by Rosie Blake
‘How have you been?’ she said, noting her head had automatically tipped to the right, her voice dropping.
‘You heard about my mum?’ Danny said, nodding as he continued. ‘She’s had the operation, she’s recovering. They say she’ll be out for Christmas.’
‘Oh, that is good news,’ Eve said, sitting at her wheel and smiling at him. ‘We missed you,’ she said, looping the apron over her head.
‘I missed it. I’ve also got a whole load of things to catch up on. Teapot, eh? How fancy are you!’
‘I am now an expert potter.’ Eve nodded, so pleased to see Danny back and in good spirits. They had similar noses, she saw that now. Perhaps the same grey flecks in their blue eyes. She couldn’t keep it in any more, couldn’t help ask. ‘And how is your brother?’ She stared at the spout of her teapot as she spoke, determined not to give anything away.
‘My brother, eh? I had no idea,’ he said, both eyebrows raised.
‘No idea…’
‘That you knew him,’ he finished, with a chuckle. ‘I’ll say you said hello.’
‘Oh God no, please don’t tell him anything, I—’
‘Calm down.’ He laughed, hands held up, streaks of murky water dripping down his wrists.
As he spoke, she realised they had the same teasing tone in their voices, the same roll of laughter when something caught them unawares.
‘Oh, it’s just I doubt I’m his favourite person right now. I said some really stupid things to him.’
‘To be honest,’ Danny said, serious all of a sudden, ‘he needs people around him. It’s been sort of worse for him; he’s been acting the older brother, must be tiring.’
‘Are you okay?’ Eve asked, noting the purple shadows under his eyes.
‘We’ve had some late nights but it looks like it went well, it’s good. But yeah, thanks for asking.’
‘I hope so…’
‘Eve, this bread is gorgeous, I had no idea you were a chef.’ Minnie was passing plates round, the bread still soft, now slathered with butter.
Eve turned, protesting immediately. ‘Oh, I’m not, I just felt like bread. It seemed… comforting.’
Danny looked at her quickly, one eyebrow raised. Eve frowned at the clay in front of her, desperately hoping he would stop his scrutiny.
‘Eve.’
She half-turned, her foot hovering over the side of the boat, a frown already forming. It had been a long class and she had almost finished her teapot. She had been thinking about how to paint it.
‘Eve.’
It was her name. Eve scanned the common, realising a figure was grinning at her from the car park in the distance. Harriet, one hand on a pram and the other holding a large wicker suitcase.
Eve’s face broke into a huge smile, her heart lifting at the sight. ‘Hey.’ She waved back, going to meet her.
Harriet rolled the pram towards her, bumping it over the common, the ground hard as concrete underneath, bald patches now churned-up divots of mud. She looked as if she had just come from the office; high heels, pencil skirt and a jumper with a pussybow collar beneath a matching suit jacket.
Eve walked quickly across to her, throwing an arm round her sister, who seemed to glow. ‘What are you doing here? And you brought my gorgeous niece.’ Poppy was awake, and she reached into the pram and removed her niece, holding her high in the air so that she gurgled before bringing her down and pulling her soft little body into her. Poppy was smiling, touching Eve’s face with two pudgy hands, pushing her cheeks together so that her voice came out in a strange gargled mess, ‘Tchis ish such a nicesh shurprise.’
‘I had to come, you sounded dreadful. Poor Marmite.’
Tucking Poppy back in her pram under her blanket with her favourite toy, Eve took the basket from Harriet’s hand. ‘What’s in it?’ she asked, surprised how heavy it was.
‘Our Christmas lunch,’ Harriet said, grinning and pushing the pram onto the boat, ‘Now show me your boat and let’s have a drink.’
It was too cold to stay outside for long and they ended up spreading a rug on the floor of the living room and laying out all the things Harriet had brought down. Opening the basket, Eve unfastened straps of leather that held plates, cutlery and wine glasses in place, and laid them out. Poppy immediately picked up a spoon and started bashing everyone and everything with it.
‘She’s in a destructive phase,’ Harriet explained as Poppy smashed her toy Lamby in the head with her spoon.
