The Secrets Sisters Keep: A heartwarming, funny and emotional novel (The Devlin Sisters Book 2) (18 page)

Bloody Louise and her bloody law-abiding ways.

‘I won’t be using it again.’ I was itching to reply to Dan’s message, but I’d have to wait. I was being dictated to by a four-year-old – she was her mother’s daughter!

When we got to Castle Academy, the triplets were standing in the car park covered with mud.

‘It took thirteen minutes and twelve seconds to get here,’ Clara announced. ‘You said it would take ten.’

‘I suppose there must have been more traffic than I thought.’

Before Clara could continue with her stopwatch routine, the triplets clambered into the car, shouting and pushing each other. I watched Clara’s face. She became very quiet and retreated into her shell. Then, as Liam roared at Luke for kicking him in the head when he was climbing over him, she put her hands over her ears.

‘Liam,’ I said, ‘I told you we need to be quiet for Clara. She doesn’t like noise. She’s not used to rowdy boys.’

‘She’s staying with us so she has to get on with it,’ Leo said. ‘You always say when we go to someone’s house we have to live by their rules.’

‘Yes, and for this weekend the rule in our house is not to shout.’

‘What are we supposed to do? Go around whispering?’ Luke snorted.

‘That would be absolutely wonderful.’ I smiled. ‘I can think of nothing nicer than a quiet house.’

‘You always say you’ll miss us when we leave home and the house will be too quiet,’ Liam reminded me.

‘I probably will at first, but I’ll get over it.’

‘I’ll live with you for ever, Mummy,’ Tom said.

‘Lick.’

‘Sucker-upper.’

‘Loser.’

I put my hand up to silence the triplets. ‘Leave your little brother alone.’

‘What do you mean, lick? Lick what?’ Clara asked Leo.

‘Lick-arse.’

‘Leo! It’s a silly expression. Ignore him, Clara,’ I urged.

‘Do you mean that Tom should lick someone’s bottom?’

Oh, God, would she just drop it? ‘Forget it, pet,’ I said.

‘Yes, I mean Tom is a lick-arse, as in he licks Mum’s bum.’ Leo warmed to his subject.

‘Do you, Tom?’ Clara asked.

‘No, I do not. Leo’s a liar!’ Tom roared.

‘Why would you lick your mummy’s bottom? Only animals do that and we are humans.’

‘Clara, it’s just a silly expression. Pay no attention to Leo.’

‘I licked Luke’s bum for a dare.’ Liam chuckled.

‘
Grooooooss!
’ Leo squealed.

‘It was all hairy, like a gorilla’s.’

‘Shut up! It is not.’ Luke punched his brother, they began to fight and Clara ended up getting an elbow in the face.

Expecting her to cry or shout, I turned to her, but she just flinched slightly. A red mark was clearly visible on her cheek. ‘Are you all right, pet? Did Luke hurt you?’

‘It hurts a little, but I’m not in a lot of pain.’

She sounded like a fifty-year-old woman. I leant over and touched her cheek gently. She moved away from me. ‘Julie, your breath smells really bad.’

What? ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, OK.’

‘I think you need to brush your teeth.’

‘That’s rude,’ Liam said.

‘She didn’t mean it.’

‘But, Mum, you –’

I cut across Liam: ‘How about some nice calming music?’ I turned on Lyric FM.

‘Boring.’

‘Crap.’

‘Rubbish music.’

‘It’s Chopin, he’s my favourite,’ Clara announced.

B
y the time
I crawled into bed that night, I was exhausted. Harry had watched a movie with the boys while I put Clara to bed. After eating five tiny pieces of mashed potato and three carrot sticks, she’d said she was full. Louise’s file had said not to push her when it came to food, so I left her.

We went up to the bathroom and I set the timer on the clock to fifteen minutes. Clara got undressed and folded her clothes into a neat pile. Then she tested the water with her hand. It was too hot. Then it was too cold. Eventually when the bath was almost overflowing, she said it was the correct temperature.

