“Want a cup?” Ritchie brings down her pink cat mug, a birthday present from Michelle years ago.
She nods and takes a seat at the kitchen table, discarding her slippers beneath it and starts to flick through some of the post for something to do. Aware that it’s all bills that have been lying there since before she left for Newcastle at the weekend. He clunks her mug down in front of her and she bites her lip to stop herself from telling him he’d made it too milky as usual. They aren’t arguing. It’s progress. She won’t spoil it. Ritchie steps into the conservatory and pulls at the doors through into the modest back garden that their mum had done well to upcycle.
“Ma’s work, I guess?” he shouts through.
Danielle rolls her eyes and smirks, standing and joining him on the grass, the dew moistening her bare feet.
“Of course, you know her when she has a project…”
When the girls had moved in three months ago, it had been a barren wasteland. The grass was like a jungle, nearly meeting the tiny broken patio. But a summer of TLC from their mother has made it look like something from a gardening magazine. The grass neatly trimmed with shrubs blooming. An aqua coloured trellis housing pink hanging baskets and LED solar lights on the far left-hand side. She half-expects a butterfly to flutter past and perch on the outdoor furniture on cue.
“Nice place…”
Ritchie was as adamant in not moving as their parents, despite having not actually lived in the house for the past three years. He had ultimately fallen out with their mum for several weeks once he heard that she’d finally given in and had accepted the payment. He’d said she should’ve fought more, but by that time she was deflated. She wanted a fresh home with new memories to make. Not be reminded of ghosts around every corner. With their old front door literally knocked down, and their father’s body currently lying on a slab, they now know he’ll never show up again. Their years of protesting against moving for that reason worthless. But were their months of searching also in vain?
“We did with it what we could,” Danielle tries to break her own daydream.
“Well, you’re not slumming it until you make the big buy, that’s for sure.”
Danielle smiles and nods towards him, taking a sip and trying not to wince. This is good. They’re talking… They barely said a word to each other before their mother collected them from the airport last night. They stood at the bus stop like two strangers. Someone walking past would never have guessed they were siblings. No greetings. No grief-induced tearful embraces. Nothing.
“How’s your uni house?”
“Pfft,” Danielle shakes her head, “there was no heating when we arrived, they’ve still to send someone round to look at the boiler. And whoever was in my room before hadn’t even bothered to clean it properly. When I went to flip the mattress, I found all sorts underneath the bed. Knickers, socks, food cartons, condoms…”
Ritchie’s head jerks up.
“Unused, thankfully.”
They both smile before bursting into laughter.
“What are yousins laughing about?”
They turn to see Michelle standing at the conservatory door, wrapping her hoody around her tighter as the cold morning air hits her. The older siblings wipe their eyes and look at their younger sister with toothy grins.
“You’ll find out when you’re older,” Ritchie says, taking a slurp of his tea.
“Can I have some toast?”
“What did your last slave die of?”
Michelle pouts, but Ritchie sighs and steps back inside, fishing out some bread from the cupboard, on his fourth try, and drops it into the toaster. Danielle and Michelle join him at the table, Michelle bringing her feet up onto the chair so she can rest her chin on her knees. The room becomes silent, nothing but the hum of the fridge and a squawk from a bird from the open door can be heard.
“How’s Ma been?”
Ritchie looks up to Danielle, who had directed the question to Michelle, who shrugs.
“She fainted last night.”
“What? When?”
“When the police told her about Da.”
“That Quigley guy?”
“No, someone else. McNally, I think he was called.”
“What happened Quigley?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Michelle strains, glaring at her sister.
“Right, you two. Settle down. Last thing Ma needs right now is you at each other’s throats. It’s going to be a hard enough few days, alright?”
The three fall silent again, before the toast pops. Michelle turns on the TV on the wall as Ritchie butters it for her.
“Gone watch that in the living room, would you? My head’s splitting,” Danielle spits, before adding a sombre ‘please’ when Ritchie glares at her.
Sighing, Michelle scoops up her toast and plods off into the next room, leaving Ritchie and Danielle with the booming voice of Piers Morgan before Ritchie shuts it off. They sit in silence for a few more seconds, looking around the room or out of the window, until they finally make eye contact.
“How have you been?” Ritchie gulps.
Danielle shrugs.
“Hard to take in.”
“I know, me too.”
Silence once more.
“Look…”
Ritchie leans back in his chair, taking his sister in.
“I’m sorry,” she looks down at her hands.
“For what?”
“For everything… I should’ve listened to you. You were right… Chris is a dick.”
“I never said that. I just always seen how he was with girls. On nights out, like… I didn’t want my sister to be just another of his conquests.”
“I know… But you telling me all that… It was weird… It made me want him more. Forbidden fruit, and all… But it also made me very wary. I didn’t trust him, which I know I should’ve if it was ever going to work.”
She looks up and he sees she’s got tears in her eyes.
“What happened?”
“It wasn’t working for a while. I was oversensitive and jealous. He flew off the handle instead of consoling me…
