The Patterson Girls by Rachael Johns Read Free Book Online

haven’t had the time. I’ll go freshen up before dinner.’
    â€˜And I’m going to see my other girls,’ Mrs Sampson said as she bustled after him.
    Lucinda watched Madeleine frown as they made their way out of the room. Mrs Sampson turned into the lounge room, but Dad didn’t even pause to look as he made his way down the hallway and into the bathroom.
    â€˜I’m concerned about him,’ Madeleine admitted.
    â€˜Me too,’ Lucinda said, feeling a rare moment of affinity with her sister and relieved to be able to say so. ‘But it’s normal for him to be lost and still sad, isn’t it? I know I am.’
    Madeleine sighed. ‘Yes, but there’s a fine line between grief and depression.’

Chapter Three
    Although Charlie and all her sisters had made the trek home for Mum’s funeral, they’d been far too busy making arrangements, helping Dad with the motel and gracefully accepting sympathy from locals to sit down and eat a meal together.
    â€˜Do you realise this is the first time we’ve all eaten together since …’ Abigail stopped without finishing her sentence.
    No one said anything as chairs scraped back against the linoleum and Charlie snuck a glance around the table. It was plain from their expressions that they’d all been thinking along the same lines.
    This was one of the ‘firsts’ experts referred to when they spoke about grief. Mostly they talked about the first birthday, first anniversary of death, first Christmas and so on, but Charlie reckoned the little occasions like this one were even harder. She swallowed as she sat down in the seat that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Dad was at the head of the table, Abigail was next to Charlie and Madeleine was sitting on the other side of the table. Lucinda was busy at the kitchen bench, where Mum had stood for so many years, serving the pasta. Mrs Sampson was in Mum’s seat.
    Usually confident and cheerful, the older woman looked uncertain tonight. ‘Maybe I should leave you all to it,’ she said, starting to stand.
    â€˜No,’ Charlie protested. ‘It’ll be good to have you here.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Madeleine agreed. ‘You were as close to Mum as any of us.’
    Dad remained quiet but the decision had been made. Wanting to deflect the attention from Mrs Sampson, Charlie looked to Lucinda. ‘Do you want any help with that?’ Once again, they’d left her to play Mum while the rest of them laughed and squabbled as they unpacked the decorations in the other room.
    â€˜I’m fine, thanks,’ she replied, but Charlie thought her voice sounded tight.
    â€˜We’ve been putting up the Christmas tree, Dad,’ Abigail said, an obvious attempt to make conversation. ‘I rescued the angel Madeleine made in kindy; she wanted to throw it out. Remember how much Mum loved that angel?’
    Dad smiled sadly and nodded slowly before taking a sip of his wine.
    â€˜It’s ghastly.’ Madeleine made a face that echoed her words. ‘The only place for it is the bin.’
    Charlie smirked. Ghastly was an apt word to describe the angel made with paper doilies, plastic cups and about a tonne of glitter. Although to be fair, it wasn’t any more horrendous than the pieces the rest of them had made in primary school. Pieces that had been their mother’s pride and joy, no matter how much they’d begged her to get rid of them.
    â€˜Maybe we should take a vote.’ Abigail looked to the end of the table. ‘Do you think it’s time for a new angel, Dad?’
    â€˜Whatever you girls want.’
    Charlie caught Abigail’s eye across the table. The look on her face told her she too was worried about Dad’s behaviour.
    â€˜So who’s up for going to the Christmas Eve service tomorrow night?’ Abigail asked brightly. It was something Mum had forced them along to every year and which