“A cup of tea would be nice,” Abby said. Laurel couldn’t tell anything from her tone. “Do you have any herbal?”
“Er… no.”
Abby sank into a chair at the opposite end of the table. “Oh, who am I kidding? Builder’s brew is fine.”
Laurel wasn’t sure what to make of that comment, so she said nothing as she went to fill the kettle and switch it on. “How is Zac?” she finally worked up the courage to ask, as the kettle started to hum and Abby didn’t move, her head propped by her hand, her gaze distant.
“I don’t know.” She glanced at Laurel. “He’s being monosyllabic at the moment.”
Laurel thought of Zac earlier in the day, laughing as he blew the whistle from his cracker, craning forward to see Archie open his present. It felt like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was.
“I’ve seen monosyllabic,” she said finally. “He was monosyllabic for the first two weeks.”
Abby’s face contorted, and Laurel felt as if she’d said the wrong thing. “Thank you,” she said flatly. “For taking care of him.”
“I was glad to.” There was so much more Laurel wanted to say, but she couldn’t articulate it now, especially not when Abby had such a closed look on her face, and Zac was upstairs, and she had no idea what was really going on. The kettle clicked off and she spent the next few moments making cups of tea, the silence in the room starting to feel thick and oppressive.
“Abby,” she finally said as she handed her sister a mug. “Are you… are you doing okay?”
Abby jerked her head up, her hands tightening on the mug. “Do I look okay?” she asked, and Laurel didn’t know how to respond.
“Umm… sort of?” she ventured. “I love your cardigan.”
Abby’s lips twitched in a smile and then she turned away, her dark hair, the same colour as their father’s, falling like a curtain in front of her face. “We need to go back to London as soon as possible.”
Laurel’s stomach tumbled towards her toes. “Why so soon? I mean, now that you’re here…”
“Zac told me he’s been excluded from school—”
“I left a message with the rehab centre—”
Abby waved her words aside. “I don’t blame you.
Of course I don’t. But I need to find him a new school as soon as possible.”
“But no schools will be open between now and New Year’s,” Laurel protested. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want Zac and Abby to go. Couldn’t they stay a few more days, at least?
“And I need to sort out work,” Abby continued. “I took voluntary redundancy before I went into rehab.”
“You did?” Laurel didn’t really know what her sister did for work—something in finance that made loads of money.
“Yes, I did, and I need to figure out what I’m doing with my life.”
And she needed to do that on Boxing Day, when all of the UK was closed down? Laurel swallowed down her protest. Her sister looked resolute.
And, she realised, just because Zac and Laurel were going back to London, didn’t mean she had to leave… did it? For a few seconds she envisioned spending the week between Christmas and New Year’s—Hogmanay, even—with Archie. Cosy evenings by the fire, kitchen suppers, time to get to know one another properly…
Then she remembered how hasty a retreat he’d beat just a short while ago. Who knew what was going to happen? And come New Year’s, where would they both be? Laurel would go back to York; Archie would stay on Orkney. And there would be about five hundred miles between them.
“So when are you thinking of going?” she asked as the moments stretched on, the only sound the comforting rumble of the Rayburn and the drip of the tap.
“The day after tomorrow? I can’t stomach driving all the way back tomorrow, but I don’t want to be here any longer than that.” Abby looked around the kitchen with something close to a shudder. “How can you stand it?”
“Stand it…”
“The memories.”
Laurel looked at her in confusion. “But the memories are good here, Abby.”