Nothing else untoward happened that evening, although I spoke with Simon and Tom at dinner, when Stella failed to come down for it, despite being told it was on the table.

They were both concerned and Simon suggested he speak to Henry, who was the only one who seemed to have much influence over her. He went off to talk with his dad, while I spoke with mine.

“I’m worried about her, she’s gone all this time with us thinking she was happy about being a mother, and she isn’t. It just baffles me.”

“Maybe she’s just feeling a bit off today. Tomorrow she might be different.”

“I hope you’re right, Daddy, she does worry me.”

“I’m surprised you’ve got the energy to feel anything much at the moment, looking after two kids and the house.”

“Three kids if you include Simon.”

“Include me in what?” said Si as he returned to the dining room.

“Our happy family, why?”

He gave me a funny look, then said, “Dad’s going to phone her and if necessary will pop down to see her at the weekend. Now what’s this about happy families?”

“Eavesdroppers never hear well of themselves,” I offered as dissuasion.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was walking back and I overheard part of what you said. I’d like to hear the rest.”

“Okay, I said I love looking after the two kids, Tom and you.”

“Oh, is she telling the truth, Tom?”

“Of course she is, she may be a Sassenach, but she’s a braw one.”

“I notice you left Stella out of your equation,” said Simon.

“Only because I don’t feel it’s my responsibility to look after a perfectly healthy young woman, who is more than capable of looking after herself.”

“She is pregnant,” said Simon defensively.

“Since when has that been an illness?”

“She can hardly bend over to put her shoes on.”

“If she asked, I’d help, but she doesn’t.”

“In which case, she has answered your question, she is self sufficient.”

“We all are, except the children. You’re injured but help a bit, Tom is working full time and helps when he comes home, I do the brunt of the housework and cooking, as well as childcare. That’s fine with me, Stella eats what I’m cooking, usually–tonight she didn’t. She doesn’t very often help either to prepare or clear up. If she said she felt unwell or exhausted, I’d excuse her–but she says nothing to me. I don’t think I’ve done anything to offend her except perhaps foster two children, which it appears she doesn’t like.”

“Shall I go and see if she’ll talk to me?”

“That’s up to you, Simon.”

“I thought men were the warmongers, in this house most of the fights are between the women,” Simon left this thought as a parting shot, before he went upstairs. It rankled because he was right. Stella and I were the ones who squabbled most.

“Do you agree with him?” I asked Tom.

“Aye, lassie, it’s usually you pair who are raising the temperature.”

“I thought I was quite even handed about that, fighting with anyone and everyone, in turn–the children being the exception.”

“You dinna fecht wi’ me too often.”

“I wish you’d speak English, Daddy.”

“Ye ken perfectly whit I’m saying.”

“Insofar as I used to read The Broons and Oor Wullie, beyond that I’m lost.”

“I said, you don’t fight with me too often.”

“I know, but I was hoping if I said something, you’d speak English from now on.”

“Starting a fight with me too, are you?”

Thankfully, I could see his eyes twinkling, so I knew he was winding me up. “No, I don’t fight with you: a, because I respect your opinion on most things; b, because I don’t like fighting with you, it’s too hurtful.”

“I’m glad you respect my greater experience of life, and I thank you for saying so. I’m intrigued that you find it hurtful to fight with me. I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I’m not sure I can put it into words, but I feel safe squabbling with Simon or Stella, they give as good as they get and once we’ve calmed down, we’re okay again, it sort of clears the air. With you, arguing feels hurtful, it hurts me to do it, perhaps because I respect you so much, and I love you too.”

“Did you feel the same towards your own father?”

“No, except perhaps towards the end, when he couldn’t fight back and I was therefore in the position of power.”

“Is that the same reason you don’t fight me, you feel in the position of power? Or could it be, because this is my house, you feel vulnerable.”

“I’m not aware of either of those. I have my own house in Bristol, which I must go and visit to make sure it’s all okay. So I have somewhere to go from here if it were to become uncomfortable to stay here. Do I feel powerful against you? Not really, because it was you who empowered me, or helped to.”

“So is that the reason, not wishing to hurt those who helped you?”

“Could be, but then so did Simon and Stella. So why do I scrap with them?”

“They’re closer as equals in age and status, and it isn’t usually serious as you said, after a short time you make up again. Remember, it takes two to squabble, and as often as not they start it.”

“See, that’s why I respect you, you’ve resolved my conflict.”

“I haven’t, I’ve merely offered an explanation, it isn’t scientific to accept anything without testing it.”

“Oh bugger science, this is subjective stuff and I’m not some crazy psychologist looking for a PhD subject to study. Besides, part of me feels all science is subjective in any case.”

“That’s a perfectly valid point of view, although I suspect the proof may be difficult to demonstrate.”

“How about a cuppa?”

“You have a cuppa, I’m going to pour myself a nice scotch and deal with my emails.” He rose from the table and went to his study. Sometimes I think he finds me hard work.

As I poured the hot water on the teabags, Simon came down. “You spoke with her then?”

“Yes, Dad called her, and it seemed to calm her down.”

“What about her eating something?”

“She says she’s not hungry and has gone to bed.”

“Oh, okay, tea?”

“Yes please, she also said she was sorry if she upset you. She realised you were trying to be helpful.”

“I could be wrong, it seems I am about so many things these days.”

“Like what?” he accepted the mug I handed him.

“Like I was sure she was having a girl, but she says it’s a boy.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s having.”

“She said she did, she saw the scan.”

“She didn’t, she didn’t want to know what it was when she was scanned. She said it to hurt you because you were winning the argument.”

“Oh, I’m not sure if telling me that was a good thing or not.”

“She wanted you to know, that’s all. She respects you a great deal and sometimes she feels envious of how you deal with life, your energy and strength. She envies the way you’ve taken to motherhood, and is worried that anything she does will be in your shadow, and she doesn’t want to be seen as a failure.”

I felt myself filling up with tears, “Oh, Si, how can she think that, we’re not in competition, and I’m hardly the perfect mother am I? I’m not even female, not really female, am I?”

“You’re not starting that again. We all see you as much female as anyone ever was. Stella sees you as female as she is, she says so. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed by you. If you were a man, she’d ignore the competition element, it’s because she sees you as another woman, that it gets to her.”

I hugged him and felt tears roll down my cheeks, I felt unable to say anything. On one level, Stella had paid me a huge compliment, on another, she had hurt me because she wasn’t seeing me as a sister but some sort of rival in the maternity stakes.

I tried to explain this to Simon when we went to bed, but he shook his head. “It shows that you’re an only child, Cathy; sibling sisters do have rivalries. She sees you as her sister alright.”

I slept fitfully that night, worried about what I was going to say to her the next morning, it certainly wasn’t going to be easy for either of us.