"Was that blinking before?" Anthony gestures at the answering machine as they walk past it into the living room. The New Message indicator pulses 1, 1, 1.
Tom stares at it uncomprehendingly. "No, I don't think so." A glance at the clock: nearly eleven. They should've been back by now. He tries to squelch the rogue burst of adrenaline. They went for a drink. That's all.
He doesn't know why the blinking red number makes him so nervous; it wouldn't have a year ago, he knows that much. Matthew and Anthony certainly don't look anywhere near as worried as he feels. Yet he misses the Play button on the first try, and can't hold back a sigh of relief when he turns up the volume and Sybil's voice floods out, sounding harried but unharmed.
Her message is brief and vexingly short on details. Mary fell and twisted her ankle on the way to the theatre; they've taken her to A&E but they aren't sure when they'll be in. Tom smiles a little at the ill-concealed irritation in her voice.
Matthew's shoulders stiffen. He presses the button to replay the message and a deep wrinkle appears between his brows. "I hope it isn't serious."
"I'm sure she'll be fine," Tom says.
"Shame, though. It doesn't sound as though they've gotten to enjoy their night out very much." Anthony shakes his head.
Matthew digs in his trouser pocket for his mobile. A shadow crosses his face as he listens to Mary's phone ring; finally he ends the call. "Why wouldn't she answer? It's not as though they're doing anything."
"You know how those buildings are. Walls a meter thick, electronics everywhere... probably she's got no reception." Tom puts his good hand on Matthew's shoulder. "She has Sybil and Edith with her. She's getting medical attention. Stop fretting."
The sound of a key in the lock makes them jump; their heads whip towards the door as it swings open to admit Sybil, and only Sybil.
The moment Matthew sees that she's alone he lurches toward her. "What's going on? Where's Mary? Is she all right?"
Sybil tries to answer but she and Matthew are both talking at once. Finally she grasps Matthew's elbows and looks directly into his wide blue eyes, speaking slowly and calmly: her crisis-management voice. "Mary's fine. She and Edith are still in A&E waiting to be seen."
"You left them alone together? Mary and Edith?" Now Anthony's concerned. His face rolls through alarm, utter confusion, and amusement, coming to a stop at the intersection of the three.
"I made them promise to be nice." Sybil plops her handbag on the table. "And we knew you'd be worried… you hadn't been answering the phone—"
"We were a little busy," Matthew says.
An odd expression flits across Sybil's face, a combination of sympathy and anxiety and something else: envy? "Siobhan went down? How was she?" Her eyes go down the hall; she takes a step toward the bedroom.
Tom puts his hand on her arm to stop her. "She was fine, love. She's asleep." He feels ridiculously relieved that she's home again.
Matthew is not to be deterred. "You're sure Mary will be all right?"
Sybil smiles tightly. "Well, I think Mary's ankle is only sprained. As to the rest of it… I suppose only time will tell."
-ooo-
A technician comes with a wheelchair to take Mary to radiology, instructing Edith to wait, and a quarter of an hour later Mary is deposited back in the exam bay to await the results of her X ray. The minutes spin out just as awkwardly as they've done since Sybil left.
Eventually the tension gets to Edith. "Do you know, I'm rather glad we didn't have to sit through that play. A friend of mine recommended it, but it did sound ghastly."
Mary raises an eyebrow. "I'd have watched Phantom of the Opera performed by tramps if it meant I didn't have to be stuck in A&E all evening." With you, she doesn't say, but Edith as much as hears the words in Mary's mind.
"Oh—" Edith puts a hand to her mouth. "I didn't mean that I'm glad you've hurt yourself." She sighs when Mary's other eyebrow joins the first. "Mary, I'm not. Of course I'm not. Good God."
"I'm sure it's only a sprain," Mary mutters. A dispiriting vision of herself hobbling around the courtroom on crutches spins through her head. Such a show of weakness in Manchester's most feared litigation solicitor would be catnip to her opponents.
"I really hope so." Edith feels a stab of genuine compassion at how downcast she looks. "I didn't mean to pick at you earlier, about the time I broke my wrist."
"Well, it was my fault, wasn't it?" Mary gives a sardonic half-smile.
"I'd have been thrown even if you hadn't ridden on ahead. There wasn't anything you could have done." Edith's nods her head slowly, with a bleak chuckle. "I do remember thinking it was worth it to have broken a bone, if only you'd always be as nice to me as you were after it happened."
Mary is silent for a while. When she does speak the words come out with difficulty, as if she's chiseling each one from granite. "I guess I wasn't a very good older sister to you."
Edith does not contradict her.
After another long moment she manages, "It's a regret of mine. Just so you know."
