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By Root 1766 0

Oh – and what about these? I took a box from the cupboard under the basin. Candles, a present from Caro last Christmas: one of many boxes of candles in that cupboard, actually. I was bemused that so many of my girl friends gave me them as gifts, but they obviously used them. When? I'd asked once. Oh, in the bath, with all the lights out. Oh. Right. Why? Well, to relax. Ah. It seemed a bit cheesy to me: something Mum might do. But presumably Caro did it too, since she'd given them to me, although I couldn't imagine her having time for anything more than a quick rub-down in the shower with Lifebuoy and a Brillo pad. While the bath ran, I dithered: should I have another crack at Anna? No. Just leave her, Evie. Give her some space. I lit the candles. Golly. Just lighting them was soothing. Perhaps there was something in this.

I padded back into the bedroom for the radio and fiddled around for some soft music. I would be soothed. The bath was well back from the French window and the evening sun so lovely I left the curtains open. Lit some more candles, and hummed along with James Blunt telling me I was beautiful, then turned him up a bit, so that what with his crooning and the roar of the taps, I didn't hear Anna come in.

‘Oh! Darling.’ I swung round from lighting candle number twenty. She looked around the flickering room, surprised. Her face was pale; tear-stained.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Just trying to relax. Get some karma. Like you always tell me.’ I came across, cranking up an anxious smile.

‘Oh. Right.’ She put the loo lid down and sat on it heavily. ‘I'm not going to meet her,’ she said in a cracked, defiant voice to the carpet.

‘You don't have to, darling.’ I swooped to hug her, but she quickly turned a rigid shoulder to me. I perched on the edge of the bath.

‘There's no reason why I have to. No one can make me.’

‘No one's going to make you,’ I soothed.

‘Then why did he bloody well tell me?’ she cried, looking up. Her eyes were bright, anguished. My heart lurched for her.

‘Because you had to know, my sweet. We all had to know.’

‘Why?’

‘Because – well, it's a fundamental truth, that's why. He couldn't keep it from you.’

She stared at me, her chin wobbling ever so slightly.

‘It's gross. The whole thing is just gross. And I mean – what will my friends say? If I suddenly produce this – this sister, called Stacey, from nowhere? Who talks differently to me, looks different to me, all crop tops and piercings.’ She was conveniently forgetting she'd wanted her ears done. ‘What do I say?’ she wailed, which was what I wanted to do: wail. But she was fourteen, and could. ‘What will everyone think? It's so embarrassing – oh, this is my father's lovechild. I can't bear it!’

‘That won't happen,’ I said quickly. ‘You don't have to meet her, introduce her to your friends.’

‘But if she's coming here to see Dad, it's as if she's saying –’ her blue eyes were wide, expressive – ‘come on, d'you dare? D'you dare meet me?’

I caught my breath, wishing she wasn't so succinctly putting into words my fears.

‘Are you going to meet her?’ she demanded.

‘No!’ I yelped.

‘Daddy said you might.’

‘Did he?’ I quaked. ‘No. No, definitely not.’ I blew with the wind these days. Changed my mind hourly. ‘God, what is she to me? Nothing!’ I blurted.

‘Well, she's your husband's child. But for me it's even worse – she's a half-sister!’ Her eyes were tragic; badly in need of reassurance. ‘A blood relative!’

‘Who you've never known about up until now, so there's no reason why, just because she chooses this moment to enter our lives, we have to respond.’

‘No.’ She nodded, liking this. But not entirely convinced. She hunched forward on the loo seat; clasped her hands tight. ‘I just feel so jealous,’ she whispered, ‘even though I've never met her,’ she gazed down at the carpet, ‘that he's got someone else.’

I swallowed. Couldn't speak.

She looked up. ‘It must be awful for you, Mum,’ she quavered. ‘You were engaged.’

Ah. Right. Warts and all. And I could see she thought this a terrible betrayal. And yet, frankly, if it hadn't been for the circumstances,