The Ugly Sister

by Jane Fallon

  Richard and Stella haven’t seen her and her instinct is to put her head down and pretend she hasn’t seen them either. That way if Richard does look over he can look away again quickly and not feel obliged to acknowledge her. Stella, however, has no reason to think that she and Abi are on anything other than good terms still, although she must know that Abi no longer works at the bookshop and wonder why that is. Or why she hasn’t called. Abi looks anywhere but the other side of the road, but to no avail.

  ‘Abi!’ Stella calls across to her. There’s no way she can ignore her.

  ‘Hi,’ she calls back loudly. She waves and keeps on walking, hoping Stella will assume she’s in a hurry. No such luck. Before she knows it Stella is bounding across the road towards her. Richard hangs back, making a pretence of fussing over the boys, not looking at her. Abi has no choice but to stop, and she and Stella have those awkward few seconds where they don’t quite know why they’ve stopped or what they have to say to each other.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Stella says warmly. ‘Richard says you left the shop and I didn’t know how to get in touch with you.’

  ‘Oh, you know. Phoebe came back …’

  ‘No!’ she says. ‘Is she OK? What happened?’

  Abi fills her in on Phoebe’s story, wanting to get away as quickly as possible because there’s a limit to how long Richard can pretend to be otherwise occupied without looking rude, and he’s obviously as keen to avoid her as she is him. Stella looks over as if she has only just realized he’s not by her side.

  ‘Richard,’ she calls, ‘what are you doing?’

  Richard looks up nervously. ‘Oh … nothing. Hi, Abi. How are you?’

  ‘Get over here! What’s up with you?’ Stella laughs.

  Richard crosses the road reluctantly, pushing the buggy. He avoids making eye contact with Abi. Much as she doesn’t want to see him, Abi feels she needs to put him out of his misery for Stella’s sake. He’s obviously terrified she’s going to spill the beans about him and Cleo, which, to be honest, she finds a bit insulting, but anyway. She plasters on the warmest smile she can conjure up.

  ‘I was just telling Stella how I had to abandon you in the shop because Phoebe came home unexpectedly.’ She can almost see the fear leave Richard’s eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a sixteen-year-old part time now. Tiffany. She’s a disaster.’

  They exchange banalities for a couple of minutes and then Abi begins to move off. She’s done her bit; there’s a limit to how friendly she can pretend to be with Richard these days.

  ‘Well, it was good to see you,’ she says.

  ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ Richard says, clearly not meaning it.

  Abi’s about to give Stella a hug and get the hell out of there when Stella asks her if she fancies a coffee sitting outside one of the cafés while Richard goes off to have a shower and then open up the shop. She’s tempted to say she’s busy, she has things to do. She knows that there’s no future in their budding friendship. On the other hand, the thought of spending some time with someone who is an adult, but isn’t part of her family – not to mention also bright and funny and good company – is irresistible. She finds herself accepting.

  They gravitate to the nearest café and take a table outside. Stella releases three-year-old Sean from the confines of the buggy saying, ‘Do you remember Abi?’ Abi is gratified when he replies that he does and gives her the sweetest smile. They keep half an eye on him as he runs round and round the other tables, which are luckily unoccupied. Baby Rhys clearly wants to be allowed to cause havoc with his brother, but has to be content to sit and sip orange juice instead. They’re both as cute as Abi remembers them and, despite the frantic circuits, well behaved.

  ‘So things are better at home, then?’ Stella says once they have ordered coffees. Abi racks her brain, has no idea which of the many complications in her life Stella is talking about.

  Stella must pick up on her bemused expression. ‘With your brother-in-law. You’re not having to pretend to go out with Richard any more so I’m guessing that sorted itself out.’

  Of course. ‘Oh god, yes, it did. Thank goodness. It did the trick so, yes, I’m really grateful to Richard for that, and to you of course.’ She’s blathering. She forces herself to shut up.

