A Sister’s Gift (7 page)

‘I’m just hunky dory.’ I take a deliberate sip of my tea, shrug my shoulders. I’m all right. I have to be all right. I turn my face away so she won’t see the foolish tears that have suddenly sprung into my eyes.

‘You sure you don’t want to go back in? You see, I’ve become…more aware of other people,’ Scarlett says deliberately. ‘Being with the Yanomami people, it’s made me more aware of just how selfish I’ve always been. I have, haven’t I?’

‘I wouldn’t have called you selfish,’ I protest. A little self-centred maybe.

‘No, I was. Selfish. And, well…I hope I’m not any more. Because my second family, they – well, they aren’t so hung up
on possessions, because for one thing, they’re always on the move. The forest gives them everything they need, you see. It’s their larder on tap. How can I explain it?’ I wish she didn’t feel quite so strongly that she had to. She’s scanning the garden at Florence Cottage again as if she could draw some comparison between it and the Amazonian jungle.

‘I think you’ve been living on overdrive these past few months,’ I tell her kindly. ‘Being home for a bit will do you some good. You can potter about in the garden for a bit and that’ll help calm you down.’

Scarlett sighs then. It’s a sound that I’m familiar with from the past. It means
you really don’t understand anything, do you?

And maybe I don’t.

My sister makes a deliberate effort to shift the conversation back onto me now.’ So, um…what have
you
been up to, anyway? How’s Beatrice Highland doing next door? How’s…the bridge?’

‘Great. Everyone’s great, thank you…’ I throw her what passes for a smile, glancing up at the grey sky. The misty rain has turned into bigger droplets and I can feel them running down my cheeks. ‘In fact, you’re right. Perhaps we should head back in now?’

What am I up to? Let me see. I struggle for anything to compare with her adventures.

‘There’s a new picture of Rochester Bridge that we’ve just acquired for the Trust’s collection. It’s by a local artist, Oliver something. I’ve got to organise the framing of that.’

Scarlett looks at me blankly. ‘You’ve got to frame the picture?’

‘It’s going to be quite a challenge,’ I bluster, realising that she’s just travelled eleven days down the Amazon in a dug-out canoe surrounded by alligators so it probably doesn’t sound like much of one to her.

‘Is it any good?’

‘What?’

‘The picture,’ she says levelly.

‘Oh, the picture. Um. It won a competition with a whole panel
of very distinguished judges including the Pro-Rector at the Royal College of Art, no less, who chose it to hang in our permanent collection so I guess it must be very good.’ I don’t care about the picture. I look at my sister openly now, wanting to share my real concerns with her, but Scarlett laughs.

‘You don’t “get” it, though? Too modern for you?’

‘It’s not very traditional,’ I confess.

‘And everyone knows how our Hol loves her traditions…’ My sister pulls a face.

‘Scarlett…’ We’ve reached the French doors and I pause to pick up the old towel I keep to wipe the mud off Ruffles’ paws before he’s allowed back in the house. Scarlett smiles, watching me, and I remember she’s been living in a round hut surrounded by mud, living, eating, breathing mud, and all this is going to seem a little pernickety to her now. I hold my peace.

‘I think,’ she says mildly once the warmth of the cottage has thawed us out a bit, ‘you shouldn’t give up so easily on your plans to start a family. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do, isn’t it, sis? And they’re so clever with technology these days. There’s all sorts of help for couples who are having difficulties…’

‘Seeing as you’ve brought it up,’ I swallow, pausing in my brisk rubdown of the shivering Ruffles, ‘actually I…

‘And I was thinking, when you do start a family,’ she runs on, gesturing to the lounge, ‘this place really isn’t going to be big enough for you, is it?’

‘That may be jumping the gun a bit.’ I sit up on my knees and Ruffles slinks off to lie beside the log fire. ‘I’d need to actually
have
a baby first.’

‘And it isn’t happening?’ Scarlett gives me an unexpectedly sympathetic hug. ‘I want you to be happy.’ She takes my hands in hers and her fingers are as warm as toast while mine are icy. ‘Look, tell me what I can get you for Christmas? What would make you happy, Hollie? Anything at all?’

I give a small, choked laugh. If only she would
listen
, I might
be able to get it out. I might be able to share with her the thing that’s been on my mind for weeks now.

‘I’ve got a pay packet now, don’t forget,’ she reminds me. ‘I’m not a penniless student any more.’

‘I don’t need you to
buy
me anything, Lettie.’

