When We Were Sisters

by Beth Miller

  I turned to face her, though I couldn’t go onto my side properly because of her lying on my arm. She looked so happy.

  ‘Tell me!’

  Laura said they hadn’t planned it. They’d gone for a walk into town and they’d seen a little hut at the side of the road. The door was open and there was a mattress on the floor.

  ‘Someone must be staying there at night,’ Laura said, ‘because there were ashes where a fire had been lit.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus, didn’t you worry they’d come back and find you?’

  ‘I didn’t even think about it, darlink, because Danny kissed me and pulled me down onto the mattress.’

  This made me feel warm down below. It made me think of Towse.

  Laura told me she kept her top and skirt on, and only took off her knickers, which is something I have always wondered: whether you have to be completely naked to have sex. The answer is a most definite no. Patches always says the first time can be painful. But Laura said it only hurt a tiny bit when he pushed his willy in.

  ‘And then it didn’t hurt any more – it felt wonderful.’

  She stopped talking, all of a sudden.

  ‘So, go on!’ I yelled. ‘I’m in suspenders here!’

  ‘Time for sleep now, girls,’ Laura’s mum said, walking past the door. Laura put her finger on my lips. Her hand smelled of oranges. We waited, holding our breath, till the footsteps went past and her mum went into the room next door to us. When the door clicked shut, Laura snuggled in closer and whispered in her foreign film-star voice, ‘Listen, Meefy, darlink, I’m not telling you ze gory details.’

  ‘Oh, please, Laura, please. I really need to know.’

  ‘Nein, nein. I like to keep zese sings private. But I’ll tell you one thing,’ she added in her normal voice. ‘You know when you wank?’ She looked right at me, so I just nodded.

  ‘Well, all I can say is that with sex, it’s a different kind of orgasm all together.’

  ‘Oh.’ I had no idea what she was talking about, and the only dictionary I had with me was my English-Spanish one, so I couldn’t look it up.

  ‘I’m going to sleep now.’ Laura got out of my bed and padded across the room. My arm felt numb at first, then went into excruciating pins and needles. I heard the creak as she got into her own bed.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I whispered, the realisation hitting me. ‘You’re not a virgin any more!’

  We started giggling, and Laura whispered, ‘I’m a prossie,’ which made us laugh even more.

  My mum called up the stairs to my dad, ‘Michael! Are you up there?’

  The door next to us opened and I heard Dad come out onto the landing and call down, ‘Coming!’ He’d been next door the whole time. I hoped he hadn’t heard what we were saying.

  Laura whispered, ‘Who do you want to lose your virginity to?’

  I went bright red, even though it was dark. ‘I don’t want to for ages, not till I’m sixteen.’

  ‘But when you’re older, who do you want to give it to? Aron?’

  ‘No, I’d prefer Towse.’

  ‘Good choice,’ she said sleepily. ‘He’s got a cute bum.’

  It took me about two hours to get to sleep after all that.

  Today everyone except Laura’s grandmother went out to a market. I slid under the sheet with nothing on except the silver heart-shaped necklace Laura gave me yesterday. Her grandmother bought it for her years ago, but Laura only wears gold.

  The house was really quiet. I touched my breasts but they just felt like my breasts. I thought of Towse touching them and that felt better. Then I touched myself down below. There was a sort of nobbly bit at the front and I touched that really gently. Nothing much happened but I carried on for a while. I sort of guessed that an orgasm was what happened in the end, but I didn’t know how long it would take. My hand started to get tired and my mind wandered. I realised I was thinking about what to wear with my new pink sarong.

  Then I discovered that if I pressed on my thigh with my other hand, it felt much better. All at once I was really excited; I became breathless and knew I wouldn’t be able to stop touching myself even if someone came in. My thighs got really sweaty, I went warm all over, then lots of muscles all closed up inside me. It felt wonderful, and I could see why people go on about sex.

  Sheets

  At lunch, Laura’s grandpa said in his funny accent, ‘Are you an adventurer, Melissa?’

  My stomach crashed down into my shoes. I thought he’d somehow found out what I’d been doing in my room yesterday, and was going to say he’d heard I like to explore ‘down under’ or something. Then I realised that he was talking about an ancient well in the back garden. Thank God! My heart slowly went back to normal as he droned on about it.

