‘Miles,’ I called, and ran to catch up with him. The wind had picked up: the trees were rustling and the door to the marquee was flapping, almost in time to the music.
Miles turned eagerly.
‘Do you hate him?’ I said.
‘No,’ he said, with a small sigh.
‘Well, I don’t get it,’ I said, as the anger I’d struggled to control rose again. ‘You must understand what you’ve done, Miles. He’s your brother.’
‘It’s families, Lizzy,’ Miles said, brushing something out of his eye with an impatient gesture. ‘It’s complicated. I don’t hate him, I love him. But sometimes he’s the person I’d most like to trample all over. I want to beat him. To be better than him. And he does too.’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ I said. ‘That’s just you.’
‘Forget it,’ Miles said, and walked away.
‘No,’ I said, catching up with him and grabbing his shoulder so he had to face me. ‘I can’t. You’ve done something terrible to me and I don’t think you understand.’
‘I really do,’ said Miles. ‘Trust me.’
‘You don’t,’ I said furiously. ‘You lied to me. I was missing David desperately. I thought he didn’t love me any more, and you lied to me. You looked me in the eyes and told me he’d slept with someone else. Then you rang him up and told him – what? The same thing? Something similar?’
Miles said nothing.
‘That bit doesn’t matter,’ I said, though it did: I wanted desperately to know. ‘It’s what you did that matters. You didn’t want your brother to be happy so you took it away. You wanted me for yourself so you broke my heart. That’s not love, Miles. That’s – that’s horrible.’
I put my hand on my collarbone to calm myself down.
‘David and me…You don’t understand it,’ Miles said suddenly. ‘He didn’t understand how I felt about you. He always thinks it’s just him. Who deserves everything.’
‘He didn’t deserve me,’ I said, my voice rising. ‘We were together, that’s all. I didn’t pick him over you. There wasn’t a competition!’
‘Yes, there was!’ Miles cried. ‘There fucking was. You don’t understand it, Lizzy. It’s not about you. We were friends for ages and I’ve always wanted you, wanted to be with you. Ever since…years ago. I promised myself that when I grew up I’d do what I could to make you want me, and then—’
I tried to contain the fury and hatred that flared up inside me. His voice broke. He covered his mouth with a fist, then said, ‘And I get back from holiday and there’s David in the kitchen, telling Mum all about how he’d just met you, how he’d had you, how you were going out. Just like that. And Mum’s all pleased and grinning. Oh, well done, David, ooh, how exciting. Oh, hello, Miles, what are you doing there skulking around in the background?’ His eyes flashed in the evening gloom. ‘I hated him then, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let it get to me, but it did. And I won in the end, you could say.’ His smile was twisted. He touched my arm. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Then the dam broke, and I was in the grip of an uncontrollable rage. ‘Wouldn’t understand?’ I shouted, clutching my skirt as I staggered up the slope towards him. ‘You stupid. Fucking. Idiot.’ I was yelling, spitting almost, inches away from his face. ‘Wouldn’t understand? Do you have any idea how much I understand? I’m the one who’s been at the centre of all of this – this crap – for the last year. You selfish, selfish…I can’t even begin to tell you the damage you’ve done. It was none of your business, me and David. And you, with your sad little fantasies, your weird fucked-up way of seeing things, do you know how awful you made me feel? How can you say you loved me all that time you watched me crying over him? You knew how much I loved him, you knew how good we were – how can you say that what you did was from true love?’ My throat was aching. ‘You’ve ruined everything! I – I—’
I couldn’t breathe. I actually couldn’t breathe, and I stood back and gulped air in long, shuddering breaths that hurt with the force of my anger. I remembered suddenly what it was like to be little, to have no command of yourself, to feel hysterical, out of control.
Miles’s white face swam in front of me, looking like Miles, looking like David, I couldn’t tell. I gritted my teeth to stop myself crying, and took another deep breath. Suddenly, all those things I’d been wanting to say for ages were tumbling out, and I couldn’t stop them. In the distance I could see people watching. I didn’t care. Now it wasn’t just Miles I was so angry with. ‘All this year, I’ve been trying to be so good, to be a good daughter, not to let the sale get us all down, worrying about Tom, wondering what’s up with Mike, and Rosalie, and – and Mum and Dad. All this year I’ve kept all these things to myself, that I kept wanting to stop remembering, and I couldn’t. And we’ve all been through so much, and do you understand, Miles, what it would have been like if I’d had David with me through all of that?’
