The Secrets Sisters Keep: A heartwarming, funny and emotional novel (The Devlin Sisters Book 2) (23 page)

‘Mum, it was the most amazing party 
ever
. The magician was brilliant!’ Leo squealed.

‘Guess what? Ralph’s dad has a helicopter!’ Luke said.

‘What?’

‘We saw it! It’s parked in the back garden, which is ginormous,’ Liam told me.

‘Ralph gets twenty euros a week pocket money and he’s allowed to spend it on sweets and he has a whole room just for his Wii and Xbox, and he has forty football shirts.’

I winced. Was this really what I wanted for my kids? To grow up thinking a helicopter in the back garden was normal? ‘Well, Ralph is very unusual. I mean, very few people would have what he has. I don’t want you thinking you’re ever going to have forty football shirts in your cupboard.’

‘We know that, Mum. We get one on our birthday and one at Christmas from Santa,’ Leo said.

‘Anyway, who wants forty shirts? You’d never get to wear them all. Loads of Ralph’s still had their tags on,’ Luke said.

‘Ralph’s crap at football. It doesn’t matter what shirt he wears, he still can’t score a goal,’ Liam added.

They all began to laugh at poor Ralph’s lack of football skills.

‘I want to go in a helicopter,’ Tom piped up.

‘Only his dad goes in the helicopter, you dork. Ralph said he’s never even been in it,’ Leo said.

‘Yeah. He had to buy it because he can only be in Ireland for one hundred days a year or something,’ Luke said.

Aha! So Ralph’s dad didn’t pay taxes here.

‘He says his dad basically lives on an island that’s, like, near Ireland,’ Luke added.

‘That sucks,’ Liam said. ‘I’d rather have no money and my dad live in Ireland than zillions of money and no dad.’

Good for you, I thought, although we currently had money and an absentee dad.

When we got home, Luke stuffed one of the sweets into his mouth, then made a choking noise. ‘Gross!’ he said, spitting one of the truffles from the party bag into his hand.

‘I don’t like nuts,’ Liam wailed, as he tried to eat a Ferrero Rocher.

‘Posh sweets suck!’ Leo grumbled.

‘Here you go,’ I said, feeling sorry for them. I handed them a bag of jelly snakes I had in the cupboard.

‘Thanks, Mum!’ They dived on the bag, ripping it open and fighting each other for ownership.

My phone beeped. I glanced down: a text from Dan. 
URGENT. Am coming to Dublin next week for one night 2 c u b4 flying back to US. Booked room in 4 Seasons
.

My hand began to shake. Could I? Should I? Would I?

I
sat
in the waiting room, fidgeting, and tried to distract Clara. It wasn’t difficult because it was full of Lego, games, books and posters, all aimed at keeping children occupied while they waited.

While Clara built a bird out of Lego, I sat back and tried to do my yoga breathing. This last week had been, without a shadow of doubt, the worst week of my life.

After the awful dinner with my family, which I was still furious about, I had cried for hours. Sophie had driven me home and tried to come in to sit with me, but I begged her to go. I needed to be on my own. I needed to calm down and think.

I don’t cry. I’ve never been a crier. I’d always thought it was a sign of weakness, unless it was related to grieving the death of someone. Julie’s a big crier. If Julie hears a sad story she cries. It’s really annoying. Sophie has more control, like me, but she still cries. I’ve just never seen the point. If something is upsetting you, fix it or move on.

That was until Clara came into my life. The first time I cried was when I went to Paris with my sisters and Clara was only about six months old. I woke up early on the Sunday morning and I just had to get back to her. It was a physical craving. I’d never felt anything like it before. We sisters were supposed to spend our last day in Paris together, but I went straight to the airport and got a morning flight home. I was back at my apartment in London by ten thirty.

When I saw Clara and held her to me, I burst into tears. It came from nowhere. I was completely taken by surprise, but I couldn’t stop. It came over me quite suddenly because when Clara was born I’d felt nothing. I was completely underwhelmed by her. In fact, I found motherhood very difficult. It wasn’t until that moment when I rushed back from Paris that I realized I was head over heels in love with my little girl. I’d never imagined I could love someone with such passion. I adored her, worshipped her, I just had to be with her. Since that day we’d only been apart once, when I went to Brussels and Julie had minded her.

