In My Sister's Shoes (27 page)

Fiona was like Mother Teresa compared to this girl. ‘This whole open-relationship thing is bullshit,’ I snapped.

‘For your generation maybe, but for us it works.’

Cheeky cow. I was only four years older than her. And Derek didn’t look like a man who felt good about his girlfriend playing away. I decided to push it. Maybe then he’d see what a waste of space she was. ‘Were you with anyone else last night?’ I probed.

‘I snogged a couple of girls, no big deal.’

‘Well, now, isn’t that lovely?’ said Dad, walking into the room. ‘My son’s girlfriend’s a lesbian.’

‘I’m not a lesbian. I prefer men, but women can be cool too,’ said Roxanne, yawning.

‘I see. So you like all God’s creatures, then,’ said Dad. ‘Animals too?’

‘Dad!’ said Derek.

‘There’s no need to be gross,’ said Roxanne. ‘Only really sick fuckers are into bestiality.’

‘Well, it’s nice to know there are limits to your extracurricular activities,’ said Dad. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, Roxanne, I’d appreciate it if you got dressed when you’re in my house. I have no desire to see so much flesh at anytime of the day or night.’

She wandered out of the room as Derek complained, ‘There’s no need to be rude, Dad.’

‘Rude?’ exclaimed Dad, sitting down at the table opposite Derek. ‘Look it, son, I don’t know what you think is normal, but let me tell you this. Going out with a girl who’s unfaithful to you with anything in a pair of trousers or a skirt is demeaning. She’s not welcome in this house anymore. She’s making a right eejit of you and I won’t have it. Go out and find yourself a nice girl who likes wearing clothes, understands the meaning of monogamy and doesn’t deface people’s bodies for a living,’ he said, slamming his hand on the table to emphasize the point.

‘So I guess I won’t be seeing you,’ Roxanne said, from the open door. ‘Good luck finding a boring new girlfriend who works in a bank. I’m outt a here.’

Derek got up to follow her.

‘Bit harsh, Bill,’ said Gonzo. ‘She’s a cool chick.’

‘Well, then, why don’t
you
go out with her?’ said Dad.

‘I’m holding out for Kate,’ he said, leering at me.

‘Tara had a baby girl,’ I told Dad, eager to change the subject.

‘Well, isn’t that marvellous?’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t want to leave it too late, Kate – you don’t want to be too old to pick your children up.’

‘I’m not old and, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘Over here,’ said Gonzo, waving.

‘I thought you were back with Sam,’ Dad said.

‘We had one date and he disappeared to Australia.’

‘You’ve been in touch, though, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, but he’s still smarting from his wife leaving him, so he’s not in any rush to throw himself into another relationship.’

‘Tosser,’ said Gonzo. ‘The guy’s obviously gay.’

‘No, he isn’t.’ I sighed.

‘Definitely a homo.’

‘Gonzo! Sam is not gay. He’s just been badly burnt by his ex-wife.’

‘I get burnt every week. When you dig a chick, you take risks.’

He had a point there. Maybe Sam was dragging his feet because he just wasn’t keen enough.

‘All I’m saying is that you’re not getting any younger,’ said Dad, like a dog with a bone.

‘Well, me and my ticking clock are going to visit Tara,’ I said, running out the door before I was put in a retirement home or, worse, forced to wed Gonzo in an arranged marriage and spend my days listening to badly rhyming rap.

Tara was sitting up in bed with baby Kerrie fast asleep on her chest. She looked elated and exhausted.

‘How are you?’ I asked.

‘Shattered,’ she said, beaming.

‘She’s gorgeous,’ I said dutifully, although I could only see the side of her face and it was all red and scrunched and she had coagulated gunk matted into her thin strands of hair.

‘Isn’t she? She’s the image of Tom,’ said the proud new mother.

I was thinking more Winston Churchill myself, but I just nodded. ‘Nice hair,’ I noted.

‘Yes and she’ll be getting a bath tomorrow to wash all that afterbirth away,’ said Tara.

Thank God for that, I thought. I was worried that she was so besotted she hadn’t noticed it. ‘How did it all go?’ I asked.