‘Stop it, Lizzy,’ Miles said. He looked beaten.
I stood up straight, feeling as if I’d stretched my legs and arms after I’d been asleep for a long time. He backed away, as if breaking the thread between us. After all, he had nothing to lose by going.
‘I’m sorry, OK? One of these days I hope you’ll forgive me. But that’s enough now. I’m not listening to any more. I’ll – just, well, take care. Don’t – just stop worrying about everything. It’s over now. ‘Bye.’
My gaze followed his retreating figure. He seemed unfamiliar to me. In my mind I’d tried to make him into something he wasn’t, and I’d been wrong. I couldn’t think of a joke we’d both liked, or a film we’d loved together. He just adored me. He was safe. He wouldn’t ever hurt me. I had thought that was enough, but I’d got it wrong.
As a thousand thoughts like these crowded into my mind, a picture came into my head of me and David on my sofa, watching Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves late on a wintry Saturday afternoon. I was pretending to be really into it and David was pretending to hate it and doing a brilliant Kevin Costner impression. Both of us were laughing like drains, so much so that I spilt my tea over him. I don’t think I’d laughed once like that with Miles.
Tears filled my eyes. That was what I’d lost and it was a stupid thing to remember but to me, at that very moment, it was heartbreaking.
I walked towards the house, not bothering to acknowledge Miles as I overtook him on the gravel path. I went to my room, my comforting old room, and all of a sudden I saw what Mum and Chin had been hinting at: that it had been less vital to save Keeper House than I’d thought. Humans and relationships are more important than homes, and while I couldn’t have been happier that the house was ours again, I saw how much time and energy I’d spent living in a dreamworld about it when I should have hunted David down, begged him to talk to me about what had gone wrong. We were stupid, both of us, the way Mike was stupid; we had put our heads in the sand and hoped everything bad would go away; we blamed ourselves but took no action. I’d spent hours wishing and hoping we could avoid the sale of the house, praying it wouldn’t happen, mooning over old napkins, dusty books and fond memories. Well, Keeper House had been saved in the end, but by Chin, whose outlook on life was different from mine. I sat on the bed. It was too late for anyone to do anything about me and David, and the person I was now was too different from the girl I’d been then for the gap to be breached.
The band were still in full swing: no one would notice that I wasn’t there and I knew Tom would make any excuses. I shut the window, brushed my teeth, put on my nightie and curled up in the chair. I didn’t want to go to bed: I just wanted to be by myself. I stayed in that chair for what seemed like hours, looking at nothing, thinking about everything.
I’m ashamed to say I felt rather sorry for myself and cried myself to sleep. Happily no one noticed I wasn’t there. Jess snogged a waiter, Rosalie led the demand for a band encore, and Chin and Gibbo danced in each other’s arms until the sun came up and the house cast its long, friendly shadow across the marquee.
THIRTY-FOUR
When I woke up, the sun was shining through the gap in the curtains. The diamond-shaped leading in the windows cast distorted patterns on the floorboards. I shut my eyes again. I felt as if I had been hit over the head with a hammer, made to run a marathon, then put forward for eyelid testing, which involved my eyelids being puffed-up with a syringe to nine times their normal size and weight. It was a hangover, of course, but often you can drink all night and wake up feeling relatively fresh because you have had a hilarious, raucous evening. I reopened one eyelid. The sun patterns on the floor were dancing. I groaned.
I opened both eyes carefully, and rolled my gaze out across the floor. There were some brown kitten heels, lying askew under the chair. Suddenly, like Bobbie’s daddy appearing through the swirling mist at the end of The Railway Children, a picture of the previous day emerged. The shoe strap that hurt on the way back from Chin’s wedding. The house – saved. My speech. Rosalie’s rose-pink taffeta outfit. Miles – God, Miles: I wasn’t going out with him any more. And then I remembered. David hadn’t slept with anyone else.
David hadn’t slept with anyone else!