Every time I looked at Clara, my heart skipped a beat. She had literally taken over all of my affections and made me discover a capacity for love that I honestly hadn’t thought I possessed. I was still very unemotional about every other part of my life, but when it came to her, I just melted.

I still didn’t believe there was anything wrong with her. I was quite convinced that she was a genius, although I did accept that she had trouble communicating with other children. But I had decided to see a child psychologist to shut my family up and stop them interfering in my life. I was also hoping he would give Clara some tools to help her feel more comfortable in social situations, so people wouldn’t mark her out as ‘different’.

Julie had been stalking me since the dinner. She kept calling and leaving tearful messages about how much she loved Clara and how she only wanted to help. Mum was the same, but she wasn’t emotional, just practical. She kept saying Clara was a wonderful child but she needed expert help in dealing with the world. Gavin sent a text only Gavin could send: 
Dude I now ur angry but C has Aspies so axept it & get her help
. 
I luv d kid, Ill help u out
.

I ignored them all. The only person I would communicate with was Sophie. I was too angry to deal with the others. I hadn’t been sleeping. After that awful dinner, I’d gone home and googled Asperger’s syndrome, but I had to stop because it was upsetting me. Clara did have some of the symptoms, but so would any intelligent, shy child.

The next morning I hunted down the name of the best child psychologist in the country and now here we were, in his rooms. His secretary had tried to give me an appointment in a month’s time. She didn’t know who she was dealing with. I got an appointment five days after I’d called.

‘Clara Devlin,’ the receptionist called.

I stood up. ‘Yes, here.’

‘Mr Fitzgerald will see you now.’

I led Clara, who was clutching her Lego bird, into the psychologist’s office.

He stood up and came to greet us. He was younger than I’d been expecting, which was good. I didn’t want some old fuddy-duddy who’d studied forty years ago. I wanted someone who was up to date and current in his practices. Experienced, but not out of touch.

He crouched down to say hello to Clara, who kept her eyes lowered. He asked her a few questions: her name, her age and what she liked. She answered them all, and when he asked her why she liked birds so much, she launched into a five-minute monologue. I smiled as I could see how impressed he was with her vocabulary and how articulate she was for such a young age.

He sat with her on a couch and got her to talk about school and the children in her class for a while. After about ten minutes he asked Clara if she could go outside and make him an eagle using Lego pieces. She marched out and set to her task happily.

With Clara peacefully occupied, Mr Fitzgerald turned to me and said he thought Clara was a wonderful child.

‘Before you say anything else, I just want to be clear here,’ I interrupted him. ‘I know how amazing Clara is. She is a genius. I’m a high-achiever and was always ahead of my class as a child. I believe she’s like me. However, my family and her teacher seem to think she has Asperger’s, which is why I’m here. I know they’re wrong, but I need to get them off my back so I’m having Clara seen by a specialist.’

‘Mrs Devlin,’ he tried to butt in, but I was having none of it.

‘I know what you’re going to say. Clara does have problems with eye contact and she can be shy with other children, but she’s an only child and lots of only children are like that. She has no father – it’s not a sad story, he’s just not in the picture and never has been. To be frank, I’m annoyed with having had to take time off work to come here today. I’m in the middle of a huge case and this really is not the right time to be faffing about with psychologists when I know my daughter is perfect. In fact, she’s more than perfect, she’s unique.’

‘Mrs Devlin.’

I put my bag over my shoulder and went to stand up. ‘It’s Miss – remember the part about there being no dad in the picture? So, anyway, I’m going to give your details to my sister Julie because her triplets are the ones who need to see a psychologist – they’re absolutely feral. Honestly, you should see them. In fact, you could probably write a paper on them.’

‘Miss Devlin –’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, call me Louise.’

‘Fine, and you can call me Colin.’

I glanced at my watch. ‘Damn. I’ve only got ten more minutes, so can we get on with this?’

He threw his head back and laughed.

I was a bit taken aback: what on earth was so hilarious? ‘Have I missed something? Did something amusing happen?’

