He found her in the library.
She was hunched in a chair, hugging her knees, staring down at a novel he knew she wasn’t reading.
He sat down facing her, beside a pile of books. ‘What I said in the car—it was insensitive and unnecessary.’
She didn’t look up at him. ‘And also true.’
‘Not any more. I’ve spoken to my sisters.’
Her beautiful pink mouth twisted. ‘Right. So you fixed it? Just like that? Problem solved?’
He thought back to the conversation with his sisters. It had been awkward at first, and yet there had been less of the usual feeling that they were duelling rather than speaking. It had made him think that had their father not played them off against one another, it might have been different. They might have got on, formed bonds, been friends as well as siblings.
Like Dora and Della.
‘Not solved. Addressed. I can be persuasive when I want to be.’
He was trying to lighten her mood, but she didn’t smile. ‘It’s not fixed, Charlie. Or solved. Or addressed. Because it’s not your problem. It’s mine.’ Her fingers tightened around the book. ‘You were right, before...about how I reacted.’
Remembering how he’d reacted, he felt a spasm of guilt. ‘You’re Archie’s aunt—you were just looking out for him.’
‘Yes but... Oh, what’s the point? You wouldn’t understand.’
Wouldn’t listen...wouldn’t care. It was an accusation his mother had thrown at him more than once. And it had been true with her. He’d had to pick a side, choose how to think, to act, to talk, and he had picked his father’s way so that Lao Dan would see himself in his son.
That was what his mother had wanted—for him to be ‘the golden child’—and he’d done it to please her.
Only what she hadn’t got was that his choice had meant conditioning himself to treat emotion as weakness.
But he did want to listen to Dora, and he did care. ‘Perhaps, but I’m willing to try,’ he said.
‘I don’t know how to explain it,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s just that since Della died it’s been the two of us. Then you come along and Archie suddenly has this whole other family. I suppose I assumed I would be a part of it. Not the money and stuff—I don’t care about that.’
‘I know.’
She shook her head. ‘It sounds pathetic.’
He looked at her still, tense body and then, reaching out, he gently turned her face towards his. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks were smudged with mascara, but she was beautiful.
Beautiful—and brave to admit her fear. A fear she had hidden from everyone, even those closest to her.
‘It’s not pathetic. It’s perfectly natural. You’re grieving, Dora. And I know you don’t want to look like you’re not coping, but it’s okay to reach out for help. Talk to your parents, they’ll understand.’
Do as I say, not as I do, he thought.
‘My parents!’ Her voice was taut, stretched like piano wire. ‘Didn’t your report tell you? You should probably ask for your money back.’
He felt his stomach knot. She had parents; they were divorced. What else was there to know?
‘I only asked them to look into your current situation. Your past was irrelevant.’
‘You got that right.’ In the fading light, her knuckles glowed white. ‘I was a mistake. My mum didn’t love my dad any more. She was so desperate to leave him, she left me behind too.’ She hugged her knees tighter. ‘She walked out when I was a few months old, so I don’t think I’ll be reaching out to her. And as for my father, David—he stayed, but only for Della.’
‘I’m not sure that’s true.’
‘And I’m sure that it is.’
The ache in her voice made his chest hurt.