‘Well…’ Tara gave me chapter and verse on the labour. From waters breaking to pushing, shoving, snipping, sewing and placenta expulsion. ‘… and there she was, perfect,’ she finished, as I tried to contain the bile in my throat. Why do new mothers feel it vital to share the gory details with others? It’s way too much information. Maybe if you have kids yourself and you’ve gone through the whole birth saga it’s OK, but for a novice like me, it was very off-putting.

‘Lovely,’ I said, smiling at her.

‘Would you like to hold her?’ she asked, as if it was a treat akin to inviting me to New York on an all-expenses-paid shopping trip.

I really didn’t want to hold the baby because I was afraid I’d get the gunk on me. I was used to mess with the twins, but not this kind of stuff. However, I knew that to refuse would be the most grievous of insults.

‘Sure,’ I said, trying to position the back of the baby’s head away from my clothes. As I was manoeuvring her, she opened her eyes and stared right at me. The intensity stopped me in my tracks. It was as if she was looking into my soul. Her little blue eyes bored into me, then all of a sudden she yawned – a tiny, perfect, rosebud yawn – and promptly fell asleep in my arms, curled up against me – matted hair and all.

I felt completely overcome. It was as if the baby knew what I was thinking. The way she had looked at me, I could almost hear her saying, ‘I know my mother’s a bit long-winded but give her a break. It’s a big day for her and you’re her best friend. By the way, I’m pretty great – you should think about this yourself. Here, let me show you how nice it feels when a newborn falls asleep in your arms…’ I gazed down at her, so small and perfect and peaceful. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never felt like this before.

‘Kate,’ Tara whispered, as I tried to regain my composure, ‘what you’re feeling is totally normal. It’s instinctive and natural.’

‘This is not normal. I’m a mess,’ I said.

‘No, you’re not. Looking after the twins has brought out a maternal instinct in you, and it’s lovely to see. You’d be a great mother.’

‘I don’t know about that. It’s just that sitting here seeing you with a baby, and you have a husband and a house and a proper, grown-up life, makes me realize that my life is going nowhere. I’m babysitting my sister’s kids, hanging around for an ex-boyfriend who is emotionally scarred by his separation, and I’ve no job. After eight years in London, what have I got to show for it? Nothing.’

‘A glittering career in TV,’ said my loyal best friend.

‘A very mediocre career in TV on a channel no one watches, and a string of broken relationships. It’s a bit sad.’

‘Come on, Kate – ’

I cut across her. ‘No, Tara, it’s OK. I’m not looking for you to boost my morale. I guess I’m just thinking out loud. I was so desperate to get to London and be successful that I lost myself along the way. The things I thought I wanted so badly didn’t bring me the happiness and fulfilment I expected. Sure I had good times and met interesting people, but I was living a false life. My flat was rented, my friends came and went, as did boyfriends and jobs. Having my own show was an achievement, but it was only a matter of time before a younger, brighter presenter knocked me off my stool. You and Fiona have homes, babies and husbands. If it wasn’t for Dad, I’d have nowhere to live.’

‘But you followed your dream. I admire you for that,’ said Tara. ‘I took the safe option and stayed at home, going to the same pub every Friday night, seeing the same friends every weekend. Your life seemed so glamorous and exciting, and mine was so mundane.’

‘But it wasn’t, it was real. I loved the travel and doing live broadcasts is a huge adrenaline rush, but I spent too much time on my career and too little on my life. Look, I’m not saying I’d do anything differently, I’m just in limbo at the moment and Fiona finishes her treatment soon, so I need to sort myself out.’

‘What do you think you’ll do?’ Tara asked.

‘Go back to London and try to live a more balanced life,’ I said.

‘Why don’t you stay in Dublin?’

‘Because I feel less like a freak over there. Everyone here has moved on. Over there it’s normal to be married to your job and have a social life that revolves around colleagues. Most of the people I work with are either single, gay, divorced or recovering addicts. If you’re married with children you’re an anomaly.’

‘Will you get your job back?’

‘I spoke to Donna last week. She said the girl presenting myshow is pulling in good viewing figures so I may have lost that, but she said she’ll try to sort me out with something else and my agent is putting out feelers for me. Nothing concrete yet, but he’s pretty confident something will turn up. I feel useless here. Everyone has their own lives and I’m treading water until Fiona’s better. I don’t fit in. I’m too old for the single scene and too single for the married one. I’ll go back to London, give it a year, and if nothing really good comes up I’ll reconsider my options.’

‘What about Sam?’

