A Sister’s Gift

by Giselle Green

  But when we get back, before we even open the bottom gate, I know, I can tell from the sorrowful noise that Ruffles is making, that she’s gone. Her clothes are all still there, her toiletries, her jacket, all her things, everything except her shoes and her handbag but I know, deep in the surest part of me, that she’s already gone and this time my sister won’t be coming back.

  Scarlett

  I tighten my hold on my canvas handbag as a group of young South Americans surge past and through the airport doors, jostling me. Crap. One of them bumped into my bag on purpose there. I’m sure he did. I frown at his retreating back. Did he take anything?

  I’ve got to calm down. I’ve got all my money and papers and stuff here in my bag in front of me, where I can see it. Everything at Caracas International seems so frenetic today. It feels so much busier than I remember it. All the hustle and bustle that seemed so exciting the first time I got here – it just feels like too much today. I must be tired, that’s why. I’m worn out. I didn’t get much sleep on the flight over. There was a woman with her toddler who cried the entire time, I remember. Its high-pitched whine sawed into my nerves like an electric drill; I wondered why she didn’t throttle it.

  Then I looked at the woman and saw her dark hair falling forward over her face that was full of love and concern and she reminded me so much of Hollie I wanted to cry.

  I take a sip of water from my plastic bottle and immediately the unbearable pressure on my bladder reminds me that I need to visit the bathroom again. I’m turning into an incontinent old woman, I swear, and all for what?

  I didn’t want things to turn out this way. I’d do anything to take those words back. He’s hers, just like he was always meant to be and the funny thing is…I don’t even think I’m in love with him any more. I can’t explain it, but it’s as if the scales have dropped from my eyes. Like I was living some kind of illusion, only imagining that I wanted and desired him when all along I didn’t. Because now I’m away from Florence Cottage and the spell that place always casts over me, I can see I don’t really miss Rich. Not in that way.

  I’ve never understood Hollie, not really. Maybe that’s the problem. I’ve never felt that she understood me either.

  I rummage inside my canvas bag again to check everything’s still there – my money, my passport, my camera, my printout of the email from Eve that I received the day I left England. My fingers close over it, protectively. I already know what it says off by heart.

  Such excellent news! she’d written. Can’t wait to have you back here. Your pregnancy has cast a whole different light on so many things, as I’m sure you can imagine.

  Have so much to fill you in on, but will just leave you with the wonderful news that you’ve made the short list for the Klausmann Award. Congratulations!

  The news that Eve wasn’t upset about me coming back to Brazil unexpectedly pregnant has come as a huge relief. It’ll cast a whole different light, she says – but she doesn’t imply that it’ll make things impossible. We can work around it, maybe? I was worried she might say it would be a complete no-go. Because of the nature of the job, the dangers involved. I didn’t think about it when I was in England but ever since I knew I was returning, the possibility of that has been on my mind.

  But to hear that I’ve been shortlisted for the Klausmann Award after all that’s happened is nothing short of a bolt out of the blue.

  I’m thirsty again. Despite the fact that it’ll mean another trip to the loo, I’ve got to have a drink. The water in this bottle is warm already. Well, it would be. I’ve been standing out here for over an hour already. Eve’s late, she said she’d pick me up. Did she get the time wrong? I haven’t been able to call anyone. My mobile is still searching for a connection.

  Eve’s been fantastic though, I remind myself. Without her, at this moment I really don’t know what I’d be doing. She’s rallied round me and I mustn’t complain.

  ‘Get yourself on the next flight out of here,’ she said the minute I told her about my dilemma. That is, I told her about the pregnancy. I told her that Hollie had chucked me out. It didn’t seem appropriate to go into any more detail than that. ‘That’s…that’s wonderful news! And don’t you worry about a thing,’ she’d reassured me. ‘We’ll get it sorted.’ I’d been so relieved. Just knowing that I still had people who were prepared to stand by me meant the world just at that moment, more than she’ll ever know.

