The Sisterhood (28 page)

'Do they even understand what we're saying?' she asked Al.

He shrugged. 'They catch your drift,' he told her. 'They get your sentiment.'

'So why do they ignore us?'

He laughed. 'Doing a job, Mary. This is the fourth time I've been here, and they've yet to crack a smile, or even a frown.'

The night got colder, and the hut had no glass in the windows, no door in the doorway. She wriggled closer to the dying fire, and tried to wrap her hair around her neck, like a scarf.

She had seen France, Italy, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India on her way here. She still found it hard to believe. She had seen all those countries, had persuaded border guards to give her visas, had made friends and learned to smoke, had bounced along in the bus, singing. She had eaten whatever food there was, and her money was lasting better than she had expected, because everything was so cheap. Sometimes the bus broke down, and to her amazement, nobody cared. Everyone knew it would work out in the end, and it always did. They all just sat there and waited for the next vehicle to come along, and for somebody to give the driver a lift to a mechanic, and they assumed that the spare part would be available and that the bus would be fixed. And it always was.

It was dawn when she woke. Birds were singing, and the Dutch guys were stirring on the other side of the cold fire. Mary stayed where she was, snuggled down into her sleeping bag.

Slowly, the others began to emerge. Jennifer, who was from New Zealand, stepped down from the bus, yawned, and started her stretching exercises. Mary heaved herself up and went to join in. She enjoyed stretching, and she enjoyed the idea of it just as much. She liked being the sort of person who could say, 'I do my stretches every morning. It clears my head for the day.' Mrs Greene, wife of Billy, mother of Elizabeth, would never have said a thing like that. She would never have been friendly with Jennifer, who had blonde hair down to her waist and tanned legs that she kept on display all the time.

'So, Mary,' said Jennifer, as they touched their toes. The backs of Mary's legs burned with the effort. 'Where do you go from here?'

Mary thought about it. 'Nowhere, I hope. I'm staying in Kathmandu as long as I can. I don't want to go anywhere else, ever. I might join a convent, actually. Buddhist.'

'Oh, really? 'Cos I was thinking about Goa. They have the most amazing full-moon parties on the beach. What do you reckon? We can hitch to the border and get a train across India.'

Mary looked sideways at Jennifer and smiled. She dismissed the thought of money. It would work out.

'I reckon that sounds good,' she said, thrilled at the very idea of the train ride across India.

Jennifer unfurled herself and reached for the sky with both arms. 'So you in? We can always do the ashram thing later if you want to get spiritual.'

'I'm in.'

They went down the hill a little way and bathed in the hot baths. The
tatopani,
as Mary made herself call them. That was what the others called them. It was the most incredible place to bathe. The baths were concrete structures, and water flowed into them from a hot spring, then gushed away down the mountain in a waterfall. Mary lay back and looked up. She saw the endless blue of the mountain sky. This was freedom.

12 June

I ran to the corner of the road and sat on a low wall, and leaned forward, my head in my hands. That man was Roberto. Liz had been kissing him. I had seen her. Her back was pressed up against the wall, and he was standing in front of her, and they were face to face, mouth to mouth. She was kissing her own brother, with her bump of a baby squashed between them.

Roberto was her brother. It was like me kissing Tom.

I tried to breathe deeply. I managed to disappear down the stairs as quietly as I'd arrived. I was certain she didn't know that I knew. Neither of them had seen me. When I'd tiptoed nervously up the stairs, they were so wrapped up in each other that I could have danced the macarena around the room and they wouldn't have noticed.

I still felt like shit. My stomach was full of chicken breasts and mashed potato that Adrian had made with margarine. All it tasted of was chemicals, and I was homesick, desperately homesick, for Mother's Sunday lunches. The occasions may have been dry and formal — though all that would change when Liz arrived, because she was going to bring my family to life — but Mother knew how to cook. She would never have pureed potato with anything but butter. I wanted my family. I wanted to be in France. My sister was having an affair with her own brother, and I wanted to go home.

But I could not go home. Liz was messing up her life more every day. She needed me. I was immensely relieved that I was moving in, because she could not look after herself any more. I was going to be there, to look after her. That was my mission.