‘Er… I can see that,’ Eve said, quick to scoot the two wine glasses out of the way.
‘Hey, what’s this?’ Harriet asked, picking up some of the sketches for Raj’s business cards.
‘Oh,’ Eve said, almost launching herself across the boat to remove them, ‘just something silly, well, for a friend, they’re nothing.’
‘Eve, they’re really good,’ Harriet said, her face completely serious.
She picked up a couple more, laughing at some of the designs and Eve felt her hands unfurl, her shoulders drop; silly really to hide her love of cartoons from her sister.
‘You could do this,’ Harriet told her, keeping one of an angry goose chasing a woman in her hand.
‘I’m not sure,’ Eve said. ‘That was just a one-off, a friend who wanted business cards.’
‘You’re really talented,’ Harriet said, setting the picture to one side and looking thoughtful for a moment.
‘I’m talented.’ Eve laughed, looking at the picnic basket. ‘Check out you, the domestic goddess.’
Harriet had made turkey sandwiches, bought crisps and salad, and then revealed a small Tupperware container from between two icepacks.
‘Is that…?’ Eve took it and held it up.
‘Yes, the dip you love that we always have on Boxing Day. Didn’t want you missing out,’ Harriet teased.
‘You’re amazing,’ Eve said humbly, marvelling at how thoughtful her sister could be and how she always seemed to make it look easy. Eve knew how much she was doing and felt her stomach bubble with warmth. ‘Thank you.’
‘Pff!’ Harriet dismissed her with a hand. ‘So,’ she said, her face serious now, ‘Marmite. I’ve been thinking on the train down and I’ve come up with a plan to get him back.’
Eve smiled slowly at her sister, the steely glint in her eye, ‘Go on,’ she said, wondering what Eve would come up with.
‘Well, we could do one of two things. One – we could send round some heavies and force Liam to return him…’
‘I don’t know any heavies,’ Eve said, letting out a sigh.
‘Gavin and I don’t either. Which is why I have thought of option two,’ Harriet assured her quickly.
‘Which is…?’
‘We threaten him with legal action. Send him a letter accusing him of kidnap, unlawful imprisonment, breaking and entering,’ Harriet was counting the charges off on her fingers.
‘That sounds, extreme,’ Eve said slowly, realising her sister was only half-joking. ‘And Marmite is his dog too,’ she added begrudgingly, her chest aching at the thought of another night without him.
‘Well, we can think of something better,’ Harriet said, clearly wanting to distract Eve from further gloomy thoughts. ‘For now, let’s eat.’
‘I’ll get us drinks,’ Eve said, getting up and patting Poppy’s head as she passed, earning herself a smack with the spoon. ‘I made mulled wine with Greg,’ Eve remembered, rummaging in the freezer, ‘and he told me to freeze some. It’s amazing, actually, you can put it back in the microwave and it’s ready in thirty seconds. Ping!’ Eve explained, wondering why her sister had slanted her eyes at her.
‘Ping? What is going on?’ she said slowly.
‘What?’ Eve said, one hand up to her face as if she had a mark on her.
‘You made mulled wine and also woooooooo Greg?’ Harriet said, smirking at her.
Eve’s eyes slid away from Harriet’s face and she turned quickly to put the mulled wine in the microwave. ‘No, I totally ruined it with him.’
<
br /> ‘You can’t have.’
‘I did,’ Eve said miserably.
‘All right, all right, don’t have a panic attack, just come and tell me all about it.’
‘I can’t, I ruin—’
‘Here!’ Harriet demanded, pointing at the stool.
She was so forceful, Eve forget the drinks and went and sat on the stool.
‘So what happened?’
And Eve told her, the ridiculous conclusions she’d jumped to, the way she’d accused him of being a liar and then, the worst of it, the fact that his mum had been desperately ill in hospital.
‘Wow,’ Harriet said, her face cringing as Eve finished.
‘I know,’ Eve agreed, hiding her head in her hands.
‘Well,’ Harriet said, ‘you can fix this. You’re down here for another week, you can see him.’
Eve swallowed slowly, biting her lip as she stood. ‘I really hope so,’ she said, moving back over to the microwave.