I was texting Dan when the clock turned to fifteen minutes.

‘Julie,’ Clara stood up, ‘I have to get out now.’

I finished my text and drained my glass of wine.

‘Now, Julie, quick. Now!’

‘OK, OK, keep your hair on.’ I went over and wrapped her in the towel Louise had packed. It was an old towel, not fluffy at all, which surprised me. Louise always had the best of everything, yet she had said I had to use this old towel to dry Clara.

‘My hair is on,’ Clara said.

‘What?’ I gently dried her with the baldy towel.

‘You said, keep your hair on. How could I take it off?’

God, this kid was literal. ‘It’s just another of those silly expressions.’

‘Why does everyone in your family use silly expressions?’

I looked at her serious little face. She never seemed to smile. She was such a solemn little thing. I wanted to kiss her cheeks and tickle her to make her roar with laughter, but Louise had said she didn’t like a lot of physical contact. I had hugged her earlier, after the triplets had shouted at each other during dinner and she had looked upset. But she had frozen in my arms. Louise had been a bit like that, though. She wasn’t a big hugger. I wanted to bring out the child in Clara. I wanted her to have fun and be carefree, but when I’d suggested giving her a piggy-back up to the bathroom earlier, she had refused.

She was a very pretty child. She had long blonde curls and big blue eyes. She looked nothing like Louise, with her dark hair and brown eyes.

‘Clara, we use silly expressions because sometimes it’s fun to be silly,’ I said. ‘You should try it.’ She really needed to lighten up and have some fun. She was four going on forty.

‘How can it be fun to be silly?’

‘Make a silly face, look.’ I pulled my mouth open and stuck my tongue out.

‘You look ugly when you do that.’

I gave up. We went into the bedroom where she put on her pyjamas and got into bed. I sat on the edge while she recited a very long list of birds to me. I almost nodded off, but thankfully managed to stay awake until she finished.

I leant down and gave her a very gentle kiss on the cheek. That seemed to be OK. ‘You’re a wonderful little girl. No wonder your mummy is so proud of you.’

‘Thank you, Julie. Mummy says you are the kindest sister. She says you are always really nice to everyone.’

I felt a bit teary. ‘That’s lovely to hear. Your mummy’s very special too.’

‘I know that.’ Clara looked at the clock. ‘Mummy will be back in thirty-five hours.’

How the hell did she do that? She was four and a half! I turned out the bedside lamp but left the door open, with the corridor light on. Just as instructed. ‘Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

‘What bed bugs?’

Damn! ‘Just one of those silly expressions,’ I muttered, as I went downstairs to pour myself a large glass of wine and put my feet up.

T
he next day
Harry took the triplets to rugby and Tom went with them to cheer his brothers on. Gavin and Shania were calling in for coffee. I was glad of the company and they were both really good with Clara.

When they arrived, I put the kettle on while Shania got down on the floor with Clara to talk about birds.

‘So, how are things?’ I asked Gavin.

‘Good. Working really hard, but it’s going well.’

‘Do you think you’ll stick it out?’ I asked. Gavin was always honest with me about his jobs, probably because I was the only sister who didn’t work. He was a bit afraid of Louise and her incredible work ethic, and now that Sophie had got back on her feet and turned her life around, he felt he couldn’t complain to her either.

He poured some milk into his coffee. ‘Well … I like it and I’m pretty awesome at it, but does it set my world on fire? No.’

‘Gavin, let me give you a little inside info. Ninety-nine per cent of the population do jobs that don’t set them on fire, OK? Even Bono probably has days when he just doesn’t feel like singing. This is the real world. If you’ve found something you’re good at, and that you like, stick with it. You’re twenty-seven. You can’t keep job-hopping. And, believe me, having nothing at all is far worse. Being stuck at home all day is pretty soul-destroying, I can tell you.’

