A December to Remember

“You ought to hire a cleaner to go in once a month to save you having to do it,” Simone offered helpfully.

“Like I can afford a cleaner!” It irked Maggie that things like keeping their dad’s flat in good order was something her sisters didn’t even have to think about. It wasn’t their fault, but neither was it fair.

“Did it feel odd sleeping in the flat?” Simone asked. “Was it spooky?”

“Not spooky. Nostalgic maybe. But then I spent a lot of time there on my own, if you recall. Maggie said you’ve rented the Dalgleish cottage. What was that like? Old memories of snogging Kelly?” Star grinned.

They used to play with Mrs. Dalgleish’s daughter, Kelly, when they stayed in Rowan Thorp for the summer. Kelly was Simone’s first-ever kiss.

“What about you?” Simone countered, blushing. “I saw you out of the window last night, in Troy’s car. Did Antonia know?” She made it sound like an accusation.

Troy and his wife, Antonia, owned the Rowan Tree Inn.

“Spying, were you? Troy very kindly picked me up from the station last night. Don’t make it sound seedy.”

Troy and Star had been summer sweethearts in their early teens, but it had fizzled out quite naturally. He’d been a good friend to her when she’d been in desperate need of one and they’d remained close into adulthood. Star was also friends with Antonia and was a firm favorite with their children.

“You started it.” Simone pouted.

“I made a joke. You made an accusation.”

“And also, I wasn’t spying, I just happened to be looking out of the window as you drove past.”

“All right!” Maggie interjected. “Dad’s forcing us to work together and it’s going to be a bloody nightmare if you two keep bitching at each other. So grow up and suck it up.” She let out a shaky breath. Confrontation wasn’t her forte, but her nerves were already stretched too thin.

“Dad’s really done a number on us, hasn’t he?” Star dropped her head onto Maggie’s shoulder.

“Doesn’t look like even death can put a stop to his shenanigans,” Simone agreed.

“It’s nice to be called ‘babes of the woods’ again,” Star remarked sentimentally. “Do you remember?”

Maggie covered Star’s hand with her own. “I remember,” she said, and was surprised to feel Simone’s smooth fingers curling around her other hand.

“Me too,” said Simone.



* * *





“Well, that’s all of it,” said Vanessa, slipping the papers back into a folder and laying her palms down flat upon it in the universal gesture for “we’re done here, folks.” She looked at each of them. “Any questions?”

“Apart from ‘what the hell?’?” asked Simone.

Vanessa laughed. Now that she had removed her metaphorical solicitor’s hat, she seemed to relax. “Yeah, apart from that. It’s a lot to take in. We’ve never had a will quite like it.”

“But when did he hide all the Monopoly houses?” asked Maggie.

“According to my dad, he’s been hiding them for the last fifteen years, but he only delivered the instructions to us just before he left for his last trip. Was Monopoly a game you used to play together?”

“Not religiously, no. We probably played it a couple of times each summer,” said Maggie. “On a picnic rug spread out under the trees.”

“Dad said it would teach us about the transience of material things,” Simone chimed in.

“Which I’d always thought was a little hypocritical given that the building he owned had been in his family for generations,” said Star, which earned her a hearty agreement from Simone before she seemed to remember that she wasn’t technically speaking to her and sat up in her chair, scowling.

“It was one of the few games he played with us, that and hide-and-seek,” said Maggie. “In fact, didn’t we hide the pieces once because we didn’t want to play?”

Augustus had done his best, but his talents were better suited to setting up magical adventures and scavenger hunts for the girls to go on—at which he excelled—than actually spending time with them. Once a whole miniature porcelain tea set appeared in their tree house, alongside tiny jam tarts and cookies, apparently left by the fairies. Another time the pixies left clues to buried treasure written on rice paper—which the sisters had to eat immediately to prevent the pirates from finding the treasure before them. Augustus was a brilliant activities captain; it was too bad, Star thought sadly, his one-on-one relationships weren’t adventures.

“Yeah, we did. I think we wanted him to play hide-and-seek again,” Simone said, pondering. “It was too hot for concentrating on board games, and we started acting up.”

Star gasped. “Oh my god, we totally did, I forgot about that. We scattered the Monopoly pieces all over the woods and then couldn’t remember where we’d hidden them.”

“Yes!” Maggie laughed. “It was a vintage edition as well.”

“Augustus North: The Revenge,” said Simone dryly.

Vanessa smiled and nodded at their remembrances. “Didn’t I come to help?” she asked.

“You did. I think you stayed for a sleepover.”

“Yes, that’s right, it was that night. We stayed in the tepee in the back garden.”

“It was the only time I ever remember him being even remotely cross with us,” said Star.

“And even then, he was only mildly perturbed. I don’t think he had the anger chip,” Maggie agreed.

“That’s rather nice, really, to have a parent who never gets angry,” Vanessa mused.

They were all quiet for a moment, and Star wondered if maybe Augustus’s plan wasn’t quite so silly after all. Already they’d found a common ground that had been notably absent for the last few years.

“Well, whenever you’re ready, you’ve each got a key still?”

The sisters nodded.

“Good. I’ve got spares if anybody needs them, but otherwise you can start whenever you like. But you must work together. That stipulation was very clear. Good luck!”





7





It was unanimously decided—a miracle in itself—that Maggie, Simone, and Star should go straight to their father’s shop and make a start on finding the Monopoly houses.

“Didn’t you go into the shop when he died?” asked Simone as they hovered around the door. Maggie held the key but was struck by a sudden reluctance to push it into the lock, as though once she turned the key there would be no turning back.

“Why would I? I only needed to get into the flat,” she replied, as though rebutting an accusation.

“You weren’t tempted at all? Even just to look around?” Simone pressed.

Maggie tried to articulate her feelings. “You know the old question ‘If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound?’ Well, that’s how I’ve always felt about the shop when Dad wasn’t here. As though it doesn’t exist without his presence, or it does exist but it’s an empty shell, dead and blackened.”

Maggie waited for Simone’s derisive laugh, but it didn’t come.

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