Sunrise at Butterfly Cove

by Sarah Bennett

  The more he undermined her, the more useless Kiki felt, and the last shreds of her confidence deserted her. Whilst Mia could understand and rationalise how things had ended up so bad, it was time to put a stop to it now that the children were starting to be affected by Neil’s behaviour. She would not allow history to continue repeating itself and she was damned if she would let Kiki be the victim any longer.

  ‘So I assume Neil has issued an edict on the food for tonight. Do you have everything we need or do I need to make a shopping list?’ Mia kept her voice brisk. There was too much to get sorted out so she would not press Kiki too hard for the minute.

  Kiki didn’t speak, just continued to stare into her tea and Mia scrubbed at her hair to give her hands something to do other than reach across the table and shake her sister until she rattled. ‘Kiki!’ Her sister flinched so hard she spilled her tea across her hand and Mia grabbed a cloth to mop it up. ‘What’s wrong with you, darling? You’re like a zombie. I need you to focus for me, just for a little while. Can you do that? Can you help me so that I can help you?’

  Mia held her sister’s face and forced her to meet her gaze, the naked pain she saw there was heartbreaking but she pressed on. ‘I need you with me, Kiki Dee. Okay?’

  Her sister raised her hands to cover Mia’s and she nodded slightly. ‘Okay. Sorry, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ Perhaps if she said it enough times she might even begin to believe it. ‘I’ve got everything we need for the meal tonight. It’s all in Dad’s fridge already. I have a key so I was going to go over there this morning and prepare everything.’

  Mia held her sigh of relief in as Kiki started to sound a little more with it and they reviewed the menu for the dinner party. Nothing too difficult or controversial, thank goodness. After a few protestations from Kiki, Mia persuaded her to go back to bed and sleep for a few hours whilst she would go to their parents’ house and get everything ready.

  She would also make time to call into the hospital and see their mother in the hope she would be a little more present. She accompanied her sister upstairs to make sure she had an outfit selected for that evening and laid out the clothes on Matty’s bed. She wanted to give Kiki every chance to rest and gather herself together as it would be a difficult evening with her husband watching for any opportunity to pick fault.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mia had already decided she would stay and serve the meal. It wouldn’t be much fun, but Kiki could focus on being a guest and not panic about the hosting. If anything went wrong then Neil could blame Mia, if he damn-well dared.

  She pulled the hire car into the driveway and sat for a moment, staring at the familiar red-brick structure. The woodwork and garage had been painted since she was last there and they were now a bright white. The garden was immaculate but lacking in any kind of personality. Neatly weeded flower beds nestled on either side of a dark and light striped lawn. It looked like Centre Court at Wimbledon and Mia was filled with longing for the wild, untamed sprawl of the gardens of Butterfly Cove.

  Her hands ached and she looked down to see her knuckles had turned white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Forcing her fingers to uncurl, she grabbed her bag and burst from the car in a sudden fit of motion. Sitting and dwelling would only give the ghosts of her past the chance to rise and haunt her. Keep moving. Keep active. That was the motto; that was the mantra that would get her through.

  She wiped her feet on the external mat as she turned the key in the well-oiled lock. She wiped them again on the inside mat before toeing them off and placing them neatly against the skirting board. The ingrained habit gnawed at her belly and the devil on her shoulder wanted her to stomp through the flower beds and traipse dirt along the length of the beige hallway. The devil on her shoulder was a childish little shit sometimes and she would not give in to his suggestions.

  The walls were the same off-white as before, bare except for a few impersonal generic prints that were available at any department store. Nothing that reflected the personality of the inhabitants, or perhaps the blankness was a perfect reflection. No family photos rioted across the walls as they did in Bill and Pat’s home, no stray coats or scarves lurked, escapees of the under-stairs cupboard. A place for everything and everything in its place. The strictures of her childhood came back full force.

  With a little nod to the devil, Mia flung her coat over the bannister and dropped her bag untidily at the foot of the stairs. A minor rebellion, but one she could not resist. She drew in a breath and absorbed the scents of her past—furniture polish, a faint trace of her mother’s perfume and the slight musty trace of the books lining the walls of her father’s study. The door to the study stood ajar and Mia paused on the threshold. Her hand rested on the door as she contemplated pushing it wider and entering the inner sanctum that had always been off limits.

  A noise behind her startled a shriek and Mia spun towards the front door, embarrassment flushing her face as a couple of envelopes hit the mat. Raising a shaky hand to her thudding heart, Mia shook off her nerves and pressed on down the hall towards the kitchen. Keep moving. Keep active.

  She hadn’t expected it to be quiet this difficult, but the disappointing memories were nothing she couldn’t handle after the horrors she’d faced in her adult years. She busied herself with preparations for that evening and resolutely ignored the whispers of the past as they swirled around the kitchen, trying to find a way into her head.

  She took a break to visit her mother and wondered why she bothered as it was pretty much a replay of the previous day, only the nurse was different. Did her dad understand how far gone Vivian was? Her vague behaviour had to be from more than just shock from the accident.

