Chapter Fifteen
According to Gage’s personal weather forecasting system — his aching knee — it would start raining soon.
He made sure Evelyn’s precious book was safely wrapped in plastic before he stepped outside and locked the shop for the night.
The short walk up to her house would be good exercise for his knee.
He crossed the road and noticed someone had been busy.
The shop window display had plunged headlong into Christmas.
No doubt that was the plucky Chloe’s doing.
She cheerfully browbeat Vernon on a regular basis and used his tiny shop as a place to experiment with the modern business practices she was studying at uni.
Fairy lights twinkled around a veritable festive wonderland.
The chubby red Father Christmas in the middle was surrounded by slightly manic-eyed elves.
What Gage assumed to be a snowman naturally turned out to be a snowwoman, and she was surrounded by dancing candy canes.
Heaping piles of fake snow showed off boxes of mince pies, chocolates and the fancy tins of biscuits no self-respecting British family celebrated the season without.
Encouraging people to buy locally this early, before they started hauling things home from the supermarkets, was a smart move.
All this gave Gage a sharp nudge. Tamara was right.
He should get cracking himself on that score.
According to his independent bookseller group, this was the crucial time to maximise profits in the run-up to the new-year slump.
In January, no one had money to splurge on non-necessities, although he would personally argue books were crucial to life, and the weather was usually against casual shoppers.
He reached the little white bungalow and was about to ring the doorbell when he noticed the door was ajar. Raised voices drifted out.
‘You’re a liar!’ Evelyn yelled. ‘I know Sam wasn’t perfect but he would never—’
‘It was easier for you to put the blame on me than face the fact your precious husband . . .’ Ophelia’s sobs muffled the rest of her words.
Before Gage had a chance to turn around and creep away, Ophelia burst through the door. Automatically he shot out his hands to stop her barrelling into him. Over her shoulder he spotted Evelyn.
‘Oh, mon Dieu, I’m sorry.’ The mixture of French and English showed her confusion, and her wild eyes struggled to focus.
‘It’s fine. Is there anything I can do to help?’
Ophelia shook her head at Evelyn. ‘I hoped we might finally . . . but she won’t listen . . . it’s hopeless. I have to leave.’
‘I believe that will be for the best.’ There was ice in Evelyn’s voice and her blue eyes were equally cold.
‘I don’t know what’s kept you at odds for forty years, but I do know your time to sort it is running out. If you aren’t careful, you soon won’t have the chance to listen to each other’s side of the story and you’ll never know who was right.’
Evelyn scoffed. ‘I know compared to you we must seem ancient, but neither of us has one foot in the grave yet.’
‘I do,’ Ophelia whispered. Silent tears tracked down her face.
‘I should go.’ Gage shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.
‘No, stay. Please.’
‘I only came to return your book, Evelyn.’ He turned to his newly acquired friend. ‘It was wonderful and I’ll definitely read more of her work.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ She gave him a cool nod. ‘I don’t have a problem with you remaining if that’s what Ophelia wants. Why don’t you both go into the living room while I make tea?’ She nodded to her sister. ‘I assume you’d prefer coffee? If you trust me with your fancy machine, that is.’
He noticed Ophelia’s jaw tighten and was prepared for another caustic comment, but none came. She wandered off in the direction of the living room, shoulders slumped and every slow step a massive effort.
Gage followed behind and sat in the chair closest to the window.
He spotted a couple who’d been in the shop this week out walking their miniature white poodle.
They waved and smiled, so he did the same.
Running a business was far different from what he’d expected.
Harder in some ways because everything relied on him, but that same aspect made it incredibly satisfying.
After a career spent following orders and an agenda made by others, Gage revelled in the freedom to carve his own path.
It might prove an abject failure in time, but at least he’d only have himself to blame.
Ophelia nestled in the corner of the sofa furthest away from him and kept her eyes down.
‘Right, here we are.’ Evelyn bustled in with a loaded tray and set it down on the low wooden table before passing them each a cup and saucer. No mugs here. She considered them a sign of lowered standards. ‘Now, Ophelia, I want to know exactly what you meant by that dreadful thing.’
‘Dreadful? Really? That’s the nicest thing you’ve said since I arrived.’