‘No, come on. You tell me.’ My sister has taken on a businesslike air now. ‘Something nice. Something lovely. Something to really cheer you up. What’ll it be?’

‘Nothing, really. Nothing at all.’ But I know Scarlett, she’ll never take no for an answer. She’ll have her way if it kills her so I’ll have to think of something. ‘Um…bath oil?’ I offer, but she shakes her head dismissively.

‘No, no, no! Think big! Think
bold
. I’m thinking adventure days out here. I’ll buy you and Rich a balloon ride, how about that? Or a day racing cars at Silverstone?’

‘That…really isn’t the kind of thing I’d appreciate, honestly.’

My sister sighs exaggeratedly. ‘What about scuba diving then?’

‘I don’t swim,’ I remind her. If there’s one thing she can’t have forgotten it’s
that
, surely?

‘You haven’t learned yet?’ She looks shocked. ‘I really thought you would have learned to swim, Hol. After…you know…’ She bends to pick up Ruffles’ towel and examines it thoughtfully. ‘I think you should. I’ll book you in for a course of lessons, OK? I’ll find a really sympathetic instructor and…’

‘NO!’ I tell her bluntly. ‘Thanks for the offer, but absolutely not.’

‘Why not, for Pete’s sake? I just…I worry about you sometimes, Hol, you know.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘I get the feeling,’ she says carefully, ‘that maybe you just don’t get out enough, you don’t get to taste enough of life. There’s more to the world than just Florence Cottage and your work with the Bridge Trust and your cosy life with Rich and his family and all your little hobbies like – like your
knitting.’

‘What’s wrong with knitting?’ I give her an injured look.

‘Nothing, Hol! But don’t you ever worry you might be becoming old before your time because you never try any new stuff?’

‘No. And you can stop worrying too, please, because I’m perfectly content.’

She only raises her eyebrows in reply, as much to say ‘oh, no, you aren’t’.

‘I am, you know. I don’t need any adventures. I just want ordinary things. I’d hate to go up in a balloon. Or go sky diving.’ I look at her. ‘And I am never, ever going to go in the water, so you can forget all about that.’

This isn’t what I want to talk to her about right now, though. Why won’t she
listen?

‘You don’t look happy.’ She observes me critically now. ‘You don’t seem very content, that’s all. I’m just suggesting that maybe you need to get out of your rut a little. Do something different that you never thought in your wildest dreams you would do. What have you got to lose?’

‘Huh! A limb, maybe?’ I stand up huffily. ‘And I’m not ready to let go of one of those just yet.’

‘Nor your fear of…of anything that might be in the remotest bit risky or exciting?’ She throws Ruffles’ towel back at me and I catch it before it hits my face.

‘I don’t have wild dreams,’ I say quietly. ‘Just ordinary ones.’

And even those don’t look like they have the remotest chance of coming true.

‘What time are they all arriving this evening, did Rich say?’

‘About six,’ I call back to my sister. ‘Chrissie and Bill are getting a lift down with Jay and Sarah, so they should be here in good time for dinner.’

With
their celebratory news
, I remember with a pang. ‘At least the preliminary tests on Rich’s dad came out OK.’

‘‘Course they did! People worry far too much about stuff, that’s what I think.’ I hear her say now, ‘All I’m worried about now is what I’m going to get you for your Christmas pressie.’ Scarlett’s standing by the grate stoking the fire I lit earlier. It’s Christmas Eve and
now
she’s worrying about getting presents? I can hear the crunch of the poker against the logs. ‘I already got a little something for Rich,’ she admits, ‘but for
you
, it’s going to be a book token, you know.’ She calls into the kitchen: ‘Unless you can suggest something else?’

‘There isn’t anything, Scarlett,’ I try to say, but the words stick in my throat.

‘Remember the year we planned to hijack Father Christmas on his way down the chimney?’ she remembers suddenly. ‘We set that booby trap with a bag of flour.’

‘You
set the booby trap,’ I remind her. ‘And I was the one who ended up poking around in the dark with a coat hanger trying to dislodge it before anyone found out…’

‘I held the torch!’ she protests. ‘I kept thinking if Santa comes
in and finds us we’ll be doomed – we’ll lose it all. I was terrified of getting caught.’

‘I’m surprised you still remember that.’ I come out of the kitchen with the mixing bowl still in my hand. Is she still going to give me a hand with tonight’s dinner like she promised? ‘You were always getting in scrapes when you were a kid. You’ve been addicted to danger all your life, haven’t you?’ I smile as she comes up and prods me in the ribs.