He looked at me, smiling widely. ‘I’m sorry, but you came into my office, talked 
at
 me for ten minutes, then asked 
me
 to hurry up.’

‘Well, you should have interrupted me.’

‘I did try.’

I shrugged. ‘Try harder. Are you a man or a mouse?’ What an idiot.

He watched me for a moment, then took a deep breath. ‘My initial impression is that Clara is a lovely child and, as you said, she is extremely bright and advanced for her age in many ways. I also think she may have some difficulties adapting to social life and all the challenges that it entails, particularly when it comes to integrating with others.’

What a ridiculous waste of time. ‘Are you seriously going to charge me a hundred and twenty euros to tell me what I already know? You’re just repeating what I said when I came in.’

‘Louise, I would appreciate it if you did not interrupt,’ he said. ‘Now, if we are to move forward with this assessment, I will need to talk to Clara’s teacher, her GP and any childminder she may have. I will also need to talk to you in detail about Clara’s family history and the history of her development from birth to date.’

‘If there’s anything wrong with her it’s because of her bloody father’s genes, not mine,’ I grumbled.

Colin ignored me. ‘During Clara’s visits here I would like to observe and assess some specific skills and activities – we call this focused observation. I’d be looking specifically at language, behaviour, cognitive ability, et cetera. We would also need to arrange a detailed physical examination, along with testing Clara’s blood for genetic conditions that are known to cause ASD.’

‘What’s ASD?’

My head was spinning. It would take months to get all this done just to prove what I already knew – that there was nothing to find out.

‘Autistic spectrum disorder.’

I jumped up. ‘What the hell are you talking about? 
Autism?
 My child isn’t sitting in some room bashing her head off a wall. How dare you even use that word? You’re obviously one of those students who went to some dodgy university in Azerbaijan to get your degree.’

He grinned at me. It was infuriating. ‘I received my degree from Harvard Medical School.’

‘You could be lying,’ I muttered.

‘Feel free to call Harvard then, to check up on my credentials.’ He leant forward. ‘I understand your fear, Louise. Every parent who comes into my office is worried about their child. That’s why they’re here. ASD is a general term that includes serious and also very mild forms of the disorder. Asperger’s syndrome comes under the banner of ASD. Clara may prove not to have Asperger’s, but I do think it’s advisable to have her tested. And,’ he said, holding up a finger to stop my interruption, ‘you are going to have to become more informed on this yourself. You have a warped view of these conditions – talking about children sitting in corners hitting their heads off walls is unhelpful and totally inaccurate. You’ll need to tackle your own fears so that they don’t erupt as prejudice. I’ll give you a reading list so that you can start learning all you’ll need to know to help Clara.’

I tried to control my breathing. I could feel myself panicking. ‘In your experience, what are the main symptoms of Asperger’s? I don’t want a lecture, just a really brief summary.’

He nodded. ‘There are three main areas of difficulty: social interaction, social communication and imagination, and cognitive flexibility. Each of these diagnostic features can be present in different forms and to varying degrees.’

Clara walked in and handed Colin the most beautifully made eagle – even the beak was perfect. He crouched down. ‘Well, you are clever. This is the most wonderful eagle I ever saw.’

She didn’t look up. She just went to the chair, picked up her book and began to read.

Colin handed me a tissue. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. My baby, my sweetheart, my pride and joy. She needed help, I knew it. I think I’d always known it, deep down. I just hadn’t wanted to see it. I’d ignored it. I’d pushed back against it. I’d fought it. I’d refused to believe that she wasn’t perfect in every way. But as I looked at her now, frowning in concentration, I knew we were going on a journey together that was going to be very different from the life I’d had mapped out for her.

J
ess’s screams
woke me up. I looked at the clock: it was five a.m. I jumped out of bed and across to her room. She was leaping up and down shrieking.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘Pippa had a baby boy!’ she cried.

‘Oh, great,’ I managed.

‘Dad just sent me a text.’ Jess proceeded to read it to me: ‘“Jess, you have a new baby brother, Robert Jack Wells. He was born at four o’clock this morning. He’s magnificent. Pippa was incredible. All doing well. Can’t wait for you to meet him.”’ Jess looked up at me, eyes shining. ‘I’ve got a brother!’