‘I opened my home to you and put my life on hold. What more do you want?’ Evelyn bristled. ‘I wouldn’t leave you homeless, but it’s no good pretending we’re close and loving sisters, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’ Ophelia’s head drooped. ‘Gage saw it straight away, but you didn’t.’
‘Saw what?’ Evelyn’s attention switched to him. ‘Do I get an answer?’
‘Sure.’ Gage planted his hands on his knees and leaned forward. ‘I don’t know the details because Ophelia didn’t share them, but anyone with eyes can tell she’s seriously ill.’
‘Ill?’ Evelyn set down her cup and stared at her sister. ‘She’s terribly thin, but I never . . .’ She shook her head. ‘What is it?’ she croaked.
‘My lungs. Too many cigarettes. I didn’t listen to the warnings. But that’s me all over, isn’t it?’ The attempt to sound blasé might’ve worked if her eyes weren’t brimming with tears.
‘How long?’ Evelyn whispered.
‘Have I been sick or have left?’ Ophelia’s brittleness returned.
‘About a year ago, I could no longer ignore my persistent cough and tiredness, and the doctor confirmed what I already guessed. They don’t care to be too precise when it comes to handing out death sentences, but if I make it to next summer . . .’ Her voice faded.
Rain beat against the window now, darkening the room until they were all in shadowy profile. It pinpointed a strong likeness between the two women he hadn’t recognised before now.
Evelyn rose and sat by her sister, reaching for her hand. ‘I’m sorry.’ The faint smile she sent his way tugged at Gage. ‘Thank you. If you weren’t so—’
‘Nosy?’
‘I’d use the word astute. But I’m grateful.’
‘How about I leave you to talk now?’
‘You might as well hear the rest. Hadn’t he, Ophelia?
’ Evelyn murmured. ‘Your side and mine.’ Shoulders straight again, she patted her sister’s hand and sucked in a breath.
‘I was twenty-three and newly married. Dizzy with love, and excited about my first job at the school. Ophelia still lived at home with our parents, but she visited Sam and me a lot. It made me happy they got on so well.’ Her expression hardened.
‘One day I came home from work and saw her kissing Sam in the kitchen. Next thing, he pushed her away and shouted for her to leave him alone. He said it was sick, that he thought of her as a sister.’ A sob caught in her raspy throat.
‘She spun a story about Sam trying to force himself on her.’ She shook her head.
‘I do admit that later I discovered a different side to Sam, but at that time he was crazy about me, so—’
‘You chose to believe him.’ Regret laced Ophelia’s words.
‘He’d been making suggestions to me for weeks, every time he got me alone.
It’s why I never came to visit unless I knew you’d be there, but that day you were late.
He cornered me in the kitchen and started trying to kiss me.
When I tried to push him off, Sam smirked and said he’d spin the story so you’d believe I came on to him.
You were like a mum to me, Evelyn. Who explained what was happening when I got my period?
Whose shoulder did I cry on when Joe Wilson dumped me for that awful Blewett girl?
For sixteen years we were the closest of sisters, and you wouldn’t even hear what I had to say.
You told Mum and Dad that if they didn’t throw me out, you and Sam would leave the village and move away.
You even threatened if you had children, they’d never see me.
I saved them the anguish of deciding between us and I left. ’
Evelyn exhaled loudly with a shudder. ‘I’ve been so stupid.’ When she glanced back up, her eyes shimmered with tears. ‘Can you ever forgive me, or is it too late?’
Now he really did need to leave. Gage stood. ‘You’ll be okay now.’
Evelyn’s hand found Ophelia’s again. ‘We’ve a lot to talk about.’
‘We certainly do. For a start I want to hear more about Quinten and why you’ve been so terrible to the poor man.’
He slipped out, leaving them bickering companionably like normal sisters.
* * *
Acting was so not Tamara’s forte. Evelyn ambushed them all as soon as they arrived for book club and announced she had something to tell them.
It was sure to be about Ophelia, so she would have to act surprised.
She’d been absolutely shocked when Gage had told her everything that had happened when he’d visited Evelyn.
The sisters sat side by side on the sofa, and an eerily pale Ophelia listened silently as Evelyn calmly recited the whole story of their estrangement and her sister’s health troubles.
A collective gasp ran around the group before the sympathetic questions and offers of support started.
They weren’t women to hold grudges, so nobody held Ophelia’s previous haughty attitude against her now.