He opened the cupboard and took out a packet of chocolate fingers. ‘Twenty-seven is not old and I don’t job-hop. I just have a low boredom threshold. I like to be challenged.’

I threw my head back and laughed. ‘Come on! You don’t have a low boredom threshold. You have the attention span of a goldfish. Look, all I’m saying is that I think you should stick at this for at least a year.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll try.’ Then, looking at Shania, he said, ‘Isn’t she hot?’

She was. Very hot. The kind of hot that made a forty-four-year-old woman like me feel flabby and over-the-hill. She was wearing a short, skin-tight black dress with opaque tights and biker boots – cool, effortless and very sexy.

Sensing someone staring at her, she glanced up. ‘What?’

‘Just admiring the view.’ Gavin winked at her.

She beamed at him. ‘I like what I’m seeing too.’

He walked over and kissed her – a full-on snog. I turned away. Clearly, all they wanted was to have sex with each other. I remembered the days when Harry and I were like that. God, it was so long since I’d snogged Harry. When did you stop kissing your husband? When kids came along, I supposed.

‘Get a room!’ I said. They were making me feel uncomfortable and Clara was sitting beside them – granted her head was in her book, but still …

‘Sorry.’ Shania giggled.

‘How are you getting on with Sophie and the modelling?’

‘Good. Sophie’s so great – she’s, like, super-professional. We’re doing a big fashion show tonight in Style Central.’

‘Great. Well, good luck. Now, Clara, pet, would you like some juice and a biccie?’ I asked.

Without looking up, she said, ‘No, thank you. Juice is bad for your teeth and so are biscuits. But I would like a rice cake, please.’

‘Go on, have a chocolate finger,’ Gavin urged.

Clara looked up. ‘Chocolate finger?’

‘It’s not really a finger. It’s a biscuit that looks like a finger.’ I held it up.

‘That doesn’t look like a finger,’ Clara pointed out.

‘How about fangs?’ I put two chocolate fingers into my mouth.

‘You look really silly.’

I took the biscuits out of my mouth and ate them.

Shania came over to have some coffee.

‘Clara’s very serious,’ I whispered. ‘I’m trying to draw her out and make her laugh, but it’s hard going.’

Shania looked at Gavin. He dropped his eyes. I sensed something. ‘What?’

‘Can I say it?’ Shania asked Gavin.

‘Yeah, go on, you can say it to Julie.’

Jeepers, what was going on?

‘Clara’s like my little brother,’ Shania said.

‘In what way?’ I asked. I felt a cold chill running up my spine. I had a bad feeling.

Shania looked at Gavin, then back at me. ‘He has Asperger’s.’

My hand flew to my mouth.

Gavin looked upset. ‘Shania clocked it the first time she met Clara. She kept trying to say it to me, but I kept telling her to be quiet. Then I googled it and I’ve been watching Clara. I think she’s right.’

Suddenly everything made sense. I knew they were right. Oh, Louise!

I
worried
about Clara all weekend. I was concerned about the noise in Julie’s house – her boys were wild. But with Christelle away, Mum and Dad on a golf weekend and Sophie working all day Saturday, I’d had no choice.

I knew Julie would be loving and caring. I was just afraid she’d get distracted and Clara would fall or the boys would push her down the stairs on a tray with no helmet on. That particular image almost made me get the next flight home.

But Julie had been brilliant. She’d sent photos and regular text updates, which had really helped, and I had called Clara each evening to say goodnight. She sounded so young on the phone – her sweet little voice just melted my heart.

Oliver had been at the conference and was a welcome distraction. We’d had dinner together on Saturday night and then he came back to my room and we’d had sex. But not our usual steamy, energetic sex. For the first time ever, it was flat, quick and functional.

I thought it might have been because I was preoccupied with Clara, but Oliver definitely wasn’t performing well either.

‘What was that?’ I turned to him, propping my head on my hand.

‘Terrible sex.’ Oliver leant over and took a glass of water from the bedside table.