  Sitting next to the bed, she wondered what she was hoping to get from the encounter. She’d stared at her mother, traced the red lines on her face; observed her once beautiful nails now bitten to the quick. An explanation? An apology? An acknowledgement of past failures maybe? Whatever she was looking for, it hadn’t been forthcoming as Vivian had proved as self-obsessed as ever. Mia checked her watch and wondered how much longer she needed to sit there and listen to a replay of Vivian—the early years.

  She called Kiki from the hospital car park, to check in on her and make sure that she was okay getting ready for the party and was reassured by the steadiness of her sister’s voice. A few hours’ sleep had worked wonders and a soak in the bath had added its powers of restoration also. Satisfied that she was not needed for the moment, Mia returned to her parents’ house to finalise the preparations for dinner.

  A large, black saloon car squatted in the driveway and Mia felt her stomach lurch. Her dad had come home early. With a sigh and a silent, if likely futile, prayer for patience Mia parked her shiny red hire car behind his and approached the front door. She reached for the key in her pocket before changing her mind and knocking briskly. His familiar silhouette appeared in the distorted glass pane of the door a moment before it swung open and her father contemplated her in astonishment. ‘What are you doing here, Eunomia?’

  Mia took a moment to study him. He had aged in the past few years; the once ramrod straight spine was softening into a noticeable stoop and his always neatly trimmed hair was pure silver now. The woodsy scent of his aftershave was the same, as was the uniform—crisply pleated dark trousers, striped, collared shirt and a plain cardigan with drooping pockets where he habitually stored his daily paraphernalia of handkerchief, glasses case and notebook.

  ‘I came because Kiki needed me so I’ll be the one catering for this evening. I can’t believe you let Neil talk you into hosting the party, especially after we talked about it.’ She knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but seeing both her mother and sister in such a piteous state had Mia spitting mad. She shouldered past him and marched towards the back of the house.

  George trailed after her, seemingly bewildered by her presence and attitude and he stood just inside the kitchen door, watching as she rinsed her hands under the tap and rolled up her sleeves. She headed ove
r to the fridge and drew out the beef, which had been marinating for the past couple of hours. Mia paused as she glanced over at him before sliding the meat back onto the shelf and closing the fridge door. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the cold, white metal and contemplated George. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m just surprised to see you here. Neil told me Dikê was happy to help. What was I supposed to do?’ He at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

  ‘Neil is a bully and Kiki wouldn’t say no to anything he said—you know that.’ She watched the slight flinch around her dad’s eyes. Yes, he knew, or at least suspected how things lay between his daughter and son-in-law. Thoughts of the ugliness reminded her what her mother had said the previous day.

  ‘I’ve been to see Mother. I think we need to look at how you’re going to care for her when they release her. I couldn’t make head or tail of half the things she said. She even told me at one point that you pushed her down the stairs.’

  He deflated before her eyes, as though her words had stolen all the breath from his body. George stood there gasping like some bony fish hauled out on the deck. His reaction stunned her; she’d expected a flat denial, proof her mother’s broken mind had conjured it up.

  Mia unfolded her arms and took a purposeful step forward. George seemed to shrink back under her approach and she pressed forward again. ‘Did you push Vivian down the stairs and break her leg, Dad?’

  ‘Wh…what are you saying?’ Shock drained the colour from his face and Mia reached out to catch him, fearing he would collapse. She pulled out a chair and George dropped like a stone onto the seat. His hands dangled between his spread knees as he hung his head forward, refusing to look at Mia. She crouched down beside him, hemming him in with one arm against the table and the other braced against the chair back.

  ‘I’m saying I saw Mother yesterday, and she told me you pushed her. So, let me ask you again, did you do it?’

  George raised his face and the haunted look in his eyes made her want to vomit. She hadn’t given any real credence to her mother’s accusation, but the guilt on his face was unmistakable. She pushed to her feet and turned away, heading for the hall to grab her coat and bag. Her father sobbed loudly, the sound like a rusty hinge giving way under strain and she spun back to face him. His face was buried in his hands and his whole frame shook as he barked and gasped.

  ‘You should speak to the police, Dad. It would be better if the call came from you, rather than me.’ Mia’s throat closed and she strained to get the next words out. ‘Why did you stay with her? After all these years, both of you so unhappy? I don’t understand it. Why didn’t you get some help before things got so bad?’

  George raised his tear-stained face sharply and then shook his head as if in denial. ‘You don’t understand…’

  ‘You pushed her. She’s in hospital. What’s to understand?’

  ‘Not this time,’ he whispered. Mia walked back into the kitchen and pulled out a chair to sit before him. She watched quietly as George gathered himself together somewhat, wiping his face on the handkerchief from his pocket. He toyed with the piece of material, folding and refolding the white square.

  ‘I didn’t have anything to do with it this time. She was drunk and she stumbled on the stairs. I think her slipper came off and she tripped. I was in the study when I heard this terrible thudding noise and there she was at the bottom. There was blood and it looked just like before, but then I realised that she had cut her hand on the glass she was holding as she fell…’ The words hung there like rotten fruit on the bough. This time…like before…

  ‘When did you have anything to do with her falling?’ Mia kept her voice soft and even, pushing her rising horror deep down. She needed to get to the bottom of the story even though she was afraid that it would destroy them all in the process.

