the bowl. ‘A grown woman, a wreck like this.’
I think about what Jen told me, before I started Ivy College. About Marc’s sister being a heroin addict. I don’t care if she is. I don’t judge people. But I wonder how Giles Getty is involved in all this.
‘Don’t call yourself that,’ I say. ‘Think of your son – he wouldn’t want his mother talking about herself that way.’
Tear’s slide down Annabel’s face. ‘I’m no mother. My son is with foster parents.’
‘God, you poor thing,’ I say. ‘That must be awful for you.’
Annabel nods and sniffs. ‘ It was my choice. I asked them to take him. Until I can get myself free of this stuff and his father, he’s better off in care. I need to get well this time. I have to. Or they’ll take him away permanently.’
‘You should sleep now,’ says Marc, frowning. ‘You need to rest.’
‘Yes,’ says Annabel, clambering up from the stool. ‘Thank you so much, Sophia. Not just for the food.’ She looks at me, and her eyes are big and earnest. ‘For caring.’
‘Here, I’ll help you,’ says Marc.
‘No, no.’ She waves him away. ‘Please. I feel bad enough about meeting Sophia like this. You stay here. I’ll be fine.’ She gives him a weak smile. ‘You know I will be – you’ve seen me like this plenty of times before.’
‘And I’m concerned each and every time.’
‘I know,’ says Annabel, limping out of the room. ‘And I love you for it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask gently, picking up Annabel’s bowl and taking it to the sink.
‘Tell you?’ Marc takes a seat on a stool, one leg dangling towards the floor.
‘That your sister was your house guest. And that she was sick.’
‘Sick? That’s one word for it.’
‘I was thinking all sorts of things.’
‘Oh?’ Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘You were jealous?’
I look at the floor. ‘Maybe. A little. My mind was playing tricks.’
Marc lets out a long, low laugh and my stomach grows soft.
‘I always thought dark feelings were for people like me.’
‘Perhaps I’m not the angel you think I am.’
‘You are. But perhaps you won’t be by the time I’ve finished with you.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I think you know exactly what I mean.’
I feel my stomach flip over, and the familiar melting, crazy-making feeling that has me falling into Marc’s arms whenever he snaps his fingers. But I resist it. There are serious things to discuss.
‘I don’t know why it had to be such a big mystery,’ I say. ‘Was she who you were talking to on the phone? When we were in the hotel?’
Marc nods slowly, watching me.
‘And the person you so badly had to meet up with? The person who could help you with your future?’
‘I need Annabel to be better. To break free of her boyfriend and move forward. Until she does, there’ll always be a part of me who’s angry. And as long as I’m angry ... there’ll be a barrier between us.’
‘So why didn’t you tell me?’
Marc opens out his hands. ‘I didn’t want you to have to deal with ... something like this ... so early on. I wanted you to meet her when she’d recovered.’
‘Recovered?’
‘From her heroin addiction.’ He rests his chin on his elbow, still watching me.
‘I heard about that,’ I say. ‘I didn’t know if it was true.’
‘It’s true. She’s going through withdrawal right now. Day four. There’s light at the end of the tunnel.’
‘How can we help her get better?’
Marc smiles and shakes his head. ‘And you wonder why I love you? She’s nothing to you, and yet you want to help her. Most people would think ‘junkie scum’ and run a mile.’
‘Of course I don’t think that. She’s a human being. We all have our problems. And I want to help, if I can. She’s your sister. Why wouldn’t I want to help?’
‘It’s going to take a bit more than a few bowls of soup, Sophia.’ He puts his head in his hands. ‘Sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean ...’ He looks
I think about what Jen told me, before I started Ivy College. About Marc’s sister being a heroin addict. I don’t care if she is. I don’t judge people. But I wonder how Giles Getty is involved in all this.
‘Don’t call yourself that,’ I say. ‘Think of your son – he wouldn’t want his mother talking about herself that way.’
Tear’s slide down Annabel’s face. ‘I’m no mother. My son is with foster parents.’
‘God, you poor thing,’ I say. ‘That must be awful for you.’
Annabel nods and sniffs. ‘ It was my choice. I asked them to take him. Until I can get myself free of this stuff and his father, he’s better off in care. I need to get well this time. I have to. Or they’ll take him away permanently.’
‘You should sleep now,’ says Marc, frowning. ‘You need to rest.’
‘Yes,’ says Annabel, clambering up from the stool. ‘Thank you so much, Sophia. Not just for the food.’ She looks at me, and her eyes are big and earnest. ‘For caring.’
‘Here, I’ll help you,’ says Marc.
‘No, no.’ She waves him away. ‘Please. I feel bad enough about meeting Sophia like this. You stay here. I’ll be fine.’ She gives him a weak smile. ‘You know I will be – you’ve seen me like this plenty of times before.’
‘And I’m concerned each and every time.’
‘I know,’ says Annabel, limping out of the room. ‘And I love you for it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask gently, picking up Annabel’s bowl and taking it to the sink.
‘Tell you?’ Marc takes a seat on a stool, one leg dangling towards the floor.
‘That your sister was your house guest. And that she was sick.’
‘Sick? That’s one word for it.’
‘I was thinking all sorts of things.’
‘Oh?’ Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘You were jealous?’
I look at the floor. ‘Maybe. A little. My mind was playing tricks.’
Marc lets out a long, low laugh and my stomach grows soft.
‘I always thought dark feelings were for people like me.’
‘Perhaps I’m not the angel you think I am.’
‘You are. But perhaps you won’t be by the time I’ve finished with you.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I think you know exactly what I mean.’
I feel my stomach flip over, and the familiar melting, crazy-making feeling that has me falling into Marc’s arms whenever he snaps his fingers. But I resist it. There are serious things to discuss.
‘I don’t know why it had to be such a big mystery,’ I say. ‘Was she who you were talking to on the phone? When we were in the hotel?’
Marc nods slowly, watching me.
‘And the person you so badly had to meet up with? The person who could help you with your future?’
‘I need Annabel to be better. To break free of her boyfriend and move forward. Until she does, there’ll always be a part of me who’s angry. And as long as I’m angry ... there’ll be a barrier between us.’
‘So why didn’t you tell me?’
Marc opens out his hands. ‘I didn’t want you to have to deal with ... something like this ... so early on. I wanted you to meet her when she’d recovered.’
‘Recovered?’
‘From her heroin addiction.’ He rests his chin on his elbow, still watching me.
‘I heard about that,’ I say. ‘I didn’t know if it was true.’
‘It’s true. She’s going through withdrawal right now. Day four. There’s light at the end of the tunnel.’
‘How can we help her get better?’
Marc smiles and shakes his head. ‘And you wonder why I love you? She’s nothing to you, and yet you want to help her. Most people would think ‘junkie scum’ and run a mile.’
‘Of course I don’t think that. She’s a human being. We all have our problems. And I want to help, if I can. She’s your sister. Why wouldn’t I want to help?’
‘It’s going to take a bit more than a few bowls of soup, Sophia.’ He puts his head in his hands. ‘Sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean ...’ He looks
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