by Vivien Brown
talked about it and decided to put it all behind you. And you blamed it all on me, of course.
You even told her I meant nothing to you. So I don’t see why I owe you anything at all.’
‘What? Whatever you may think, we have never talked about you. About us. She’s
never said a word to me, about any of it. I had no idea she knew. The first I heard about it was three weeks ago, when she as good as slung me out on my ear. Told me you’d confessed all,
bloody ages ago. I just wish one of you had had the decency to tell me what was going on.’
‘Decency? Oh, Josh, come off it! Looks like she’s played us off against each other here.
I thought you’d told her everything, and now you think I did.’
‘Bitch!’
‘Is she? I think she’s probably just a woman who’s been trying to save her marriage,
any way she can.’
‘Well, she’s not doing that now.’
‘She’s really thrown you out?’ I was very aware that we were still one each side of the
door, and that he was expecting me to let him come in. I also knew I was wavering, already
wondering if I should call Seb and cancel our date, or tell him I was going to be late. ‘You
mean permanently? As in you’ve split up?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, why now? What’s changed?’
‘I don’t know. Some busybody’s filled her head with lies.’
‘About?’
‘God knows. Me and you, in some hotel room, apparently. I wish! To be honest, I don’t
know what she’s talking about, but will she listen? Anyway, I’ve got myself a little bedsit place for now. Pokey as hell. And she’s talking divorce.’ I saw his foot start to edge over the
threshold. ‘Oh, come on, Eve, let me come in. I need someone to talk to.’
‘Well, it’s not going to be me.’ No, I couldn’t do this. ‘Not now. I’m going out, I told
you, and I’m late.’
‘When then?’
‘I don’t know, Josh. Things are okay between Sarah and me at the moment. Well, I
rarely see her, and we’ll never be as close as we once were, but we’re not at loggerheads, and
we’re civil to each other. We’re finally building bridges. She certainly hasn’t told me anything 217
about you splitting up, and neither has Dad but . . . well, I’m not sure I want to rock the boat again. Since losing Mum I’ve realised how much I need my family. I actually want to make
things up with my sister, even if it’s only one tiny step at a time, and I’m sick of being the bad guy. So I think it’s best we keep our distance, don’t you?’
‘No, I don’t. We have a connection, you and me, and you know it. Always have, always
will. Come and see me, Eve. Or we’ll go out somewhere for a drink. Please. When you’re not
so . . . busy. Here, let me leave you my new address.’
‘I don’t need it, Josh. I’m not getting into all this again.’
‘Call me then. Same number.’
I looked up into his eyes and almost gave in. ‘Maybe.’
He turned to walk away. ‘Enjoy your evening,’ he said. ‘I hope he knows how lucky he
is.’
Oh, God! Why did I have to still feel this way? I closed the door and leaned against it
for a moment, waiting for my breathing and my pulse to fall back into their usual rhythm. How
was I meant to go out with another man now, act as if nothing had happened, knowing that
Josh wanted to see me, spend time with me, talk to me, knowing that the man I had loved all
my adult life but couldn’t have was finally free?
***
Seb did everything right. He didn’t tut at me for being twenty minutes late, he helped me out
of my coat and found somewhere to hang it, rested a hand on my back as we walked to our
table, held out my chair as I sat. He was good company, filling my silences with chat and
questions and laughter. I liked him. We seemed to have a lot in common, from our teaching
backgrounds to our taste in films and books. We even ordered the same food and happily shared
a bottle of chilled Chardonnay which we both declared to be so delicious that Seb ordered
another.
We sat at the table long after we had eaten, finishing the wine, savouring our coffee.
His fingertips brushed against mine across the table, perhaps on purpose, I wasn’t sure, and it felt comfortable, non-threatening, friendly and warm. I didn’t pull my hand away. But no
sparks flew. Oh, I wanted them to. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To find what I needed in
another man, a handsome, eligible, uncomplicated man who I could start all over again with,
take home to meet Dad, build a new life with? But it wasn’t going to happen. I knew it wasn’t,
because all I had been able to see whenever I’d looked tentatively into my future was a big
Josh-shaped hole that now, suddenly, I felt I might be able to fill again. With Josh.
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It was a mad thought, but I knew it was at least remotely possible, if I was prepared to wait. It wouldn’t, couldn’t happen overnight. I had meant what I’d said to Josh about the
importance of family, about wanting to put things right between Sarah and me, but if I just let things settle for a bit, allowed Sarah time to grieve for her marriage, go ahead with her divorce, or maybe – because I couldn’t rule it out – decide to change her mind and have him back . . .
It wasn’t my place to interfere, to dive in there and influence things, and I knew I
mustn’t. I had done that before and it had led to nothing but heartache. If their life together was really over, if Josh wanted to contact me, wanted me back, then it would happen, in its own
time, and for now that was enough. I had no way of knowing how things might play out but if
Josh and Sarah took that final step and went their separate ways forever, then everything would be different. We could start again if we wanted to, openly, without having to sneak around
cheating or hurting anyone; perhaps we could even live together, have children together. I could be Janey’s stepmum, as well as her auntie. How strange that would be!