‘It’s not the danger I’m addicted to, believe me. I’ve just got this terrible…’ her eyes roll upwards, searching for the words, ‘This huge
urge
that always pushes me towards getting what I want. If something’s on my mind, I find I can’t stop thinking about it till it’s mine. Whereas you, darling sister, are precisely the opposite. You never even
want
anything, do you? I’ve
got
to get you something for Christmas, there’s only a couple of hours before the shops shut. If only there was something you really
wanted
…’

I look into my mixing bowl and give it a little stir but my heart isn’t in it. I can’t ask her. I can’t.

‘There
is
something, isn’t there?’ She’s looking at me triumphantly now. ‘I’ve sussed you out! There’s something you want and you’re not saying. Tell me.’ She shakes my hands insistently. ‘Spit it out! In fact, I promise you right now the answer’s yes, so don’t be coy.’ She does her Jane Austen impression, shaking an imaginary fan in front of her face. ‘Anything you want, dear sister…’

‘It’s not quite that simple,’ I croak. I wish that it was. ‘Look, there is something I want. I mean, something you could do for me, but it would involve a huge sacrifice on your part. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask you because your own life is really cooking at the moment – you’ve got everything going on, haven’t you?’

I bite my lower lip as my sister pressures me further. ‘Ask, Hollie. Just ask. You never know your luck. How much does it cost?’ she teases.

‘It’ll cost you not a penny,’ I breathe at last. ‘But maybe a hell of a lot more than that. What I want will cost you perhaps a whole year of your life…’

‘So, let me get this clear…there are these surrogate women in India…’I look up from the BabyinIndia leaflet which she’s just placed in my lap ‘…but you’re telling me that this route isn’t any good for you because…?’

‘Because of the low quality of my eggs.’ Hollie’s voice is subdued.

‘Bummer,’ I console. But where do I fit into any of this? My sister doesn’t expand, even when I open up my hands in a gesture of
where are we going with this?
‘I don’t understand,’ I concede after a while, but a huge silence has opened up in the room. Right now Flo’s old grandmother clock in the hallway is the only thing that’s making any sound at all. Even the fire crackling in the grate seems to be burning lower. I skim over Dr Shandaree’s letter again. Then the penny drops.

‘You’d like me to donate my eggs?’ I say at last. ‘Is that it?’

Of course, that way the baby will be as genetically similar to her as possible.

I didn’t see that coming. When I said I’d give her anything I never thought she’d be asking for anything quite as…personal as this.

‘The timing is not the best,’ I begin, wondering how on earth I’m going to be able to get out of it. The timing is the least of it as far as I’m concerned because there will never be a good time to ask me for something which I have so little inclination to do. But she’s my sister and she’s desperate…

‘Hol, are you saying that if you got some good quality eggs you’d be able to have the baby yourself?’

‘Unfortunately no. My body doesn’t produce the right level of hormones any more – that’s why the IVF failed. In the beginning, when I was producing the right hormones, the eggs didn’t implant. Now I haven’t got the eggs or the hormones…’

‘OK,’ I say gently. ‘So you’ll still need a surrogate. But if I donate the eggs for you, that should do it, right?’

So why does she need a year of my life?

Hollie shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. ‘No,’ she says decisively. ‘Thank you but no. I can’t do that because I can’t risk using a surrogate mother who might just change her mind at the end.’

‘Why would a surrogate change her mind?’

‘She might. There have been cases documented where just such a thing has happened. I can’t risk it.’

I frown at her stubbornness. ‘Life’s all about taking risks, surely? And…if someone volunteered to do it for you, they surely wouldn’t just change their mind? There must be contracts and things.’ I nudge her elbow when she doesn’t respond. ‘What do you mean by that anyway?’

‘In this country, the law states the baby belongs to the birth mother,’ she says slowly. ‘People can and sometimes do change their minds. If that happened it would just about finish me off…’

‘You’ve just said you’re going to go to India, aren’t you? Maybe the law is different there?’

‘Scarlett, I’m not sure if I can explain this to you in a way that you’ll understand it.’ My sister looks up at me now and her dark eyes are hooded with pain. ‘After all these years of trying I feel…battered. Sort of used up. I could go out to India and use your eggs with a surrogate, sure. Originally that’s what I was going to ask you for. But the more time goes by, the more I realise that this has got the best chance of working if
you
agree to do
it for us. Not some stranger, out in some foreign place far from here. But you, my own sister who I can trust and here, in our own home without the need for medical fees and international air travel and all the huge expectation that goes along with it. Here we could do it quietly, privately, without all the risk and the fuss…’