by Mandy Baggot
‘Megan,’ Becky began. ‘This is Petra, my housemate and this is Elias. He’s my—’
‘We need to talk,’ Megan abruptly interrupted. She sleeked her hand down her blonde bob as if she was about to start filming for something. And she was still in charge of this conversation apparently.
‘OK, well, I’ll make us some drinks and we can—’
‘You can listen,’ Elias said firmly.
Becky looked to him and Megan was positively glowering at him.
‘You can both listen to each other,’ Elias continued, somehow manoeuvring deftly in between them. ‘Because, if there is one thing I have learned through my career, it is that the listening counts far more than the talking.’
There was silence for a beat. Becky didn’t know how to follow what Elias had said and she couldn’t believe he had come in and tried to exude authority over her sister when he was wearing nothing but a completely open white shirt over those tight trunks…
‘Sorry,’ Megan said, seeming to lean in a little and sniff Elias. ‘Who did you say you were?’
‘Elias is my—’
‘I am Becky’s lawyer,’ Elias broke in with a determined nod.
‘Well,’ Megan replied. ‘I’ve never seen a lawyer dressed in Speedos before.’
‘In Greece this is the uniform of all the best lawyers,’ he answered, seeming unfazed.
She had been going to be really honest and brave and all the things she needed to be with Megan. She hadn’t been going to say the word ‘lawyer’, she had been going to say the word ‘boyfriend’. Because that was what Elias was to her now? Wasn’t it? Ugh! Why was Megan’s arrival here making her doubt everything?
‘Right!’ Petra exclaimed. ‘I’m done with this Fighting With My Family vibe. I’m going back inside to try again to break into that mystery cupboard.’ She about-turned and headed for the bi-fold doors.
‘And I also should go,’ Elias said. He looked at Becky as if to remind her that he had been going before Megan had suddenly appeared. But also his look said that one word from her and he would stay. No, she was going to handle this on her own. She didn’t need Elias to sit them both down around the infinity pool and mediate. It was time to remember all the things she had learned here. She had grown. She had found out what independence truly meant. And although at first it was difficult and a little bit terrifying, now she rather liked it.
‘Perhaps you should stay,’ Megan suggested haughtily, picking some lint from her jumpsuit and letting it drift away in the slight breeze. ‘If you really are a lawyer.’
Becky shook her head. ‘Megan, I’ve thought about this a lot since I’ve been here.’ She stood tall, rolling her shoulders back, inching her chest out a little. ‘There have been many many occasions when I’ve taken a lot less than what I’ve been due for holiday. And there have been times – a lot of times – where I have worked many many more hours per week than is legally acceptable for someone to work. So, if there’s anyone who needs a lawyer then it’s you.’
Eek! She hadn’t meant to sound quite so confrontational. She did want to keep her job… at least until she had time to properly think through any alternatives. No one with half a brain put themselves out of employment without anywhere else to go. And maybe she didn’t want to go. She did love making the sandwiches… Why was Megan here now? When there were only a few days until she returned? Perhaps something else was wrong. Maybe it was Mum…
‘Is that so?’ Megan asked, a smirk appearing on her lips.
Oh God. It was the self-satisfied smile her sister always owned when she knew absolutely she was going to win an argument over pricing with the prawn man. Or perhaps it was simply bluff and bravado. Megan was quite good at that too. Becky would like to think that if it was something to do with their mum then Megan would have got to the point by now. So, it was a case of fold, or raise the stakes?
‘Yes,’ Becky found herself saying, stepping slightly closer to Megan, her pleather espadrille-covered feet making squelching noises from the sea water trapped in the hessian. ‘That is so.’ She took a breath. ‘I don’t need a lawyer to tell me I’ve more than given enough to It’s A Wrap over the years and you have absolutely no grounds to fire me.’
Megan linked her fingers together and almost triumphantly flexed them out. The sound of her sister’s knuckles cracking made Becky flinch.