‘I know what my excuse is. I’m worried about my daughter. What’s yours?’ I asked.

Oliver took a sip of water and then said, ‘My mother’s dying.’

‘Oh, Oliver, I’m sorry.’

‘My wife has been, well, incredibly supportive and I just don’t think I can … do this, as in cheat on her, any more. It suddenly feels wrong. I’m sorry, Louise.’

‘Hey, we had a nice thing going, but there were never any strings attached. We said that whenever one of us needed to end it, there would be no drama.’

Oliver reached over and kissed me. ‘You truly are amazing.’ He looked very relieved.

I stood up and put on a towelling robe. I was disappointed. It had been lovely to know I could have regular (and usually great) sex with a man I liked. But Oliver wasn’t my first no-strings-attached lover and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

‘Drink?’ I asked, opening the mini-bar.

‘Open the champagne. Let’s toast a great couple of years and some really steamy nights.’

I smiled. ‘Champagne it is.’

I
drove
like a maniac from the airport so I would get to Julie’s in the forty-second hour. I knew Clara would fret if I was late and I didn’t want her to worry or have a meltdown. When I turned into the gravelled driveway, I saw her face at the window.

I jumped out of the car and ran to the door. My heart was pounding. I was dying to see my little angel. Julie opened the door and stood back while Clara rushed out and held up her arms for a hug.

‘Forty-two hours and fifty-four minutes,’ she said.

‘I know. I’ve missed you so much.’ I clasped her tightly as she clung to me.

‘I want to go home, Mummy. It’s too noisy here.’

‘Sssh, pet. I just need to talk to Julie and thank her.’

I stood up and walked in. Clara’s bag was packed and sitting at the hall door.

‘She insisted on packing this morning.’ Julie smiled.

I hugged my sister. ‘Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. All the photos and texts were so reassuring. Was everything all right?’

‘Yes, great.’ Something about her voice made me feel unsure. She sounded a bit nervous.

‘Are you sure? Did she have a meltdown?’ I whispered. Julie wasn’t telling me something.

‘No, she was really sweet. I did everything by the book. She certainly likes a routine.’

I nodded. ‘Just like me. I always like to know what’s going to happen. I hate surprises.’

Julie fidgeted with her necklace. ‘Louise, remember you said Clara’s teacher was trying to psychoanalyse her?’

‘Hold on.’ I turned to Clara and said quietly, ‘Will you get into the car, sweetie? I just want to talk to Julie for two minutes. OK?’

‘OK, Mummy. Two minutes.’ Clara walked down the steps and climbed into the car.

I looked at Julie. ‘The teacher is an idiot. I’m thinking of moving Clara. They don’t understand or appreciate her intellect in that school.’

Julie was almost strangling herself with her necklace. ‘But what was it that she said about Clara?’

I waved my hand dismissively. ‘Some nonsense about Asperger’s tendencies or something. Geniuses are always being mislabelled. Don’t you remember when my maths teacher accused me of cheating in my test?’

‘Yes, I do, but you were different from Clara in many ways. You were more outgoing and less … well, insular.’

‘Clara’s an only child with one parent. Of course she’s quiet. I had three siblings so I had to fight my corner.’

‘I know, but have you considered the possibility of taking Clara to a psychologist to be assessed?’

‘Assessed for what?’

‘Well, I just thought that maybe she could get help in learning to play with other kids and being less obsessive about time and stuff.’

I didn’t like being told what to do with my child by my sister, whose children were out of control and had been asked to leave their playschool. ‘Julie, you said to me that I didn’t know boys. Well, I’m telling you that you don’t know girls. She’s a happy, well-adjusted child and, no offence, I don’t need parenting lessons from you.’

I heard a loud bang and the sound of breaking glass. ‘You’d better go. It sounds like the boys have broken a window. Again.’ I headed down the steps towards my car.

