No Sister of Mine

by Vivien Brown

  And so I was left alone, to think, to cry, to grieve. A big deep pit of darkness seemed to open out in front of me and drag me down inside it. There was no one to hold me, or to understand my pain, or to try to pull me out. Perhaps it was what I deserved.

  ***

  I couldn’t go to work, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop blaming myself, and Sarah, and the mystery woman he’d been seeing behind both our backs. Who was she, and what did he feel for her? Even now, I was jealous. Of a woman I couldn’t put a face to and probably never would. If not for her, I would not have run, could have kept him with me, kept him safe …

  I kept reliving that morning in my mind, so sorry I’d flounced out, sorry I hadn’t stayed to hear what Josh had to say, stayed to set the record straight with my sister, to support Janey as she told her dad her news, as I’d promised her I would. If only I had done that, perhaps none of them would have had to go out, the car might never have been on the road …

  But I hadn’t, and now he was dead, and even in his last moments it had been Sarah there beside him, not me. The deadly game of bat and ball we had been playing all our adult lives was finally over, and Sarah had won. And come out of it as a heroine, selfless to the last. No, how could I think that way? How could anyone be a winner when the man in the centre of it all was gone forever? Wild, crazy, mixed-up thoughts, that lacked any sense of reality, kept creeping in. I felt dizzy, sick, exhausted, but if sleep was to keep evading me, then I needed a drink, some way of inducing oblivion, to stop the memories and the recriminations haunting me.

  I poured myself a large whisky, took one gulp and threw the rest down the sink. It tasted vile, burning its way down my throat, reminding me of Sarah’s burnt hands, of Josh’s face, his body, engulfed in fire. I closed my eyes and tried to blot it out. Drinking wasn’t going to help. Nothing was. Even if I went to sleep, I knew I would dream, and the dreams would be just as horrifying as reality. Probably worse. All I really needed was Josh, alive and well, his arms around me, laughing as he claimed a fifty-pence piece every time I said I was sorry. He’d be a rich man these last couple of days, the number of times I’d thought it. But none of that was going to happen. Not now. Or ever again.

  I felt adrift, with no one there to turn to at the absolute lowest and most devastating point in my life. Lucy was still living in her new-motherhood happy bubble and I didn’t want to be the one to burst it. Dad was distant, pouring all his sympathies in Sarah’s direction, and she was still ignoring me. But there was always Simon. Simon was the only person I could call who would listen, and care, and not even think to judge me.

  I didn’t invite him to come running, and certainly hadn’t expected him to, but there he was, standing on my step, with a small overnight bag and a massive box of man-size tissues in his hands.

  ‘Come here.’ That was all he said, dropping his stuff on the mat, then opening his big arms wide and engulfing me inside them. ‘I remember we did this once before, didn’t we? When your mum was ill, and we ate curry – or was it kebabs? – and drank wine and …’

  ‘I’m not sure that would solve things. Not this time.’ I emerged from the warmth of his jumper, wiping my runny nose on it as I moved, and looked up through the mist of my tears into his gentle, caring face.

  ‘You really did love him, didn’t you?’

  I nodded. ‘You know I did. Still do …’

  ‘Oh, Eve, what am I going to do with you? The man was a cheat, an adulterer, a chancer. Okay, I know, I know. That’s not what you want to hear. Grief is a terrible thing, and it’s taking you over right now. You’re only going to remember what you want to. The good times, the person you wanted him to be. And you’re going to be sad for a long time to come. But you will come through it, my lovely. And out the other side. It just might take a bit of time, that’s all.’

  We snuggled up on the sofa, with a cuddly blanket over our knees and a takeaway pizza I was sure I wouldn’t be able to eat, but remarkably my long-lost appetite seemed to come flying back with a vengeance, and I ate almost as many slices as Simon did.

  ‘I think you needed that.’

  ‘Probably did. Thanks, Si. I’m so glad to see you. I presume it’s just a flying visit? You must have work to get back to?’

  ‘Feigned a shoulder injury. Well, it’s easy enough to do when you teach PE. Told them I’d need at least until Monday before I’d be back.’

  ‘Simon. You sneaky liar!’

