Probably the Best Kiss in the World

by Pernille Hughes

  “But it’s the principle,” Jen hissed. “It’s unethical.”

  “Get a grip. It’s just beer. There’s room for different brewers and not everyone can afford your fancy beer. You need to stop being the beer police and just get on with doing what you do and leave other companies to make their own decisions about whether they sell out.”

  “But he knew how I felt about corporates buying craft brewer–”

  “Jen! Listen to yourself. Could you be more self-involved? It’s his job. He’s been doing it for longer than he’s known you. He’s part of a global firm. Looks like he’s quite good at it.”

  “It’s not even what he dreams of doing. He should be on the brewing side!”

  “Again, not your business. He’s a grown-arse man, he can make his own choices. Who the hell do you think you are, telling people what they should or shouldn’t do with their lives?”

  Why was she defending Jakob? Jen had assumed they’d be safely ensconced on the sofa by now with a tub of ice cream and two spoons, maligning all men, but particularly Scandi beer heirs. And now Lydia was having a dig at her too. She parked Jakob’s job for now, they’d have to agree to disagree on that. Jen had something else she needed to set straight, given Lydia seemed to agree with Jakob on that as well.

  “I don’t shut everything down.”

  “Right,” Lydia agreed rolling her eyes. “I fell over in week three of Explorer scouts, which was some of the most fun I’d had in years, and because I gashed my good leg, you withdrew me.”

  “They’d made a mistake with the intake. You weren’t supposed to have been there,” Jen insisted. They’d already had this discussion.

  “Now who’s the liar? I emailed and they told me what really happened.” Dammit.

  “It wasn’t safe for you.” Jen was not going to be critiqued for things she did to keep Lydia out of harm.

  “You shut it down because you were scared. I was in no more danger than any of the others.” Lydia’s eyes were hard and angry and her voice was rising.

  “Your situation is different.” Jen held back from nodding at her leg. They knew what she meant.

  “You know what, Jen?” Lydia took a deep breath, “there is no one who makes me feel more disabled than you. No one. You think you’re protecting me, but you’re preventing me from living my life.” The venom in her sister’s voice took her aback.

  “What?” Jen stared at her sister astounded, stunned at both the turn in conversation and the sentiment. How could she even say that? She had changed the whole course of her life to raise Lydia. She’d done her best. It suddenly dawned on Jen that Lydia’s attitude had come with her through the door. She was already angry about something. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “You. You are the matter with me,” Lydia growled, clearly seething now. She dug in her pocket, pulled out an item and slammed it down on the kitchen table.

  Jen stared at the small patch, no bigger than a ten pence piece with a QR code on it. “I’ve got patches like that on all of my prostheses. I’d always thought they were some factory quality sticker. Imagine my surprise when Alison at work tells me about her ugly divorce, where amongst other overbearing things, her husband had stuck these in all her handbags. He wanted to know where she was at all times.”

  Oh. “I know it looks bad,” Jen started, “but–”

  “You put GPS stickers on me!!” Lydia shouted at her. “You were tracking me! How controlling can you get? I had our IT specialist confirm it was the same kind of sticker, because I couldn’t believe you’d really do something that shitty to me.”

  Jen raised her hands flat to Lydia, trying to calm her down. “I wasn’t tracking you. Don’t be daft. It’s the legs. You know how much they cost. Those stickers were just an insurance policy in the event of them going missing,” Lydia did not look like she was buying it, which was pretty harsh when Jen only ever had her sister’s best interests at heart. “Which, as it happened,” Jen pointed out, “was a good thing, wasn’t it, when you lost the cosmesis.”

  “And you tracked it on what?”

  “I borrowed Alice’s iPhone and used my SIM. Took me straight to it. See, it was for a good purpose.”

  Lydia looked like she was counting to ten.

  “It’s strange, Jen, how you didn’t say ‘S’all right Lyds, I can get your leg back with this, lend me your phone, will you’, or tell me how you did it when you got it back. It’s also odd how you didn’t feel the need to consult with me about this gross invasion of my privacy.”

