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By Root 1434 0

Britney Spears. Mark had always been vaguely scared of her, even when she was a young child. As a teenager, she was positively terrifying. Hannah hadn’t had the chance to be a horrible adolescent. She’d been going through all that stuff while Barbara was ill. Barbara had made it to the first period, training bra stuff, thank God. Bethany had apparently jumped right over training bra into full-on vamp, with breasts that were hard to ignore. If Hannah had wanted to strop and throw fits, and argue and rebel, she’d suppressed it very well. There’d been one or two, during, and not much since. Until just lately. She certainly wasn’t Pollyanna. But it sounded like nothing compared with the ordeal Bethany was putting Vince and Sophie through.

He felt huge relief; talking to Vince about what had happened had helped already. He’d never mentioned the Jennifer stuff to him. What she’d told him that night. He didn’t ever want anyone else to know. It was bad enough there was now this situation with Amanda and Lisa and her. What a bloody mess. He wished Barbara had let the secret die with her. He just didn’t see that anything good could come from Amanda knowing the truth. Certainly none had so far.

But this was different. This was his present, not the past.

“So—are you going to see her again?”

“I’ll have to—I left a sodding shirt there.” Vince sniggered. “Shut up! And anyway, the girls are at school together. We’re bound to run into each other from time to time.”

He’d been avoiding her, of course. It wasn’t that difficult. He hadn’t made the call about the shirt yet. And she hadn’t chased him. He’d seen her car, at school, the day before. They’d both been picking up late. He’d been slightly ashamed of himself for driving past without stopping, and parking in the next street. He hadn’t seen her, so maybe she hadn’t seen him. Still, it was cowardly. Like he said, they’d be bound to see each other—best to get the initial awkwardness over and done with.

“I don’t mean that. I mean are you going out again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Listen—if you like the woman, if she makes you feel good, what the hell’s wrong with it?”

“It feels disloyal.”

“That’s bollocks, mate, and you know it. I’m sorry, but it is. And that’s not Sophie talking—that’s all me. You can’t stay at home on your own forever. You can’t expect Hannah to be your surrogate wife. She’ll be gone before you know it.”

“I don’t treat her that way!” He was indignant.

“You don’t think you do, but you do. Look—it’s great that you two are so close, but she’s got to have her own life. God knows the poor kid had a tough enough ride when Barbara was alive. You don’t want her sitting at home with you for the next three years, do you, keeping you company? You shouldn’t want that for either of you. You’ve got to have your own life, too, Mark. You’ve got to get up from this at some point.”

“I have a life.”

“A life of mourning.”

“There’s no right or wrong time to stop mourning.” Mark felt cornered, ambushed. His tone was harsher than he’d expected it to be.

“No, there isn’t. And don’t get mad at me. I’m trying to talk to you. Of course there isn’t. Christ knows I’d be lost without Sophie. I’d rather cut my right arm off. We both know how much you loved Barbara, how much you miss her. Maybe you aren’t ready. Maybe you won’t be ready for another year, two years. I don’t know—I’m not an expert at this stuff. And that’s fair enough. But, this rubbish about being disloyal is just that—bloody rubbish. You don’t need me to tell you what Barbara would have to say about that, do you?”

“No.”

“So, all I’m saying to you is, don’t hide behind words like that. You like this woman, you have fun with her? Then you see her. Enjoy that. For what it is. No one is going to think anything about it, except, if they’re bothering at all, that you deserve a bit of happiness. No one’s saying you have to marry her, hey?”

He sounded just like Hannah.

Amanda

The three sisters (I’m only their half sister, Amanda realized; it was a strange thought) sat at Jennifer’s kitchen table in a tense, awkward silence, waiting