  Still, won’t be long now. Things are working out, that’s what matters. Eve has even sorted out the problem with the mysterious ‘allegations’, I know that much. She’d heard about them, she told me. But she doesn’t seem worried in the slightest. ‘You leave it all to me,’ she’d said, when I rang her last week. ‘I’ll speak to Gillian Defoe and let’s see if I can’t persuade her that this is all a storm in a teacup.’

  After all that time I spent worrying about it all, too! I should have just gotten in touch with Eve in the first place and explained it all. She’s a miracle worker, Eve. There’s nothing she can’t do.

  ‘Ha-lloooo!’

  I turn, hearing her voice at last.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ I’m dragged into an eau-de-cologne-drenched embrace. ‘No baby bump, yet?’ She pats my tummy fondly and looks me up and down as if I were a brood mare.

  ‘Not yet.’ She can’t imagine I’m actually pleased about this, can she? ‘It’s so good to be back,’ I breathe. ‘I’ve missed South America more than I ever missed England, that’s for sure. And there’s been so much going on here while I’ve been away…’ I watch her snatch up my luggage as if it held nothing more than tissue paper and manoeuvre both it and me towards the taxi stand.

  ‘It was really kind of you to come out to fetch me, Eve,’ I begin.

  ‘Coach isn’t till two p.m., lovey, so we’ve time for a drink and freshen-up first. Of course I came out to get you. I could hardly let you make the trek out to us all by yourself, could I? Especially now you’re carrying your little bundle of joy.’

  ‘I never had you down as someone who’d go dotty about kids,’ I smile.

  ‘Oh, not generally,’ she assures me. ‘But this kid is somewhat different, you’ll agree?’

  Because it’s mine? I smile at her, fondly. That’s the best thing about having great friends. They love everything you do and everything about you, just because you’re you. She’s probably thinking I’ll ask her to be godmother or something. Bugger it. Perhaps I should have explained a bit more over the phone?

  ‘So – how’s the new boss?’ I venture once we’re ensconced in the taxi. Eve knows a little place ten minutes’ drive away from here where the atmosphere will be quieter and calmer and she promises they’ll have something I can eat.

  ‘Ah.’ Eve pulls a face that leaves very little to my imagination. ‘Let’s just say she’s more of a tough cookie than I first took her to be. She’s made a lot more fuss over protocols and procedures than anyone I’ve known before. She’s a penpusher, frankly. I don’t believe she has a clue what she’s doing. But she wields a lot of power over our little outfit so at the moment we have to kowtow.’

  ‘I spoke to her,’ I remember now. ‘She rang me up a few weeks back. She told me not to come back till I could be certain that the job was secure and that she was looking into the allegations against me. Eve, what the hell was all that about, anyway? Who’d put in a complaint?’ I turn to look at my friend and colleague and she sobers up a bit.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she frowns slightly. ‘Gillian Defoe looked into that. Apparently there were some allegations of cheating put in against you by a fellow called Duncan…’ She searches for his second name and I feel myself tense. I already know full well who he is. ‘…Bright,’ she finishes. ‘Duncan Bright. But he never provided any proof. He emailed Gillian recently to say that someone else – close to you, but unnamed – would be providing the evidence to support his allegation, as he hadn’t been directly involved himself. That’s all I know.’

  So it’s not finished yet. Maybe he wasn
’t just making idle threats to Lucy when he said he’d get his own back on me, after all…

  But only Duncan and I ever knew about our plan to help me cheat and I pulled out of it before we ever went through with it. I asked Hol to send off my thesis. Not the one Duncan and I cooked up.

  I freeze, a horrid thought immobilising me for a moment. She didn’t send off Duncan’s by mistake, did she? If she did, that could come back to haunt me. Then an even worse thought occurs; the two of them couldn’t be colluding with each other to get their revenge on me? They’d both have reason to. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, recalling that day he turned up at Florence Cottage and Hollie had to get rid of him. She’d been really weird after he left, I remember now. They couldn’t have been plotting to…?