‘Louise!’ Julie called after me, but I didn’t want to talk to her. I wanted to go home, be with my perfect child and block out all the people who kept telling me she was different. To Hell with them all. I knew my child.

I spent a lovely evening with Clara, the two of us chatting and reading books. Just before she fell asleep she said, ‘I’m glad to be home. I much prefer this apartment to Julie’s big house.’

‘I’m glad to be home, too. I missed you, my little pet.’ I kissed her cheek and turned out the light.

I
was making
myself a cup of green tea when I heard a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole. It was Sophie. She looked weird. I opened the door.

‘Oh, my God. Sophie, what’s wrong?’

Her face was puffy and red from crying. Her eyes were like two slits in her head. She looked like hell. Unable to speak, she fell against me and began to sob.

For ten minutes she cried like a baby on my shoulder. I tried to get some sense out of her, but she was incoherent with grief.

‘Is Jess OK?’

She nodded.

‘Is it Jack?’

She shook her head.

‘Pippa?’

She shook her head again.

‘Mum, Dad, Gavin?’ I was really worried – she was in such a state.

She shook her head a third time.

I led her to the sofa. ‘Sophie, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.’

‘A-A-Andrew.’

Oh, no! ‘What happened?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m – such an – uh – uh – idiot.’

Oh, God. She had fallen far too quickly and far too deeply for him. She had made herself so vulnerable. I hoped it was a lovers’ tiff and could be patched up. Otherwise she’d be devastated.

I went into the kitchen and poured her a vodka and orange juice. ‘Have a drink. It’ll help calm you.’

Sophie exhaled and drank deeply from the glass. She put it down on the table and wiped her eyes. ‘How could I have been so stupid?’ she said, quiet tears running down her face now. ‘Why on earth would a successful man in his early forties go for me? I’m past it. I am officially over the hill.’

I hated to hear her talking like this. It was so defeatist and so belittling to herself. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sophie. You’re gorgeous and any man, no matter what age, would be lucky to have you.’

‘Really, Louise?’ Her sorrow was turning to anger now. ‘No successful middle-aged man wants to date a woman his own age when he can have someone younger.’

‘That’s not true! Look at Sarkozy – he married Carla Bruni and she’s not young.’

Sophie snorted. ‘He’s fifty-nine and she’s forty-six! There’s thirteen years between them, for God’s sake.’

Damn. I’d thought they were about the same age. Sophie put her head into her hands and began crying again. ‘It’s no use, Louise. It’s just no bloody use.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

Sophie took a deep breath and launched into the story. ‘We were doing a big fashion show with Style Central last night so I went early with the models to set up and do a run-through before the show. I was really excited because I hadn’t seen Andrew in eight days. We’d been on the phone a lot and he was going to take me out for dinner after the show and then back to his apartment. He suggested I wear the sexy lingerie he’d bought me, which I did …’ Sophie’s lip wobbled. ‘I was so happy the night he gave it to me.’

She bent her head and continued, ‘He arrived looking all gorgeous. I was so happy to see him. He seemed pleased to see me too. When no one was looking he pinched my bum, and when I flashed my lacy bra strap at him, he said he couldn’t wait to get me into bed. Then Shania came out –’

Sophie’s voice tapered off. She gulped her drink and gathered herself.

‘She was wearing black leather hot pants and a sequined vest top that had a plunging front. It was one of the outfits for the show. Shania said one of the girls needed help because the zip was broken on her dress. I introduced her to Andrew as my brother’s girlfriend and I went to help the other model. I never even thought …’

Oh, God, not Shania! Seriously? She didn’t seem the type to go for an older guy. Maybe she was sick of Gavin and his lack of money or real ambition. Maybe she wanted a man with money to wine and dine her.

Sophie continued, ‘So I sorted out the problem, got the zip down and freed the model from the dress. As I rushed back out to spend more time with Andrew, I saw it.’

‘What?’