  ‘I wouldn’t do it for just anyone, you know. So I can stay a while. Long enough for you to wash your snot off my jumper at least.’

  I laughed for the first time in days. ‘Thank you. I’ve missed you. So much.’

  ‘You too, Kid.’ And he kissed me on the nose, but not before giving it a good wipe with a tissue, to make sure it was clean.

  ***

  Something drew me to the scene of the accident. It was easy enough to find out where it was. The local news had been there like a shot, cameras, reporters …

  It was Sunday afternoon and I was on my own again now that Simon had gone. I was due back at work the next day. There was only so much compassionate leave a boss was prepared to allow when the deceased was simply a brother-in-law, and trying to explain that he had been so much more than that wasn’t an option.

  Josh had been gone a week. I had called Dad, asked after Sarah, who the nurses kept telling me on the phone was not willing to let me visit, tried to make peace, but she wasn’t having any of it. And nor was he. The funeral was being delayed, he told me, until Sarah was well enough, but I would not be welcome anyway. I should do the decent thing and stay away. I wasn’t sure I could. Not even for Dad.

  I parked some distance away from the crash site and walked, wrapping myself up in a long coat, a scarf pulled up over my mouth and chin. The vehicles had been taken away but I could still see skid marks on the road, the remains of some sort of powdered stuff which I assumed they must have used to put out the flames, a thin strip of tape tied around a damaged tree, maybe to protect the evidence or to keep people away because the tree was in danger of falling down. It looked solid enough though, despite the split in its trunk. There were slivers of glass and a mangled wing mirror still lying in the earth at its base. Several people had left flowers, and I bent down and added my own bouquet to the pile. White roses, the first flowers he had ever bought me, that day he’d turned up in Cardiff and our affair had begun.

  ‘Hello, Auntie Eve.’

  I turned quickly, and there was Janey, just a few feet behind me. Her eyes were red and puffy and she too had chosen to envelop herself in the biggest and baggiest of coats. We stood and stared at each other. There were no words.

  ‘Mum says she hates you. She says it was all your fault. Was it?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so, Janey. Accidents happen, and we don’t know what caused this one, do we? It could have been anything. Brakes, a slippery road … Maybe your dad just lost concentration for a moment.’

  ‘Mum says they were arguing.’

  ‘In the car? I don’t know about that. I wasn’t there, and nor were you, so maybe we’ll never know for sure. Grown-ups fight all the time.’

  ‘But you were all fighting about me, weren’t you? Mum didn’t like it that I told you first. Probably that’s what they were fighting about in the car too. Me, and the baby. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.’

  ‘Oh, no, Janey. None of this was your fault. The problems we had, your mum and dad and me, they went back years, Love. Long before your pregnancy.’

  ‘I told him, Auntie Eve. The father. That afternoon, the day it happened, while Mum and Dad were out. I rang and told him.’

  ‘Did you? And what did he say?’

  She looked up at me, tears welling up in her eyes, and I felt her small hand slip into mine. ‘He was angry. He said he didn’t want it, that he’d pay to get rid of it.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’

  ‘I thought he cared about me. I thought he’d be pleased.’

  ‘Boys aren�
��t usually pleased when they make babies they hadn’t planned to have, Janey. Look, you really do need to tell me who he is. How this happened. It’s the only way I can help you. I know it’s hard to talk to your mum right now, while she’s so poorly. And your dad … well, he …’

  ‘Go on, say it. He’s dead. My daddy’s dead.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t want him to be dead,’ she sobbed, pulling her hand away from mine and wrapping herself tightly around me, her arms finding their way inside my coat.

  ‘Nor do I, Janey.’ It was all I could do not to break down completely, but this child – Josh’s child – needed me, and I needed her.

  ‘And I don’t know what to do. Whether I want to have a baby on my own.’

  ‘You’re not on your own, Sweetheart. You’ve got me.’ I wiped the tears from her cheek and tried to force a smile. ‘You’ve always got me.’