‘Well,’ Megan stated as brusque as anyone could sound. ‘How about if I told you that Martin from the florist’s had an allergic reaction to the latest “creation” It’s A Wrap made him?’
‘What?’ Becky could hardly breathe now. Martin from the florist’s had an allergic reaction to something? Something she had made? Martin was usually a brie and bacon man. Had he opted for something else? Something from the range Megan knew nothing about? She was shaking, from head to foot, the Corfu sun doing nothing to raise her temperature from Alpine conditions…
‘He’s still alive. But it was touch and go for a while and—’
‘Oh my God!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘The reaction was that bad?!’ Poor Martin. Poor, poor Martin.
‘Yes!’ Megan shouted. ‘The reaction was that bad! And the very worst thing was… there was no label on the packaging! Nothing to tell anyone exactly what ingredients were in there!’
Becky couldn’t catch her breath. She had to phone Hazel and Shelley. She had to find out what they had given to Martin. Surely they wouldn’t have been stupid enough to give him a lunch meant for someone else… ‘I have to call Shelley… and Hazel.’ She was looking around for her bag. Where was it? Had she taken it off the boat?
‘Becky, take a second,’ Elias ordered, reaching for her hand.
‘I can’t take a second. I need to find… where’s my bag?’ She looked up into his face, those gorgeously bright eyes, those full lips… all the while she had been stepping outside of her comfort zone and finding herself, one of her customers had been nearly dying because of a sandwich. She couldn’t focus. Her eyes began to swim, her vision blurring.
‘I think… I think I need to sit down,’ Becky managed to say before she fainted on the floor.
Fifty-Five
Becky was quite sure ouzo wasn’t the best thing for someone who had fainted but, right now, it was the only thing hitting the spot in terms of her revival. Despite his protests, she had made Elias leave as soon as the olive trees stopped looking like they were tripling in number in her vision. Now on her second glass of the Greek spirit, with ice and a little water, she was making the most of the brief moments she had before she knew Megan would want to engage in battle again. And she didn’t blame her one bit. This was huge. This was terrible. Someone could have died because she had hidden part of the business from her sister. It didn’t get any worse than that.
‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ Megan wanted to know.
Becky looked up out of the ouzo glass and observed her. She was tightly wound, like a dog who had been cooped up for days without a walk or, someone who hadn’t been able to leave the house between Christmas and New Year. Her drawn-on eyebrows looked tenser than the rest of her and the jumpsuit couldn’t possibly be perspiration-friendly. Surely even Megan would perspire in the Greek heat.
‘No,’ Becky replied. ‘Of course not.’
‘Good,’ Megan answered. ‘Because I don’t want anything stopping me from tearing strips off you for this, Becky.’
There was pure venom in her sister’s voice now. And Becky knew this went far deeper than Martin from the florist’s.
‘I’ll resign,’ Becky said immediately. ‘I’ll take all the blame and I will resign. Straightaway. Right now.’
‘You will not!’
‘I should!’
‘Yes!’ Megan agreed. ‘Yes, you should. Because I know everything, Becky.’
Becky had a vision of Hazel and Shelley being strung up in the cold room like the carcasses in the Maroon 5 video for ‘Animals’ – Megan a psychotic Adam Levine with a cleaver. It wouldn’t have taken much for either o
f them to start talking and Becky would never want nor expect them to suffer any duress keeping her secrets.
‘I know,’ Megan continued, actual, real perspiration beading on her lip, ‘that this crazy undercover enterprise of yours has been going on for over a year! That you have been selling all types of God-knows-what to my customers for over twelve months!’
It was eighteen months or more, and they were her customers too. But Becky wasn’t going to bring that up right now. ‘I have,’ she admitted, running a finger around the rim of her ouzo glass. ‘But I never, ever thought anything like this was going to happen.’
‘How could you not think that?! Are you an imbecile?! Have you not read or heard the news about labelling on food products? Pret A Manger, Becky! Pret A Manger!’
‘So,’ Becky began nervously. ‘This is just about the fact my products didn’t have detailed labels on them?’
