Page 86 of Good Sisters

‘Do the Clara breathing thing, in and out for four,’ Julie suggested.

‘Maybe we should all do it,’ Sophie suggested, as I narrowly missed taking the side mirror off a car in the next lane. Dad clung to the grab handle and cursed under his breath.

We made it to the airport and onto our flight, despite Julie wandering off in Duty Free and Sophie having to find her and drag her to the boarding gate.

Even though it was only ten thirty a.m., I ordered a gin and tonic to calm my nerves. Julie ordered one to keep me company, Dad ordered a whiskey, but Sophie had water.

‘I don’t want to dehydrate,’ she explained.

‘After that car ride, I need this.’ Dad knocked back his drink.

‘So what’s the plan?’ Sophie asked me, turning to look through the gap in the seats so she could see me and Dad in the row behind.

I fished three folders out of my bag and handed them to my family.

‘I should have known there’d be a folder.’ Julie grinned.

‘It’s good to be organized, Julie. You could do with a bit more of it,’ Dad noted.

‘Thanks a lot. You try raising four boys.’

Sophie jumped in. ‘So we’re going straight to Pico, having dinner in the hotel and drinks in the local bar.’

‘Yes, the hotel is small and sweet, not luxurious, but it looks clean and has good reviews. The bar is where Marco drinks every Friday.’

‘It’s a medieval village with only 2,776 inhabitants,’ Julie read her notes. ‘It sounds gorgeous.’

‘I looked it up. It’s lovely all right, stone walls and cobbled streets. It’s a hundred and ninety-two metres above sea level,’ Dad told us.

‘In English, please,’ Sophie asked.

‘It means it’s up in the hills,’ Dad said.

‘It’s an hour’s drive from Rome,’ Julie read.

‘Correct.’

‘Can Sophie drive?’ Julie asked.

‘No! I’m taking over the driving. I’m sorry, Louise, but you nearly killed us on the motorway in Dublin so we’d definitely die on winding roads up to this medieval village.’

‘Fine.’ I was happy for Dad to drive. I trusted him. He had always been a good driver, unlike Mum who was the most distracted driver in the world. She’d had quite a lot of ‘bumps’ in her day. Mostly because she liked to do her make-up while driving.

‘Fine with me too,’ Sophie said.

We settled into a comfortable silence. Sophie took out her iPad and watched a movie. Julie fell asleep. Beside me, Dad drank his whiskey and studied his folder, underlining key points. It was reassuring having someone on the trip who was as invested in detail as I was.

I sipped my drink and read the research notes I had asked Zoë to write up on a prospective client. She had lasted exactly one week in Conveyancing before being bounced back to me because Brendan, the snake, told Walter that his department was overstaffed and ‘poor Zoë will be bored’.

The notes that Zoë had clearly thrown together were the laziest, most half-arsed thing I had ever read. She had blatantly copied and pasted the company’s home page and thrown in a few other random facts. No effort had beenmade to do a deep dive, as I’d requested, and there were several glaring spelling mistakes. I closed my laptop. This was not good for my already sky-high blood pressure. I took out my phone and watched videos of Clara to calm myself down.

Dad drove us carefully and skilfully up to Pico. I sat in the front beside him, navigating, while Julie and Sophie sat in the back oohing and aahing at the incredible scenery. Julie kept shouting, ‘Bellissima,’ which got a bit irritating after a while.

We pulled up outside the hotel, which I was relieved to see looked exactly as it did online. No trick photography here. Julie said it wasbellissima, Sophie thought it looked ‘utterly charming’ and Dad said it looked ‘clean and functional’. I’d booked a three-bedroom apartment on the first floor. One bedroom for me, one for Dad and one for my sisters to share, with a small communal space for the four of us to hang out. The rooms were simply decorated, white linen, plain wooden furniture. I liked that they weren’t cluttered. The two bathrooms were compact but had large modern-looking showers squeezed in. I had an en-suite, while Dad and my sisters were sharing the main bathroom

Despite all our objections, Dad insisted on trying to lug the four suitcases up the narrow stairs, but ended up dropping two of them.

A young Italian employee rushed out when he heard the clatter. ‘Let me ’elp you,’ he said.

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