Chapter II

Samantha woke to find the harsh light of the morning sun glaring through the windows.
“Rise and shine, sweetie,” Stuart called out cheerily, breezing through the room and whipping the curtains open.
“Ugh,” Samantha groaned, smacking her hand over her eyes. “Are you always gonna be this cheerful in the morning?”
“Yep!”
“And are you ever gonna knock?”
“We'll come to that later. Breakfast?”
Samantha heard Stuart shut the door behind him and start to bang about in the kitchen.
“Omelette, hon?” Stuart called out.
Samantha let out another groan before pushing the covers off herself and staggering out of bed and into the kitchen. She pulled out a bar stool and slumped over the breakfast bar, resting her head on her arms.
“Did you say you wanted omelette, Sam?”
“No,” came the muffled reply.
“Do you actually have breakfast?” Stuart asked. “Only you don't seem to have any cereal about and I know this is the first time I've actually been at home since you moved in but there doesn't seem to be any signs of normal eating behaviour.”
Samantha looked up at Stuart and gave him her best 'Excuse me, do you want a fight?' look. Stuart recognised it immediately.
“Oh,” he said. “Coffee?”
Samantha gave him a weak smile and yawned long and loud.
“Its nice to see you're still the wonderful morning person I came to know and love at university (!)”
Samantha glared at him. “And I'm glad to see you are still the irrepressibly monosyllabic person in the mornings (!)” she shot back.
“Hey,” he said, handing her a mug of fresh coffee, “no need for that! I just don't see how you can't be so utterly refreshed after all that sleep and rest you've just had.”
Samantha inhaled the smell of the coffee before taking the all-important first sip. “Well, for your information, I didn't sleep all that well.”
“Bad night?”
“Like you couldn't imagine.”
“I can imagine quite a few things, honey. Surprise me.”
Stuart started to scratch the bottom of the frying pan with a spatula and then slid his omelette onto a plate. Samantha watched him sit down opposite her at the breakfast bar and season his omelette.
Stuart looked up at her. “You gonna tell me or what?”
“Lauren called about two o'clock this morning to tell me my mum is acting like a rebellious teenager.”
Stuart raised an eyebrow. “Drinking?”
“And clubbing.”
“Oh.”
“And possibly taken up smoking again.”
“Ah.”
“And possibly having a few one-night stands.”
Stuart's mouth fell open. “Lauren saw her… erm…?” he stuttered, waving his hand in a circular motion, as if he was trying to churn the information out.
“Oh, no,” Samantha said quickly, saving him embarrassment. “Lauren just said that she comes home at ridiculous hours and has quite possibly been around someone else's place.”
Stuart looked thoughtful and continued to eat. Samantha stared into her coffee. It was lukewarm and undrinkable. She left her stool and poured the liquid down the sink before putting the mug into the dishwasher and slamming the door shut.
“I'm gonna take a shower,” she announced, running her fingers through her hair, scratching her head as she did.
Stuart just nodded and continued to eat.
“Whatcha thinking?”
Stuart finished his mouthful and said, “Just that maybe your mum's behaviour may have something to do with her recent loss.”
“I know,” Samantha said quietly. She looked down at the carpet, almost wistfully, and then slowly turned and headed for the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged dressed and presentable to the world.
“I'm going out, Stu,” she called out, picking up her keys from the coffee table.
“Lauren called,” Stuart yelled from his bedroom. “Wants you to meet her at Papadelli.”
“Okay,” she replied, pushing her feet into her trainers. “Be back tonight.”
She went out of the apartment and jogged down three flights of stairs to the street. She then turned towards the town and instinctively took the route that took her past the river. She loved the walk in the morning, as the air was clean and fresh, and there weren't many people about. She took the small alleyway that led to the river and ambled along the grass. It wasn't a path per se, but so many people took that same route that a pathway had been marked out in the grass. On this cold autumn morning, the pathway was hard mud, slightly white and dusty, and the grass in much need of some rain. The summer had been very dry and the water ban had not helped matters much. The river itself was below the normal level and many of the ducks and geese that used to swim there had moved to the lake in the town park. Samantha saw a duck with three baby ducklings and watched them play amongst the reeds under the footbridge. She crossed over the footbridge and walked by the last leg of the river, admiring the small houses that backed onto it.
As she reached the end of the river, she saw the town slowly come into view around the corner and she walked briskly across the road to the Italian bistro, Papadelli. She walked in and took a quick glance over the ten or so tables in the tiny bistro. It was empty save two old men at the front, surrounded in a cloud of cigar smoke, and Lauren in the far corner, absorbed in a well-worn copy of Human Croquet, with a half-eaten Danish pastry in front of her.
“Hey,” Samantha said softly as she approached Lauren's table.
Lauren looked over her book and replied, “Hey yourself!”
Samantha pulled out the chair opposite Lauren and sat down as a waiter approached the table. He raised his eyebrows at Samantha in question and she answered, “Black coffee, please.”
He rushed away and Samantha placed her bag on the chair beside her.
“I'm so glad we could do this,” Lauren said, folding over a page corner and shutting the book. “It's so much better than over the phone. Plus, I haven't seen you for a fortnight.”
“It's been that long since I've moved out?” asked Samantha. “It seemed longer.” She paused as the waiter shuffled a small cup full of steaming black liquid in front of her, the saucer underneath not as clean as she would have liked. “Maybe it's because all my stuff is still in boxes,” she continued, reaching for a sachet of brown sugar and sprinkling its contents into the cup.