‘Do we think that Martin from the florist’s would be in hospital right now if they had?’ Megan yelled. She was flailing her arms around now, mosquitos would be taking cover and so they should.
‘Well… you haven’t told me the circumstances of Martin’s allergy,’ Becky reminded. She was probably clutching at straws. Megan wouldn’t have flown to Corfu if she wasn’t absolutely sure this was all Becky’s fault. But what was Martin’s allergy? She was keen to know exactly what he had ingested that had landed him in hospital.
‘What circumstances do you need to know about?’ Megan hissed. ‘Do you want to know the part where his face went red? Or about when his lips swelled up? Or perhaps the bit where his boyfriend had to put him in a wheelbarrow to get him to the doctors because no one was answering at the surgery?’
‘Poor Martin,’ Becky said with a sigh. She felt nothing but pure white-hot guilt.
‘Yes! Poor Martin and stupid, stupid you!’
Perhaps this was for the best. She would be sacked from It’s A Wrap and Megan would hate her and she would never have the chance to inform Megan that her sister’s whole life was based around the fact that she had never grieved properly for their dad and she was planning a life with Becky’s ex-boyfriend. Maybe Megan didn’t need to hear how Becky’s concoctions had kept It’s A Wrap afloat for so long, or that she had often told people Megan was the genius behind the flavours…
But that wouldn’t be being true to the new her. The her that wanted Megan to know that she was more than a simple bread-butterer. The her that had been the glue holding Megan together since they lost both their parents from their everyday lives. She wanted her sister to realise that she had feelings and needs and apparently a new penchant for a Greek aperitif and a Greek guy…
‘Just tell me what wrap he ate?’ Becky asked, watching Megan sip at her water glass.
‘God! Is that all you’re interested in? What it was that sent him spiralling towards unconsciousness?’
‘Well,’ Becky said in matter-of-fact tones, ‘it would be nice to find out what he was allergic to, because in all the time I’ve known him he hasn’t mentioned any allergies and I’m very careful about asking that.’
‘Really? Are you? Because you hand out ingredients without labelling and completely hide this from your boss!’
‘And why do you think I did that?’ There was no shying away now. If Becky was going to be dismissed in disgrace, then it may as well be all out in the open. She raised a glance to the olive tree providing them with some much-needed shade and internally she whispered an apology to it. All these years standing in this garden, all the conversations it had overheard and now it was about to be witness to a Rose Family smackdown.
‘I have no idea! No idea at all! And Dean has no idea either. He actually suggested you had early-onset dementia.’
Becky closed her eyes and simply tried to keep breathing. Dean had never known her at all. But now was not the time for stopping…
‘I hid it from you because I knew you wouldn’t approve.’
‘Damn right I don’t approve! I mean who in their right mind would?!’
‘Someone who realised that their sandwich flavours weren’t inspiring enough. Someone who could see that other local businesses offering cous-cous and healthy grains were going to swallow us up if we didn’t do something different.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘It’s true, Megan. Don’t you think I did the research? I ate at every one of the nearest sandwich places like ours and I tried to think what it was we could offer that they weren’t offering. And yes, it was a little out-there and quirky, but it worked! I made the herb garden – I told you about that—’
‘You think I’m so dumb I wouldn’t have seen a load of plants in the garden?’ Megan shook her head. ‘Dean thought it might be weed.’
Again, Dean wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. But Becky wasn’t going to let Megan cut through this conversation like she did all the time.
‘I experimented for weeks in my kitchen at home. What flavours went together. Things people wouldn’t expect. I researched what was the best for overall health and energy and what additions could help with certain conditions like… lack of iron or arthritis or indigestion. I made suggestions to customers, I went out with sample trays, I…’
‘Took over the spare phoneline with an answerphone you hid from me.’
‘I had to Megan. I couldn’t tell you the business was going to go bust if we didn’t try something a bit out there. I didn’t want to upset you. I wanted to take on that responsibility and help out.’