  ‘I thought it might be fun for you children to see if you can find it under the vegetable patch.’

  I liked him better than Laura’s grandmother, who was bent over like a hunchback and never smiled. She disapproved of Laura’s mum – her daughter – Laura said, because of her divorce. Even though it was years ago.

  After lunch, the grandparents went to church. They went every day. Bloody hell, imagine if I had to go to shul every day. Danners was out with the boys from the next villa on their mopeds, and no one was around apart from Mum sunbathing by the pool, so Laura and I found spades in the summer house and started digging into the soft mud of the vegetable patch. I didn’t really know what I was looking for. The only well I’d ever seen was in a garden near Booba Preston’s. It had a wooden bucket and a red roof, and a plastic cat on the edge waving its paw. Laura knelt on one side, and I crouched on the other, our heads bent close together, sometimes chatting, sometimes quiet. When we’d had enough of digging, we started making mud pies. I examined Laura’s face to see if she looked any different after losing her virginity, but she looked the same as usual.

  It was hot and windy and the big sheets on the washing line kept flapping just above our heads.

  ‘We could have a swim in a while,’ I said. ‘And then maybe another cigarette upstairs.’ I felt completely happy.

  She nodded. ‘This is the best holiday ever. I hope Mama doesn’t want to leave early. She always gets fed up with Nana being so grumpy about the divorce.’

  ‘What did happen with your dad?’ I remembered the big man with hairy arms. I’d sometimes seen him when I went for my piano lessons.

  ‘He was always angry, and sometimes,’ Laura said, ‘he even hit Mama.’

  I once saw a TV programme where the husband punched the wife. Sometimes Mum was so cross with Dad, she looked like she might hit him. She hadn’t yet, though.

  ‘One time he whacked her right across the face and I called the police.’ She laughed. ‘I was only seven. I hid in the living room and dialled 999.’

  A gust of wind blew one of the sheets into my face, and I pushed it aside so I could see Laura properly. She was so brave!

  ‘The police came but they didn’t do anything. They said it was a Domestic.’

  I could only think of Domestic Science at school, but that didn’t seem relevant.

  ‘There were more fights, and finally Mama said, “I’ve had enough,” and she threw him out.’

  I sat back on my heels and pulled the silver heart necklace away from my neck. It felt hot.

  ‘Were you sad when he left?’

  ‘Mama said I should be glad.’ She pushed a sheet aside impatiently with a muddy hand. ‘The only good thing was he left his Beach Boys records behind.’

  To cheer her up, I pointed at the small amount of earth we’d dug and said, ‘We’re not doing very well with this well, are we?’

  We both had hysterics at this pathetic joke, and she toppled backwards onto her bottom.

  ‘Oh, no! Look at my shorts.’

  This made me laugh even more. ‘I wondered if white broderie anglaise was the best outfit for digging, but didn’t like to say.’

  Laura grabbed me round the waist and hissed, ‘No one likes a smart-arse.’ Then
she pulled me onto the ground and we went rolling down the grass slope, our faces and bodies stuck together, out of breath, laughing. At the bottom of the hill we came to a stop, Laura on top of me. I wondered if this was how she had lain with Danners. Her ear was right next to my mouth. I whispered in it, ‘Are you going to have sex again?’

  She turned, her hair swirling across my face, and kissed my mouth. I tasted warm strawberries. She said, ‘I bloody hope so!’

  Then she jumped up and started running round me, yelling like a mad thing, ‘I bloody hope so! I bloody hope so!’ I lay on the grass watching her. Then a shadow went across me and I looked up into Mum’s face.

  ‘What are you two doing?’

  Laura stopped jumping. ‘Just playing, Mrs Cline.’

  ‘Look at the state of you!’ Mum pulled me to my feet. ‘That dress’ll have to be soaked right away.’ She marched me back up the slope, then stopped when she saw the sheets. Mud was spattered all along their edges.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, what a mess, girls!’ She turned to Laura, trailing slowly behind us. ‘Do you have any idea where your mother is?’

  Laura shook her head.