  ‘You were six, I think. It was the day after your party. You had a new dress, yellow as the sun, and ribbons in your hair. I remember it streaming behind you as you spun around in the garden until you were dizzy. You always had such beautiful hair, Eunomia. Why did you cut it?’ George reached out his hand as though to stroke her head and Mia jerked back in her seat.

  He sighed and dropped his hand into his lap. He began to smooth and fold the handkerchief again. ‘I came home from work the next day and you were in here, making sandwiches for your sisters. Eirênê was crying, and Dikê was holding her in her lap. There was rubbish everywhere, all the leftovers from your party, and there you were, still in your uniform from school. When I asked where your mother was you told me she had a headache and was lying down. I knew what you meant: she was drunk again and I was so angry. She’d promised me she would try harder, that she would stop drinking for the baby.’

  ‘Baby? Nee was hardly a baby then. If I was six, she must have been two,’ Mia interjected.

  Her father shook his head. ‘Not Eirênê. Vivian was pregnant again; we wanted a boy. I wanted a boy is probably closer to the truth of it. When I went upstairs, she wouldn’t put the bottle down. She’d run a bath of scalding hot water and downed most of a bottle of gin. I think she was trying to get rid of it. We fought, and she slapped me, so I pushed her away and she fell…she fell. My poor boy was lost.’ George’s voice trailed off as the sobs hit him again and Mia wrapped her arms tightly around herself, afraid she would splinter and fall apart. How had they not known about this? How could their parents have kept such a terrible secret for all these years?

  Mia tried to remember the party her father had mentioned, but the memories wouldn’t come. The trouble was having spent so long actively avoiding the past, the few good memories were lost to her. She was sure there had been some better days, days when her parents had cared about them, but they were hidden behind the same walls as all the bad times. Mia was sure her father had never cried for any of the girls the way he was mourning this boy child who had never lived.

  Could that be the reason he had turned away from them all? Withdrawn into his world of books and research and left three little girls to struggle alone? The noise of his desperate sobs was starting to grate on Mia’s nerves. How dare he feel so much for a child he had never met when he had all but thrown away the three that he’d had? She moved away from the table, frightened by the sudden wash of anger in her veins.

  She needed to be away from George in that moment; if she lashed out, she would never forgive herself. Mia grabbed up her bag and dug around for her phone, which seemed to be determined to hide from her in the cavernous depths. In frustration, she tipped the bag upside down and dumped the contents on the hall carpet, her phone nestling cheekily on the top of the pile of tissues, receipts, notebook, make-up and other detritus, which most women accumulate over time.

  Taking a seat at the bottom of the stairs, she scrolled through until she found Kiki’s number. Mia had to grab her wrist with her other hand to hold the phone still enough against her ear that she could hear when her sister answered. ‘Is Neil there?’ Mia croaked and then cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Kiki Dee, is Neil there? Dad’s not well so we need to call the party off. I’m hoping that Neil knows who else is on the guest list. Can you ask him to do a bit of a ring around?’

  Mia could hear her sister talking to her husband, although her hand was clearly muffling the speaker. Mia winced as she heard the tone of Neil’s voice change, rising sharply and angrily before he was suddenly there ranting in her ear. ‘What’s the problem, Mia? George was fine when I saw him an hour ago at work. This dinner is important. What the bloody hell have you done? I knew you’d sabotage everything. You just can’t let it go, can you? I bloody told Kiki not to drag you up here—you always interfere and cause problems. Marching in here, taking my kids like it’s anything to do with you. No wonder your sister’s so fucking useless with you taking over all the time.’

  On and on and on he raved, and Mia could imagine him in her mind’s eye. Face red, mean little eyes squinting in his fury, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth. She hel
d the handset away from her ear until the words were no longer clear and waited for him to run out of steam.

  The diatribe ran its course eventually and when there was silence, Mia put the phone back against her mouth and spoke very quietly. ‘Fuck you, Neil.’ She clicked the phone off and shoved it back into her bag. Kneeling on the floor, she gathered the rest of her stuff and threw it all in after the phone, leaving only her car keys. The sobs from the kitchen had quietened during the call and Mia turned to look at her father still sitting at the table.

  He looked broken, a shell of the man who had always loomed so large in her life. Mia opened her mouth and then closed it abruptly. She had no words for him. Gathering her coat, she tugged it on before tucking her feet into her shoes by the front door. She paused once more at the door to look back. George remained frozen in place. Much as she longed to walk away and pretend the past half an hour had never happened, she couldn’t do it. Too much the fixer, the solver of problems, the soother of hurts.

  ‘Damn it.’ Mia dropped her stuff by the door and hurried back into the kitchen. She crouched down beside George and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’ll be all right, Dad. We’ll sort this out somehow.’ She had no idea how though.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Daniel leaned against the side of the car and watched anxiously as the few passengers straggled out of the station and towards the car park. There was no sign of Mia and he began to wonder whether he’d got the time wrong when she finally came into view, towing her small case behind her. She looked pale and hollow-eyed—too much like the sad woman he had first met.