Isabel slipped into the kitchen, her heels clicking against the tile. She came to a stop behind me as I was pulling the cutlery from the drawer and wrapped her arms around my belly, giving a gentle squeeze. I turned and returned the hug.
“Oh Rox. I'm so happy for you. And for Lucas,” Isabel smiled. “You've waited so long for this. And you've both been through so much. It's broken my heart to see you so sad and not be able to help. We all feel your pain. You know how much we love you,” she said, her eyes shimmering with unspilled tears. “You really do deserve some good luck. I'm so glad things are finally working out for you.”
I smiled into her hair and sighed. “I'm happy too. A little scared, I'd be crazy not to have niggles after, well, you know... but I really feel like this is going to end well. I can feel him moving all the time. He's strong, and it's different this time. My body feels different. It's hard to explain.”
“You don't have to. Just enjoy it,” she smiled running a hand through her mane of red curls, re-pinning a strand which kept falling into her eye. “Have you thought of any names?”
“Not yet. I want to wait until we see his face, see who he looks like.”
“That's a good idea,” she nodded. She turned and absent mindedly picked up a cloth, wiping it over the already sparkling sink. I paused, watching her closely. Her face was fixed in a relaxed expression, but there was something else in her eyes. Something was off.
“Isabel, what's wrong?”
Isabel stopped wiping and looked up, her sparkling green eyes meeting my own. She gave a sigh and dropped the cloth, taking me by the hand. “It's not the right time. I don't want to spoil your celebration.”
“Issy, this is me. You can tell me anything. It won't spoil a thing! Please, what is it?”
She sighed again. “Come and sit down.” She dropped the cloth onto the side, and walked over to the half set table. I followed silently, pulling out a chair to sit beside her and looking at her with concern. She twiddled a napkin between her fingertips, and it seemed she was suddenly lost for words.
“Well, what is it?” I pushed feeling a flush of impatience mingled with fear.
“I didn't want to have to tell you, but she won't listen to me. I'm getting worried.” She dropped the napkin back on the table and lifted her face. “Rox, it's Bonnie.”
“Bonnie? What about her?”
“She's in trouble. She hides it well, but...”
I felt my stomach drop. She wasn't okay, I should have listened to my instincts. “What kind of trouble? Money?”
“No.” She looked away, uncomfortably. “She's been, ah, I don't know how to say this. I didn't want to have to, but I really am worried.”
“What is this Issy? What's going on?”
Isabel pursed her lips and met my eyes. “She's been drinking. A lot. And there have been other things too. Drugs... Men.”
“Are you serious?” I laughed. “No. Bonnie wouldn't do that. I know she's been drinking more than she should, but drugs? No. She just wouldn't do that.”
“I didn't realised how bad it was either Rox. It's only since she's been living with me that I've seen it. She's out every night. She sleeps till after lunchtime. And she's been having terrible mood-swings. She broke my television. Put her foot right through the screen. I'm not kidding Rox.”
“How could you have kept this to yourself Issy, how could you not tell me?”
“You've been going through a lot, we all know it. The last thing we would want is to add to your worries, it wouldn't be fair. But this isn't something that's just a one off. It's been going on a long time. You know she's never been the same since mum died.” She picked up the napkin again, folding and unfolding it, balling it in the palm of her hand. “She never properly grieved. She's still so raw from it all,” she added sadly. “She won't talk to me. And she's trying to numb it in all the wrong ways. I'm scared for her. I really am. I don't want to lose her too.”
I felt utterly floored. How could I not have seen my sister's pain? How could I have neglected to notice her descending into alcoholism? And drugs? I would never have believed it possible. She may have had a wild side, and I knew she loved to party, but I couldn't fathom her being so reckless that she would turn to drugs. But perhaps Isabel was right. Bonnie had always had a secretive side, an air of mystery about her. Perhaps she was better at hiding the truth than I'd ever realised. And through it all, she had never even come to me. I felt sick at the thought of her in pain with nobody to turn to. I should have been there for her, not so wrapped up in my own despair, my own loss.
Bonnie had always been particularly close to our mother. During her illness, she'd been the one to hold on tight to the hope that she was coming back to her. She had never let that dream go, even when things became really bad. And when Rosie was so strung out she could barely recognise the rest of us, she always knew her Bonnie. She always came back, that tiny bit, just for her. There had been something special between them, so it was little surprise that she had felt most betrayed when mum had killed herself. It had been devastating for the whole family, but Isabel and I had already grieved the loss of our mother, long before she killed herself. She hadn't been the person we knew and loved for several years. Inch by inch we had let her go, knowing that we had lost the battle. Bipolar had consumed her until there was nothing left.
Isabel took my hand now, seeing my pale, drawn face. “It will be okay Sis. We will help her, together. We will bring her out of this mess.”
I just nodded and hoped it wasn't too late.
I pushed back my chair and went to the oven, pleased to see the perfect golden crust on the apple pie. “It's ready,” I announced to the laughing rambunctious crowd around the table. My eyes flicked to Bonnie who was telling a story to the family, laughing as she spoke. She looked so alive, so vibrant. Seeing her like this made it hard to believe things were as bad as Issy had made out. The lunch had gone smoothly, everyone smiling and talking about the pregnancy that was no longer taboo. I had found myself swept up with the celebratory atmosphere, despite my concerns over Bonnie.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Lucas said, jumping up from his seat.
“No, no, you sit down. I've got it,” I insisted, leaning into the oven and easing the desert out. I stood up, catching the inside of my forearm on the edge of the tin. A white hot pain shot through my arm and I automatically released the pie with a yell as I grabbed for my singed flesh. It crashed to the ground, splattering pieces of hot apple and pastry all over the tile. “Shit!”
“Are you okay? Let me have a look,” Lucas insisted, taking my arm in his big warm hands to inspect the damage. There was a large red welt running horizontally across my skin. “Here,” he said, pulling me towards the sink. I winced as he turned the cold tap on and ran the water, guiding my arm gently beneath it.”
“What a waste of a good pudding,” I mourned sadly, my stomach growling at the thought of it. I'd been craving sweet apple pie all day.
“I'm more worried about you,” Lucas frowned, still holding my arm under the water. It stung.
“I'm fine. It only caught me for a second, should have used the gloves instead of the tea-towel.” I pulled my arm out of the flowing water and appraised it. “See, it's fading already.” I kissed him. “I'm going to pop out and get another pie.”
“Don't be silly Rox!” called Isabel. “We'll do without it.”
“No, I want pie. I need apple pie.”
“I'll go then,” Bonnie said, standing up.