She poured them two mulled wines: the smell instantly reminding her of him. She found she was doing that a lot, perhaps hoping he’d appear and she’d be prepared. She was cooking more, taking care over recipes, trying to impress the invisible presence. She wanted him to know that she had taken his advice and she was enjoying it.
She handed Harriet one of the glasses.
‘I can’t, actually,’ Harriet said, putting a hand up.
‘You’re driving,’ Eve said, realising too late.
‘Yes, and also the baby,’ Harriet said slowly, raising an eyebrow at Eve who, instead of working it out, stared at Poppy who was now spinning on her bottom in a circle.
‘I wasn’t going to offer her any. I’m not mental. She’s a baby.’
‘No, not that baby,’ Harriet said, placing one hand on her stomach. ‘This baby.’
Then Eve understood and her face broke into an enormous grin. ‘Wow, really, another baby, two babies, oh that’s, wow, two babies.’
‘Yes, please stop reminding me now,’ Harriet said, laughing. ‘Do you want to see the scan?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Eve, moving over to her, kneeling on the floor, despite the fact that she couldn’t recognise scan photos. Harriet knew this after the last time, though, and thought it was hilarious that Eve looked at the wrong part, cooing over a cloud shape just above the actual baby, believing it to be very bouffant hair.
She frowned at the photograph for a while, locating the head, and then tilting her head to try and make sense of the rest. ‘Ooh,’ Eve said, nudging Harriet, ‘it’s a boy.’ She was pointing in the middle of the picture.
‘That’s an arm.’
‘Ah!’ Eve said, then pulled the photo towards her and tilted her head again. ‘Very cute,’ she announced, sounding baffled, and handed it back to Harriet.
She had drained her mulled wine. Her sister was having her second baby. They had discussed names and Greg and plans for work, and Harriet had left her with a tight hug and a whispered Happy Christmas, wheeling away Poppy, who had called ‘Theve, Theve,’ as she curled her fist into an attempted wave.
She watched them go, the car disappearing into the high street. She adored her niece, who seemed endlessly fascinating now that she was able to interact, to move, to chatter, even if Eve and Harriet couldn’t always understand the gibberish that she spoke. She loved her constant wonder at things, the ducks on the river, pointing at them with a surprised yelp, pointing at the tree, Eve, a spoon. She adored the way her hair stuck up in all directions and her skin smelt of soap and goodness. Now she would be joined by another baby, a brother or a sister, and Eve would be able to watch them grow up too.
It was only a momentary flicker, but Eve knew it was there, tugging in her subconscious. A little bit of her felt sad. Harriet had known it when she had broken the news; it was probably why she came down to tell her. She was thoughtful and generous and would have known that for Eve the moment would be bittersweet. Harriet and she had always discussed having babies together. They imagined having them together, swapping tips and raising their children at the same time. They would play together and be like siblings rather than cousins. When she was engaged to Liam she had been excited about the idea of starting a family, and when Harriet had announced her first pregnancy it had seemed like perfect timing. She knew she still had time, didn’t want to be selfish about it, but sometimes she was gripped with a sudden fear that she wouldn’t have anyone to raise a family with, would have to choose whether to go it alone. And Harriet’s kids would be older; they wouldn’t want to hang out with their younger cousins.
Eve blinked, knowing she was being self-obsessed and ridiculous. She couldn’t change what had happened and she knew she couldn’t have stayed with Liam and had his children after the lies. She stepped back onto the boat, clearing up the glasses, circling the cloth around them in soapy water.
She pulled her laptop towards her, wanting to check something, something that had been niggling at her since Marmite had gone. As she caught sight of the date in the bottom right of the screen, she started. Christmas Eve was only two days away. She knew she was unsettled from seeing Harriet too, the talk about babies, but she found herself clicking on his Facebook photo. The picture still made her stomach lurch. Liam hadn’t changed it since he’d first joined. Him grinning in a striped top, clutching a football to his chest. Hair mussed up, amber eyes glinting, white teeth flashing.
