Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
‘This is nice. A necklace with their initials, and the date of the wedding. What d’you think?’ Heather pointed at a photo in the wedding magazine spread out in front of them both, on the Formica-topped table of the caravan.
‘That’s sweet. But how much will anyone wear a necklace with the date of your wedding on it?
Just a question.’ Sorrel peered at the other bridesmaid gift suggestions.
‘What about these nice personalised scented candles? Or look at this. Personalised travel jewellery boxes. They’re super cute.
Good for Violet. She’s always travelling. ’
‘That’s a nice idea. Maybe I could get them all something different.
I like these insulated cups, too. I could put the date of the wedding on the outside.
’ Heather made a note on her notepad with a matching pen, both of which featured cartoon owls.
Sorrel smiled to herself: she’d forgotten how much Heather loved owls.
In fact, Heather loved all animals. She often said animals were nicer than humans.
Sorrel was inclined to agree.
‘Have you spoken to Violet about all of this?’ she asked.
She knew that things were strained between Heather and her twin: Bluebell had mentioned it in her last email.
Sorrel didn’t quite know what was going on between them, but for twins, they were, on the surface, quite different.
Heather was a homebody; Violet travelled the world.
Heather liked vintage chic; Violet was ultra-modern.
Heather had always wanted to get married and have a family; Violet couldn’t stand the thought of being tied down.
Yet they were both exactly as stubborn as each other – and, as tough as Violet liked to appear on the outside, everyone knew that she was just as sensitive as Heather.
‘Not much. She’s hard to get hold of, and when I did talk to her, she was pretty unimpressed.’ Heather sighed. ‘She told me that I was being stupid. That it will end in divorce and that I’m better off building my career and “living my best life” that way.’
‘That’s Violet’s life. Not yours,’ Sorrel said. ‘She can be a little tunnel-visioned, I guess.’
‘Yeah. Well,’ Heather looked up, biting the end of her pen, ‘she’s agreed to be a bridesmaid, anyway.’
Sorrel grinned. ‘That’s good. Are you going to make her wear a chintzy meringue?’
‘No. It’s quite a tasteful evening dress, in a sage green. Um… Sorrel… This is awkward. Everyone is being a bridesmaid. But I didn’t ask you because you weren’t here. Now I feel bad about it.’
‘Heather. You don’t need to feel bad. That’s on me, not you.’ Sorrel focused on the magazine in front of them to avoid making eye contact with her sister. ‘I missed a lot. And I’m sorry for that.’
‘I’d love you to be a bridesmaid, if you wanted to,’ Heather said, shyly. Her long blonde hair was braided into a careful plait that lay over her shoulder; she picked it up and played with the end absentmindedly. ‘If you think you’ll be here.’
‘Honestly? I don’t know what my plans are right now.
Everything’s up in the air. I don’t know what’s happening with the business or where I live officially right now, or anything.
My goal is just to make sure the Inn can be fixed.
I want to help all of our family… I need to help.
Sort of to make up for being gone for so long,’ Sorrel said, slowly.
‘Now I’m here, I don’t want to lose you again.
Or Bluebell, or Violet, or any of you. But even if I’m not living here – yes, I’d love to be a bridesmaid at your wedding. ’
‘Ooh! I’m so pleased!’ Heather hugged her sister fiercely. ‘I’m so happy! Now, the wedding will be perfect!’
‘Is it too late? To organise a dress and whatever else?’ Sorrel chuckled, extricating herself from the hug.
‘No. I can organise everything. I just need your measurements.’ Heather squealed in excitement. ‘Oh, Sorrel. I’m so happy. You don’t know.’
‘I think I do. But thank you, Heather. It’s really nice to be asked.’ Sorrel felt warm inside; it was good to be home, but it was also complicated. Yet Heather’s including her in her wedding made Sorrel feel as though there was hope – maybe things could go back to the way they had once been.
‘Of course! Why wouldn’t I ask you? You’re my big sister.
’ Heather shook her head. ‘You left such a huge hole in our family when you left. You were our rock. You were the one who was always there when Mum and Dad weren’t.
And there were a lot of times they weren’t, when we were kids.
You and I know that.’ Heather looked thoughtful.
‘They don’t think we remember, but we do.
When Mum had her off days and Dad was looking after her. They pretty much just left us to it.’
‘Yeah. I didn’t know if you remembered that. When we talked about it at the castle café, you were pretty vague.’ Sorrel cocked her head to one side and regarded Heather.
‘I remember. I just didn’t want to go into it with Blue there.’ Heather looked evasive. ‘I was trying to protect her, I suppose. She was angry with you that day. She still is, a little, but I can feel that it’s abated a bit. You talked?’
‘A bit. She felt guilty about me going away. She thought it was her fault, if you can believe that.’ Sorrel sighed. ‘I feel terrible. The poor thing.’
‘Blue has always taken the weight of the world on her little shoulders.’ Heather nodded.
‘You know, with Mum and Dad… Neither of them ever told us what was going on. I can look back now and realise that she had depressive periods. Maybe even postpartum depression, I don’t know.
She definitely had times when she couldn’t stand for us to be around.
And she very much put you in charge. I wondered if that was why you left.
Or something to do with it.’ Heather drew a doodle in the margin of her notepad.
‘Kind of. Part of it.’
‘You need to tell us all what went on,’ Heather said. ‘I told you, in the café. You might as well get it off your chest once and for all, in one go.’
‘How am I meant to tell you all in one go?’ Sorrel felt wrong-footed.
Blossom ran a farm with her partner, Tom, about four hours’ drive away on the mainland, and Primrose was a teacher in Edinburgh. Violet, a beauty journalist, was away somewhere abroad. They were hardly going to all pop around to the caravan at a moment’s notice.
‘I can set up a group video chat, and we can do it that way,’ Heather said. ‘We’ve done it before. When I wanted to tell everyone about the wedding, and when Mum and Dad had to tell us about the Inn falling apart. We’ve got it down to a fine art now.’
Which you’d know, if you’d been a part of the family for the last ten years, was the implied message under her sister’s words, but Heather was too nice to say it.
‘Fine. Do it.’ Sorrel knew she couldn’t hold out any longer. It was unfair to everyone; she’d seen the anxiety her disappearance had caused Bluebell; goodness knows how the rest of them felt about it.
‘You’re sure?’ Heather asked, warily.
‘I’m sure. Circle the wagons.’
Now, she had to think about how she was going to tell everyone her secret. The secret that she’d held on to for so long that it felt as though it had meshed with her bones: a part of her, as vital as the blood in her veins.
‘When?’
‘As soon as everyone can make it.’