The air hummed with the scent of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding as Eleanor tightened her apron strings. «Margaret, these Yorkshire puddings are divine!» chimed Dorothy, pushing her empty plate forward with rosy cheeks. «Mine always come out soggy in the middle.»
«Just a trick with the batter,» Eleanor smiled, spooning more gravy. «You must let it rest and get the oil piping hot. Come round Thursday, I’ll show you.»
The dining room of their Sussex cottage, usually quiet with just Eleanor and William puttering about, now strained at its seams with children, grandchildren, and cousins twice removed gathered for Williams seventieth. Crystal clinked against china as laughter rolled through the low beams.
Eleanor felt the weight of eyes upon herWilliams sister Lydia, up from Bristol after nearly a decade. The boisterous girl Eleanor remembered had shrunk into a brittle woman, though her gaze remained sharp as ever.
«More potatoes, Lydia?» Eleanor asked, rattling the dish to break the strange tension.
«No thank you,» Lydias voice was clipped. «Ive had my fill. In every sense.»
A chill prickled Eleanors neck. Before she could probe, William tapped his wineglass with a spoon.
«Family!» His voice, still rich as port, filled the room. «To have you all hereespecially you, Lyddie.» He raised his glass to his sister. «Crossing half of England just for your old brother.»
«For you? Id swim the Channel,» Lydia replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
William squeezed Eleanors shoulder. «And to my Ellie. Forty-three years, and not a day gone by where I havent thanked my stars for you.»
Eleanor flushed under the rooms attentionand Lydias unblinking stare.
The evening waned into tea and trifle. Relatives drifted off to guest rooms or local inns. Eleanor sank onto the settee, massaging her swollen ankles, when Lydia perched beside her.
«Knackered?» Lydia asked, studying Eleanor with peculiar intensity.
«A bit,» Eleanor admitted. «But its been lovely.»
«My brothers a lucky man,» Lydia mused. «Forty-three years. Though it mightve gone quite differently.»
The words slithered down Eleanors spine. «How so?»
«Oh, you know,» Lydia traced the rim of her cup. «Fate has its little twists.»
William lumbered over, cheeks ruddy from claret. «Plotting against me, you two?» He slung an arm around Lydia.
«Dont be daft,» Lydia patted his hand. «Just reminiscing about your stag night, werent we, Ellie?»
Later, as Eleanor cleared the last of the wine glasses, she noticed light bleeding under the guest room door. She knocked softly.
«Lydia? Fancy a cuppa?»
The door creaked open. «Come in. Tea can waitbut this cant.»
Eleanors stomach lurched. The room smelled of lavender and mothballs. Lydia sat stiffly on the bed.
«Are you ill?» Eleanor whispered.
«Terminally,» Lydia said plainly. «Six months, if that. Makes one rethink things. Like the summer of 93.»
Eleanors pulse stuttered.
«I know about Christopher,» Lydias voice dropped. «About that week in Brighton while William was at his geology conference.»
The floor tilted. ChristopherWilliams old university mate. Dropping by with a book, staying for wine. The way the sunset gilded the patio tiles as their hands brushed
«How?» Eleanor croaked.
«I came to surprise you,» Lydias smile was thin. «Found the door unlocked. Heard you first. Then saw.»
Eleanor pressed shaking hands to her mouth.
«I nearly told William,» Lydia continued. «But you were wretched with guilt. And Christopher left for Edinburgh straight after. So I held my tongue.»
«Then why?»
«Because I slept with him.» Lydias confession hung in the air. «The next night. He was drunk, begging me to keep quiet. I made him pay in the only currency that mattered.»
Eleanors breath left her.
«I was jealous,» Lydia admitted. «Of you. Of how William adored you. So I took my petty revenge.» She looked away. «Two months later, I terminated the pregnancy.»
The grandfather clocks ticking filled the silence.
«Why tell me now?» Eleanor finally whispered.
«Because Im dying,» Lydia said simply. «And I wanted you to know the truth before I go.»
Eleanor reached for Lydias handcold as river stones. «You kept William happy all these years. Thats what matters.»
Outside, an owl called across the Sussex downs.
«Stay with me tonight?» Lydias voice was small. «I dont fancy being alone.»
Eleanor tucked the quilt around Lydias frail shoulders as dawn bled through the curtains. They spoke of childhood Christmases in Devon, of dreams abandoned and kindnesses forgotten.
«You know,» Lydia murmured sleepily, «I spent years wishing your marriage would crumble. Then one day, I realizedyour love was the real thing. Flaws and all.»
Eleanor stroked her hair. «Love isnt the absence of mistakes, Lyddie. Its what grows between them.»
When William found them at breakfast, his pyjama buttons mismatched and hair askew, Eleanor kissed his stubbled cheek.
«Deep talks with my sister, eh?» he chuckled, flipping pancakes.
«Mmm,» Eleanor smiled through tears. «Turns out, its never too late to mend things.»
As the kettle whistled, Eleanor glanced at the guest room door. The woman whod been her shadow, her rival, her confessornow a fragile bird with borrowed time.
William squeezed her hand. «Alright, love?»
«Just thinking,» Eleanor whispered. «About how lucky we are.»
And as the morning sun gilded the rolling hills beyond their kitchen window, she knewsome secrets were meant to be buried, while others, unearthed, could finally set them free.
