by Emma Cooper
I blink.
‘Do you fancy a beer?’
I turn to face her. ‘I’m not supposed to drink with the tablets.’
‘One won’t hurt!’ Kerry replies. She’s sitting in the pool with a cocktail in her hand and pulls her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose as she shouts over.
‘Sure,’ I say, turning back to Nessa, who has already begun walking back into the house.
A few hours have passed and we’ve had more than one beer. ‘Club Tropicana’ is playing on the radio and Nessa and I are sitting either side of the pool. I lean back against the plastic and watch the distorted image of my legs shimmer beneath the water. I begin chuckling as I talk about how Oscar pulled off his shorts and played in the pool earlier completely naked, without a care in the world.
Kerry is carrying a drinks tray towards us. She takes a glass and passes it to me. In my alcohol-fuelled state, my hand reaches out to take it from her.
‘Nuts,’ I say as I grasp the air.
‘Sorry?’ Nessa asks, swigging deeply from her bottle. I feel embarrassment heat my cheeks, but I giggle at the ridiculousness of my action nevertheless.
‘I’ve just tried to take a cocktail from Kerry.’ I shake my head and let the bottom of my body slide along the pool until my face submerges beneath the water. I hold my breath and watch as pockets of air escape my mouth before I push myself back up.
Nessa watches me with interest and then shakes her bottle. ‘Refill?’
‘Sure.’
She returns with two bottles, lime wedges trapped inside the neck. I take the bottle from her as she steps into the pool and examine the trapped fruit.
‘This is what it feels like when I see her and have to pretend not to,’ I say, tilting the bottle towards the light.
‘What do you mean?’ Nessa reaches over the side of the pool, grabs a packet of cigarettes, inhales deeply and exhales with a rush of warm air.
‘Like there is something lodged in my throat.’ I watch my finger push the fruit down the neck and into the body. ‘It’s only when I’m with her that I feel like I can breathe.’ I take a long pull on the bottle.
‘You know what you need? Rock, paper, scissors.’
‘What?’
‘Rock, paper, scissors. When I was a kid, my mum used to play it with me if something was worrying me. Whoever wins says something they love or that makes them happy. Whoever loses says what is worrying them or something that makes them sad.’
‘I don’t feel like playing a game.’
‘It’ll help, I promise. I’ve never played it and ended up feeling worse. Come on, it’ll be fun. Kerry and I used to play it.’ She gets up on her knees and waddles towards me.
‘What did Kerry used to say?’
‘Oh, we used to play strip rock, paper, scissors and she could always predict what I was going to do, so, more often than not, I would end up naked.’
‘Oh.’
Nessa lets out a throaty laugh. ‘Your sister didn’t blush that easily.’
‘Oh, shush. I’ve led a very sheltered life.’
‘Nonsense, you had friction marks on your knees a few months ago.’ She winks and positions her hands into fists. ‘Right.’ We move towards each other. ‘Ready? Rock, paper, scissors!’
Nessa is the paper to my rock.
‘Chocolate!’ she shouts. Then laughs. ‘You’re supposed to shout what makes you sad at the same time!’
‘Oh. Um, sad films?’ I reply.
She rolls her eyes. ‘Let’s try again. You have to say the first thing that comes into your head or it won’t work. But see . . . you watch a sad film but eat chocolate. Problem fixed. Right, fists up. Rock, paper, scissors!’
I snip her paper. ‘A tidy house!’ I say.
‘Losing things!’ We both start laughing. ‘You see how it works!’
‘Let’s go again.’
This time my scissors are blunted by her rock. ‘Kerry!’ we both say. Kerry takes a regal bow and climbs into the pool.
We try again, me shouting the kids, her shouting Erica. At this point we give up and reach for our drinks as ‘Spice Up Your Life’ begins.
‘What were you like when you were a kid? Is Erica like you?’ I ask while the Spice Girls go rou-ow-ownd.
‘God no. I was a little bugger. Mum said I was always running off, I used to scare her to death.’
‘Where were you running off to?’