I sat there for a long time. The man I was certain was Roberto hurried past, heading, I assumed, to the Tube, to go home to his pregnant girlfriend. He didn't glance at me. He walked fast, and he was frowning. Although it was a warm day, rain started to fall, gently. The paving stones were splattered with water. After a while they were a darker grey entirely.

When I was completely ready, I went back to the flat. This time I rang the buzzer. I should have done that the first time. I should never have thought I could just march in there, with my lovely new set of keys.

Liz was subdued. She showed me the room, and I used all my strength to keep myself from bursting into song. I stood on the threshold and tried not to smile too much. I was here. This was my bedroom, and I lived here, and it was in Liz's flat. I lived with my sister.

'Hello,' I said in my head. 'I'm Helen. I share a flat with my sister.'

It was everything I had ever wanted. I was here. I had won.

I stared at the single bed. Liz's bed was on the other side of the landing from here, a couple of metres away. We were sleeping together, essentially. That meant she trusted me. I was the one person in the world who got to share her space.

There was a cream duvet on the bed, and a metal clothes rail against the wall, and there was a set of shelves and a little bedside table. It was the most wonderful place I had ever lived in my life. I propped the photograph of Tom and me, when we were little, against the wall. I hung up tomorrow's outfit on the rail. I put my scrapbook under the bed. That was everything.

'Where's the rest of your stuff?' asked Liz, suddenly back in the doorway again.

'At the other place,' I said casually. 'I'll fetch it in the morning. I'd like to hang around and settle in, if that's OK.'

'Let's go and fetch it now,' she said. 'I'd like something to do.'

I looked at her knowingly. You'd like something to do, I told her silently, because you don't want to think about the fact that you're sexually involved with your brother.

'Let's not,' I said with a smile. There was no way I could let her come face to face with Adrian. 'For one thing, Adrian's home.'

She looked grim. 'Good,' she said. 'I'd like to meet him.'

'Please don't. I've sent a letter to the landlord because I'm allowed to give a month's notice, but I haven't told the flatmates that I'm leaving. I don't want to tell them.'

'Helen, you have to be grown up about this.' Her mouth was set. 'Adrian's been "behaving inappropriately", as they say at school. You have to confront him. I'll back you up. Come on. This is the perfect moment.' She reached out and took my hand. I was holding my sister's hand. 'We'll do it together. I'll do the talking. Believe me, I am just about ready to lay into someone. You don't have to do anything. Just stand there and nod from time to time.'

I stared at her. I wanted to say something about
inappropriate behaviour
, about how she, of all people, should know that when she saw it. I wanted to scream, 'I saw you!' I wanted to tell her that I was ashamed of her. But I didn't.

'You have to let me do this my way,' I said, hoping I didn't sound sulky. 'I'm getting my stuff tomorrow. I'll mention his behaviour in the note I leave, if you like. Then the girls will see it too.'

She picked up her keys. 'Oh, come on. Let's do it now I'm dying for a fight.'

I stepped back. 'No,' I said.

We looked at each other. It might have been the first time I had looked at her without smiling. I felt crap. I felt crap because of Adrian, and because of Roberto. I felt crap because stale cocaine was coursing around my system, poisoning me and making my head throb. I felt crap because I kept thinking about Matt. I was pretty sure he wasn't thinking about me. After half a minute or so, she shrugged.

'It's your life,' she said.

I sat on my bed and looked around. I was actually here. I basked in my own brilliance. I couldn't wait to speak to Tom. I had wheedled my way in. I had done it, and my next concern, rather an urgent one, was to get her to France. I counted my cash, and went downstairs, smiling again.

'This is the deposit,' I said, counting out three hundred and fifty pounds, and handing it to her. And this is the first month's rent.' I counted another three hundred and fifty. 'There you go. Now I officially live here. Do you want me to sign a contract?'

I was so happy that I was surprised all the lights didn't spontaneously come on, lit up by my cleverness.