“You haven't unpacked?!” Lauren asked, incredulously. “That's not like you at all!”
“I know,” Samantha sighed, sipping her coffee. It was incredibly bitter and bordering on vile. “I'm surprised Stu has let me keep it that way. Its just I've been really busy at work and then I have the wedding plans to start up. Its October already! That leaves me seven months, which I know is a long time, but…”
“Before you know it, it's all crept up on you?” Lauren finished for her.
“Exactly.”
The girls sat there in silence for a while. Samantha eyed Lauren before venturing the real reason they had met up.
“How's Mum?” she asked.
“Oh, I haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon,” Lauren answered, with a sad smile. “I guess she spent the night elsewhere. Again.” She hastily brushed away a small tear that had escaped from her left eye.
“Oh, sweetie,” Samantha whispered, reaching across the table and taking Lauren's hand in hers. She rubbed the top of her sister's hand with her thumb, listening intently.
“I'm sorry,” Lauren said, “and I know I'm being a baby, but I just want her to be at home. I need her more than she realises.”
“Then why don't you tell her that?” Samantha asked.
“Because she'll think I'm being selfish. That I'm not letting her have a social life.”
“She said that?”
“That's what she will say.”
“But you don't know until you ask her.”
“You know what it's like,” Lauren sighed. “If you disagree with anything she does, you're against her.”
Samantha nodded. Her mother wasn't exactly the easy-going, understanding type. Her father was.
“I wish she was more like Dad,” Lauren said, almost to herself.
“What, dead?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I was kinda thinking the same thing.”
“What can I do?” Lauren asked, her eyes begging her older sister to say the right thing.
Samantha just looked back sympathetically. “I don't know,” she finally answered. “But you have to let Mum do this. I guess we all grieve in different ways and this is her way of dealing.”
Lauren pulled her hand away from Samantha and started fiddling with her book.
“I guess it hasn't really helped that I spend a lot of time at Aunt Joan's,” she said.
“You've been hanging around Dad's sister's house and want to know why Mum doesn't stay at home?” Samantha asked. “I'm not surprised now. You know she and Mum never really got on.”
“Well, I like it round there,” Lauren protested. “She's always smiling and bakes cakes and has time for me. Mum just goes around like a rainy day and never has time for me. She doesn't even ask me how my day was.”
“Maybe you should start the ball rolling,” Samantha suggested. “You know, ask how her day was?”
“I do,” came the reply. “But she just mutters, 'Okay' or even ignores me sometimes.” Another tear edged its way out. Lauren didn't bother to brush this one away. “Its just like she doesn't love me anymore.” Her bottom lip started to quiver and the tears began to appear more frequently. “I'm trying to be closer to her but she won't let me. That's why I go to Aunt Joan. She makes time for me and I don't feel alone.”
Samantha left her chair and pushed her sister over so she could sit next to her. She wrapped her arm around her and hugged her, glad that the cafe was next to empty and they weren't creating a scene. She saw the waiter start to approach their table and Samantha gave him a small shake of her head, as if to say, 'Not now.' The waiter duly backed off and Samantha began to gently rock Lauren.
“Please come home,” Lauren whispered.
“I've just moved out!” Samantha said. “Besides, it won't make any difference. Mum is going to still go out and do her thing.”
She released Lauren and gently finger combed her sister's hair out of her face. Lauren looked back at her. “Why did it have to be like this?” she asked.
“I don't know,” Samantha said. “I guess the Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“What kind of God would allow this to happen?”
“The same God who allows earthquakes, floods, tornadoes, famines, diseases… Its all part of a big master plan we have no control over.”
Lauren started fiddling with her book again. “I'm not sure I believe in God anymore.”
Samantha rolled her eyes. “I really don't have the energy to have a God-bashing argument with you again, Lauren.”
“But Sam…”
“No!”
Lauren fell quiet and started putting her book into her handbag. Samantha watched her sister and wondered why she had to make things more complicated than they already were.
“Look, Lauren, go and talk to Father Thomas if this whole God thing is bugging you.”
“I'll feel like a hypocrite, going to mass and then claiming I don't believe in God.”
“No you won't,” Samantha said soothingly. “You're just in doubt of your faith. We all go through times like that. The main thing is to focus and find out where are true faith lies. You may find that it was wrong for you to be a Catholic all this time, and you may turn out to prefer Buddhism or something. It happens.”
Lauren nodded.
“Just do it for your own peace of mind,” Samantha said, going back to her chair and getting out her purse. She pulled three pound coins out of her purse and spread them out on the table.
The waiter came over and swept the money into his hands. Lauren got up from her chair and walked out with Samantha.
“I'll go now,” Lauren said, “get it over and done with. The Saturday afternoon confessionals are the best time for this anyway.”
“Good thinking,” Samantha agreed. “Take care of you.”
“Take care of you,” Lauren said back, hugging her sister. “I'll call you if anything else happens.”
“Okay,” said Samantha. She watched her sister walk down the high street towards their church before looking at her watch to see what time it was. She had a couple of hours before she had to meet Amy in the tea shop, Smyth's.
“Might as well wander around the shops to kill some time,” she thought to herself, and she headed in the opposite direction to Lauren, towards the shopping precinct.

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