But, of course, I was getting ahead of myself. I pushed the maelstrom of crazy thoughts
aside and turned my attention back to Seb. Having paid the bill and flatly refused to allow me
to contribute my share, he retrieved my coat and we walked outside together.
‘Can I walk you home?’ he said, linking his arm through mine. I had planned on getting
a taxi and disappearing, enigmatically, into the night, but it wasn’t all that far and the walk might help to clear my head.
‘If you’re sure.’
‘Of course.’
We walked side by side but not so close as to feel anything other than comfortable, our
feet falling into companionable step. Outside the flat, he turned me towards him and smiled,
probably at my red nose as it was a lot colder out than I had realised. ‘I’ve enjoyed this evening, Eve. Maybe we might do it again?’
I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to lead him on, but I had enjoyed myself too.
‘Only if you let me pay next time.’
‘I could probably agree to that.’ He pressed his cold lips to my cheek, gently, and
watched as I fumbled for my key. No pressure, no expectation of more. ‘See you at school.’
‘Yes, see you. And thanks.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said and, once he’d seen me open up and step inside, he ambled away
into the darkness.
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Oh, how I wished he was gay. Another Simon Barratt in my life was exactly what I needed. A friend I could talk to, have fun with, feel safe with. But Seb wasn’t gay, and I
wasn’t looking for the kind of relationship he’d probably want if we went on with this . . . this thing.
No, I’d have to tell him. Sooner, rather than later. But, for now I felt happy, and just a little bit tiddly.
I still remembered Josh’s number. Of course I did. Like every line on his face, every
inch of his skin, I knew it off by heart. But was I going to use it? That was the question.
***
Dad was sixty-five that spring. He had decided he wasn’t quite ready to retire, and his manager
at work had been persuaded to let him stay on for another year at least, but only if he agreed to go part-time. It seemed like the perfect solution. He still moped about a bit when left by himself at home for too long, but staying on in the office part-time would help to keep him busy and
let him get used to a more gradual change.
Of course, we had a party. I took Dad down to the library on that Saturday afternoon,
pretending I needed help researching a few bits to start a family tree, a project which he seemed eager to get involved in, and while we were out Janey threw herself into decorating his house
with balloons and banners, and Sarah sneaked in a huge cake and laid out all the plates of food.
I knew now, officially, about the separation, and that Josh had not been invited to join
us at Dad’s.
‘If I said 112 to you, would it mean anything?’ she had said, staring at my face, the day
she’d told me.
‘No. Should it?’
‘Or The Georgian Hotel?’
‘Isn’t that the posh place where Lucy’s mum and dad had their ruby wedding?’
‘No idea. Did they?’
‘Sarah, what are you talking about?’
‘Nothing. Just checking something, that’s all.’
She turned away, seemingly satisfied, and the subject – not that I really knew what it
was – was dropped. Since then we had managed to tiptoe around each other, not talking about
Josh at all, carefully avoiding the elephant in the room, and I had resisted the urge to call him, biding my time just in case there was some long-term hope for us and for all this mess to finally end.
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I had to admit I was a little disappointed he hadn’t tried again to contact me, but that had always been Josh’s way. Turn up, full of passion and promises, then disappear again for
weeks at a time. I expected he was busy at work, and with learning to cope with his own place
now there was no wife there to run a hoover round the carpet or an iron over his shirts. And
looking after Janey every other weekend wouldn’t be easy either. Teenaged girls could be
tricky, as I knew only too well, having been one myself!
There weren’t all that many guests at Dad’s party. Far fewer than had come to Mum’s
funeral, but then many of them had been her friends, rather than his, and we’d not seen most
of them since. This party was a more joyous occasion and we’d invited a few of Dad’s
colleagues from work, old friends of both sexes from a bowls club he used to go to but had
slipped away from lately, some couples they’d met when Mum had dragged him off to ballroom
dancing, and a few neighbours, including Tilly’s parents from next door. Enough to fill the
living room and to spill over into the kitchen, where most of the men seemed to gather, with
one or two holding cigarettes and braving the garden.
I sat in an armchair, nursing a cup of tea and watching Janey. I hadn’t seen much of her
lately, except in passing at school, and hardly at all since that day in Arnie O’Connor’s kitchen.
It was lovely to see how much she was growing up. Although still my beloved niece who was
happy to throw her arms around me excitedly when I’d arrived back with her unsuspecting
grandad, she was now also a tall, pretty, confident teenager. When had that happened? Instead
of hiding away upstairs or spending all her time playing with the cat, she stayed in the room
with the adults, helping to pass food around and replenish cups and glasses. When we opened
a bottle of champagne, with a loud pop that made everybody either squeal with delight or jump
out of their skins, Sarah even offered Janey a small glass, which she sipped eagerly, giggling
as the bubbles went up her nose.
