The Lighthouse Witches(32)

“Don’t be silly.”


II

He’s on a train home first thing the next morning, leaving her the car. She stays at the hospital, both to be with Clover and to be close to help if she goes into labor. The nurses make up a bed in a side room. Luna sleeps solidly, not stirring until the breakfast trolley rattles into the room at eight o’clock the following morning. She notices that the envelope is gone from the side table.

“Morning,” Eilidh says, ducking her head into the room. “Everything OK?”

Luna sits up in bed and fixes her hair. “Much better, thank you.”

Luna gets up and washes in the small bathroom, then heads gingerly along the corridor to see Clover. She’s out of bed and sat cross-legged on the floor, making what looks to Luna like an obstacle course for Gianni out of plastic cups and pillows. Luna sits in the chair next to her, noticing how much stronger she looks.

“Are we going to see Mummy today?” Clover asks. She doesn’t make eye contact.

Luna bites her lip. “If they discharge you, I can take you back to my flat. It’s quite a drive from here. I don’t have a child seat, though. I’ll need to find one before we go.”

“And Pop-Tarts,” Clover says. “They don’t have Pop-Tarts at this hospital. I already asked.”

Luna feels her breath catch. She’d forgotten all about her and Clover’s love of Pop-Tarts. How the mention of such a small detail summons so much of their past. In an instant she is back in the kitchen of their little flat in Bristol, the one they lived in before Liv moved in with Drew, the smell of warm, sugary strawberry Pop-Tarts fresh from the toaster filling the air.


III

Luna didn’t use to believe in miracles. But now, as she walks with Clover to her car in the hospital car park, she could be persuaded that anything is possible. They’ve granted her permission to take Clover home. She’s sure it was Eilidh who made this possible. Shannon, the other social worker, was definitely not so keen. She’d heard low voices from the side room in heated discussion. She was sure they’d been discussing her and Clover.

Later that afternoon, they’d asked Luna to go for a walk around the hospital grounds while they chatted with Clover. On her way out, Luna heard Eilidh’s voice. “Are you happy to go home with your sister, Clover?” She’d strained to hear Clover’s response, but it wasn’t audible.

When she returned fifteen minutes later, it seemed that Clover had said she was happy to go with Luna, and the decision had been made. All she had to do was procure a car seat, and her sister was free to leave.

But things weren’t as final as Luna hoped. “I’ll call in a while to check up on how things are going,” Eilidh said. “I’ll not discharge wee Clover from our services just yet. Just gives space for you to access our support and . . . see how things go.”

See how things go.

Luna doesn’t like the sound of Eilidh checking up on her. What if she decides to take Clover back?

At the car, Luna reaches past Clover for the seat belt and clips her in, noticing the large freckle just above her right thumb. God, it really is Clover. Twenty-two years of searching, hoping, fighting fears that said she was dead. And now she’s here.

She turns the key in the ignition and puts the car into reverse, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as they exit the hospital car park. She can’t dare believe this is happening.

But, as with all Luna’s wishes, it doesn’t seem to last. The mood seems to unravel as they turn onto the road that leads to the Airbnb that Ethan has booked for them. A storm has whipped up out of nowhere, creating winds of fifty miles per hour and dumping a month’s rain on the M74. A different kind of storm seems to be brewing in the car, for Clover has fallen silent in the back seat. Luna can sense she’s upset.

“Are you OK back there?” Luna asks, feeling awkward. Silence.

“How about we get some ice cream? Yeah?”

A glance at Clover’s reflection in the rearview mirror shows her face turned to the window, glancing back as though she’s trying to find her way back to the hospital. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are hard.

Luna always knew it would take time to build the relationship she had with her sisters, if she ever found them. Actually, this had only been a passing thought—what she believed was somehow they’d click right back into place, as sisters did, and the sudden shift in gears throws her. She draws upon her professional training. Clover’s a traumatized child, after all. Her trauma has frozen her in time. She has to speak to her just as she’d speak to any of the kids she works with.

“Clover, I know this is difficult. It’s very hard for you, being with a stranger like this.”

She speaks slowly and gently, watching Clover’s reaction. Nothing. She must be patient.

“I know you’re scared. But I can promise you, you’re safe now. From this moment on, you’re safe. We’re together again.”

Clover’s face reveals nothing, no hint of having heard or considered anything. Luna bites her lip. So much harder when the traumatized child is a blood relative. Entirely different applying her training to this situation, with so much skin in the game. It’s only been ten minutes and already she feels completely out of her depth.

She watches the profile of Clover’s face, the curve of her jaw, her small ears at a slight tilt from her head. Yes, there is something different about her. There’s the glaring fact that she’s about twenty years younger than she should be. But also something else.