Rainy Day Sisters (16 page)

“So I thought changing schools might help, although in retrospect I don't think it would have. Kids would have still known about the sculpture.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, my mother refused to let me change schools, because she said I shouldn't care what small-minded people thought.” Bella rolled her eyes, and Lucy smiled. “I pretty much had the same reaction. And it did go away eventually. The sculpture as well as the teasing.”

“You mean people stopped calling you that?”

“Yes, after a while.”

Bella slowly stirred her drink. “Do you think people will stop teasing me?” she asked in a low voice, her head lowered. Lucy had the sudden motherly urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. Thank goodness she resisted. She didn't want to care about this girl, didn't want to care about whether Bella cared about her, but already she felt her resolve to stay disinterested and uninvolved slipping.

“Yes, definitely,” she said, “although I can't promise it will happen tomorrow, or even next week. But bullies get tired of making the same lame joke over and over, trust me. And sadly, they usually just move on to someone else.”

“As long as it's not me.”

“Well, you could stand up to them,” Lucy suggested. “I know it's not easy, but I realize now that bullies are actually secret cowards. They can dish it out, but they can't take it. So if you act like you don't care, like you think they're the pathetic ones for making their lame jokes, you might be surprised at how they scurry back to their holes.” She'd tried to act as if she hadn't cared, had kept smiling even when everything inside her had heaved with misery. And while they hadn't precisely
scurried
, the bullies had left her alone eventually.

Bella didn't seem to agree. She shook her head, licking whipped cream off her spoon. “I don't think they would.”

“You don't know unless you try. And if you're already being bullied, it's not like you have a lot to lose.”

Bella stared down at her hot chocolate again. “I wish I hadn't been bullied in the first place,” she said in a low voice. “I wish my stupid mum had bought me a stupid bra.”

Unthinkingly, wanting only to comfort Bella when she was so obviously hurting, Lucy reached over and covered the girl's hand with her own. After barely a second, Bella yanked her hand away. “I'm sorry,” Lucy said quietly. “You must miss your mum a lot.”

“What do you know about it?” Bella huffed, and Lucy didn't answer. She didn't know much about it at all. She didn't miss her mother; she missed the mother she wished she'd had. But she couldn't explain that to Bella.

They wandered around Whitehaven after they'd had their hot chocolates, looking at the shops and killing another hour. Lucy tried to engage Bella in conversation, but each time Bella's answers became more monosyllabic and unfriendly and finally she stopped speaking altogether, so Lucy stopped trying.

By the time they boarded the train back to Hartley-by-the-Sea, Lucy was feeling unaccountably tired. She was so weary of trying with people and feeling as if she were getting nowhere at all.

Just once she wanted someone to try with her. Too bad no one was lining up for that role, in any capacity.

The clouds had cleared and the sky was a lovely, deep blue as they headed down the high street to Alex's house. Lucy was a little curious as to where Alex lived; she certainly wasn't expecting the tumbledown terraced Victorian with the crooked and cracked front steps, a wild, unmanageable garden, and a sharply peaked roof of weathered slate. It was in need of a lot of love and DIY, but it was charming too, the kind of house that should have elves living at the bottom of the garden.

“It's a mess, I know,” Bella muttered, opening the gate, which squeaked in loud protest. She walked up the front steps and fiddled with a key before she managed to unlock the front door. “Dad's not home yet,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You don't have to wait or anything.”

Lucy hesitated, then followed Bella up the steps and into the dark front hallway, which was a mess of cluttered papers, books, boots, and coats. Charlie, the Lab she'd met at the beach, came lumbering out of the kitchen, his tongue hanging out expectantly. Bella dropped down to her knees and petted him while he slobbered over her before turning to Lucy.

“Umm . . . good doggy.” Lucy patted him on his head. Apparently this was enough to win the Lab's devotion, because he threw himself onto the floor, his chunky body draped over her feet as he offered his tummy to be scratched.

Bella rose and kicked off her clunky boots, adding them to the jumble on the floor. “You don't have to stay,” she said again, and Lucy couldn't tell from her tone whether she wanted her to.