  ‘Well, I’m kind of relieved it didn’t go on for too long, I must be honest.’

  ‘I’m so sorry I put you in that position,’ Abi says, but Stella cuts her off. ‘Oh god, it’s fine. Anyway, what else has been going on? How’s the unpaid babysitting going?’

  Stella is refreshingly upfront. She has no side to her. Abi really likes that about her; she’s a breath of fresh air in comparison with the hidden agendas and unacknowledged tensions crowding the air at home. Abi has no desire to discuss Cleo with her, though, not under the circumstances, so she tells her about her new flat and the plans she has to decorate. They chat away happily – with Stella’s attention occasionally being sidetracked by Sean wanting a drink or for them to watch him doing something or other – for almost an hour. Stella and Richard are getting more and more serious Stella tells her, although she tells Abi it’s still hard for her to go out much because she only has one friend she trusts to babysit the kids and she can’t expect her to be free three or four nights a week. Richard sometimes comes over to the flat, she says, but she won’t let him stay because Sean often gets into bed with her in the middle of the night and she doesn’t think it would be right for him to find someone else in there too.

  Abi smiles and nods, tells Stella she’s pleased for her and keeps her mouth firmly shut about everything else. If she’s giving Cleo the benefit of the doubt, then she feels compelled to afford the same consideration to Richard too.

  It’s tempting to sit here all day, but she promised the girls they could all go to the zoo – Jon bought them both year-long memberships when they went last time and they’re keen to use them as often as possible – and, even though Phoebe would quite happily take them without her, she’s quite looking forward to it. Plus Stella is still sweating quietly after her run and in obvious need of a shower, and Sean is getting a bit fractious from lack of attention. So they split the bill and walk up the road together, agreeing to try to meet up and do the same thing again in a couple of days, but not actually making a definite date. She knows it probably won’t happen. It wouldn’t feel right pursuing a friendship with Stella that had a dirty black secret at the centre of it.

  Back at the house she finds Elena flapping in the kitchen surrounded by the detritus of three young girls’ attempts to make a packed lunch. She assumes they must have sneaked in there while Elena was off hoovering somewhere else, because they’re looking very pleased with themselves and the kitchen is looking like a bomb’s hit it. Abi is so touched by their sweet intentions that she doesn’t even bother pulling them up on the mess; she just gets down to it and starts cleaning it up, ignoring Elena’s protestations. In fact, what the hell, she gets a coffee from the machine and steers Elena over to the table where she puts the mug down and sort of wrestles her into a seat beside it. She’s not sure that legally it’s acceptable to manhandle the staff, but she’s hoping Elena will accept her gesture in the spirit it was meant. She looks as if she’s going to get straight up again, so Abi wags her finger at her like Elena’s always doing to her and, in the end, Elena breaks into a smile and sits back down. She knocks back the drink in record time and then she’s back up on her feet and helping Abi, but Abi still feels it’s a bit of a breakthrough.

  Once she’s happy that the kitchen is its old spotless self she gathers up the girls and they walk the five minutes to London Zoo, the picnic in two carrier bags. By the time they’ve walked through the gorilla kingdom, seen the warthogs and the penguins, edged warily around the insect world and walked through the tunnel to admire the meerkats and lemurs she’s so hungry that even a cold mackerel-pâté-and-rocket sandwich seems palatable.

  23

  Jon has a proposition for her. He tells
her this in the kitchen with the girls as human shields so that she can’t get the wrong idea for even a second.

  ‘What?’ she says, happy that at least Jon is finally feeling able to talk to her about something other than what needs doing for dinner or the wellbeing of his wife. They have no middle ground these days, banal and everyday or full-on psychotherapy seem to be the only choices.

  ‘We’re shooting the ads for Bargain Hunters in a couple of weeks and I … well, I feel bad about you having to leave your job because of everything that happened with Richard and … anyway, we need to cast the woman in it. Young mum. Friendly, attractive, approachable, someone you can trust. I was thinking you’d be great.’