The news made me feel sick. I felt selfish, too, because Jack sounded so deliriously happy and Jess was so ecstatic, but their joy was incredibly isolating because I wasn’t part of it. I was on the outside. I felt completely sidelined by this new family unit – Jess, Jack, Pippa and Robert.

I tried really hard to look happy, for Jess’s sake. I went over and hugged her. She gave me half a hug, but was too busy texting back to notice me. I could see lines of smiley faces and heart kisses being sent to Jack.

‘Why don’t you go back to bed, love?’ I suggested. ‘You’ll be exhausted in school.’

‘School?’ Jess looked at me as if I was crazy. ‘I’m not going to school! I’m going to the hospital to see my brother.’ She began to rifle through her wardrobe.

I grabbed her shoulder. ‘Jess, it’s five in the morning. You’re going nowhere but bed.’

She shrugged me away. ‘Get off me, Mum. I need to see Robert.’

‘Jess,’ I said. ‘Pippa has just given birth. She doesn’t want to see anyone. She needs rest. Leave it until after school. I’ll drive you over to see them then.’

‘Pippa loves me,’ Jess shouted, her face flushed with excitement and emotion. ‘I know she’d want to see me immediately.’

‘OK. Call your dad and ask him.’

Jess sighed dramatically and rang Jack. ‘Dad! I’m so excited … Wow … Really? … Was she? She’s so brave … I knew she’d be amazing … Is he? … Gorgeous? Wow … Can I come and see you now? … Oh. OK … Well, in an hour or two? … Oh … OK … Really? … Oh …’ Her face fell. ‘Mum said she’d drive me over after school … OK, I’ll call and check first … ’Bye.’ Jess hung up, deflated.

‘Is Pippa tired?’

She nodded. ‘Dad said she told him not to let anyone in. She’s too wrecked.’

‘It’s understandable, pet. She’s just given birth. It’s very draining, physically and emotionally.’

‘I know, but I’m family. I really want to see my brother.’

‘Don’t worry. You’ll see him later today, and for the rest of your life.’

She climbed back into bed.

I went over and kissed her head.

‘Dad says Robert’s the most beautiful baby he’s ever seen.’ She yawned.

‘Apart from you!’ I added.

Jess rolled her eyes. ‘He says he looks like Pippa, absolutely gorgeous.’

I decided not to say that it was a pity he didn’t look like Jack. I tucked Jess’s duvet around her and turned out the light.

When I got back to my bedroom, I sent Jack a text. I wanted to pretend to be happy for him and a text was easy: 
Congratulations. A son & heir!

He wrote straight back: 
Tks. He’s incredible. So happy. It doesn’t get better than this.

His joy leapt off the phone and made my loneliness so much more acute. I remembered how happy we’d been when Jess was born. Life had been so easy back then, so full of happiness and comfort and optimism. Now … I looked around my small bedroom, my empty bed, my solitary life and felt sad and alone.

T
hree hours later
, Jess was up and ready for school before I had come out of the shower. Instead of me rushing her out of the door, she was giving out to me for taking too long to get ready.

I hadn’t been able to sleep properly after the five o’clock announcement. As a result I looked exhausted and needed extra concealer around my eyes. I did not like what I saw in the mirror: I was getting older by the second.

I drove Jess to school, and as she climbed out of the car, she said, ‘Don’t be late picking me up. I want to go straight to the hospital.’

I sighed. ‘For the fiftieth time, I won’t. I told you I’ll leave work early and bring you over there.’

Jess ran over to tell her friends about her new baby brother. I saw them all squealing and hugging her. Apparently it was big news.

When I got to work, I went to sit at my desk in the corner, away from the other bookers and the models who were in for morning jobs, and kept my head down. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

I glanced idly through the newspapers, trying to motivate myself to work. A photo in the social column of the 
Evening Herald
 caught my eye. There was Andrew, his arm draped around last year’s Miss Ireland. She was half my age with a figure to die for and a cleavage that would give Kim Kardashian a run for her money. I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t cry, not here at work.

‘Tut-tut,’ a voice behind me said. It was Quentin. He removed the newspaper from my hands. ‘I was going to tell you about them, but he’s only recently started dating her. It won’t last long.’