‘Shall we have some music?’ Dad said, when the conversation started to flag and, for
the first time since Mum’s death, I saw him open the cupboard doors at the bottom of the
sideboard, pull out the old boxes of records and flick through them, keen to keep the party
going with a swing. He didn’t pick out the Tom Jones he’d shed a tear over that day I’d worked
out that he’d been the one to write the letters, but everybody swayed a little to some old Beatles favourites and joined in with the words of ‘Lily the Pink’.
It was good to see him enjoying himself. And it gave me hope for myself, I suppose, a
feeling that whatever pain came, there could be a recovery from it, and happiness again, given
time.
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By seven o’clock, they had all drifted away and Dad sat in his chair with a cake stain on his jumper and a contented look on his face as Janey finally went in search of the cat, who
had been hiding from all the noise and bustle under Dad’s bed, and Sarah and I set to work on
clearing up.
‘That went well, didn’t it?’
I sloshed the plates around in a bowl of hot soapy water, noticing how shabby and
cluttered everything was looking, and resolved to suggest Dad got himself a dishwasher, or
even someone in to clean once a week, now he didn’t have anyone to keep things in order in
the kitchen. ‘Yes, it did. Good to see Dad having fun again. And you, Sarah. I hadn’t realised
how long it’s been since I’ve seen you smile.’
‘Well, what do you expect when . . .’ She stopped and let the silence fall around us.
‘I’m sorry, Eve. I’ve spent so long hating you, and blaming you, but what good did that do me?
It’s time to let it go, isn’t it? What’s happened is in the past. It’s not as if we can change it. And Josh may not be my husband for much longer, but you . . . well, you’re still my sister.’
‘I hope so. I really do.’ I wiped my wet hands down the front of my trousers and held
my arms out to her for a hug, not at all sure if she would accept it, but she did.
‘You’ll be okay without him, Sarah.’
‘Like you are, you mean?’
‘Maybe he wasn’t right for either of us in the end.’
‘He could have been though, couldn’t he?’ She pulled back from me, neither of us yet
comfortable enough to stay pressed together for too long. ‘If he’d just met one of us. If we
hadn’t both ended up falling for him the way we did. He wouldn’t have had to choose then,
would he?’
‘I’m not sure he ever did choose, did he? The choosing was done for him, and even then
he tried to hang on to us both.’
‘For different reasons, though. I got the baby and the house and the respectability of a
ring on my finger, and you got the sex. When, in all probability, it should have been the other way round! I just wanted the excitement really, not all the nappies and the domesticity. Don’t
get me wrong, I wouldn’t be without Janey for the world. Not now she’s here. But what I really
wanted was what you had, of course, no matter what that might have been. I always was jealous
of you, you know. Wonderful Eve, Mummy and Daddy’s golden girl. The favourite. You had
it all. The brains, uni, the glittering career . . .’
‘I would have swapped it all for the right man, marriage, babies.’
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‘I’m not sure that’s totally true. You love your job, and it would have been such a waste.
Like my life’s been. Oh, Eve, what have we done? Thrown away the lives we should have had,
chasing dreams.’
‘Chasing Josh, you mean!’
‘It’s not too late though, is it? For you to meet someone, get married, have babies. And
for me to find a bit of self-respect, learn to live on my own, maybe get a better job?’
‘Never too late. Life’s what you make it really, isn’t it? In fact, I have met someone.
It’s early days but . . .’
‘Oh, I’m glad. What’s his name? What does he do? Is he nice?’
I thought about Seb. Yes, he was nice. Very nice. We’d been out a few times now, just
as friends, me always cutting things short before they went too far, but I was warming to him.
Maybe all those fireworks I had felt with Josh would never come again, but were they what I
really needed? How about trust and security and the kind of cosy settled life Seb could give
me? Although he wasn’t pushing for it, I knew Seb wanted more from me. And I knew I could
do a lot worse than to give it to him, but still something held me back.
If only Sarah weren’t my sister . . .
‘I’m going to Becky’s tonight, Mum.’ Janey had appeared at the kitchen door, her voice
cutting into our conversation and stopping it dead, which was probably just as well. ‘Is that
okay? Her brother’s just passed his test so he said he can drop me home tomorrow.’
I saw Sarah sigh, her shoulders slump as she nodded her head. ‘Yes, of course. Let me
just finish off here and we’ll go home and pack your bag, okay?’
‘I’m not sure I believe her anymore,’ she said quietly, as Janey went off to say goodbye
to her grandad. ‘I bet she’s off to her dad’s. That’s why she’s trying to stop me going over to her friend’s place to collect her in the morning, because she won’t be there. Just won’t admit
where she’s really going in case I try to stop her. I swear she loves him a lot more than she’s ever loved me.’