Free A Sister’s Gift by Giselle Green

nights would I go out and catch her sitting up on a wall by The Vines. The irony of it never escaped me then, either – that the garden where medieval monks from Rochester Priory once grew grapes for their wine should end up being the place where local kids hang out to drink their cider. And often enough that’s where Scarlett would be, when she should have been in her bedroom, doing homework. But she’s a grown woman now.
    Still though, she’s a runner, Scarlett. She always was. If she didn’t like what was going on she’d scarper. I often never knew where it was she went, though, boy, did I search. She could be away for hours. A couple of times, almost a day went by before I saw her but never quite the twenty-four hours needed for the police to get involved. She was just happy to take it close enough to the wire.
    I wonder if she even knew what she did to me on those occasions when, at fourteen, fifteen, she’d just disappear? I don’t suppose she ever cared enough to consider. She’d be guided by her own moods. If I was upset or worried or concerned…well, why should she fret?
    I straighten now at the sound of Jay’s and Richard’s cars pulling up at the front, feeling a small tensing in my stomach because they’re all here – everyone except her – and any moment now I’m going to officially learn that Sarah is already pregnant.
    I should be glad for the happy couple. I
am
glad for them. We’re all going to have a new addition to the family, that’s one way to look at it. Rich becomes an uncle. Christine and Bill become grandparents at last. Christmas next year will be even better, I tell myself firmly, because Christmas is a time for kids, I’ve always said so.
    I’m getting jaded, that’s all, and I don’t want to be. I’ve always loved this time of year. All the anticipation and the preparations and the little rituals that surround the Christmas season, I’ve always been in my element.
    So why has this year felt like a huge effort?
    I didn’t want to be bothered with making all my own mince pies or preparing that bowl of mulled wine for my guests. Or laying out the table settings so beautifully as I always do. Or dressing the tree, hanging the garlands.
    I wanted to do…
nothing
.
    I should never have asked Scarlett to be my surrogate. I should have known what her response would be. I did know it, I just didn’t want to accept it because every so often in life a wave of change comes along and then – given the right tide – things can all work all right. I lean back, closing the curtains, hearing the family’s excited voices approaching now down my drive and wanting to join in their Christmas cheer. But I sense that this year, it’s really going to cost me.

Scarlett
    Damn it
.
    I close my eyes, pull my legs up to my chest on the wooden bench in the gazebo, and Ruffles jumps up after me.
    I
saw
Hollie’s face when they all trooped in about half an hour ago, announcing the ‘happy news’ that Sarah and Jay were expecting in the autumn. She immediately broke open the champagne, good hostess that she is, but I thought that the effort of smiling was going to make her face crack. Christ, what kind of timing is that?
    I can hear them from here, clinking glasses and laughing and moving about in the kitchen, but I don’t make a move. When I peer through the glass, it isn’t raining outside but there is so much water in the air that long rivulets are running down the windows. I hope they can’t see me in here.
    ‘I can’t stay outside forever pretending to take you out for a walk, can I?’ I lean forward to scratch Ruffles under the chin. ‘They’ll know something’s up.’
    Ruffles growls, as if in agreement. Hollie’s been organising her dinner party all day as if everything is normal, as if we didn’t have
that
conversation this morning.
    But everything isn’t normal. Ruffles is sitting stock-still, eyes locked devotedly on mine as if he really understands what I’m saying.
    ‘I