‘Like you always do!’ Megan spat. She stood up then, fanning her jumpsuit, sweaty patches appearing under her boob line. Megan was actually sweating.
‘Yes!’ Becky countered. ‘Like I always do! Like I always have! Like I’ve been doing for so long without any thanks for it!’ She got to her feet too.
‘Oh, so you want thanks now, do you?’ Megan snapped, her face a picture of fury. ‘Thanks for always taking over… when it came to Dad being ill… when Mum was moving… being first with the man I’m planning to marry… now having taken over my business!’
‘I… didn’t completely take over when Dad was ill or when Mum was moving.’ Except a creeping sensation was travelling over her shoulders now. She hadn’t entirely taken over, had she? She had needed to step up quickly, make arrangements, ensure their dad got a place at the best nursing home and make sure their mum was completely sure about the area of Blackpool she was moving to. All Becky remembered was Megan’s disinterest. But… what if she had translated that wrong? Maybe disinterest was simply distance because of fear. Had her sister just been so scared about what was happening to their family that the only way to cope was to emotionally run away?
‘The business is all I have!’ Megan was truly raging now and tears were spilling from her eyes like someone had opened the release on a dam.
‘That isn’t true,’ Becky said. ‘You have Dean.’
‘And Dean loved you first!’
‘Megan, he absolutely did not love me.’
Megan let out a sob, the anger seeming to diminish just a touch and Becky moved towards her, feet still squelching. She tentatively reached out and put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. ‘Dean adores you! Anyone can see that. We merely… shared a few pizzas together and a few awful films and…’
‘Sex.’
‘That was pretty awful too if I’m really honest.’ Becky swallowed, a flashback of her and Elias on the boat earlier coming to mind. That had been nothing like what she and Dean have ever shared. With Elias it had been almost otherworldly. Then she caught herself. She had said out loud that the sex with Dean had been terrible. Her sister was planning to marry him… She spoke quickly. ‘Awful because… we never matched. Not like you and Dean match.’
Megan sniffed, lifting her head and looking at Becky. Her eyes were black with half-washed away eyeliner, shadow and mascara. It looked like she had been making up in a coal-yard. ‘I don’t know if we match,’ she said sadly. ‘I just agreed to go out with him because I knew you would hate it.’ Sh
e snivelled. ‘And how sad does that make me?’
‘Oh, Megan!’ Becky exclaimed. She was shocked. That couldn’t be true, could it? Megan loved Dean. They were a gloriously perfect power couple on the networking scene – Megan the sandwich entrepreneur and Dean in charge of bringing the outside in with the conservatory business.
‘You think that I don’t care what happened to Dad. But you’re wrong.’ Megan sniffed hard. ‘I cried for him. I just didn’t do it in front of you or Mum.’ More tears were falling now. Megan continued, ‘I know you’re better at me with the sandwiches. You’re better than me at everything. You always were! And although I should be grateful to have someone so talented running the kitchen, I’m not. I’m jealous and I hate it. I really hate it!’
Becky didn’t know what to say. Perhaps it was best not to say anything at all. She could feel the emotion building up in herself now. She bit her lip, trying not to cry.
‘You not telling me about these other sandwiches tells me that you don’t think I’m capable of anything at all.’
‘I don’t think that,’ Becky insisted. ‘You’re so capable. Much more capable than me. I mean, if you put me in a room with businesspeople talking about “propositions” and “bottom lines” I would want to hide in the nearest cupboard until it all stopped. You, you revel in all that. And no one else would have been able to get the contract with the army.’
Megan shrugged, her face softening a little. ‘You think I don’t care about It’s A Wrap. You think it could be any sort of business… a nail bar or… a coffee shop… you think the only reason I wanted a business was because I couldn’t get a job working for someone else. You don’t even know why I chose sandwiches, do you?’
There was a reason her sister had wanted to go into the catering market? Becky had assumed it was because it was relatively simple to set up and that it was profitable if they could tackle the competition. Great reasons but Megan was somehow now talking like filling rolls had been a life-long ambition. ‘No,’ Becky replied.