  “It’s hardly that,” Jen scoffed. Lydia’s murderous expression said otherwise.

  “You are totally out of line. Ten quid says you didn’t tell Alice what you needed her phone for either.” Jen examined something on the floor.

  “I’m just looking out for you Lydia, seeing as you seem unwilling to do so. You seem to deliberately overlook your predicament and you can be reckless.”

  Lydia pushed herself away from the counter and leaned both hands on the table so she could look Jen in the eye. It was not a friendly gaze.

  “You know what? Every time you remind me I’ve only got one leg, I go out and do something adventurous. To be clear, those are the things you consider reckless. If you ever read the Echo, you’d know I’ve recently been skydiving and Team GB have invited me to skeleton bob trials because turns out I am pretty bloody good at it.” Jen felt the blood draining from her face. She’d done what?!

  Lydia was still going. “Last Saturday I was wake-boarding and I’m learning to paramotor. I can fly, Jen. Up in the air, soon by myself, and I love it. Your bloody GPS didn’t show you that, did it? No, all it shows you really is the nights I stop out with hot blokes. Those nights show me that being an amputee isn’t the sum of me, which is what you seem to think. Those guys don’t see my leg. They see me. And I let them see all of me and they are quite happy with that, probably because I’m bloody good at sex too. All those things make me feel free, when you don’t.”

  Lydia stood upright, on a roll now. “I was so pleased when you met Jakob, Jen. I saw you gawp at his bod from the boat and it was the first time I’d seen you following your own desires, rather than repressing them so you could look after me. That’s why I left you in the canal when fate chucked you a lifeline. That’s why I’ve been texting him ever since, including the news of the show win.” Jen’s jaw hit the floor. She’d had no idea Lydia had been orchestrating this. But Lydia didn’t look like she was wanting any thanks for it. “But, don’t think it was to make you happy – although you actually became more bearable for it. It was to get you off my back.” Lydia’s words felt like a slap. Lots and lots of slaps, one sting right on top of the other.

  “And now you’ve gone and fucked that up too, Jen. So no, I’m not going to tell you he’s done wrong, when I know it’s you that’s shut it down. You did wrong. He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in so long and you’ve arsed it up.”

  It had been a crappy day; she’d got the sack, she’d had to deal with the disappointment and shock of Jakob, and now Lydia was hurling all sorts of ridiculous accusations at her. She seemed to think she was some kind of romance whisperer when in fact she had no idea what Jen had experienced before, so her expert credentials were worth diddly-squat. Well no. Jen wasn’t bloody standing for it. Who did Lydia think she was? Jen had done everything for her since they’d lost their parents. Everything. Jen stood up, feeling rabid rage coursing up through her body.

  “You’ve got a nerve, standing here saying things like that to me. I’ve given up so much for you, put up with your teenage tantrums and trying to raise you single-handed, while clawing together some semblance of a life of my own. You have no bloody idea how hard that is. Not one clue. And here you are saying it isn’t good enough and I’ve ruined your life and necessitated you being a slapper for your own self-esteem. Bollocks to that. Take a look at yourself, Lydia. You’re here, surviving quite comfortably, so I think I’ve done my basic job OK, thank you. Shame I’ve faile
d when it came to your character, clearly you are one ungrateful and apparently disloyal, meddling cow.”

  “Says she, who puts tracking devices on her sister! How meddling is that?” Lydia shouted back. This was quickly escalating into one of their full-blown rows, but there was an edge to this one there had never been before. This was far too close to the bone. And Lydia wasn’t done yet. She seemed to have grown an inch from the anger radiating out of her. “You know what, Jen? Finding theses patches couldn’t have come at a better time. They’re the last push I needed. I’m not sticking around to see you wallowing in your self-pity over Jakob, when screwing it up is your own doing. I’m not sticking around to have you turn your attention back on me, making me feel half the person I know I can be and am going to be.”

  “God, that is so self-involved and totally untrue. Don’t give me that crap. I’ve made you the woman you are today.”