  No, no…I rack my brains but the answer, like a guardian angel to the rescue, is at hand – she handed me Duncan’s thesis back. I binned it. So she must have sent off my one. Besides, when Duncan came to the cottage, she didn’t know at that point that I’d betrayed her. It’s all such a tangle. I cheated on Hollie, yes, but I never did cheat with the thesis…

  ‘Don’t look so put out, m’dear. It’ll all be sorted, I’m sure. You’re in the ascendant at the moment anyway – the Klausmann, remember?’

  ‘I know,’ I breathe. Eve is right. It isn’t like me to get so het up. I’ll sail through it like I always do. ‘It’s amazing. I feel very chuffed about that. You know, when I first applied for this job, I’ll be open with you, I didn’t think I stood the first chance of getting it – not on the basis of the thesis I’d submitted.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ Eve smiles. ‘You’re too modest. It was judged to be an exceptional and original piece of work by the PlanetLove board, backed up by my testimony of your abilities and work here of course. Anyway, as for those mysterious “allegations,” Gillian is sure to pursue the matter till the bitter end.’ I flinch, but Eve continues brightly, ‘That’s good, don’t you see? Once you’re vindicated it will never be brought up again.’

  ‘I guess,’ I sigh half-heartedly.

  ‘Between you and me, she’s got one of her own people up for the award, and having your piece out of the running would have made things easier for them, no doubt,’ she mutters darkly. ‘D’you know, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she cooked the whole thing up herself.’

  ‘Oh, no, Eve. Surely not?’ I demur.

  ‘Well, never mind, she’ll have to drop it in the end. I won’t deny it will help us having a little bit of leverage over the situation.’ Eve leans forward and pats my stomach encouragingly.

  What’s the baby got to do with this?

  ‘I told her about your pregnancy, I hope that was OK?’

  Since when has Eve been so deferential to me? I restrain a frown. ‘She’s had to back-pedal a little since she learned about that. She was all for getting rid of you, that’s the truth. Frankly I suspect she’s got a few of her own people lined up to take over the PlanetLove jobs. She told me I could keep only one of mine – she’s made me sack Emoto, the bitch.’

  ‘So you kept me on instead of Emoto?’ That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? But I wanted to earn that place on merit, not because I’m expecting this baby – is this something to do with equal opportunities or somesuch? Is that what all this is about? I liked Emoto. In all fairness, he should be the one up for the Klausmann Award, not me.

  ‘You shouldn’t be forced to let him go,’ I say softly.

  ‘You bet I shouldn’t,’ she comes back fiercely. ‘Gillian liked him, too. She tried to insist I choose him and not you but I wouldn’t be moved. Still, it’ll all be worth it in the long run. If we can get rid of Ms Defoe and her lot, get our operation back under our own jurisdiction, I’ll get Emoto back onboard once we’re running our own show again.’

  ‘So…how’re you planning on going about that?’ I give her a look of frank admiration. I’m feeling pretty gratified by her show of loyalty to me, too. I think if I were in her shoes I’d have kept on Emoto instead of me. And especially when you consider the fact she knows I’m pregnant! It’s pretty amazing, really. On the other hand, Eve’s always been one to back a winner and I did miraculously get on that short list when Emoto didn’t.

  ‘How indeed?’ Eve laughs. ‘Until you came out and announced you were expecting the other day I had absolutely no idea. Now, of course, we’ll have the Chiquitin-Almeira board eating out of our hand – well, your hand – but I like to think you’ll be guided somewhat by me…’

  ‘Why on earth would they give two hoots?’ I blurt out.

  ‘My dear.’ Eve gives me an astonished smile, ‘These South Americans are mad about family, don’t you know that? Now you’re enceinte, you’ll be – well, in the inner circle, so to speak. Guillermo will no doubt insist on you two getting hitched and – if it isn’t out of order for me to say so – I’d love to be matron of honour. Just imagine the power and influence that’s going to result from this! Here, let me get the door for you.’ She jumps out as the taxi slides to a halt and rushes round to my side to open the door. ‘We don’t want you straining yourself, risking any damage to your precious cargo…’

  My precious…? I just look at her, open-mouthed.