She smiled. 'No, Helen. That won't be necessary.' She flipped the banknotes with her thumb. 'Thanks for this. I could get used to it.'

'Do get used to it.'

She looked at me. 'I can't get used to it. That will have to be the baby's bedroom at some point.'

Liz was subdued, as she should have been, so I pretended to be as well. We spent the evening watching mindless television. Watching it together, the television set we shared.

'Who's Rosa?' I asked, at one point.

She looked round. Why?'

'You mentioned her once. You said, "I can't find Rosa." I could help you find her if you wanted.'

She shook her head. 'Don't worry. I found Rosa.'

We both went to bed early. I lay awake and marvelled at what I had done. Before I opened that box in Mother's wardrobe, I had never done anything interesting with my life. Now I felt I could do anything. I heard Liz going to bed. I could even hear the pages turning as she read a book.

Everything was different here. The flat smelt homely. My sheets seemed to be included in the price, and they were chemically fragrant. The carpet was clean. There was a see-through curtain at the window, and the light from a street lamp outside was illuminating my bedroom, in yellow. I had rarely had a good night's sleep in London because of all the light that trickled in around the windows. In this room, it poured through the wispy curtain.

It was the middle of June. The baby was due in August. I had to move on, quickly, to the next part of the plan.

I stared at the light and thought about it. If I listened hard, I could hear Liz breathing. I was in.

20 June

'Look at this!' I showed my new trick to Sandrine. I leaned back in my chair and carefully balanced a cup of tea on my stomach. I took my hand away, and it stayed there.

Sandrine applauded. 'Well done,' she said. She looked at me, slightly strangely.

'What?' I asked.

She paused. 'I'm just wondering,' she said, her head on one side, 'whether you are all right? Are you all right? I worry about you, Lizzy.'

I forced a laugh. My due date was approaching too rapidly, and I worried about myself, too.

'No,' I told her, firmly. 'I can cope. I have my family.' I was still angry about Roberto's aggression, but I hadn't told anyone about it, and I hoped that I would soon be able to forget it. 'And I have enough friends to keep me going. And now I have a flatmate. It's going to be fine.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.' I shook my head, because I really meant 'no'. I gathered up my things. 'Do you want to go for a drink?' I asked. 'Not that I'm much of a drinking partner, but it would be nice to see you.' I looked around the shambolic, yet secretly organised, staffroom. 'Out of this place, I mean.'

She sighed. 'I'd love to. Let's do it. Unfortunately for me, I'm supposed to be going to the cinema later, or I'd have taken you out for something to eat.'

'A date?' I laughed. The idea of a date was alien.

'Oh, gosh, nothing like that. It's that French girl, Isabelle. Did you meet her? She came in to talk to the A-level students once or twice. Skirts up to here.' She indicated her crotch. 'The boys loved her and the girls wanted to be her. But she's turned into a bit of a drag. She seems a bit homesick, and I can't seem to manage to drop her.'

I thought about it. 'Did I meet her?'

'You'd remember if you had. Come along to the movie, by all means.'

I shook my head. 'I'd just fall asleep. But let's go for that drink.'

We caught a bus to Oxford Circus, and from there we walked (I waddled) to Soho. From time to time I paused, with a shooting pain across my stomach. The pain was gone as soon as it arrived, and I knew it was my penalty for being unfit. I was breathless by the time we arrived, but pleased with myself for having exercised. I was pleased, too, that I was managing to keep up a trivial conversation with Sandrine. We discussed Kathy and her tentative softening towards me. We talked about when and whether I should extend the hand of friendship back towards her.

'She can't ignore you,' Sandrine said, 'now that you're like this.' And she patted my stomach. I tried not to wince.

'I might make her wait till after the birth,' I mused. 'Because she's been so horrible for so long.'

Julie had called me the day before.

'I don't know what you said to Roberto,' she told me. She paused, then carried on when I didn't tell her. 'But it worked. You won't believe this, but he's been out looking at flats!' She sounded different. Her hangdog tone had melted away, and she seemed younger.

'Oh,' I said, trying to inject some pretend excitement into my voice. 'That's great! You must be over the moon!'