I blinked back tears. Quentin took me by the hand and brought me into his office, where he closed the door as I dissolved. ‘He’s not worth it, darling.’ He rubbed my back.

‘It’s not Andrew,’ I sobbed. ‘Well, it’s not only that. Jack had a baby boy this morning and he’s ecstatic and I’m miserable. I know I have Jess and my job and my sisters and all that but I – I’m scared.’

‘Of being alone for the rest of your life?’

I nodded.

‘Yes, darling. I know exactly how that feels.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, I’m a mess. I was doing really well and I was being so strong until recently. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

Quentin poured me a cup of coffee. ‘You’ve had two big slaps in the face, Andrew being a bastard and Jack falling in love and having a baby. It’s perfectly understandable that you feel fragile.’

‘That’s exactly the word,’ I exclaimed. ‘Fragile. I feel like a thin glass that could shatter at any minute. Even my skin hurts, like it’s bruised or something.’

‘It’s very difficult for you at the moment, but you’ll bounce back because you’re very resilient.’ Quentin handed me a cup. ‘You’ve been through worse.’

‘Have I? I honestly think I feel weaker and less able to deal with things now. Maybe I’m getting the menopause early or something. I feel so weepy and frail.’

‘You’re forty-two. You’re not getting the menopause. Believe me, honey, you’d know if you were. You’d be sitting there in a puddle of perspiration. You’re just lonely and frightened of the future because you don’t know what it holds.’

I gave him a watery smile. ‘You’re right. Thanks for listening to me rambling on. I promise to stop weeping in work and be more professional.’

‘Sophie, if it wasn’t for you, I would have been out of business three years ago. You have revitalized this company. Remember that and be proud.’

I went over and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you.’ Sitting down again, I looked at the wall of framed magazine covers of our models, all of them so young and beautiful and perfect. I’d never look young again, but I was damned if I was going down without a fight. I had to peel myself off the floor, make myself look really good, then get out there and meet someone. I deserved to be happy, but sitting around moaning wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

‘All of these recent events have made me even more determined to go ahead with my boob job. I’m going to do it. I need to boost my confidence. And I need to look hot.’

Quentin frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive,’ I said. ‘Nothing’s going to stop me. I need to feel good about myself again. I’m sick of being jealous of Pippa and every other young woman out there. I need to get on with my life and make changes to improve it. I’m starting with my breasts.’

I
spent
the morning doing a dress rehearsal for a big charity fashion show that was taking place on Friday. I helped the stylist dress the models from our agency so that the clothes looked fantastic. We were using our six top girls, who were all stunning. Sometimes I wondered if working with beautiful young women was part of my problem: being constantly surrounded by perfection wasn’t good for anyone’s ego.

I left work early to pick Jess up from school and bring her to the hospital. She was standing at the gate, hopping from one foot to the other impatiently. When she saw me, she rushed over and jumped into the car.

‘Quick, Mum. Don’t drive like a granny, drive fast.’

‘I don’t drive like a granny, thank you.’

Jess was holding a huge card in her hand. It was covered with hearts, sparkles and a very good drawing of a baby boy.

‘Did you do that in school?’ I asked.

‘Yes. I asked Mrs O’Brien if I could do a special card during break time for my new baby brother and she helped me.’

‘It’s lovely, Jess. You’re talented.’

‘I’m just OK,’ she said. Clearly she’d inherited my crummy ego. I wished she’d got some of Jack’s. She needed to be more confident. I wanted Jess to believe in herself, to feel she could do anything, be anyone, get any job and not be afraid to be on her own. I wanted her to be different from me.

‘You’re not just OK, you’re really good at art.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘God, Mum, you’re always going on about how great I am at everything. It’s embarrassing. I’m just average, OK?’

I patted her knee. ‘Get used to it, love. I’ll be telling you how wonderful you are for the rest of my life.’

She ignored me and leant over to change the radio station.

We got to the hospital about twenty minutes later and Jess leapt out of the car. I said I’d find a parking space and meet her in the lobby in half an hour. She was gone before I could finish my sentence. I watched her sprinting towards Reception, so eager to be with her new family.