  Mum ran me a deep bubble bath. I was amazed to see that the water was brown after I got out, and there were dark ring-marks round the side of the bath. I was wrapped in a towel and brushing my hair when I heard Mum talking next door. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, so I put a glass against the wall and pressed my ear to it. I’d seen someone do that on telly.

  Dad: ‘Mumble mumble.’

  Mum: ‘Making a mockery of the entire thing.’

  I wondered if it was a Domestic, and whether I’d have to call the police.

  Mum: ‘Sick and tired of it.’

  Dad: ‘Mumble mumble.’

  Mum: ‘Three hours, totally embarrassing me.’

  Dad (yelling): ‘You’re becoming a paranoid old nag, do you know that?’

  I put the glass back on the shelf and crawled under the covers in my towel. What did ‘paranoid’ mean? I wished I’d got my dictionary. I’d needed it more in these few days than in a month at home.

  Laura

  22 MARCH 2003

  I’m loving Miffy being here. I’ve been starved of grown-up company since Huw started working every evening. After Evie’s in bed and Glynn’s God knows where, Miffy and I sit and talk for hours. I’d forgotten how lovely it is to have a close friend.

  We curl up in front of the fire, her with a glass of wine and a cigarette, me with a boring decaf tea, and talk. Often it’s about the baby. I’m keen to know more about her own situation, why she hasn’t got kids, but she’s quite hard to approach about personal things. She seems very happy discussing my baby, though. In fact, she often brings it up.

  ‘Any more girls’ names?’ she’ll say.

  We both love the baby names discussion.

  ‘I’m still torn between Chloe, Grace and Amber. What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, they’re all lovely. You have to try them with your surname, of course.’

  ‘Amber Ellis. Hmm. Sounds like a lager.’

  So we consider the merits of Chloe versus Grace, and whether a boy or girl would be easier, disposable nappies versus washable, the differences between baby-rearing now and when Evie was little. We often talk about Evie, too. I think she’s special, but Miffy always finds endless little things to praise. ‘Evie said such a sweet thing today,’ or ‘Didn’t she look cute in that top?’

  Sometimes Miffy gets me to teach her some Welsh. Not that I know much, as Huw never speaks it and Evie goes to an English school. But I’ve picked up a bit and it’s fun passing it on.

  ‘Um. Diok in veer?’ Miffy tries.

  ‘Not bad. Diolch yn fawr. Means “thank you very much”.’

  ‘Diolch yn fawr for having me to stay.’

  ‘Dim problem!’

  ‘Meaning “no problem”?’

  ‘Impressive, Miff.’

  ‘All right, Mrs Sarky.’

  It’s like we’re thirteen again and hanging out in my bedroom.

  Miffy’s not completely reticent. Topics about her own life she’s happy to discuss include:

  Her travels; her various jobs; her friends; Danny’s children, which I thought might be good for some gossip about Danny’s weird life, but turns out to be mostly yawnsome anecdotes about what a great mum Heifer is.

  Topics she isn’t keen on discussing:

  Her marriage; her divorce; why she doesn’t have children; Rob.

  Topics neither of us are keen on discussing:

  Our childhoods in Edgware, particularly the weeks leading up to me moving away; and the year or so after that.

  Then yesterday, after we’d been watching Evie dancing to something on the telly, Miffy suddenly mentioned the dances we used to choreograph. ‘I’d jump up and you’d catch me and swing me from side to side.’

  ‘You were such a tiny thing,’ I said.

  ‘That Grease album – we almost wore it out.’

  ‘I used to love those songs!’

  ‘And your Pet Sounds record,’ she said. ‘We did a rather experimental dance to “God Only Knows”.’

  ‘We did?’

  ‘I wonder why you …’ She stops.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Hey, let’s play Evie “Greased Lightning” and see if she thinks it’s hilarious.’

  She’s so good with kids. It really is a shame she hasn’t got any. She manages to get proper conversation out of Glynn, and Evie reverts to her child-self, all enthusiasm and affection. Without it being a big deal, Miffy’s taken over making Evie’s packed lunches, finding her sports kit, making sure her hair is brushed. Miffy calls it ‘making myself useful’ but it’s made me realise how stressed I’ve been, how absent Huw is, how accustomed I’ve got to doing everything myself.

