LITMIR.BIZ

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as it meant her mother could then go straight to the hospital. But who had looked after Suzie? Either way, Penny’s next memory was of being called out of her reading class and being taken to the headmistress’s study.

      ‘Ah, Penny,’ she’d said, ‘do sit down. You’ve had quite an adventure this morning.’

      Penny didn’t know how to answer this so she just nodded.

      ‘Your daddy has been taken ill but the doctors are looking after him. Hopefully he’ll be OK but you may have to prepare yourself to be a very brave girl.’ Mrs Tyler looked directly into Penny’s eyes. ‘You understand?’

      Penny didn’t understand, but said, ‘Yes.’

      ‘Good girl. Now, off you pop and be good for Mummy when you get home tonight.’

      Penny spent the rest of the day in fear.

      Somebody must have taken her home from school. It certainly wasn’t her mother because she was already home when Penny returned.

      Penny ran to her and hugged her with relief. ‘How’s Daddy?’

      Margot unwrapped herself from Penny. ‘He’s been very silly. He’s been smoking too many cigarettes and drinking too much gin. I’m very cross with him and so are the doctors.’

      ‘I told him off this morning,’ Penny said without thinking.

      ‘Told him off? Why?’

      Penny was afraid she’d got her father into trouble. ‘Because …’

      ‘Was he smoking in the garden?’

      Penny said nothing.

      Her mother strode in to the kitchen and wrenched the back door open. Penny ran after her but couldn’t stop her finding the two cigarette butts. ‘Was he smoking these?’ Margot held them up.

      Penny nodded and moved instinctively to protect the large cardboard box containing the contraband gin. Margot reached past her and opened the box.

      She pulled out the bottle. ‘Did you know this was here?’

      Penny remained mute. Margot shouted. ‘Did you know this was here?’

      ‘Yes,’ Penny said, feeling like a traitor.

      Her mother looked at Penny with poison. ‘So you are responsible. It’s your fault he’s in the hospital. If you had stopped him, we wouldn’t be in this mess but if he dies now we won’t have anything. No Daddy, no money. If we are thrown out of this house it will be your fault. I hope you remember that.’ Penny lived in fear for several days, expecting to hear that her father had died and that it was all her fault. But he came back to her. That time.

      *

      Penny’s hand shook as she took a mouthful of the brandy and lovage. ‘She hated me.’

      ‘Hate is a very strong word. I’m sure she didn’t hate you,’ said Simon, reasonably.

      ‘You never met her though, did you?’

      ‘I would have liked to.’

      ‘She’d have hated you too.’

      ‘Well, we’ll never know.’ Simon had a fresh thought. ‘I still can’t understand why Suzie hasn’t phoned you.’

      Penny drained her glass. ‘Why would she?’

      ‘She’s your sister when all is said and done.’

      ‘We burnt our bridges the last time we saw each other.’

      ‘Please tell me what happened.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘It might help. After all, it must be five years ago now.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter now my mother’s dead.’ Penny swallowed the remains of her drink and hugged Jenna tightly. ‘I don’t want to think about it. And it really, really doesn’t matter now.’

      Simon sat down next to her. ‘Exactly, Penny, love, she can’t hurt you any more.’

      When he and Penny had decided to get married, Penny had refused point-blank to invite them to the wedding.

      ‘But this is a chance to rebuild the relationship,’ Simon had told her. ‘To forgive.’

      Penny had been adamant. ‘I don’t want them infecting my life again. I don’t want them to tell you things about me that will stop you loving me.’

      ‘You don’t know that – and anyway, I could never stop loving you.’

      ‘Believe me, they would try.’

      Simon had attempted to bring the conversation up a handful of times since, but each time Penny had become tearful and finally he dropped the subject.

      Penny took his hand and held it against her chest. ‘I’m so lucky to have you.’

      ‘And me you.’ He dropped a kiss on to the top of her head and she released him. ‘When is the funeral?’

      She looked surprised. ‘Oh God! I forgot to ask.’

      ‘Will you go?’

      ‘I don’t want to.’

      ‘It may help. The ending resolved and all that stuff.’

      Penny gave a small bark of laughter. ‘I don’t think so.’

      Penny’s head dropped as she rubbed her face into Jenna’s soft hair. Simon could tell she was crying. ‘Darling Penny – was it really that bad?’

      Penny nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak.

      Simon persisted gently. ‘But you have a sister. Jenna has an aunt. Wouldn’t you like to have your family reunited again?’

      Penny lifted her face to him. In that moment wishing she could tell him the truth but she was unable to confront the pain it caused her. ‘I have my family. You and Jenna and Helen – you are my family.’

       4

      ELLA

      It was a Sunday and it was raining in Clapham. The branches of the cherry trees in Mandalay Road were bare, their leaves long ago dropped damply onto the windscreens of the cars parked on either side of the street. Rain bounced off the slate roofs like heavy artillery fire and swilled down drainpipes, startling flat-eared cats who skittered off to their catflaps. At intervals, passing cars shooshed through the deep puddles ploughing up sheets of water to drench already bedraggled pedestrians. It was a road of good neighbours and occasional street parties. The Queen’s Jubilee and the Royal Wedding were still fresh in the residents’ memories. Now, Christmas trees were already appearing in bay windows, their lights flashing and twinkling brightly.

      No 47, Mandalay Road was identical in design to all the others in the terrace: an early Edwardian, two-up two-down with a small front garden. Its front door and window frames were painted in a delicate lilac, complementing the pale blues, pinks and yellows of its neighbours.

      Inside, Ella was lolling on a sofa that was strewn with shawls to hide the decades of wear and tear. There was little spring left in its base but it had been Ella’s grandmother’s and was therefore treasured. She looked contentedly at the Christmas tree she had put up that afternoon.

      A pot of tea, now stewed, and a half-empty mug sat on a tray by her side. On the television Julie Andrews was yodelling. All was well with the world.

      She heard the creak of the floorboards above and the tread on the stairs before the door to the sitting room opened. Her brother came in, rubbing his stubbly chin and yawning.

      ‘What you watching?’ he said. ‘Shift yourself.’

      She

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