I went to park the car, and while I sat and waited, my phone beeped. It was a long, convoluted text message from Julie, saying she was spending the night with me on Friday but that she wasn’t actually going to see me on Friday and not to say anything to Louise or Harry, that she’d explain later and it wasn’t anything bad: she just needed a little night out and she’d owe me one.

I frowned. She sounded drunk. I’d call her later to see what on earth the message meant. It had struck me recently that Julie was drinking too much wine. Every time I was with her, she was pouring big glasses and downing them. I’d been so distracted with my own life and also keeping an eye on Louise and Clara that I hadn’t had time for Julie. I’d phone her when Jess was in bed and we could have a proper chat.

I threw my phone onto the passenger seat and bent down to pull a file from my briefcase. It was full of photos of models and celebrities. I narrowed the pile down to two photos. They were the shape and size of breasts I wanted – Victoria Beckham and Kelly Rowland. In my view, they were the nicest and least fake-looking.

I heard a tap on the window. I slammed the file shut as photos slid all over the car floor and looked up to see Jack grinning in at me.

I got out of the car. We kissed awkwardly on the cheek.

‘Why don’t you come up?’ he suggested.

I smiled at him. ‘I very much doubt Pippa wants to see your ex-wife just after giving birth.’

He grinned. ‘I meant come up and see the baby. Pippa’s having a manicure so Robert’s in the nursery. I left Jess holding him – he’s asleep in her arms. It’s very sweet.’

I hesitated. Jack took my hand. ‘Come on, he’s a little cracker. Let me show him off. You know what my family’s like – they won’t be interested in him.’ The buoyancy in Jack’s voice had disappeared. His family had always considered him the black sheep. They were the most appalling intellectual snobs and they always put him down. ‘Don’t let them dampen your happiness,’ I said.

‘The only response I got from the messages I left was a two-word text from Mum, “Good news”. I haven’t heard anything from Dad or Roger.’

‘Jack, they’ll never change. You have to stop looking for their approval. It just brings you down. They live in their world of medicine. You’ll never be good enough. Forget about them and enjoy this moment.’

Jack turned and hugged me. ‘Thanks. You’re the only one who knows how bad they are. Pippa doesn’t seem to notice that they belittle her and me.’

Seriously? How dense was she? Jack’s family were awful. ‘I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time trying to get them to like me and be nicer to you.’

Jack held the lift door for me. ‘I’m glad you tried.’

‘Enough about them. Let’s focus on your son,’ I said, as brightly as I could.

His face lit up. ‘He’s perfect. I can’t believe I have a son. I never thought I’d have any more kids.’

‘Well, it helps when you trade in your wife for a younger model.’

‘Sophie, I tried to make it work.’

I was a bitch. I felt bad. ‘Sorry, I know you did. We both did. Look, I’m really happy for you.’

‘Thanks. I hope you can find someone wonderful too. It’s a pity things didn’t work out with that guy you were seeing.’

I winced. I didn’t want Jack’s sympathy. It made me feel stupid and ridiculous and a total loser. ‘It’s no big deal. We weren’t together that long. Plenty more fish in the sea,’ I said, feigning cheeriness.

Thankfully, before Jack could say anything kind or patronizing, the lift doors opened and I followed him into the nursery. There was Jess, holding her tiny newborn brother, looking so proud.

‘You’re really great with him, Jess,’ Jack said. ‘Can I show him to Mum?’ He lifted the baby from Jess’s arms and held him up to me. He looked red and scrunchy, like all babies. I had adored Jess from the minute she was born, but I had never had any interest in other people’s children.

I could feel Jess watching me, so I held out my hands enthusiastically and tucked Robert into the crook of my arm, where he promptly fell back to sleep. ‘He’s a handsome little fellow,’ I said, to a beaming Jack and Jess. We huddled together, looking at the newborn.

‘What the hell is going on?’

We turned to see Pippa standing behind us, her hands on her hips. Hair perfect, makeup on, nails done and a black silk kimono-style dressing-gown hiding her post-baby bump, which looked very small to me. Stupid cow. Couldn’t she have the decency to look awful after giving birth?