She should just take herself off, she supposed. Check in at school before heading back to Tarn House. Juliet's warm and cozy kitchen was a sight more enticing than the cold darkness of Alex's house.

Alex's house felt unlived in, unloved. The kind of house that felt empty even when there were people in it. Bella had slouched into the kitchen, and Charlie scrambled to his feet and trotted after her. After a moment Lucy followed.

The kitchen was even more of a disaster than the hall; breakfast dishes littered the circular table by the window, the bowls half-filled with milk and soggy cereal. A cereal box lay on its side, trailing bits of granola. A single cup of coffee, only half-drunk, had been left by the sink, along with a pint of milk, which was now probably sour.

Lucy wasn't particularly tidy, but she had a mad urge to clean everything up and make some nourishing meal for Alex and Poppy to come home to. To turn this cold, dark, depressing house into a place that was cozy and comfortable, warm and welcoming.

Not your problem,
she reminded herself. Even so, she put the milk back in the fridge.

Bella let Charlie out into the back garden and then turned to face Lucy belligerently. “Why are you still here?” she asked, not bothering to disguise her hostility, and Lucy blinked before shaking her head slowly, her hand still on the door of the fridge.

“I don't know,” she said honestly, and took a step towards the door. “I'll leave you to it, then. Your dad will be home soon, I'm sure.”

Bella shrugged, but Lucy thought she saw disappointment or even hurt in the girl's eyes.

No, she was being fanciful. Wishing Bella needed her, wanted her, when really the girl didn't.

“Okay, then,” she said, and with Bella giving her the death stare of indifference, she turned around and headed for the hall.

Stupid to care,
she told herself.
Stupid to feel hurt. You barely know these people.
She wrenched open the front door and stepped out, only to collide with what felt like a brick wall but was, she realized almost instantly, Alex Kincaid's chest.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her still for a second, before he thrust her away from him so hard and fast she nearly fell over.

“Lucy.” He stared at her, his expression unreadable and yet also strangely fierce. “You're back,” he said, and Lucy nodded.

“Yes, I dropped Bella off. I was just leaving. Mission accomplished, so . . .”

“Thank you,” he said, and she could tell he really meant it. “But you can't just run off. . . .”

“She could stay for dinner,” Poppy offered, ducking out from behind him to offer Lucy a wide smile. “Are we having sausages again?”

“No—,” Alex began, and Lucy blinked at the blatant rejection.

“No, of course not, I don't want to intrude,” she said quickly, practically tripping over her words. She sidled past Alex, trying not to touch him again, and stepped out onto the front stoop. “I was just seeing Bella home, and I'll see you tomorrow at school. You too, Poppy.” She waved, a bit frantically, and then stilled in shock when Alex put his hand on her shoulder.

“I didn't mean no to you staying for supper,” he said. “I meant no to sausages. We've had them two nights in a row and I'm sick of them. And in any case, we don't have any more. I can't promise a stellar meal, but it—it would be nice if you stayed for supper.”

Lucy just kept her jaw from dropping. She blinked at him instead. Was this just a thank-you for buying the bra, or . . .

No, best not to think about motives. “Well . . . ,” she began, her gaze sliding to Bella, who was standing in the hallway, her arms folded, definitely not looking thrilled by the prospect.

“Oh, please!” Poppy cried, dancing forward on her tiptoes. “We never have anyone over, ever, and you're so nice at school.
Please.
”

Lucy's heart softened at that—how could it not? Then she looked back up at Alex, who was staring at her rather grimly. “I don't know,” she began, because she really didn't. She had a feeling only one of the Kincaids wanted her to stay, and she was seven years old.

“I do mean it,” Alex said. “We would like you to stay.”

Bella let out a dramatic, excuse-me-but-I'm-here-too-you-know kind of sigh, and Alex gave Lucy a wry smile that just about melted her heart. She nodded. “Okay, I'll stay. Thank you.”

With a scowl Bella turned on her heel and flounced upstairs. Alex watched her go before turning to Lucy. “Shopping trip went all right?”

“Yes, actually.” Lucy glanced up the stairs. “I'm not sure . . .”

