I loved working with XR and still miss the buzz. But helping to improve people’s lives every day with my consultancy work was a massive thing for me.
I never thought I’d go into politics, but I loved it.
And the net zero agenda is really important for me. I can’t wait to get back to it.’
‘So three of us are sorted and happy. What about you, Fiona? Do you like Singapore?’
Fiona tips her head on one side. ‘I do. I like the efficiency of it. The cleanliness. The fact that you can get any sort of food at any time. It’s a real East meets West place. I love our lives there . . .’ She trails off and looks away. ‘You should all come out and visit,’ she says quietly.
Zoe nods but doubts she’ll ever go.
‘And you, Zoe, now that Mum has gone, what are your other plans?’ asks Sara.
Zoe sighs. She’s started to realise over the past few days that she’s always felt a little inferior to her sisters. That they all left Highdown Hall and have lives, careers or families and she just stayed. She thought she was making a difference but has it been enough?
‘I feel that my career ended really, before it started. Mum’s illness came at the worst time. I’d just become a councillor on the town council, the consultancy was going well. And I had to stop everything. And then there was Ben . . .’
‘Ben?’ says Sara, her head on one side. ‘Who’s Ben?’
‘He was my boyfriend. More than my boyfriend, really. I thought we were going to be together forever. But when I had to move back into Highdown, it became really difficult to keep seeing each other. Mum was quite demanding . . .’ It feels disloyal to say that, but it is true.
‘You split up?’ says Sara.
Zoe nods. ‘Well, rather we argued and we both said some horrible things.’ She laughs. ‘I’m good at that. And I haven’t heard from him since.’
‘Not even when Mum died?’ says Sara, gaping at her.
‘Yes, he dropped me a note then,’ says Zoe. ‘But I was in such a state I didn’t reply. I thought I saw him at the funeral, but I’m not sure.’
‘Maybe it’s not completely over then,’ says Sara. ‘Maybe once we’ve all gone, you could pick up that thread of your life again.’
Zoe smiles slightly. Maybe Sara is right.
For the first time today it feels they’ve all actually talked. Not about the will, or what needs doing in the house, but about their lives and what they want from them and a little about Steph’s relationship with Mum. Maybe they are becoming a little less like strangers and more like family.
Milly
1989
There are moments of peace like this that make me wonder if I’m imagining everything else.
The girls’ three blonde heads bent over the kitchen table, all focused on their different tasks.
Steph drawing angles with her protractor, revising for her maths GCSE.
Fiona putting the finishing touches to her Tudors and Stuarts project.
And Sara practising her writing, which is already neater than the other two and she’s only five.
‘Mum, come and look at my b,’ Sara calls, beckoning me over. I give the sauce a quick stir and then inspect her notebook. The b is perfect, touching all edges of the square with the top going through into the square above.
‘That’s very good, darling. Very neat.’
I glance at Fiona’s history book. She’s drawn some kind of figure at the top and then there are lines of text underneath. ‘Would you like another piece of paper?’ I ask.
She looks up, her eyebrows drawn together. ‘No,’ she says. Then she tips her head to one side. ‘Why do you think Queen Elizabeth never married?’
Queen Elizabeth is married, to Prince Philip. But then I realise she means Elizabeth I. I try to think. I can’t remember studying anything from the Tudors apart from Henry VIII and his six wives.
‘She wanted to promote the cult of virginity.’ There’s something about the way Steph says it that makes it sound rude. I stare at her for a moment and she raises her eyebrows at me, before going back to her protractor.
‘What’s virginity?’ asks Sara.
Oh God, I really don’t want to go into this. The sauce is starting to stick, so I give it another stir and turn down the heat, before reaching into the Aga for the pasta dish.
‘Someone who hasn’t had sex,’ says Steph, without looking up.
Sara and Fiona start giggling and I turn away to avoid Steph’s look. I tip the packet of green tagliatelle into the pasta sauce before pouring it all into the dish.
‘Why would anyone want to have sex with a boy anyway?’ says Fiona. ‘Queen Elizabeth had the right idea.’
‘You’ll find out one day,’ says Steph in a knowing voice that makes me look up without meaning to.
She’s staring straight at me. I think back to the condoms in her drawer.
I hope she’s being careful if she is having sex.
But of course she’s having sex. That’s where she goes the nights she doesn’t come home.
To that man. To Patrick. I’m grating the cheese so hard I grate a piece of my finger, leaving a smear of blood on the grater.
It stings, but there’s also pleasure in it.
‘Ewww! I’m not having any of that, it’s got your finger in it,’ says Fiona.
I wash the blood away under the tap and then wrap my finger in a plaster. ‘It’s nothing,’ I say.
‘It’s not vegetarian now,’ says Fiona. ‘And Steph will only eat vegetarian food.’
I sigh and slide the dish into the Aga to cook. Hopefully they’ll have forgotten by supper time.
If we can just get Steph through these exams, then it’ll be the summer and then just two more years of sixth form and our job is done.
That feels like a long time right now. Just take it day by day, Emma said.
I wanted her to tell me that it was all going to be fine next week, but in some ways that advice was good.
Don’t think beyond this day and then the next and the next.
A bit like being an alcoholic. Just survive one day without alcohol or a major incident, then another day, then another.
Fiona snaps her book shut and pushes her chair back from the table. ‘I’m done,’ she says.
Sara copies her, closing her book with a flourish and following her out of the kitchen. Steph doesn’t move.
My heart starts beating faster. I check the food in the Aga and then walk as quickly as I can to the kitchen door.
‘Mum?’
Adrenalin streams through me. ‘Yes?’ I say as casually as I can, one hand on the doorknob.
‘Can you help me work out these semi-circle angles? I can’t seem to get it to add up properly.’
My hand is pulling on the doorknob, but part of me is back in the room, wanting to go to her, to sit with her and help in any way I can.
Although I failed O-level maths so I don’t think I’d be much help.
But I’ve realised that the only way to protect me – and therefore protect her – is never to be alone with her.
That the real violence only happens when we’re alone.
So if we’re not alone, I’ll be safe. And she’ll be safe from Paul.
There’s been no real incidents since she stabbed me and Paul has started to relax a little, realise that he may have been wrong.
‘I’m sorry, darling, I’m rubbish at maths, you know that.’
Her face seems to sag and I feel a stab of guilt. I should help her. She’s reaching out to me, I should help her. Even if I can’t really help, it’ll be a gesture, something. I turn back into the room.
‘Yeah, I forgot you’re stupid.’
It’s just words but I feel my eyes prick with tears.
I seem to be constantly on the edge of crying at the moment.
I’m on the back doorstep and then into the garden before I realise it.
Woody has followed and dances around joyfully welcoming this unexpected walk.
‘C’mon, lad,’ I say, scratching his ears as I push the tears back inside.
Is this really the only way? Am I to avoid being in the same room as my daughter on my own forever? It’s awful, awful. I love her with everything I have. But I hate her and am frightened of her at the same time. How can I be frightened of my own child?