She didn’t need to click on his photo albums to know what was in them, she knew them off by heart by now: their holiday to Corfu, their trip to Guernsey, the last Christmas at her parents’ house. She’d studied them obsessively in the week he had left her, touching the screen like a woman possessed. All these pictures, still online now, as if they were still together, still smiling warmly for the camera. It was strange; she wished she could delete them all in one swipe. Instead, though, she found herself carrying on, something in the back of her mind; an image she had seen but couldn’t place.
There was a new album, photos from the last few months. She knew it would hurt, it was always a bad idea, but, too late, her finger had moved and she was staring now at Liam, his hair shorter, standing with his football mates. They were in a sports centre somewhere, some five-a-side tournament; he was grinning into the camera without a care. The next one he was in a bar, cheeks flushed pink, holding a bottle of beer, one arm looped over the shoulder of Paul, his mate from university. She’d liked Paul.
She couldn’t stop herself now, trawling through the other albums as if she was a junkie looking for a fix, forgetting her original reason for looking, just wanting to see them all again, remember them together. There he was in the flat, paintbrush aloft, laughing into the camera. There they were at a dinner party, candles burnt down, faces gleaming. Harriet, Gavin, a cluster of old schoolfriends crammed into their flat for a house-warming.
Then one of Marmite. She leant forward, drinking in his little face. His tiny nose, his doleful eyes, the patch of fur above his eyes. Marmite curled up next to someone’s leg, staring into the camera. Eve thought for a second that he looked sad, as if he were staring straight through the computer screen and through to her. She touched the screen, tracing his face, and then felt ridiculous, about to close the laptop and stop all this. That was when she noticed the leg, a skirt rucked up so the thigh was visible, jolting her back to that day. The smooth thigh: it was familiar. As Eve’s eyes travelled along it, she noticed the distinctive feature; two moles. She knew where she had seen them before. On a small screen but there was no doubting it. It was the Immaculate Vagina.
‘Oh my God, Daisy. I know her.’ Eve launched straight into it, pacing up and down the boat as she gabbled down the phone at Daisy, her laptop still frozen on the same photo.
‘What? Eve, slow down, what are you talking about?’
‘It was Marmite, with the vagina, Liam, I know her.’
Eve waited for a response, wondering for a second if the connection had been lost. ‘Daisy?’
‘I don’t understand
,’ Daisy said, but she sounded different now. Her voice was strangely slow, as if she were struggling to get the words out.
‘The vagina, the girl, the girl who slept with Liam, I know her.’ Another pause. Eve pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it. ‘Daisy?’
‘I heard,’ Daisy whispered, and it was the sad tone of her voice that made Eve frown. It couldn’t be? Could it?
‘Oh my God,’ Eve whispered, coming to a grinding halt in the middle of the boat. ‘Was it you?’
She thought back to the last few weeks. The strange diversionary tactics, the troubled looks, the whispered conversation in the corner at Ro-Ro’s wedding.
The ensuing silence seemed to confirm it.
‘Oh my God,’ Eve said, sucking in her breath, dots in her eyes, the inside of her brain screeching. She felt the boat was suddenly too small, she needed air, space. She turned in a circle as Daisy’s voice came down the phone at her.
‘It wasn’t me, Eve, it wasn’t me,’ Daisy said. ‘But…’
Eve couldn’t believe what she was hearing: Daisy, her best friend, her quiet, loyal friend who she had known since school. They had done everything together; shared secrets, giggled into the night, wailed and cried on each other after break-ups.
‘What do you mean “But”?’
‘I… well… I wasn’t sure…’
Eve felt her body turn to stone as she waited for Daisy to carry on, but there was nothing on the end of the line apart from her stuttering. ‘Oh my God. What, Daisy?’ Eve knew she was shouting. She felt out of control all of a sudden, desperate for this to be an enormous joke. ‘Do you know something?’
‘I’m not sure. I didn’t want to just…’ Daisy sounded terrible now, pausing, jittery.
Eve felt her voice, hard and direct, no teasing, no jokes. ‘What aren’t you sure about?’ Her knuckles were gripping the phone as she waited for Daisy to speak.
‘I wondered, I thought maybe I saw something and then—’
‘God, what, Daisy, spit it out for fucks’ sake,’ Eve said, all the emotion of the day bursting out of her.