‘He was groping Shania and she was trying to get away from him. He had his hand on her bum and he was pulling her towards him. I heard her say, “I have a boyfriend, stop,” but he just laughed and said, “You need a real man,” and then she said, “But you’re with Sophie,” and he said – he said –’ Sophie began to cry again.

‘Oh, Sophie, what did the bastard say?’

‘He said, “Sophie? She’s way too needy. She’s practically stalking me. I don’t need a desperate forty-two-year-old. I’ve been married already. I’m looking for someone young and hot, not old and clingy.”’

‘How dare he?’ I raged. ‘How bloody dare he say that? What a complete arsehole!’

Sophie was sobbing again. ‘That’s exactly what Shania called him. She said, “Sophie’s great. You’re an arsehole.” She’s a decent girl, but it doesn’t change anything. Andrew’s right, I am desperate. I’ve spent almost five years trying to get myself together, be independent, work hard, be self-supporting. I’ve tried to be strong and show Jess that a woman shouldn’t depend on a man or wait around to be “minded” or “looked-after”, but underneath it all, I just want to be married again. I 
want
 a man to mind me. I 
want
 a man to look after me. I hate it, Louise. I absolutely hate being on my own.’ She broke down.

I rubbed my sister’s back and waited for her sobs to subside. I knew she found it hard being single – and that she was insecure about her looks – but I hadn’t realized how much she hated being alone. I’d always been on my own so I was used to it. I liked it. I deplored the idea of someone minding me. My independence was very precious, but Sophie and I had always been very different.

As if sensing what I was thinking, Sophie said, ‘I know you must think I’m pathetic – you’re so strong and brilliant. But I’m not. I’ve really tried, Louise, but I just can’t bear it. I’m so lonely. I never wanted this life. I want to be half of a couple. I want to be loved and cherished. I miss my old life so much. I know it’s silly and immature and all those things, but I can’t help how I feel.’

‘Now you listen to me. No one is judging you. You have done an incredible job getting back on your feet, working and looking after Jess. You should be really proud of yourself. And as for how you feel, that’s just who you are, Sophie. You’ve always loved being in a relationship. I can’t remember a time before you were married when you didn’t have a boyfriend, so it’s totally understandable that you feel lonely.’

Sophie finished her drink and banged the glass on the coffee-table. ‘I hate Jack! I hate him and his happiness. It’s not fair! He ruined everything yet he gets to be happy and have a new life and family. And I get walked all over and dumped.’

‘What did you do about Andrew, after you saw him with Shania?’ I asked.

Sophie shrugged. ‘I ran to the Ladies to throw up. When I came out, I met Quentin. He knew by my face something was up, so I told him. He said I had to pretend nothing was wrong because we so badly need the account. He’s right, we do. So I somehow pulled myself together and got through the show. It’s all a complete blur, to be honest.’

‘Did you speak to Andrew at all?’ I asked.

‘I managed to avoid him for most of the night and Quentin was great – he never left my side. But when the show was over and Andrew had obviously been rejected by Shania and God knows who else he propositioned, he decided I’d do for dinner and a shag. He came over to me and asked if I was ready to go. Quentin was squeezing my hand to give me strength, so I very calmly said I was too tired and that I needed to go home and get a good night’s sleep.’

‘Was he surprised?’

‘Shocked. He’d presumed, of course, I’d be my usual lap-dog self. But at least I held it together and didn’t ruin my business as well as my private life. Quentin is going to take over the account, so hopefully I won’t ever have to see him again.’

My little sister’s face was red and blotchy – she was so sad and forlorn. I reached over and hugged her. ‘I know it’s not much consolation now, but I’ll always be here for you and so will Julie.’

Sophie clung to me, like a little child, and muttered, ‘Thank you,’ into my shoulder.

Five minutes later we were in my bathroom and I was applying a thick layer of makeup to her face. Jess was being dropped home in twenty minutes and Sophie didn’t want her daughter to see that she’d been crying.