The Sister Surprise Abigail Mann (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

can tell this is difficult for her as well. ‘Phew, someone open a window, there are too many emotions in here!’ she says, laughing. ‘I know we’re adults, but my parents are arguably more adult than we are and so they owe both of us a few explanations. I’ve got an idea, but I have a feeling you’re not going to like it. I don’t either, but it’s got to be done. Come with me to talk to Mum and Dad. There’s too much that’s been left unsaid. We’ll get it all out in the open and if it’s a car crash, me and you can get fish and chips and drink vodka mixers until we have vinegar tears. How’s that for an offer?’

My stomach lurches, but seeing as I’ve got less than forty-eight hours until my train leaves from Inverness, I nod, my mouth stuck between a grimace and a smile. ‘You’re right. I don’t want it to be really bloody awkward in the future. What we need is to be more American.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Talk it out.’

‘Then hug it out?’ says Moira, her eyes bright.

‘Baby steps, sis,’ I say, grinning.

Moira smiles and slaps her thighs. ‘Right! We’ll have to do it today. Dad’s over in Fort William on a job from tonight and I never know how long he’ll be away for, so it’s the only chance we’ve got.’

I stretch, breaking into a yawn so wide it makes my jaw hurt. I look at the ancient VHS player on the TV cabinet, the clock blinking back at me. Ross will be partway through the All Saints’ service by now and he still doesn’t know what happened at the ceilidh. Should I have gone to church, to show support? Sing hymns extra loudly from the front pew? Is that what the not-quite-girlfriends of ministers do? Probably not. It’s another minefield to deal with, but not right now.

‘Have you got the day off?’ asks Moira.

I look outside, where the wind had blown the sodden trees dry. It’s still so early that lilac streaks across the sky, the sunrise cutting through the room in marmalade hues.

‘Technically, yes, but I want to help Kian get the farm spruced up for the inspection later.’

Moira stretches and tucks the duvet tighter round us both.

‘Before that, how about another coffee and a quick episode of Gilmore Girls? I know for a fact that Kian owns all seven seasons on video and I’m in no rush to go home.’

‘Sounds perfect.’

Chapter 35

‘I knew it was a bad idea to give you a clipboard,’ says Kian. His eyes are ringed with dark circles but there’s a glint behind them like broken glass buffed smooth in the North Sea. He leans against the fence and pulls his hood up, smiling contentedly as the sun breaks through the cloud, making us squint. Moira arches her back in a stretch and yawns so widely that she stumbles.

‘Ouch. I definitely pulled a muscle in my groin at aerobics this week,’ she says, rubbing the top of her thigh.

‘That’s because you tried to keep up with Eileen when Whitney Houston came on,’ I say.

‘I’ve never seen a person perform a grapevine so aggressively,’ says Moira, looking up to Kian. ‘She’s like an angry crab.’

Ever since Max’s phone call, I’ve woken up each day with one foot planted in Kilroch and the other tap dancing with anxious thoughts of returning to London. Thankfully, I’ve been up before sunrise for the past couple of days to help Kian prepare the farm for today’s university survey, which has eaten into the ‘dead time’ I’d usually reserve for sliding down a helter-skelter of neurosis.

Kian picks up a bucket of dirty water and sloshes it into the wallow, which we’ve tried to make inaccessible by fencing it off for the day. If the vaccinations had been hard, washing the pigs with an extendable hose and a bottle of dog shampoo was worse. I’m wet through and the padding of my bra has soaked up so much water that it’s like I’m carrying two medicine balls on the front of my chest. The pigs, on the other hand, loved it. What started out as an organised system quickly descended into a scene reminiscent of the one foam party I’d attended whilst at university. The pigs writhed and squealed, bubbles frothing, and bodies jostled against one another whilst I blasted them with a hose and Moira scrubbed the worst offenders with a Brillo pad.

‘All right,’ says Kian, slapping his cheeks. ‘What’s left?’

I run my finger down the list. ‘We’ve done everything apart from … Is this right?’ I look between Kian and Moira. ‘Rub coconut oil on the pigs’ ears?’

Kian vaults over the fence and disappears inside the shipping container, returning with a tub tucked under his arm.

‘Yep. I read about it on a forum. Well, technically it was a Crufts forum and the thread was about showing miniature dachshunds, but it’s got to be the same concept, right?’ he says, unscrewing the lid.

‘They’ll end up eating each other,’ says Moira.

‘Nah, this is way too refined for them,’ says Kian, smearing some on the back of his hand. Moira grabs his wrist and pulls it towards her, inhaling.

‘Mmm. Yeah, I’d eat you if you were covered in that.’ Moira relinquishes her grasp, her neck growing pink. ‘I mean, it smells good. It smells like it would taste nice, but I’d have to cook you first. Ha! People taste a bit like pork, don’t they? Apparently.’

Moira fixes her gaze at a spot on the floor, her lips puckered like she’s bitten into a lemon. Kian rubs his hands clean on his trousers and flings an arm over her shoulders.

‘I’ll bear it in mind, little one,’ says Kian. ‘I better let you guys get off for the big family reunion.’

‘Ah, don’t call it that,’ I say, screwing up my face.

‘It’s going to be absolutely fine,’ says Moira, rolling her eyes at Kian. ‘Now everything is sort of in the open,