Page 13 of Good Sisters

Marion scraped the last bit of yogurt out of the pot and licked her spoon. ‘Happy as a pig in shite. All loved up with nice, kind Sally. Tells me he can’t believe how peaceful his life in Dubai is. I’d say it is pretty fucking peaceful without four kids swinging out of him day and night. And he has the cheek to try to get out of having them for the next long weekend. Apparently nice, kind Sally isn’t so keen on having four kids thumping about their luxury two-bed apartment. Greg tried to tell me the flights were too expensive, so I booked the flights and sent his lawyer the bill.’

‘Good for you,’ I said. Greg was always trying to get out of seeing his kids and, despite Marion’s madness, she was a great mum. Having had no relationship with her own father, she was determined that her kids would have one with theirs.

‘Anyway, enough about me and my failed love life. How are you?’ she asked me.

‘Dreading today,’ I said.

‘Oh, yeah, clearing out your mother’s stuff is grim. Bring alcohol. Or weed. I have some really good stuff if you want some.’

‘Christ almighty.’ Harry groaned. ‘Marion, I do not want any drugs in the house. What if the boys found it?’

‘Don’t worry. It’s hidden in my tampon box. They’ll never in a million years look in there.’

Harry turned to me for help. I was completely on board with him – if we discovered the boys had even looked at weed, they’d be grounded for life. I’d talk to Marion about it later. I didn’t have time now. Besides, Christelle and Kelly smoked weed and, according to one of the school mums, sodid a few of the boys in the triplets’ year. If they wanted weed, they’d find it, but thankfully rugby had kept them on the straight and narrow and they were obsessed with fitness and health … so far.

I glanced at the clock. Damn, I was going to be late.

‘Gotta fly.’ I picked up my bag. ‘I don’t need another lecture from Louise on my inability to be punctual.’ I kissed Harry.

‘Good luck. Call me if you need me,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’

Marion handed me tissues. ‘Hang in there.’ She hugged me.

I climbed into the car and sat for a moment. I took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day.

5. Louise

Christ, they were crying again. We’d never get through Mum’s things if Sophie and Julie didn’t stop bawling every time they saw something that Mum used to wear. For God’s sake, we were in Mum’s bedroom: she wore everything in here – clothes, jewellery and shoes. Sophie sobbed over Mum’s ‘favourite’ cardigan while I tried not to scream.

I hadn’t been sleeping well since Mum died. I was worried about Clara. I could see she was trying to process Mum’s death and it was overwhelming her. She’d had a huge meltdown last night and it had taken me ages to calm her. She had been exhausted this morning, so I’d left her in bed watchingCasablanca, wrapped up in her favourite soft blanket with Luna cuddled up beside her, purring.Casablancawas Mum’s favourite film and they’d watched it together a thousand times. Clara could quote every word. It was like a comfort blanket to her.

Christelle had called over to keep an eye on her, so I knew she was safe, but I was wiped out from lack of sleep and worrying about how Mum’s death was affecting my daughter. She had been extra sensitive since the funeral. She’d had a lot of meltdowns, was finger-tapping a lot and had refused to go to school a few times. She desperately needed her routine and I needed to get her back on track. Work was full on and I had to deal with possibly the most annoying intern I’d ever had. My patience was frayed.

‘Sophie! Do you want it or can it go in the charity pile?’

‘I feel we’re throwing Mum out of the house.’ She sniffled.

‘They’re just clothes, Sophie.’

‘I know that, Louise, but they’re our mother’s clothes. It’s like we’re getting rid of all traces of her.’

‘Why don’t we take a break?’ Julie suggested. ‘It’s all a bit too much.’

‘Yes, please.’ Gavin jumped up. ‘Can I go down and watch the footie with Dad? I don’t want any of Mum’s clothes or jewellery. The only things I want are some photos. You really don’t need me here.’

‘Okay, fine. Let’s take fifteen minutes.’ I needed to get out of the room before I lost my temper. Didn’t they get it? We had to do hard and painful things, like clear out Mum’s stuff, get her death certificate, organize her legal affairs, bank accounts … Yes, it was hard, but it had to be done and crying over everything was not helping.

We all headed down for a coffee break. Julie suggested we have Irish coffees to help us get through the rest of the afternoon.

‘God, yes, I need alcohol,’ Sophie said.

‘I could do with a pick-me-up,’ I agreed. My eyes were heavy from lack of rest.

I opened the fridge to see if Dad had enough food. It was crammed with two large casserole dishes and a plate of meringues.

‘What’s going on? We have a rota. There’s too much food here – it’ll go off.’

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