"I'm glad to hear it's not a point of pride." Edith smirks a little, then grows serious again. She inhales. "Mary?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really sorry. I've meant to tell you that for years."
Mary blinks several times, the only sign she'll give of her surprise. But she won't let Edith off the hook so easily. "Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry I spread it about school that you shagged all the footballers." Edith's head is down and her voice comes out quiet, but her words are crystal clear.
Mary exhales a long breath; it's not quite a decade and a half's resentment that's leaving her, but she does feel lighter when it's out. "Thank you."
Edith's head jerks up and her face scrunches. "For what?"
"For finally admitting that it was you. Half the reason I got so angry was that you insisted on denying it."
"Oh." A long moment goes by in silence.
"And I actually did shag one of them."
"Really? I knew it." Edith's face wrinkles up again, this time in amusement. "It was that exchange student, wasn't it? From Turkey, the one all the girls were in love with."
"It was. Not that it was any of your business, or your right to tell anybody."
"No, of course not. Though it figures you'd be the one to bag him," Edith says with a snort.
"He bagged me, more like. It wasn't… well, let's just say things went a bit faster than I was expecting them to."
Edith's face goes white. "He didn't… did he…?"
"He didn't rape me, if that's what you're spluttering about," Mary says crisply. "But there was a certain amount of pressure involved."
"And then to have everyone talking about you afterwards…" Edith shakes her head and leans forward to lay a hand on Mary's arm. "I really am so very sorry."
Mary looks down at Edith's hand like it's a moth that's landed on her, but she doesn't shake it off. "So why did you? That's what I never understood."
"I don't expect you to." Edith shrugs; her hand flutters away from Mary's arm into the air. "You've always been the one everyone wanted to be." Mary smells a sob story coming, but then Edith surprises her by saying, "That's hardly an excuse, though. I took the first chance I had to take you down a peg. Sybil never would have done."
Mary gives a rueful smile. "Sybil's better than both of us."
"I can't believe that out of the three of us, she's the one who's gone and settled down. Baby and everything."
Mary gives a snort. "I wouldn't consign her to the suburbs just yet."
"No, of course not." Edith chuckles. "Could you imagine Tom being one of those men who goes on and on about his roses?"
"Like Anthony, you mean?"
Mary's words might bite if they'd been delivered in a sharper tone, but Edith takes them as they're meant and laughs. "There's a lot to be said for a man who's predictable, you know."
"I do know. I married one."
"They are rather lovely, aren't they? Our men. The three of us have all been quite lucky, if you ask me."
A softening, not quite a smile, touches Mary's face. "I think you're right."
They settle into a silence. It's unlike past silences they've shared, those tense temporary ceasefires that always ended in skirmishes that were as fierce as ever. This silence is very nearly companionable. After several minutes Edith smiles again. "I wonder how they've been getting on with the baby."
-ooo-
Sybil leaves Tom and Anthony to soothe Matthew's nerves and tiptoes into the bedroom to change into a clean shirt. Siobhan is still deeply asleep, the light from the cracked-open door barely illuminating her as a small blanket-wrapped hump. She looks lost in the cot, surrounded by seeming acres of crisp white cotton. No matter how many dust bunnies may have taken up residence underneath the sofa, Siobhan's linens are always kept spotless.
When Sybil pulls open the dresser drawer—it creaks a bit—Siobhan lets out a massive sigh and starts rustling around. Sybil freezes, an instinct borne of the scrabbling exhaustion of the last six weeks: Oh God don't wake the baby. Immediately she feels a bit silly. Siobhan's going to wake up for a feed at some point, and Sybil would rather nurse than pump, come to it. She leans over the rail of the cot and gathers her daughter into her arms, settling onto the bed with her. Soon Siobhan's nascent whimpering gives way to the soothing rhythm of suck and swallow, the soft weight against Sybil's abdomen, the smell of clean baby. She leans her head back against the upholstered headboard and closes her eyes, glad to be home.
She's not sure how long it is before she hears the muffled staccato of a knock at the front door; She's been drifting in half-sleep, briefly surfacing to switch Siobhan to the other breast. A burst of voices echoes down the hall and through the cracked-open door, Mary's nonchalant drawl and Edith's more excitable cadence mixed with the lower tones of the men. The thought flits through Sybil's mind that Edith and Mary sound much happier than they've a right to after the night they've had. She should go and see what the diagnosis was for Mary's ankle, make sure she's all right. But Siobhan starts to fuss when she moves and her limbs are so heavy and it's difficult to think about leaving the dark and quiet of the bedroom, so she closes her eyes again. I'm sure I'll hear all about it tomorrow.
AN: A few more chapters to go - we've got to get everyone home safe and tucked into bed, after all.