  Abi is so taken aback she laughs. The girls on the other hand go from nought to sixty on the hysteria scale in under a second.

  ‘Oh. My. God. Auntie Abi’s going to be on TV.’

  ‘Can I come and watch?’

  ‘You have to do it, Mum. It’ll be awesome.’

  Jon shushes them and says, ‘The money’s not bad. I mean it’s not great either. The ads are for cable, but they’ll be on a lot so after the first buyout runs out there’s a chance you’ll get repeat fees. Plus there’s a bit of a print campaign so you’ll get paid for that separately. Like I say, it’s not a fortune, but …’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she says. It’s so sweet of him to think of her. He knows she’s short of money and this is his way of trying to help her, trying to make up for her losing her job in the bookshop. She runs through the adjectives that describe the character, adjectives that Jon thinks apply to her: friendly, attractive, approachable, someone you can trust. Attractive. She says it over to herself in her head a couple of times, relishing the moment. She can’t believe that she is conveniently the best woman for the job, though, and she really doesn’t want Jon compromising Bargain Hunters’ undoubted integrity by forcing her onto them. Not to mention the fact that she has never in her life wanted to push herself into the limelight, to be the focus of everyone’s attention. She knows they’re talking about a downmarket ad, which will be shown on various TV channels with a combined viewership of about six, but that’s beside the point.

  ‘Just let me put you forward,’ Jon is saying as he puts the finishing touches onto a home-made pizza ready to go into the oven for the girls who have made their feelings very clear about the squid rings the adults are having. ‘If you get it, it’ll be a proper shoot in a studio with a full crew,’ he adds as if she might be thinking he’s trying to get her on her own so he can take dirty pictures of her. Now there’s a thought. She waits for a blush and is rewarded with the tiniest flicker of one.

  ‘Go on, Auntie Abi,’ Tara insists.

  Abi looks over at Phoebe and Phoebe gives her an encouraging smile.

  ‘Oh, OK, then. I suppose so. Maybe.’

  ‘If they like the look of you, you’d probably have to come in and meet with them for a few minutes,’ he says casually, not looking at her, as if by making this remark throwaway she might not actually take it in.

  ‘No. Jon … I’m not sure I could do that.’

  ‘Of course you could,’ he says briskly, and then he turns his attention to the girls as if to say subject closed.

  Abi decides to push the whole thing to the back of her mind. It’s not worth worrying about. The chances are so slim that the clients will pick her and, even if they do, there’s no law that says she has to take the job. She wonders briefly if she should be scouring the area for another part-time position – even a full-time one, because she’s sure Phoebe would happily entertain her cousins if Abi had to work – but she’s going home in just over a week and she can’t imagine who’s going to take her on knowing that. Besides, once she’s back in Kent she’s always managed to keep her head above water perfectly well working part time in the library. There’s even scope further down the line to go full time if she wanted. Money has just never been that important to her. As long as she can get by. She certainly doesn’t want to turn into the family charity case.

  ‘OK. I suppose so.’

  ‘I’ll just need a snapshot of you to show them.’ God, this gets worse. ‘Have you got anything?’

  All the photos there are of her that aren’t in the attic in Kent – actually, in storage now – are either pictures of her and Caroline when they were kids or the few jokey snaps Jon or the girls have taken since she’s been here. ‘Not really.’

  Phoebe comes to her rescue. ‘I’ve got my camera upstairs. I can take some.’

  ‘After dinner, then,’ Abi says. The last thing she wants is for Phoebe to bring it down here and for her to have to pose in front of Jon. She’s bad enough at having her picture taken as it is. She doesn’t know if it’s a reaction to Cleo’s job, but every time anyone points a camera at her she feels compelled to cross her eyes or stick her tongue out. She thinks it’s the need to make it look as if it’s a bad picture by design rather than that she tried her hardest to look good, but it came out rubbish anyway.