  Her first weekend with us and unfortunately it’s our turn to host the Jenny-and-Paul dinner. I try to imagine Miffy and Jenny in the same room. Then Miffy and Ceri. Oh God. Trial by North-Welsh fire. The phone rings just when I’m wondering who is the least offensive person to seat next to Miffy. Huw, I suppose. When I hear Jenny’s voice, I hope she’s going to say they’re cancelling owing to an isolated outbreak of bubonic plague.

  ‘Sorry for the short notice, Laura, but could Nick tag along? He’s staying with us after the, you know’ – and she whispers loudly – ‘messy divorce.’

  Nick, her younger brother, is rather dishy, to use Miffy’s word.

  ‘No problem. Maybe he’ll hit it off with my stepsister.’

  ‘He’s only just getting over that gold-digging bitch he married, so please don’t start your matchmaking, Laura.’

  Miffy’s pleased when I tell her about Nick. ‘I knew I could rely on you for a blind date.’

  Huw comes in with the shopping and I have to listen while Miffy goes on about what good a job he’s done at the supermarket, how she always forgets to get half her list. God, why doesn’t she just call him a sexy great hunter-gatherer and be done with it?

  ‘What’s on tonight’s menu?’ she asks.

  Huw picks up two ducks, displaying them like a magician revealing rabbits from a hat. Miffy claps her hands. ‘I know an amazing sauce, shall I make it?’

  ‘Oh, you star,’ Huw says, beaming.

  ‘Let’s get started,’ Miffy says, ‘then we’ll have time to make my special chocolate brownies too.’

  I’ll fuck off, then, shall I, even though this is my dinner party? I go upstairs for a long-overdue session of chin-plucking. I really need to do it three times a week; bit tricky, though, as I’m trying to have a life as well. When I go back down, Miffy is washing herbs under the tap, Huw is whistling and chopping vegetables, Glynn is stirring flour and eggs, and Evie is polishing the cutlery. They’re all singing along to ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ on the radio. In the twenty minutes I’ve been gone, they’ve turned into a family from an advert.

  ‘Wow, Miffy, you’ve done well to get Huw cooking.’

>   ‘He’s a natural.’

  He is not.

  I prop the back door open and let the watery sun stream in. Miffy patters about bare-foot on the quarry tiles in her little flowery skirt. She’s wearing a halter-top, much too young for her, and no bra.

  ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘It’s all in hand,’ Miffy says. ‘Sweetie, you’re six months pregnant! My superb team of chefs and I will sort it. Least I can do after you’ve put up with me all week.’

  Huw says, ‘Go on, cariad, we’ll be fine.’

  I am really tired. I lie on the sofa and watch Evie try to make napkins into swans. They look like shit. Still, it’s nice she’s helping.

  I wake with a start, head thudding, face scrunched damply against the sofa cushions. My arm’s soaked in sweat where I’ve been lying on it. I throw off the heavy blanket some arse has put on top of me. No wonder I’m so bloody boiling! My mouth is furry and in the mirror I see sofa imprinted on my face. Beautiful.

  It’s just after five and still sunny. The kitchen is spotlessly clean and completely empty. The only sign of life anywhere is Evie, reading in her room. She shoves something under her pillow when I come in. Her diary, I suppose. If she’s stupid enough to leave it there, I’ll have a look when she’s at school.

  ‘You look rough, Mum.’

  ‘Thanks, darling. I fell asleep. Where is everyone?’

  ‘Glynn’s in the garden.’

  Like I give a shit where Glynn is. But I make a show of going over to the window to look. He’s lying on the grass, smoking a cigarette. I hope it’s a cigarette.

  ‘Where’s Daddy and Lissa?’

  ‘Dunno. Think they went for a walk.’

  Okay. That’s good. They’re getting on well. That’s great.

  Fuck.

  I shower and wash my hair. Squirt Rhianna’s red maternity dress with Possession to freshen it up. My tits feel unbelievably heavy; they’ve each gained a stone while I slept, making my bra so tight that, like Miffy, I leave it off altogether. Unlike Miffy, it doesn’t look perky. I catch a horrible glimpse of my naked body as I’m pulling the dress over my head. Might have to take a beauty tip from Heifer and start putting towels over the mirrors.