Page 112 of The Stranger

27

PRIMROSE

My phone is ringing as I get to my room, and my stomach immediately turns in on itself with guilt. It could be Emmy. I can’t let her know. But as I reach for it, my sister’s name flashes up on screen.

Lavender is next to me in the family line, Heather being the eldest sister. I know, Primrose, Lavender, and Heather; what were our parents thinking? It gets worse because they named some of my brothers in a similar vein. There’s Leif, the eldest, who everyone refers to as Whit. Technically, his name means heir or something but… also leaf. Then there’s Sorrel, who prefers to be called El, then Brin, as in grass, and then Orion, the youngest, who at the age fifteen decided he was done with this nonsense and now goes by Daniel, his middle name.

People often jokingly ask if our parents are botanists. They aren’t. They were just unable to keep their hands off each other. Sadly, my dad isn’t with us anymore, and we all miss him terribly. Especially since Mum has devoted her life since to managing her offspring and her grandchildren in his absence. But I digress: the phone call.

As I accept the call, Lavender’s face immediately appears on screen. Yuck, a video call.

“Where are you?” she demands, glancing around my head rather than at me.

“France,” I answer, crossing my fingers. The less I say, the less questions she’ll ask. Hopefully. “I’m not sure if you know, but phone conversations usually start with a greeting.”

She doesn’t even bother to roll her eyes. “Without Emmy?”

“Yeah. Sad but…?” I make a gesture: whatchagonnado.

Her expression softens. “He’s okay though, right? Her dad?”

“Yeah, but still in hospital.” According to her last text. “Em thinks he’ll be discharged before the weekend.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Her attention slides behind me again. “So where exactly are you?”

“In a hotel?” Dammit, I didn’t mean to sound so unsure. I do not want her hammering me with question after question. Lavender pretends to be hard-hearted but she’s fiercely protective of all her siblings, and that was before she discovered she was pregnant. Pregnant Lavender is a whole other level fierce. I sort of feel sorry for her impending offspring.

“You don’t sound too sure.”

I roll my eyes. “You just caught me on the hop. I was on my way out.”

“More grand adventures planned? Was it a museum, by any chance?”

“How else will I soak up the culture, Lav?”

My sister visibly cringes. She hates that particular shortening of her name. Lav = lavatory, but she can blame the parental units for that, not me.

“That is so cringe, Prim. Get yourself to the San Tropez for beach clubs, nightlife, and vibes.” Sometimes I think she forgets her days of partying are very much behind her. Since she met Raif, her hubby, she’s very much become a homebody and seems much happier for it.

“Well, that sounds like a nightmare. But did you call for anything in particular?” I make my way to the chair by the window, careful to keep the screen mostly on my face. While the room would easily pass for one in a swanky hotel, the tasteful regional touches would likely be clocked by her.

“I can’t call my favorite little sister for no reason?”

“There is usually a reason and I’m your only little sister. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. You don’t always have to jump to the worst scenario.”

“I don’t.” I’m just a bit more sensitive than her, is all.

“You’re always waiting for the next bad thing to happen so you can swoop in and slap a bandage on it or something.”

“That’s not fair,” I complain, even as her assumption rings somewhat true.

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad. It’s just the way your mind works. But I’m fine, and the family is fine. Having a whale of a time yachting around the Med, by all accounts.”