  ‘Actually, let’s get it over with.’ The girls all follow her upstairs where they fuss about with her hair and Tara insists she put a bit more mascara on. The first couple of attempts run to type. At the last minute she can’t stop herself pulling stupid faces. Megan doesn’t help by laughing every time she does it, because Abi really can’t resist an appreciative audience. Phoebe does her best to direct her, but she’s a lost cause so after a while Phoebe resorts to snapping her when she’s off guard and actually gets a couple of good shots, not that Abi would admit it.

  ‘That’ll do,’ she says. ‘It’s not going to get any better than that. Thanks, girls.’

  Phoebe emails the best two pictures to Jon. Excitement over, back to the real world.

  Abi forgets all about Bargain Hunters until, two days later, when they’re all sitting down for dinner – all six of them, Cleo is still spending every evening at home – and Jon says, ‘So, the people at Bargain Hunters like the look of you, Abi.’

  The girls all scream and Abi is sure she sees Cleo’s ears prick up.

  Abi feels sick. ‘Oh god. Really?’

  ‘They want to meet all the potentials on Thursday week. Can you do that?’

  ‘What’s this?’ Cleo says. ‘Meet for what?’ She’s all wide eyes and nervous tension and it suddenly occurs to Abi that Cleo might not like the idea of her going in to meet for an advert. Downmarket and shoddy as it is, she might see it as Abi encroaching on her territory.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ Abi tries to brush the subject away, but, of course, the girls are having none of it.

  ‘Auntie Abi’s going to be in an advert,’ Megan squeals, and Abi says, ‘No, I’m not, not necessarily.’

  ‘An advert?’ Cleo says with all the haughty frostiness of Lady Bracknell.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Abi says. ‘Just some silly thing that Jon’s put me up for. It’s very low rent and I won’t get it anyway.’

  ‘It’s Bargain Hunters,’ Jon chips in. Abi wonders if he’s picked up on the icy atmosphere that’s beginning to swirl around the kitchen. ‘I showed them Abi’s picture because they’re looking for a young mum to front the campaign and I know she needs the money.’

  Cleo ignores him, turning the full force of her steely gaze onto Abi. ‘I didn’t know you were interested in doing adverts.’

  ‘I’m not. I mean I wasn’t.’ She desperately doesn’t want to break the lighter atmosphere that has made the house such a different place recently, but she also doesn’t want to give up this opportunity just because Cleo might not like it. Whether she wants to go up for the ad or not is immaterial. It’s the principle. She should feel like it’s her choice. ‘But it can’t hurt to go and meet them, I suppose. It might be a laugh.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were looking so close to home for casting, Jonty.’ Cleo’s voice contains a hint of accusation that Jon immediately picks up on.

  ‘It’s not something you would have been interested in.’

  ‘How do you know if you did
n’t ask me?’

  The three girls are looking between Jon and Cleo like they’re watching an episode of Jerry Springer. Abi recognizes the signs: Cleo’s imperious look, the flared nostrils, the pursed lips. She sighs, knows she has to sacrifice herself for the greater good. Like the Cheshire Cat, the new, improved Cleo is disappearing before her eyes.

  ‘I was only kidding,’ she says. ‘Of course I’m not going to go for it.’

  ‘Mum …’ Phoebe says, but then she stops when Abi nudges her foot under the table.

  ‘I thought you must be joking,’ Cleo says, her tone implying that she thought anything but. ‘So, Jonty, what did you say it was for?’

  Abi can see that Jon can barely contain his anger, but she knows he’ll do everything he can to hide it in front of the children. ‘It’s for Bargain Hunters. By all means I’ll suggest you for it if you want, but you’re completely wrong for it.’

  ‘God, no,’ Cleo says, secure she’s won a victory. ‘That doesn’t sound like my kind of thing at all.’ She laughs a dismissive laugh. As if I’d lower myself. I only do beauty, don’t you know.