‘Was she always this thrifty?’ Matteo asked Ellie, as he came over to kiss his wife.
‘Yes,’ said Ellie. ‘Ever since she got her first pay packet.’
Abby listened for a note of rancour in her sister’s voice but heard none. She was starting to feel claustrophobic.
‘I thought we could go for a swim,’ she said, finishing her drink. ‘Why don’t I give you a quick tour and show you your room, and once you’re settled in, put your swimsuit on and I’ll meet you on the patio.’ She looked at Ellie and smiled. ‘Fancy it?’
Abby led her sister across the patio away from the house rather than round the front towards the car. Ellie was puzzled. ‘There’s a path back here,’ explained Abby, crossing the terraced garden. She indicated just beyond a languid, low-level pine to a set of steep steps that seemed to beckon enticingly and then disappeared out of view. Abby felt her sister stall momentarily, but when she looked back, Ellie quickly smiled and, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, followed her down the steps. Matteo was already at the bottom, laying out towels on a rocky shelf at the edge of which lapped the crystal-clear Tyrrhenian Sea.
Ellie stared. ‘Is this yours? I mean, is it private?’
‘Er . . . yeah.’
‘Wow. Your own beach.’
‘It’s not a beach,’ said Abby.
‘Next you’ll have your own boat.’
Abby saw Ellie’s gaze move around the rocks to a simple mooring, off which was tied a small boat.
‘Oh. You already do.’
Abby pulled off her clothes, turning self-consciously so Ellie didn’t see her shoulder. Underneath she was wearing an old bikini.
‘Coming in?’ she asked, and her sister nodded and slipped out of her dress. They both plunged into the blissfully cool water and, as they surfaced Abby gazed around her. It was a view she loved. They could see for miles, the sea stretching out in an endlessly winking blue. Abby sometimes wondered if it moved her soul so much because she’d spent fifteen years in an office in the City of London with no outside window, getting very little natural light and, in winter, never seeing daylight at all.
They swam for a while, then Matteo said he was going to go out further, but the girls preferred to warm themselves in the sun. They lay back on their towels, welcoming the heat on their skin. Ellie had been quiet during the swim and, as they sunbathed and the minutes ticked by silently, Abby felt herself grow nervous, sensing the awkwardness between them. It wasn’t altogether unsurprising. When Abby had emailed the invitation, back in June, it was a spur of the moment thing that had been sent out of guilt for refusing to help her sister in what was, frankly, a ludicrous request. She hoped Ellie had got over it by now, or at least seen that it had been impossible.
‘How’s work?’ asked Abby.
‘Hideous.’
‘Oh. Why?’
‘The usual. No money for the school to buy textbooks for the ungrateful bastard teenagers who don’t want them anyway. And yet, we still have to get the results. It’s a bit like being a potato farmer but you have to dig the field by hand and you spend the entire growing season battling floods and poor top soil.’
Abby smiled. ‘Are you likening your students to spuds?’
‘Not all of them.’
‘Do you hate it?’
Ellie paused. ‘There are moments of satisfaction, especially when you see a kid’s eyes light up. But mostly, it’s tough.’
‘Ever fancy a change?’
‘To what?’
‘I don’t know. Anything.’
‘I was never the high-flyer. Not like you.’
Abby bit her lip. It was true, Ellie had struggled at school. Ever since she’d fallen ill, aged five. There had been recurring bouts of nausea and diarrhoea, which led to time off school. Lots of time off school. It had also affected her thinking. Sometimes she’d been confused, had looked at them in puzzlement when asked simple questions, such as what she wanted for breakfast. As the doctors had searched for a diagnosis, months had passed and Ellie had fallen behind in her learning. Their mother, Susanna, had decided she was best off home-schooled for a while, something that had made Abby seethe with resentment—
‘I can’t ask you the same question anymore,’ said Ellie, interrupting her thoughts.
‘What’s that?’
‘“How’s work?”’
‘No.’
‘So, how’s retirement? It’s been, what – three and a half months now?’
Abby paused, knew she was on sensitive ground. But still, she didn’t want to lie. ‘Nice. Relaxing.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Well, no. I mean, I realize I’m very lucky . . .’
‘Yep.’
‘But sometimes I feel like it’s such a contrast to what I was doing before, it feels odd. Alien.’ Ellie was silent and Abby knew she’d annoyed her. ‘I’m not complaining.’
‘Good.’
‘It’s just going from fourteen-hour days to nothing . . .’
‘You’re not alone, you know. With your fourteen-hour days. Lots of us work ridiculous hours. Many for less pay. Some of us can barely keep it together. Make ends meet.’
Abby’s skin prickled with irritation and the guilt resurfaced. So Ellie hadn’t got over it. She wondered about bringing it up but knew instantly it would kill this reunion stone dead and so she kept silent. When she’d received the email from her sister earlier in the year (after months of silence) she’d been rendered speechless. Ellie had written with a request for a loan so she could buy a place to live rather than rent. Abby had been astounded at the notion Ellie thought she could just lay her hands on a hundred and twenty thousand pounds for a deposit. Even if she could, she didn’t believe in paying through the nose for a tiny Victorian conversion flat just because it was in a ‘cool’ part of town.
‘I decided to save my money, not spend it. For years.’
‘If I had any left over to save, I would.’
Abby sighed. ‘You do, Ellie.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Still living in South Wimbledon?’ Her sister’s lack of response confirmed she was. ‘Why don’t you pack in the London rent and move further out – Coulsdon in Surrey, for example? It’ll probably cost you less than half.’
‘Never heard of it. And anyway, I need to be near school, especially with the hours I do.’
‘It’s in zone six. Still a doable commute. Look, I don’t want this to become an argument. Can’t we just try to get on? Put everything else aside and just enjoy some time together?’
Abby saw her sister shift on her towel, trying to get comfortable.
‘Bit hard, isn’t it?’ said Ellie.
‘You get used to it,’ replied Abby, clipped. She was not in the mood to hear her sister’s digs at the lack of sunbeds.
Matteo swam back up to the rock and pulled himself out of the water. He shook his head, sending sparkling drops flying into the air. Abby looked up at him towering over them both, the sun lighting the water droplets running down his body. What was it with Italian men and their insistence on wearing tight swimwear? Nice for her, but . . . She glanced over at Ellie in her yellow bikini and noticed, not for the first time, how it clung to the roundness of her perfect bottom and brushed against her pert breasts. She tried to see if her sister had noticed Matteo’s near-naked body, but Ellie was starting to get up.