Free The Other Family by Joanna Trollope Page B

night, the pitch of her voice, low and almost happy, on the telephone had made it plain that Amy was not to be included in anything that might be diverting or comforting. And now her door was firmly closed and the silence of sleep was unmistakable.
    Amy crept downstairs. On the main landing, Tamsin’s door was shut, and so was Chrissie’s. In the family bathroom, someone had left the light on over the basin and it illuminated the glass shelf below, where Richie’s toothbrushes used to stand, in a Mickey Mouse mug Amy had brought back for him from a trip with a friend’s family to Euro Disney, when she was seven. Richie had always kept toothbrushes in the family bathroom, a hangover from the days when he made a game of tooth-brushing, when they were small. Neither the mug nor the brushes were there any more, just a hair scrunchie and a plastic brush and a bottle of something creamy and pale pink. Girly, Amy thought, girly stuff. What this house is full of.
    She went on down to the ground floor, less carefully.There was a light on there, too, the light in the tiny room, not much more than a cupboard, beside the front door, that Chrissie used as an office. Amy put her head in to find the light switch. The computer was on, as well as the light, and Chrissie, still dressed, was sitting in front of it, typing.
    ‘Mum?’
    Chrissie turned. She didn’t seem surprised.
    ‘Hello, darling.’
    Amy leaned against the door frame.
    ‘Can’t sleep.’
    ‘Nor me.’
    ‘What’re you doing?’
    Chrissie turned back to the screen.
    ‘Looking up inheritance tax.’
    Amy pushed herself away from the doorpost.
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘It’s a tax the government makes you pay if you are left money and property. If you are married to the person who dies, you don’t have to pay any tax. If you aren’t, the government lets you have a certain amount without taxing you, and then it taxes you on the rest.’
    Amy leaned over Chrissie’s shoulder.
    ‘What?’
    ‘In the eyes of the law,’ Chrissie said, ‘living with Dad for twenty-three years doesn’t make me his wife.’
    Amy felt suddenly tearful. She said childishly, ‘
Why
didn’t you marry him?’
    Chrissie said, looking at the screen, ‘I can’t talk about it now, Amy. I’m sorry, but I’m angry, and I’ll say the wrong thing and then I’ll wish I hadn’t. We’ll talk about it as soon as I can.’
    ‘They knew,’ Amy said. ‘Why didn’t I?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Chrissie said. ‘You didn’t ask. I wish you had. I wish I’d told you. I wish we’d all talked about it, all ofus, with Dad. When Dad was still here. I wish it wasn’t too late.’
    Amy moved sideways and perched on the edge of the desk. She began to pluck at the strands of her hair.
    ‘Did you want to?’
    ‘Want to what?’
    ‘Did you want to marry Dad?’
    Chrissie gave a little sigh.
    ‘Oh yes.’
    ‘Why didn’t you ask him?’
    ‘Amy,’ Chrissie said, ‘I told you. I can’t talk about it now. I’m wrestling with knowing that I’m what the law calls a cohabitee and therefore not entitled to the status and privileges, in a tax sense, of being a married woman, and that is
enough
. Just now, that is quite enough for me to cope with.’
    ‘So I’m illegitimate.’
    Chrissie didn’t look at her.
    ‘Don’t be melodramatic. Nobody uses that word now. You were wanted and adored and you know who both your parents are and that’s more than a lot of people can say. Society and the law often take a long time to catch up with how people behave.’
    Amy said, into her handful of hair, ‘Don’t you care?’
    Chrissie put a hand out and held the edge of Richie’s old cardigan.
    ‘Darling, I care so much about so much at the moment that I sometimes think I might just fall to pieces.’
    ‘Don’t,’ Amy said suddenly.
    ‘I won’t. I can’t. There’s just so much—’ She stopped. She took her hand away from the cardigan and put it briefly across her eyes. ‘It’s just such a lot