“Trust me, that's par for the course. Don't take it personally.”

“Sometimes it's hard not to,” Lucy answered, “but I know what you mean.”

Poppy pirouetted down the hall into the kitchen, dropping her arms as she came to a stop in the doorway.

“Daddy, the kitchen is a mess.”

“Oh . . .” He glanced around the kitchen, his face reddening. “Sorry,” he muttered as he whisked a few cereal bowls, Cheerios encrusted to their sides, off the table and dumped them in the sink. “We had a rushed morning.”

“I'm not exactly a neatnik myself,” Lucy replied, and righted the cereal box, folding the cardboard flaps back in before sweeping a mess of granola off the table and into her hand. She looked around for the trash can and Alex pointed to the corner.

Meanwhile Poppy had opened the fridge and was peering into it dispiritedly. “Daddy,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder with a grave expression, “there's nothing to eat.”

Lucy watched as he came to stand behind her, resting one hand on her shoulder in a way that made her insides ache. Did he hug his children? He was obviously trying with both of them, even if he was having a hard time.

“You're right, Poppy,” he said. “I suppose I need to do a shop.” Lucy could see that the only things left in the yawning, brightly lit expanse were some sad-looking lettuce, the pint of milk she'd put back, a piece of moldy cheddar, and a few pots of yogurt that she suspected were past their sell-by date.

“Hmm,” she said, and when she risked a glance at him, she saw he was smiling at her. She looked away; that one shared smile seemed to energize every nerve ending.

“How about fish and chips?” he suggested, and Poppy clapped her hands.

“Ooh! Yes! I love chips!”

“There's a takeaway in Egremont that does a good one,” he told Lucy. “I can nip out and get us some, if you don't mind waiting here with the girls.”

“Sounds good,” Lucy said. “I haven't had fish and chips in ages.”

“I don't have to eat the fish, do I, Daddy?” Poppy asked, and he ruffled her hair.

“No, Poppy, you don't. You never do.”

“What about Bella? Is she a fan of fish and chips?” Lucy asked.

“I'm not sure Bella is a fan of anything at the moment,” he said, and then winced as they both saw his oldest daughter scowling at them from the kitchen doorway.

“I'm not hungry,” she snapped, and turned to go back upstairs.

“Don't, Bella,” Alex barked. “You can stay here with Lucy.”

Wonderful, more time with Bella. “Great,” Lucy said, trying to inject her voice with enthusiasm she most certainly didn't feel.

Alex shot her one quick, grateful smile and grabbed his car keys before heading towards the door.

“So.” Lucy smiled at both girls. “How about we tidy up and set the table?” Bella didn't answer, but at least she started chucking things into the sink. Hopefully she wouldn't break a bowl. Poppy put the cereal away and Lucy loaded the dishwasher. This all felt surreal, being in Alex's house, doing his dishes, looking after his daughters.

She should have said no to dinner. For her own sake, as well as for Poppy's and Bella's. The girls were obviously fragile; the last thing they needed was to become attached to someone who was going to leave. And the last thing she needed was to start caring about people who weren't going to let her into their lives, not really. Not enough.

She turned to Poppy. “Where do you keep the plates?”

By the time Alex came home with cartons of chips and paper-wrapped fish, the kitchen was tidy and the table was set. Poppy had chatted to Lucy the whole while, and Bella had suffered her in silence, but overall Lucy decided their time together had been a success.

Alex came into the kitchen and blinked in surprise, then did a self-conscious double take that had Lucy smiling. There was something about the way Alex joked that was endearing; it was as if he had to think about it first.

“I thought I'd walked into the wrong house,” he said as he put the bags on the counter. “Poppy, will you get the milk?”

“That smells really good,” Lucy said. The scent of fish and chips was wafting from the bags as Alex unpacked them.

“Good and greasy.”

They all sat down at the table and Charlie wiggled underneath it, clearly hoping for the crumbs. Alex dished out the fish and chips while Lucy poured milk, after surreptitiously sniffing it first. It hadn't gone sour. Bella was still doing her surly, silent thing, but Lucy decided to let it roll off her. She'd gotten along with Bella, more or less, this afternoon.