  “Only by making me rebel against you – not that you can see it, as you’re so fucking blind to anything that isn’t about your struggle. I will not be your charity effort anymore. I’m outta here.”

  “Here we go again,” Jen sneered, “another of Lydia’s hissy-fit walk-outs. Like I haven’t seen a million of those in the last few years.”

  Lydia fixed her with a hateful eye. The force of it made Jen flinch.

  “I’ve completed the first part of my training. I can now transfer to any of the international offices and finish the graduate programme there. That’s why I picked this company in the first place and I’m going.”

  What? Lydia had never mentioned this as part of her grad scheme – not that it mattered as she was bluffing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lydia–”

  “Right now I’m waiting to hear back from Singapore and San Francisco. Fingers crossed for whichever is furthest away from you. I need to live for myself without you making it harder. And maybe you can get on with living your life, without hiding behind me as some martyr looking after your crippled sister.”

  Jen’s jaw hit the ground. “Those are awful things to say.”

  Lydia walked to the door, scooping up the GPS patch as she went. “Truth hurts.”

  Jen forced herself to stand her ground. “You’ll be back as soon as you’re hungry. That’s your usual. You don’t know how to take care of yourself.” She’d seen this all before. Lydia needn’t think she was fooling anyone.

  “Newsflash, Jen. I’m twenty-two, and I’ve been an adult for a while. I can look after myself just fine when you actually let me. More to the point, I can do what or who I like, wherever I like. Like right now, I’m getting a bag and leaving. I’ll be back for my stuff when I get something sorted. Don’t call me. Call Alice if you need to get a message to me.”

  Jen sat down and drank her tea, crossly. She wasn’t bloody rising to this. Lydia could be an utter bitch sometimes. Many times, in fact. She was sick of her moods and being the one she took them out on. Those GPS patches were simply to safeguard her legs. She was blowing it all out of proportion. If anyone should be sounding off here, it should be Jen, for Lydia being in cahoots with Jakob. But that thing about her moving abroad? That had to be a bluff, surely..?

  She listened to her sister stomping about in the room above, and then to her coming down the stairs, crutches whacking the walls as she carried them under her arm. A horn beeped from outside and Jen listened to Lydia organising her bags being taken. And then the door slammed, followed by a loud smash.

  Jen found their parents’ portrait on the floor, the glass cracked across their faces. Their smiles were gone under the crackle. Jen looked at the door grimly, the silence in the house becoming smothering. The awfulness of the day finally took its toll, with Jen sliding down the wall clutching her parents to her chest.

  Lydia would be back. Of course, she would. And Jakob? She was better off without him, she whispered to the picture as her sobs echoed around the hole in her chest.

  Chapter 33

  Lydia was being particularly stubborn this time, still not having returned after three weeks. According to Alice she was safe. That was all Jen needed to know. Beyond that, Lydia could stew as far as Jen cared. She wasn’t going be treated like that by her younger sister.

  Jen was fine. F.I.N.E. Totally fine. The beer was fine. Everything was bloody fine.

  She reaffirmed this every day as she tended her tanks in the Arches, focusing on her venture and avoiding all thoughts of the things that had gone shitwards. The first thing she’d done the morning after Lydia’s walk-out was to grab her phone, offer up a prayer that Robert hadn’t wanted his gift back, and open her ListIT App. Her sobbing over the smashed picture had just been all the pent-up shock and frustration of the day, nothing more. The glass would be replaced and she’d carry on as she knew best; working to her lists. Things needed to get back on track. This was what she’d been missing. This was what had disrupted the order in her universe – not sticking to her lists or meticulously devising plans on her laptop. Obviously she deleted ChAPPel from the phone. She wasn’t sad to see it go.