  ‘Don’t look so astonished, my dear. You falling pregnant with Guillermo’s child is really the most extraordinary stroke of luck for us all. You’ll be able to work on him so eventually they take up our cause again, won’t you? We can give the Europeans the old heave-ho…’She pays the taxi driver and pushes me towards the doors of a plush and expensive-looking hotel where she’s going to stand me lunch. She probably imagines it’s going to be a worthwhile investment for her. She thinks I’m the cavalry, arrived with all the backup that’s going to save PlanetLove and our patch of forest because of course, if Guillermo were on board with it we wouldn’t have to worry about a paltry half a million quid to buy our patch of forest.

  I see now why she’s been so excited and delighted about the pregnancy. Why I’m suddenly the golden girl; why the ‘allegations’ that someone’s cooked up against me aren’t troubling her over much. Could this even be – my heart sinks – why I’ve suddenly been shortlisted for the Klausmann Award, over other contenders like Emoto who I know deserved it more?

  When she finds out this isn’t Guillermo’s baby she isn’t going to be so pleased though, is she?

  ‘Are you all right, my dear, is everything all right?’

  ‘No.’ I put my hand to my mouth as a rush of acid vomit rushes into my throat.

  I am going to be sick.

  Hollie

  Forgive her, Richard says. Again – I already forgave her once before. But what good does forgiveness ever do? ‘Are you OK, Scarlett?’ Eve’s eyes narrow and I can feel her impatience. The sick feeling has passed but I am far from being OK.

  ‘I straighten my back and lean the spade up against the trellis that supports Flo’s favourite old yellow dog-roses. There’s scarcely a bud on them this year and I have a sneaking suspicion I know the reason why. I pull off my gardening gloves and examine the fibrous stem that has patiently wound itself up the lattice work over the years, but the leaves seem somehow tired, sapped of energy. Then I look a little closer and I see that I’m right. The thin and persistent tendrils of bindweed are everywhere. The Choker, auntie Flo used to call it. The tubulous white bells it produces later in the years are pretty but deceptive. I spent ages last summer trying to get rid of this stuff.

  I drag at the intricately-entwined bindweed and follow the tortuous path back to its roots. The damn thing is everywhere. It’s invidious. It’s…it’s deep in the system of this garden. Way past the yellow dog-roses it’s in amongst the peony bushes too. It’s snarled up amongst the sweetpeas and the lupins and the jasmine. It’s bedded down in the woody stems of the Forsythia and in and out amongst the azaleas and no matter how much I pull it out I can’t seem to get to the bottom of it.

  The worst of it is, I have a growing sense that I may not even need to. Will we even st
ill be here, next year? If Rich has his way, we won’t. He has come back from Italy subdued, willing to forgive, but also with more of a sense of his own purpose. As if he’s fully realised the implications of following my dream so closely that he’s had no time to nurture his own. For the first time I’ve come to see that he really does want to move to Italy.

  It’s as if…my dream of having a family has been the only thing that’s bound him to this place – maybe I’ve been The Choker for everything he wanted to establish for himself? That isn’t a pretty thought.

  I wipe a trickle of sweat off my face. I’ve managed to pull out half the established garden along with the bindweed, I realise now. Still, no matter. The important shrubs and perennials will grow back. This thing needs to be dealt with.

  I hurl a huge bundle of etiolated weed stems through the air and into the pile that’s destined for the compost. I haven’t got the time for this gardening lark. Scarlett could have done it when she was here seeing as she supposedly loves it so much but I scarcely saw her lift a finger…

  I wish…I wish I could find some way to forgive her. Not for her sake, but for my own. To find some peace. If only there were some way, like the weeds – to dig out your bad feelings and put them into the bin for recycling…

  God, there are nettles in here too. I put my gardening gloves back on to protect my fingers. Forgiveness. I frown. You put all your resentment and your bitterness, like choking weeds, to one side. No matter what was done to you. No matter how bad it hurt. Or still hurts. You let it all go.

  But how? And how am I ever going to get to the end of this blasted bindweed? Shall I go to the end of my days dragging it out and untwisting it and fighting it just because I can’t figure where it all comes from? Damn it I’ll dig up the whole garden if I have to!