‘I still have feelings for him, but he’s reeling from Nikki’s affair, so I don’t think he’s likely to rush into another relationship. I’m seeing him in a couple of days when he gets back from Oz. We’ll see how it goes.’

Tara rested her head back on the pillows, ‘You guys were made for each other. I just know it’s going to work out.’

I wished I had her optimism, not to mention Gonzo’s self-confidence. Life would have been a lot rosier.

32

In the five weeks Sam had been away, my hair had made a come-back. The patchy clumps had joined up and it now looked quite normal – if extremely short. He called a few days after he got back and asked if I wanted to go to a football match. Ireland was playing Sweden in a European Cup qualifier and he was covering it for the paper, but he’d be able to take me out for dinner afterwards.

I didn’t know much about football but it wasn’t as if my diary was full and I was dying to see him. I felt this date would be make or break. If we got on well and ended up together, I was willing to give it a go, but if he was still being cagey and careful I’d tell him to take the time he needed to sort himself out. There was no point in trying to go out with him if he was still getting over Nikki. It would be a waste of time.

I was praying it would work out. I couldn’t believe how strongly I still felt about him. Even though we’d been apart for so long, he had never left my thoughts. No guy had ever matched up to him and, looking back now, I could see what a good thing I’d had. I was too young to realize it at the time – too young, ambitious and stupid. Would I get a second chance?

Fiona was in much better form. She was over the moon to be finished her chemo, and although she was apprehensive about the radiation treatment, she had been told the side effects were much less drastic. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘it’s only five weeks and then I’m finished with it all. I can have my life back, my hair, my energy and, hopefully, my body.’

‘How soon after the end of radiation do you get the all-clear?’ I asked.

Fiona smiled. ‘I like your choice of words. I get tested six weeks after my last session and they should tell me within days.’

‘God, that’ll be such a relief,’ I said, refusing to allow a negative thought to enter my mind.

‘Or it’ll be back to square one, which I’m not sure I’d be able for. The beauty of getting cancer for the first time is that you don’t know what to expect. Now I know how awful chemo is, I don’t know if I could face it again.’

‘You won’t have to,’ I said, willing a way her doubts.

‘Careful, Kate, you’re beginning to sound like Dad.’

‘Maybe he’s got the right idea. If you refuse to believe something bad can happen, it won’t.’

‘That didn’t work with Mum,’ Fiona said quietly.

‘I know.’ I wished she’d stop bringing that up. It was hard not to, when our mother had died of the same disease at the same age, but it didn’t help to keep going back to it. ‘You’re not Mum, so stop thinking that.’

‘I’m trying to be positive, but I have to be prepared for the worst. Which is why I need to ask you another favour.’

Oh, God, what now? I didn’t want to do anymore favours. I was all out of goodwill and payback. It had been almost eight months. I just wanted my sister to get better, be happy and have her old life back (minus anymore extra-marital affairs and love-children).

‘Sure, anything,’ I lied.

‘I want you to be the twins’ guardian if I die.’

‘What about Mark?’ I asked, shocked. He might not be their biological father, and he might not be the best father in the world, but he loved those boys in his own way. And, after all, this was the man who had stepped up to the plate, even when the plate wasn’t his.

‘Mark is their father,’ Fiona said, frowning. ‘I want you to be their female guardian. So if anything happened to him they’d have you.’

From that moment on, I was determined that Mark would live a long and healthy life. I’d steam his vegetables for him myself. I’d hire him a personal trainer. I’d personally wrap him in cotton wool. I loved the twins but I had no desire to raise them on my own.

‘I don’t want some bimbo raising my kids.’

‘Who’s the bimbo?’

‘Mark’s new wife.’

‘You think if you died Mark would marry a bimbo?’ I asked her.

‘It’s possible.’

‘Jesus, Fiona, the man doesn’t speak English, he speaks in maths terminology. His only interest is work. It’s highly unlikely that a bimbo would be interested in listening to the history of theorems. It may turn you on because you’re a genius too, but to a normal average female, it’s coma-inducing. Besides, can we please stop assuming that you’re going to die?’

‘I want to be prepared,’ said Fiona. ‘And should anything happen to me, I want the boys to spend time with you, their aunt, who can answer any questions they have about me and what I was like growing up.’

‘OK, I promise. Now can we please drop it?’