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, I just remember not wanting to stand still . . . it kind of made me feel, I don’t know how to describe it, itchy? Like unless I ran away I would scratch away my skin. I almost got run over once.’
Red coat, red boots, screeching of brakes.
I blink.
‘What about you?’ she asks, bringing me back.
‘Me? Oh, I was a bit timid, a goody two-shoes. I had to be.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Kerry would get us into trouble all the time . . . one of us had to be responsible. It’s funny, when I was watching Oscar dancing earlier, wiggling his bare little bum without a care in the world . . . I don’t think I’ve ever felt that free . . . even as a kid.’
‘What? You never played in the paddling pool in the buff when you were a kid?’
I shake my head. ‘At least I don’t think I did.’
I look over to Kerry, who is leaning with her arms outstretched along the back of the pool, her sunglasses sitting neatly on her sunburnt nose.
‘Don’t ask me,’ she replies. ‘If you don’t know then neither do I.’
I turn back to Nessa, who is untying her bikini.
Kerry pulls down her sunglasses from her nose and peers over the frames. ‘Baywatch, eat your heart out,’ she says.
‘Um . . . what are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Taking off my clothes.’
‘I see that!’ I cover my eyes with my hand.
‘Oh, stop being such a prude. Get ’em off.’
‘What? No! Absolutely no way.’
‘Absolutely no way.’ She mimics me with a posh voice. ‘My name is Jennifer Jones and I’m far too responsible to have any fun.’
A wet piece of material lands on my face. I pull it off and there in all her glory is Nessa, standing completely naked and downing the rest of her beer.
‘Come on. Look, I promise not to make a pass at you.’
My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Perfect!’ she stretches her arms wide and gestures to the radio which has started playing the ‘Macarena’. ‘Now strip.’ I find that I’m smirking as Ness’s boobs start to jiggle with her arm movements. ‘How do you ever expect to get better if you don’t learn to live a bit?’ she shouts at me over her shoulder, jumping up and down and turning to the side.
I laugh and look over to Kerry, but she is nowhere to be seen. Maybe this is the key? Maybe being happy is what I need. Self-consciously I begin unhooking my bikini top and let it drop into the pool and then, covering my breasts with one hand, I pull off my bottoms. Nessa is crossing her chest with her arms in an ‘x’, then placing her hands onto her hips before ‘Heeeeey . . . Macarena’.
‘Hurry up, Jen!’
Gingerly, I stand, one arm still across my boobs, the other hand fig-leafed across my lower parts.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Nessa takes two steps towards me and pulls my arms apart, dropping them to my sides, then returns to her Macarena, one hand then the other either side of her head, hands crossing onto shoulders.
I reach down, drain the last of my beer and burp loudly before hesitantly joining in. Laughter bubbles up from my stomach as we jump in tandem, splashes of water erupting out of the pool. Nessa winks at me as she swivels her hips. The song finishes and we collapse back into the pool, water sloshing over the edges as we lean back, still laughing. Kerry is still nowhere to be seen. I begin to panic. The laughter gets caught in my throat; the lime in the beer bottle.
Nessa leans forward, laughter sliding into concern. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘She’s gone! I can’t find her!’ Panic claws at my insides, scraping and grappling to get out. Oh, God, what have I done? The tablets must be working: I’ve killed her again.
‘Hey! Lady Godiva!’
I turn a full circle at the sound of her voice. Kerry is sitting on the top of Erica’s slide, her plait falling across her naked chest, her bare legs crossed at the ankles. My body sags with relief, my legs buckle and I’m kneeling in the water, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I try to control the feelings inside; choked sobs fall from my lips as Nessa slides over to me, arm around my shoulders. ‘Hey, shush, what’s wrong? What is it?’
I don’t know how to answer her, though, because I don’t know how to describe how I’m feeling. Am I happy that she’s back or not? Should I be? How can I make this decision? Kill my sister, or lose my family? I rest my head on Nessa’s shoulder as my naked dead sister slides down the slide. She misquotes from Top Gun, asking Goose to talk to her as she smiles, climbing into the pool to join us.