  ‘I know, but I just need a bit more time. So I can decide …’

  ***

  The funeral finally took place three weeks after the crash. I had taken more roses – big white ones that smelt wonderful – but I couldn’t do it, couldn’t put them down on the wet ground with all the other tributes, as if I was just one in a long line of friends, acquaintances, colleagues, leaving little cards with their scribbled clichéd messages. They – he – deserved more. I left them in the car and took just one rose into the chapel, clutching it so tightly it more or less disintegrated in my hands.

  I knew I wasn’t welcome, that Sarah had decided this time she could not, or would not, forgive me. But it didn’t matter. I was there for Josh, and for all that he had meant to me, and still did.

  Janey looked so scared, so lost, and I wondered if she had made any decision yet about the baby. If she’d spoken to a doctor, been to a clinic? Time was ticking by. Time she didn’t have. Keeping it wouldn’t be easy, but getting rid of it would be pretty hard too. She hadn’t yet come back to school, so I’d had no chance to get her on her own to see how she was or what had been decided. My heart went out to her, but I knew better than to try to approach her, or any of them. Sarah would make damn sure she kept us apart. Making a scene in public, and in the midst of everyone’s grief, was not my style, so I sloped away straight after the service. I knew it would probably be the last time I saw any of my family for a while. Dust would have to settle. Wounds would have to heal. But perhaps I was better on my own. I needed time to heal too.

  I drove about for a while, aimlessly, windscreen wipers swishing out a regular rhythm, like a heartbeat, and with no destination in mind.

  I pulled up in a gravelled car park surrounded by trees and closed my eyes, expecting to cry, but I didn’t. Perhaps I was all cried out, like the rain, because that had finally stopped too. There was a burger van parked over by the gate that led into the woods, and I walked over and bought a coffee, with lots of sugar, and a Kit Kat. I hadn’t eaten all day, but the smell of the greasy meat and the sight of all those slimy onions turned my stomach. I wondered what they would be eating at the wake. And if Josh’s new woman, whichever one she was, would have had the cheek to turn up and eat sausage rolls and sip sherry with his widow.

  I walked about for a bit, shivering in my black dress and the thin roll-up mac I always kept in the boot, wishing I’d brought a proper coat, slowly drinking the coffee to warm me, then tossing the empty cup and the chocolate wrapper into a bin. The roses were still there, on the back seat. I could smell them as soon as I got back into the car. I needed to give them to Josh. Not the crash site again. That felt too morbid, and too public. So I started the engine and headed back to the last place I had seen him alive.

  ***

  I was standing outside Josh’s door, gazing into the florist’s shop window. There was a certain irony in bringing flowers to a place like this that already had so many. I looked up to the flat above, its windows in darkness, and tried to picture him there, looking out, smiling, waving, but I couldn’t summon him up, no matter how hard I tried.

  I heard footsteps and there was Janey, walking slowly towards me. We seemed to have a habit of thinking the same thing, arriving at the same place at the same time.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be at the wake?’

  ‘I was, but it’s all so serious and sad. I wanted to be with Dad.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Do you want to come in? I’ve got the key.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She opened the door. I pressed my lips to the roses and laid them down outside, propped against the wall, and we went inside together and up the stairs.

  ‘I’ve been coming here, boxing up his things. He didn’t have much here really, just clothes and soap and stuff, and a few files and papers. Mum says the landlord wants the keys back now so I probably can’t come again.’

  ‘That’s a shame, but …’

  ‘Yeah, I know. It’s just a flat. His real home was with me and Mum. That’s where I’ll remember him best. Do you think he would have come back? That Mum and Dad might have got back together one day?’

  ‘I don’t know, Janey. I don’t think so.’

  We stepped across the small landing and I could see she had been busy. No washing up in the sink, no clothes on chairs, no trace of him left. The heating wasn’t on either and I felt a shiver run through me.

  ‘You wanted to know how it happened,’ she said, turning to face me.

  I knew instantly what she was talking about. Not the accident. The pregnancy. It was as if our conversation from the last time we’d met had never been interrupted.

  ‘It was at Becky’s house.’

  ‘Becky? Becky O’Connor?’

