“No. It’s the truth. You have issues.” Maybe it wasn’t the right time to say it, but it seemed as good as any. “You are super protective of your children.”
“Every mother is protective of her children.”
Hannah finished her drink. “You’re not protective in the way other mothers are. You are overprotective. You see disaster everywhere. You catastrophize.”
Beth stiffened defensively. “Not true.”
Posy glanced at Hannah. “Let’s forget it. It’s understandable.”
“Understandable,” Hannah echoed.
Beth sat up straighter. “I don’t want to forget it. And if you’re implying that an accident that happened twenty-five years ago has impacted on the way I raise my children, I can tell you that’s not the case. Give me an example of when I’ve been overprotective.”
Posy hesitated. “You virtually hyperventilate whenever the girls want to ride Socks.”
“Everyone knows you should wear a helmet when riding. It’s common sense.”
“Yes.” How could she say this as gently as possible? “But given the chance you’d special order chest protectors and airbags.”
“Plenty of riders protect themselves from falling.”
“Maybe for competition-level eventing, but to ride my ancient pony around a field? I don’t think so.”
Beth clasped her hands in her lap. Her knuckles were white. “Socks is a large animal. Any horse can stampede.”
“I think it takes more than one horse to stampede, and Socks has arthritis. It hurts him to trot. Stampeding would be way beyond his capabilities.”
Beth flushed. “All I’m saying is that it could happen.”
“And that,” Posy said, “is my point. You react to all the things that could happen. Not what has actually happened. Catastrophizing.”
“I anticipate accidents, that’s all. That’s how I prevent them happening.”
“I think you live every possible accident,” Hannah said slowly. “You see it in your head and it freaks you out.”
Beth looked as if she was about to deny it, then slumped. “You’re right, I do. I’m always imagining something terrible is going to happen, like it did with us. I’m scared, and I manage that by doing everything I can to stop bad things happening. I try to control every little thing. It’s exhausting.” She stared into the fire. “I have issues.”
“Maybe it’s time we dealt with our issues,” Hannah said.
“Yes. I need to try harder to relax. I don’t want to raise nervous children.” Beth’s phone rang and she dug frantically in her bag, sending them a look of guilt and apology. “It might be an emergency. I will try being more relaxed, but I’m going to start tomorrow. Right now I have to answer this in case Ruby has drowned in the bath, or escaped through the back door, or—” She checked the number. “It’s Corinna—”
“That really is a catastrophe.” Hannah reached across, snatched the phone from her hand and switched it off.
“What are you doing? I need to answer that!” Beth launched herself from her chair and snatched it back. “You’ll get me fired!”
“She can’t fire you. She hasn’t employed you yet.” Hannah put the phone on the table. “If it had been Jason or one of the girls, I can understand why you’d take the call, but as this is an evening of truths, then I will point out that Corinna is using you. She’s using you as free labor and you’re letting her.”
“It’s a goodwill gesture. I need to impress her.”
Posy was thinking about what Hannah had said. How could her memory have failed her so badly? How could she have remembered the love, but not the person giving it? She stared at her sister’s slim shoulders and elegant form and tried to remember snuggling in bed with her. When, and why, had her memory decided it was Suzanne?
Hannah was focused on Beth. “Do you really want to work for that woman?”
“Yes. She’s smart, she’s creative, she’s driven.” Beth paused. “And she thinks I have the exact set of skills she needs for this account.”
“And what are those skills?” Hannah held her gaze. “Why do you think she wants you in particular?”
“Are you implying I don’t have skills? I am the one who has profiled the target audience. I understand the woman who used to wear makeup but whose life is now just too busy, and perhaps she’s lost a little confidence and—Oh...” Beth’s voice trailed off. “She didn’t want me to identify the target audience. She wants me because I am the target audience.”