Hothouse Flower by Lucinda Riley Page A

collection of wigs she kept in the back room of the cottage. She used to spend hours styling them, like a child playing with her dolls. She always wanted to be a hairdresser, didn’t she?’
    ‘Yes, and she hated my hair because it was too heavy to curl, even when she put it in what she called “rags” overnight.’ Julia smiled fondly at the thought. ‘I will go and see her. I’d like to anyway.’
    Alicia walked over to the dresser and opened one of the drawers. She pulled out an address book and flicked through it. ‘This is Elsie’s telephone number and her address. Do go, Julia,’ she urged. ‘What with you living in France and me up to my neck in kids, we haven’t exactly been model granddaughters, have we?’
    ‘No, we haven’t,’ Julia agreed. ‘And when I see her, I’ll decide whether or not to give her the diary. As Kit said, it might’ve been hidden by Grandfather Bill because what it contained was so distressing.’
    ‘Good point.’ Alicia walked over to the table to clear it. ‘Wash your hands and faces, you lot. Then you have half an hour’s TV before Rose comes home and it’s bathtime. Go on, off you go.’
    The three didn’t need to be told twice. They ran from the room, and Julia helped Alicia stack the dishwasher.
    ‘So, you and Kit had a good chat?’
    ‘Yes, I swapped him The Children’s Own Wonder Book for the diary.’ Julia smiled. ‘He’s been away for years, abroad somewhere. He didn’t know anything about … what’s happened to me. Until his sister told him, that is.’
    ‘Maybe that’s a good thing,’ said Alicia. ‘He’s very … attractive. Don’t you think?’
    ‘I don’t “think”, no. Anyway, I must be going.’
    Alicia could see by Julia’s sudden change of expression that she had overstepped the mark and inwardly kicked herself. ‘Listen, let me write down Elsie’s telephone number.’ She scribbled it on to a piece of notepaper. ‘There,’ she said, handing it to Julia. ‘Let me know what happens, won’t you?’
    ‘Yes. Thanks for the tea.’ Julia was heading for the door already. ‘Bye.’
    Julia got into the car, slamming the door much harder than she needed to and set off at a fast pace for home.
    She ground her teeth in frustration at her older sister’s unerring habit of upsetting her. She understood Alicia was only trying to help, to look after her, just as she had when they were younger. But her protectiveness only made Julia feel patronised and small.
    Alicia was, and always had been, capable, excellent at ‘life’ – the ‘Golden Girl’, as their father had always called her. She could throw endless plates in the air and keep them spinning merrily around at the same time. And all achieved with her sister’s trademark serenity, and not a hair out of place on her shining, blonde head.
    Julia had grown up in her shadow, simply struggling to organize herself . She had been a loner, with no regard for her appearance, and only managing to scrape through her exams at school due to the countless hours spent instead on the piano. She’d always known she couldn’t begin to compete with Alicia’s perfection. Added to that, Alicia had always been closer to their father, whereas Julia was attached at the hip to their mother. Everyone used to comment how alike Julia and her mother were – not just physically, but in their other-worldliness and artistic nature.
    Her childhood had ended on the day their mother had died.
    When Julia arrived home, she stoked the fire aggressively, trying to return it to some of its earlier glory, still unsettled. The problem was that Alicia was a genuinely caring person – Julia couldn’t fault her. Which made her feel even more inadequate and guilty. She knew how hard Alicia had tried to fill her mother’s shoes when she was younger, and how difficult she’d been in response. But no one could fill her mother’s shoes … ever. And she’d only wished Alicia had stopped trying, had understood she