I sat bolt upright in bed, which sent me into a relapse. My arms ached, my ribcage hurt, my legs felt lumpen and bloated, so I lay down again. I hadn’t dreamed it, had I? Miles had lied to me. And David had said he loved me. We shouldn’t have broken up. Hope glared in my heart. Ouch, my head was aching again, as if I was thinking clearly for the first time in months and I’d forgotten how to do it.
Whatever had happened yesterday, I felt as though something had changed irrevocably. As if I’d look out of the window and find the house had blown out of Kansas and into Munchkinland. I couldn’t face sitting up but I wanted to get up. I wrapped myself in my duvet, like a sausage roll, and got completely tangled in it. How long I would have stayed there I have no idea, because at that moment I heard a tentative knock on the door.
‘Lizzy?’
‘Tom!’
The door opened a crack. I wriggled and managed to free an arm. ‘Help me, I’m stuck,’ I said pathetically.
Tom crouched and moved his head to one side so I could see his face.
‘Hello,’ he said, rather stiffly. ‘Are you OK now?’
‘I can’t unravel myself,’ I said. ‘I’m hiding.’
Tom coughed politely. ‘Well, after your performance last night, I’m not bloody surprised. Who are you hiding from?’ he asked, turning me over like a Swiss roll and freeing the edge of the duvet. ‘Has Miles reappeared? David? Or even Jaden? Or some other, as yet unknown to me, paramour?’
‘No.’ I sat up. ‘Thanks. I’ll come down in five minutes.’
‘Good. Chin and Gibbo are going. I came to see if you wanted to say goodbye.’ He patted my arm. ‘You look terrible. Did you get any sleep?’
‘Yes. No. Not really.’
‘Well, this sounds trite but—’
‘At least it’s all sorted out now,’ I finished.
Tom stared. ‘That’s what I was about to say.’
‘That’s why I said it.’ I got out of bed. ‘I’ll be down in five, I promise.’
‘Are you—’ Tom began.
‘I’m fine,’ I said coolly. ‘I’m not going to repeat my behaviour of last night, don’t worry. That’s all finished.’
‘Right,’ Tom said. ‘See you downstairs, then?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said. The door slammed behind him.
‘Lizzy!’ Chin called as Tom and I trotted feebly down the stairs. ‘Darling, I didn’t want to get you up.’ As I descended the final two steps she jumped up to kiss me. She looked fantastic – clear-skinned, bright-eyed, incredibly happy. She was dressed in a beautiful kaftan, embroidered with gold thread, and some loose trousers, like an advert for a bride off on holiday to a boutique hotel in Marrakech – which was, of course, the case.
‘Morning, you two,’ said Mum, from the bottom of the stairs. She had no makeup on and her fluffy hair was sticking up on end, making her look like a surprised cockatoo.
‘Morning,’ Tom and I muttered.
There was an air of anticlimax in the hall, a bit like New Year’s Day. Dad and Jess looked tired but chirpy. Mike had apparently gone ten rounds with Lennox Lewis and was using his eye pouches to store loose change. Rosalie, of course, was as fresh as a daisy, succulent as roast chicken, with her arm threaded through Mike’s, smiling at everyone.
‘Is Mum here?’ Tom said.
‘No,’ my mother told him. ‘She’s coming over for lunch. Right, you two, are you ready to go?’
‘I think we are,’ Chin said, as Gibbo appeared from the car where he’d been stowing the last of the luggage, as any married man should. ‘Oh, Suzy,’ she said, hugging Mum hard, ‘thank you so much, for everything.’
‘Well, you too,’ said Mum. ‘Darling Chin.’ She sniffed surreptitiously.
‘You all right, Lizzy?’ Chin said. ‘I didn’t see much of you last night. What happened? Did you and Miles go off somewhere?’
‘They left early,’ said Tom, truthfully.
‘You two, eh?’ said Gibbo, as if Miles and I were a well-known, long-established couple who were notorious for sneaking out of events ahead of schedule.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Have you got everything?’
Gibbo hugged me, then shook hands with Tom. ‘See you soon, mate. I’ll give you a call when we’re back, yeah?’ Tom and I stepped back gratefully as Gibbo moved along the line to Rosalie and Mike. ‘Hey, Mike, take care of this gorgeous gal, won’t you? Let’s go dancing when you’re next in the country, Rozzer. Throw some shapes down.’
‘Sure thing,’ Rosalie said, laughing. ‘Bless you both. G’bye, Chin,’ she added.