  She nodded, but she couldn’t look me in the eyes. She pulled out a dining chair and slumped into it, gazing out of the window into the street. ‘Becky wasn’t there. She’d been off sick and I went round after school, to see how she was, but she’d spent the day at her mum’s. She did that. Kind of split her time between two homes, like I was starting to. He said she might be back later, that I could stay. Wait for her. He hung up my coat, gave me a drink. We watched some TV.’

  ‘A drink?’ I didn’t sit down, just put a hand gently on her shoulder and hovered close enough for her to know I was there and that she could tell me anything, everything. ‘Alcohol, do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. I thought it was just orange juice, but I think now maybe it wasn’t. We sat next to each other on the sofa that first time. It felt nice, all warm and close, like it used to feel sitting with Dad, before he left. I felt sort of fuzzy, but happy, and safe.’

  ‘But it didn’t stop there? Things went further?’

  ‘He kissed me. That was all. I hadn’t expected it, but I liked it. I’d met him so many times, at the house, and he was always so nice to me, so friendly. He said I was looking very pretty. He held my hand, told me how soft it was. He made me feel … special.’

  ‘You said that was the first time? Were there other times, Janey?’

  She nodded again. ‘A few.’

  ‘When Becky was out?’

  ‘I started going round when I knew she wouldn’t be there. Just for half an hour sometimes, to say hello. And once … I stayed all night. I slept in his bed. I liked being with him, I liked it being our secret. I thought maybe he wanted me to be his girlfriend. He said he liked me. A lot.’

  ‘And you slept together that night, in his bed? Had sex?’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. And sometimes in the car, when he drove me home, and we stopped off somewhere on the way. It felt nice, natural. Like it was meant to be.’

  ‘So natural he didn’t even use a condom?’

  ‘He asked me if I was, you know, on the pill. And I said I was. I didn’t want him to think of me as some silly child.’

  ‘Oh, Janey. That was silly though, wasn’t it? You took a terrible risk. And he should have known better. You’re only fourteen! And now he has the nerve to say he’s angry with you?’

  ‘He doesn’t want another child, that’s what he sa
id.’

  ‘Another child? You mean he’s done this before? He’s already a father?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And he’s older than you by what? Only three years?’

  I looked down at my hands. One on her shoulder, now gripping her so hard I was afraid I might hurt her. The other still clutching the roses.

  She looked puzzled for a moment. ‘Three years?’

  ‘Well, I assume we’re talking about Samuel, Becky’s brother, and he’s seventeen, isn’t he?’

  ‘No. It wasn’t Becky’s brother. Yuck! Why would you think that? It was her dad. Arnie.’

  Chapter 32

  SARAH

  Janey disappeared for a while after the funeral. It had been a traumatic enough day already, and I couldn’t see any point in coming down hard on her, laying down the law. If she wanted to get out of the house, escape the claustrophobia for a while, I wasn’t going to stop her. It wasn’t as if she could get into trouble, was it? She’d already managed that. And that was the next worry I had to confront. Recovering from my surgery, the skin on my palms still sore, the flashback nightmares still invading my sleep, it had been all I could do just to get through the funeral, but now I knew something had to be done about Janey’s pregnancy, and the sooner the better. Every day that went by, every centimetre that baby grew, the decision would get harder. Or it would be too late for a decision to be an option at all.

  We hadn’t told Josh’s parents anything. Not even about our separation. Divorce was not a word that had been allowed to enter their world, let alone adultery, and neither Josh nor I had figured out how to broach the subject. As far as they were concerned, we had still lived together, happily married, in this house, until the end. The photos on the mantelpiece and his coat and shoes in the hall, retrieved from the flat just days ago, did nothing to dispel the myth.

  If I were to tell them about Janey, I already knew what they would say. Their church, their conscience, their rigid views, had played a huge part in the decision Josh and I had made all those years ago, and I couldn’t allow any of that to influence Janey’s choices now. Abortion was a much more real option this time, probably the only workable and sensible option at Janey’s age, but they wouldn’t see things that way. I poured his mum another cup of tea, her hands trembling as she held the cup, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and watched his dad fiddling with his car keys. It was a long drive back. They wouldn’t be staying much longer. And then, hopefully, Janey and I could deal with things, and they need never know.