‘I don’t want to lose you again,’ I say.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Nessa replies.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Ed
I’m multitasking. It’s not my favourite thing to do. The kids’ dinner is cooking, the front door is wide open so I can hear them, and I’m simultaneously contorting my body into a shape that it shouldn’t be contorted into while I search for Oscar’s snake – Sammy – in the footwell of my car.
‘Fuck!’ My knuckles have just grazed against something sharp beneath the seat.
‘Daaaadddyyyy!!’ Hailey is shouting from the doorway and I pull my body back out of the arch it’s contorted into, registering as I do that the smoke alarm is going off.
Fishfingers. Burnt fishfingers.
I send Hailey up the stairs with a tea towel and instruct her to flap it beneath the alarm, while Oscar is covering his tear-stained face with his hands as I push past him, pulling open the oven door where smoke pours out. I go to retrieve the oven tray with another tea towel but there are none in the drawer.
‘Why are there no tea towels?!’ I shout, as I start pulling dusters and dishcloths out of the drawer. ‘I mean, is it too much to ask? That when you open the drawer that is supposed to have tea towels in, that there are actual tea towels in there?!’ The alarm continues to shriek as I take out the tray with a dishcloth, burning my hand as I do. The tray skitters across the draining board as I curse under my breath. ‘Hailey! Shut that damn thing up!’ I turn the cold tap on full and wince as it hits the angry red welt that is emerging across my palm. I sigh loudly, my shoulders hunching over the sink as I close my eyes and try to control the confusion inside.
I’m not a man prone to mood swings. I’m the man at work that they send to deal with a difficult client: I don’t get rattled; I don’t lose my cool. But right now? My cool is well and truly lost.
The alarm stops and Hailey’s feet pound down the stairs. A hiccupping sound comes from behind me. I turn my head to where Oscar is crying: he turns to Hailey as she comes into the room, wafting the smoke away with her hand; his face seeks reassurance from her, my daughter’s arm wraps around his tiny frame, her eyes meet mine with a look of distrust. It’s a look normally saved for Jen.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, turning off the tap and kneeling down in front of them, pulling their bodies towards me. ‘I’m sorry I lost my temper.’ I kiss the tops of their heads, Oscar’s body hiccupping from inside his chest. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say again, kissing harder this time. ‘We must have left Sammy at Aunty Nessa’s. Let’s go and get a McDonald’s and then fetch him, OK?’
Oscar sniffs and wipes away his snot with the back of his hand as Hailey watches my face cautiously.
Oscar’s head is lying heavily to the right as we pull up outside Nessa’s, gentle snores escaping his tomato-sauce-stained face.
‘Wait here,’ I say to Hailey. ‘I’ll only be a minute.’ I release the belt buckle and jog up to the front door, checking the car over my shoulder as I do. Hailey waves at me. My hand waves back.
There is no answer.
I walk to the side gate where I can hear the radio playing. Pushing open the gate, I step into the garden, where I see two naked women embracing.
This is going to sound odd, but for a moment, I wonder who the women are. It’s a moment that stretches and snaps into reality in the time it has taken me to take a breath. By the time that breath has exhaled, I have worked out that the naked woman being held by another naked woman is my wife.
Sammy is lying on the bench. I reach for it, hold it tightly and leave the garden.
Oscar is still sleeping; Hailey is playing on her tablet as I start the engine: inside this car, the world is the same as it was a few moments ago.
But the wife that I’m trying to hold on to is slipping further away. Should I carry on holding on, or just let her go?
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jennifer
I wake in my old bedroom. I have a vague memory of Nessa opening us wine, of climbing out of the pool, of a feeling close to drowning as I started to cry. Nessa brought me home: a taxi ride, a conversation with my parents, Nessa murmuring something about me breaking down, a feeling of drowning and of fear . . . I was so scared of losing Kerry again.
My body is slick with sweat. It’s late evening; I can hear birds singing and the rumble of voices beneath me. The panic I felt earlier still sits heavily in my chest.