Chin kissed her. ‘’Bye,’ she said, and paused in front of Mike. ‘’Bye, bro,’ she said softly.
Mike had been standing there in a light doze, his chin in his hand, but at the sound of his sister’s voice he started awake. ‘Ah, Chin! You off, then?’
‘Yes,’ said Chin. There was a clattering sound from upstairs, and a scream followed by a wail.
‘Mando’s still here?’ I said.
‘He’s coming with us,’ Chin said. ‘I’m putting him in the back and if he says a word he’s going in the boot.’
‘Don’t go!’ Mando yelled, from upstairs. ‘Give me time!’
‘For God’s sake,’ Chin muttered. She turned back to Mike. ‘Well, ‘bye, then. See you…at Christmas, I suppose.’
‘Yup,’ Mike said. Rosalie nudged him. He stood up a bit straighter. ‘Why don’t you and Gibbo come over for a bit, though? Stay with us. We’d love that. Show you the sights. All that sort of thing.’
‘We’ll think about it,’ Chin said solemnly. ‘’Bye Mike.’
Mike stepped forward suddenly. ‘’Bye, sis. Lots of love.’ He threw his arms round her and lifted her a foot off the ground. Then he carried her outside, put her into the car, as if she weighed no more than a bag of feathers, bent down and kissed her. ‘Sorry,’ I heard him mumble. Chin caught his head as he leaned into the car and they stayed like that for a while, till Mum and Mando appeared and we all went outside.
‘Oh, Mando, goodbye,’ Mum said.
‘Suzy, oh, Suzy,’ Mando said tragically. He was wearing a tight pink polo shirt and checked golfing trousers. ‘I will see you next month, yes?’
‘What for?’ asked Dad, with interest.
‘The sales,’ Mum said severely. ‘You wouldn’t like it. Oh bye, Mando, do take care, thank you for everything.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Mando simply. ‘It has been wonderful. You are a lovely family.’
Mike stood up and joined Rosalie. Tom, Jess and I stood along the hedgerow, in the shade.
‘Goodbye,’ Mando said, disentangling himself from my mother. ‘Good luck with things,’ he said to us. ‘Tom, you are an excellent omosessuale. Jess, you are an excellent painting. Painter. Bene. Lizzy, you are excellent – I am sure at many things.’
‘Come on, M,’ Gibb
o said, like somebody’s dad. ‘We’re leaving now. OK? Get in.’
Chin leaned out of the window. ‘Thank you so much, everyone. See you in a couple of weeks!’
‘Have a wonderful time,’ we chorused, as Gibbo started the car.
‘ ’Bye,’ Chin called, as they drove away. ‘ ’Bye – love you all.’
As they drove off, Mando yelled something, then threw out all the left-over rose petals. They gusted up into the air, and floated down on us as we stood and waved.
‘Typical Mando,’ said Jess. ‘I’ve never met someone who had no other use except being decorative. But who’ll clear this all up, may I ask?’ she said, pointing to the petals.
‘I will,’ Mum said quietly. ‘I miss him already. My new best friend.’ She sighed as the car rounded the corner and disappeared.
I felt melancholy all of a sudden. ‘When were you thinking of going back, Tom?’ I said, as we went into the side-room, where breakfast was ready.
‘I wanted to get back before lunch.’ He sat down, then poured himself and me some coffee. ‘Do you want a lift?’
‘Why before lunch?’ I said.
‘I’m going out tonight and I need to do some work before then,’ Tom said.
‘Where are you going?’ I said nosily.
‘Just out,’ Tom replied.
I was sure it must be a date but I said nothing: I reminded myself that from now on I was a mature, discreet person who did not prod for vulgar details.
‘Mike and I were planning on leaving after tea,’ Rosalie said, ‘so I guess we can both say goodbye to Kate.’ She reached for the jam.
Mike looked up at his wife, an unreadable glance, then gazed back at his lap.
‘Can’t we, Mike?’ Rosalie continued.
‘Sure,’ he said, and reached for the paper.
She knows, I thought. That’s why she wants him to say goodbye to Kate. He needs to.
‘Then I want to go to the airport via Stonehenge,’ Rosalie continued. ‘My gosh, it’ll probably be the oldest thing I’ve ever seen.’ She took a bite of toast.
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