Page 65 of The Good Sister

Gayle thinks again. ‘You know, that’s a good question. Perhaps you can tell me if anything of interestto youhas happened lately.’

I think about this. ‘Well, let’s see. I read Kelly Rimmer’s new novel,The Things We Cannot Say, over the weekend. I thoroughly enjoyed it.’

Gayle beams. ‘I read her last one and loved it. It must have been out last summer because I remember sitting outside on my garden swing with a gin and tonic while I read it.’

Before I know it, Gayle and I have discussed gin, garden swings and her new herb garden, as well as Kelly Rimmer’s other books, and none of it has felt like a chore in the least. The fact that we are focused on our work as we talk assists with this, I believe. We are still chatting comfortably when the automatic doors slide open.

‘Isn’t that your sister, Fern?’

I glance up, instantly annoyed. Rose hasn’t been back since the last time I told her it wasn’t convenient, and I’d thought she’d got the message.

‘Rose,’ I say, before she can speak. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m working.’

Rose shoots a look at Gayle. ‘I know. But this is important. Is there somewhere we can speak in private?’

‘At home,’ I suggest. ‘Tonight?’

She shakes her head. ‘Now, Fern.’

Rose and I appear to have come to something of a stalemate. I let out a long sigh.

‘Go into the courtyard,’ Gayle whispers. ‘I’ll cover for you.’

Carmel has been so lenient with me lately that I’m not sure I would need anyone to ‘cover’ for me, but I appreciate the sentiment, so I don’t point this out. Instead, I thank Gayle and head outside to the courtyard with Rose. As we walk, Rose peppers me with inane questions about my day, the weather, if Gayle has recently changed her hair, and by the time we reach the courtyard, I’m feeling a little uneasy. Rose doesn’t typically make small talk with me. She knows I dislike chatter for chatter’s sake and the rapid fire of today makes me wonder if something is wrong.

‘What is it, Rose?’ I say.

Thankfully, Rose doesn’t draw it out. ‘It’s Mum.’

It is perhaps the very last thing I expect her to say. Rose doesn’t impart information about Mum to me, it’s the other way around. Rose hasn’t seen Mum for years.

‘What . . .aboutMum?’ I ask.

I notice Rose’s face is unusually sombre. ‘I just had a call from Sun Meadows.’

This is odd. Why would Sun Meadows call Rose?

‘Why would they callyou?’

Rose looks a little sheepish. ‘I’m Mum’s emergency contact.’

I stare at her. I have been visiting Mum every week for sixteen years andRoseis Mum’s emergency contact?

She takes a long deep breath. ‘It’s not good news, Fern. Mum . . . she died.’

I hear the words. Iunderstandthem. And yet, I feel . . . nothing. I become oddly aware of all the sounds around me. The birds in the nearby tree. My breath whooshing past my ears. My heart beating.

‘There aren’t many details yet,’ Rose says. ‘They will probably have to do an autopsy. They think it must have been a stroke.’

‘But . . . she couldn’t have had a stroke. She was in good health. Better than ever.’

Rose shrugs. ‘Unfortunately, even healthy people have strokes sometimes.’

‘No.’ A tear slips from my eye and I wipe it away quickly with my shirtsleeve. Another immediately takes its place.

‘I know this is hard for you, Fern. I know you loved her.’

‘Can I see her?’ I ask.