  She had a portable master-list of all the things she needed to do, and then sub-lists breaking the original task down. This was so much better. She felt on course to something. Being on course suited her. None of that randomness. Spending most of her time in the Arches was conducive to her productivity, the house being disruptively quiet at the moment. In the workshop there was at least the murmur of traffic, the rumble of trains above and Alice’s chick-flick soundtracks filtering through the bricks. Not to mention Alice’s singing along, which while initially painful, now offered Jen a degree of comfort. Yes, the Arches was exactly what she needed at the moment, to focus on the newly arrived kit, setting her brews, her lists and building her business. Building her new life, in fact. She didn’t need any distractions, such as suitors or siblings.

  She was delighted with the new phone. Over the moon. Only, that too was annoyingly quiet. Before, she used to take calls all the time, inco pad contacts or just Ava whining about something or other, or dumping more work on her. Well, she could live without those. Robert used to text her, but there was radio silence there. She couldn’t blame him for that. Lydia’s numerous snarky texts about the people she came across in her work were missing, but as Jen was still seething from their argument, she was awaiting an apology before she’d be open to any joviality. There was nothing from Jakob either. Not that she was waiting for anything there. Jen had angrily closed down all thoughts of him. That relationship was done and dusted. She’d sworn not to give him the time of day. Not one minute. And every time he’d since slunk his way into her head, she batted the thought away, with a swear. Her swear jar was filling up fast, but if nothing else, Jen was a determined woman and she vowed to purge herself of this stupid tendency to think about him. She didn’t need him to make her dreams come true.

  Jen tucked the phone out of view. She knew what she was doing for the day, she didn’t need to see her lists for the time being and she didn’t need reminding that no one was calling her. She was waaaay too busy for that. She was getting back in control of things.

  The brewery was her life now, and far more reliable it was too. She’d got the change of building usage through superfast, along with her permission to brew, having called the council and found the Environmental Health Officer was a beer aficionado. The workshop had been rewired and re-plumbed for the waste waters and was now legally a brewhouse. New signage had been commissioned for the frontage, neatly announcing it was Attison’s Brewery. Jen had taken herself off on a three day commercial brewing course to cover all the business aspects and now, having her evenings to herself and uninterrupted by a ranting sibling, she had all her tax paperwork up-to-date and submitted. She’d even found a local farmer wanting to buy the spent malt from her as animal feed. What had Lydia been on about, saying she had no life? Her life was crazy busy and as complete as anyone else’s.

  And the beer was brewing. Hurrah! The six barrel kit had been delivered, installed and demonstrated. Two fast-fermentin
g beers were already tapped – she’d barely been able to lift her arms for several days after having bottled one-thousand-eight-hundred litres, so outsourcing the job was looking appealing. Meanwhile the boxes were stacked neatly on the shelves, with a couple of new brews in the tanks. The Golden Ale and IPA were due out in the next week, and then she’d have a basic array to deliver and the supply cycle could properly start. After that she could start building up more stock to sell elsewhere and even at the door. Since the sign had gone up she’d noticed cars slowing to check it out as they passed. Even the most reticent people became curious when it came to sourcing beer. Which would all be a good thing, as she’d had her last pay packet from Well, Honestly!. She’d spent huge amounts already and given the current sisterly climate she wasn’t quite sure where she stood on the loan from Lydia’s leg account, but once she’d sold this stock to Anthony, she should be good for a little while longer, although her shopping list was growing. There was all sorts of kit she’d like, and eventually, when her brain got over the new-recipe block it was strangely experiencing, she’d need more ingredients too.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Ha, Ha! Knockers!” she said to herself. Out loud. She was doing plenty of that recently.

  Alice stuck her head in the door. “I need more of the baby beers. The Hoppy New Baby combos are going like shit off a shovel.” Nice.

  “Hmm, I’m sure you mean something more nectar-like, as opposed to shit, right Alice?” Jen couldn’t help but match Alice’s grin. The thought of Re:Love’s business returning was heartening.

  “Right deffo. So have you got any?”

  Jen took great pleasure in carefully perusing the few boxes on the entire wall of otherwise empty shelves, finally pulling one out. This one had come from home. Not having to store boxes around the house anymore made the place seem much roomier. Lydia not careening around increased the space too.