Kerry is sitting at my old desk, writing in one of her notebooks. ‘Hey sleepy head,’ she says, smiling at me.
‘Hey.’ My voice is hoarse and I reach for the bottle of water beside the bed.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘How am I feeling? I’m talking to myself after having a breakdown after dancing naked to the ‘Macarena’ . . . How do you think I am?’
Mum knocks on the door and closes it quietly behind her, sitting down on the bed next to me. ‘Would you like a drink?’
I shake my head.
‘Something to eat?’
I shake my head again.
She brushes back my hair and cups my face. ‘When I first brought you home, I couldn’t stop looking at you. You had a scratch down your cheek.’ Her finger follows the ghost of the memory, outlining an invisible scar. ‘I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, that I had been given this perfect little person to look after. I wanted to protect you, I wanted to stop the world from ever harming you again.’ She wraps her arm around my shoulders. ‘You have to let her go, Jen, you have to let her go.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know. But her being here is destroying you.’
‘Have you told Ed about . . . earlier?’
‘We haven’t been able to get hold of him, his phone is off.’
‘Don’t tell him.’
‘Jen, you need to let him help you, he—’
‘OK, but not yet? Please?’ I think of the way he had looked at me at The Nook. I can’t bear for him to look that way at me again. ‘He thinks I’m getting better, Mum, please, he’s got enough to think about looking after the kids.’
‘So what are we going to do with you?’ She rubs the tops of my arms and tries to smile away the catch in her voice.
‘Well, I could start with having a shower and one of your loaded jacket potatoes . . . that might be a start?’
She pulls her body a little straighter, glad to be given a purpose. ‘That, I can do.’ Mum gets up but hesitates with her hand resting on the door. ‘Where is she?’
She turns back to me; I nod towards the desk. Mum takes a step towards it.
‘Now you listen to me, Kerry Hargreaves, you need to stop tormenting your sister, do you hear me? Enough is enough.’
I bite down on my lip as I watch Kerry stick her tongue out at Mum in a way she would only ever have dared to do behind Mum’s back.
I follow Mum’s movements as she straightens her shoulder
s and clears her throat, and I blink back the tears threatening behind my eyelids.
‘Right. I’d best get those jacket potatoes in.’ She gives me a smile, wipes a stray tear from her cheek, smooths down the back of her hair and closes the door softly behind her.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Ed
Jen had a bad day. This is what my mother-in-law explained to me last night.
A bad day.
I’ve been crafting a volcano out of moulding clay for the past two hours with my daughter, who avoids conversations about friends and school like the plague. I’ve tucked the kids in, read out a story to Oscar in my best Captain Underpants voice, all the time questioning what I saw. Is it possible that she is having an affair with Nessa? Because that’s what it looked like. I check in on Hales, who is sleeping soundly, and clear up the detritus that covers the kitchen table. The clay volcano looks somewhat like a giant penis, I can’t help but notice with a sigh, and I worry about how I’m going to fix it.
Jen’s trying to FaceTime me. I take a deep breath, and sit down in the lounge. Jen’s voice is distant and soft around the edges as though it’s hard work to open her mouth. Her phone is propped up beside her, hair messy, no make-up on her face. Not exactly the picture of a woman embarking on her first lesbian affair. I don’t ask her about what I saw. Instead I ask, ‘You OK?’ while I watch her swallow down more pills.
‘Yeah . . . I’ve got a bit of a headache. Me and Nessa had a few drinks after you left yesterday.’
‘So, you had a few drinks with, um, with Nessa?’ I ask oh-so-innocently.
‘Yeah, a few.’
‘It looks like you had more than a few . . .’ My voice is judgemental.
‘It’s not a hangover, Ed. I’ve not slept.’
I swallow down the images of them together in tangled sheets, try to stop the words that want to come out of my mouth. I want to ask, but I also want to give her chance to tell me, because if she doesn’t, I’m scared that I will never be able to trust her again.
‘Kerry is sick, Ed.’
‘What do you mean?’
She’s not real! I want to scream. I’m real, your children are real, your affair—