“What are you so cheerful about?” said Fintan, sitting in front of the fire back at the house, listening to her sing little island songs as she put together a poppyseed cake. He didn’t think she realized she was doing it. He remembered his mum doing it too.
“Come here, Fintan,” she said. “You’re going to have to step up when I go. You’re obviously massively talented. Let me show you how to make a shepherd’s pie.”
Fintan frowned.
“Oh, now it’s my turn to get Mummy’s tuition, is it?”
Flora turned round, surprised and irritated.
“What do you mean?”
Fintan, who’d already had a bitter fight that day with his father about wasting his time on this cheese nonsense, was in no mood to be conciliatory.
“It was always you, wasn’t it? Always you that Mum had up at the stove. Sending us outside so you could have peace and quiet for your precious exams. Always special little Flora with her mum.”
The words stung, and tears sprang into Flora’s eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“You hardly have to come back here, rubbing it in how much time she spent with you.”
“That is so unfair,” said Flora, utterly riled. “So unfair. For years everyone has been on at me to come back and do my ‘duty.’ And when I do, I get abuse for it.”
Fintan shrugged.
“Well, good for you. I don’t need you to impart your amazing secrets of fricking shepherd’s pie.” He scowled. “I can cook fine. I just didn’t get to learn at Mum’s knee, did I? Out you go, boys.”
He was mimicking their mother, and Flora wanted to hit him.
“What are you saying?”
“What do you think I’m saying? You were always her favorite. You’re the one who got to go away and do whatever you liked. Oh no, Flora’s schoolwork is so important. Oh no, Flora needs new dancing shoes. Oh, Flora’s off to university!”
The pain on his face was clear. Flora put down the knife she’d taken out for the carrots.
“You can’t think that. She adored you.”
“She never saw past Innes and you.”
“Of course she did.”
There was a pause.
“Well, if she did, she never saw me.”
Flora moved forward.
“Oh, Fintan. I think she was just . . . She saw the life she had. And she didn’t want it for me; she wanted me to get away, that’s all.”
There was a horrible silence then, and Flora turned, knowing somehow without knowing that it was her father, that he had come home at exactly the wrong time and had heard what she’d said.
Her face went a deep pink.
“Dad! Dad. Hi! I was just . . . I was thinking about making a shepherd’s pie with Fintan.”
Eck looked at both of them. His face was so tired.
“Neh, no need, lass,” he said quietly. “Chippy will do us. Don’t want to put you to the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble!”
“Is that what you reckon?” he said. Then, with the entire kitchen still in silence, he picked up his newspaper and went and sat by the fire.
“Right,” said Flora, wiping her hands on a dishcloth and slamming the poppyseed cake in the Aga. She couldn’t make things any better; she was getting out before she made them much worse. “I’m off.”
“Off where?” said Fintan sulkily.
“I’m going to the Rock. I’m having dinner with Colton Rogers.”
Fintan blinked.
“It’s open?”
“Nearly. I think they’re having a test run on us.”
“They’ve got a chef and everything? I’ve heard . . . I’ve heard it’s amazing up there.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Flora truthfully.
Fintan stood up.
“Take me,” he said.
“You’re not invited,” said Flora.
“Oh yes, with your posh proper London people, isn’t it? And Americans, of course. You’ll all sit round and quaff champagne and giggle at the rubes who live here. The idiots, as you think of them.”
“Fintan! Stop it!”
He threw himself sulkily back into the chair.
“Don’t worry about me! I’ll just stay here by myself.”
Flora snapped.
“Oh for Christ’s sake. Where are all your friends, Fintan? I mean, you’re young, you’re apparently not bad looking. But you just sit in all the time looking at cheese and blaming me. What’s the matter with you?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Fintan, “my mum died?”
Eck was ignoring them both.
Flora moved toward her brother.
“I know,” she said quietly. “And that’s when I needed my friends more than ever.”
“Well, mine all moved to the mainland,” said Fintan. “But I couldn’t. Could I?”
There was a long pause.
“If you like,” Flora said eventually; Colton had said she could bring someone, “you could come tonight.”
It hardly made things all right. But she couldn’t leave him here, with their miserable father, the two of them staring at each other.
Fintan blinked.
“What do you mean?”
“You could come to dinner, if you like.”
“Seriously? With Colton Rogers?”
“With Colton Rogers. And my boss.”
Fintan didn’t care too much about her boss, but he perked up immediately.
“You know he invented BlueFare?”
“I do know that. Techie stuff. Blah blah blah. He invented everything.”
“Wow,” said Fintan.
He looked down at his clothes.
“I’ve got nothing to wear.”
“You must have something.”
Fintan sighed.
“I’ve got my funeral suit.”
“Don’t call it that,” said Flora. “Call it your wedding suit. You bought it for Innes’s wedding, didn’t you?”
“Oh God, that travesty,” said Innes, banging through the door with Hamish, both completely oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. “God, no. Call it a funeral suit, please.”
He looked at the stove.
“Ooh, fantastic, what is it tonight?”
“Actually, nothing,” said Flora. “Me and Fintan are going out. Sorry.”
“Can we come?”
“Nope. But you can take the poppyseed cake out in twenty-seven minutes.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Flora had changed into a sober black dress, which she’d looked at in the mirror and decided made her look utterly washed out, like a Victorian child ghost. She had nothing else, though; she’d have to find something to liven it up a bit.
In the back of the wardrobe was her mother’s jewelry box. Her mother had never worn any jewelry apart from her wedding ring and one pair of tiny diamond stud earrings she put on at Christmastime, but Flora knew there were a couple of things in there her mother had inherited—they were Flora’s now, she supposed, although she’d probably rather they go to Agot. Mostly she didn’t feel quite strong enough for her mother’s things. She’d have to one day, she knew. Face up to the fact that once a person was gone, they didn’t need the things that had surrounded and defined them.