The Sisterhood (38 page)

I smiled. 'Yes you have.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, I saw what was going on outside, and I was getting ready to go to the airport anyway, and so I thought you wouldn't mind if I nipped into your room and collected a few things for you. Just some clothes and your passport.'

'Oh,' she said. She looked puzzled. 'Really?'

I smiled and stroked her hand. Then I took my hand away. I was never sure how physical to be without being weird.

'It's all right,' I said. 'You can relax now. Just relax for two days. It's what you need.'

'We're not really going to France,' she said, as the taxi crossed the river and carried on south, towards Gatwick.

'We are,' I told her.

She gave me a scare at Elephant and Castle.

'Excuse me,' she called to the driver, and she tapped the glass divide. 'Excuse me, but could you let me out? Anywhere is fine. Thanks.' She looked at me. 'Lovely idea, Helen, but I really need to go home. I have to try to straighten this out.'

It was lucky that I had primed the driver in advance.

'Sorry, love, but there's going to be a surprise for you,' he said. 'The young lady here said you might ask to get out, but she says it's important that we get you to Gatwick. I wouldn't ask any questions, if I were you.'

Liz tried again, a couple of times, but her heart wasn't in it. I knew that if she'd wanted to, she could easily have made him stop. She complained about carbon emissions a few times, but she tailed off.

'What was all that about?' I asked, when I was confident that she wasn't going to try to rush off. 'What on earth was Rosa doing to that car?'

She shook her head. 'You don't want to know. And if you do, I'm not telling.' She looked at me. 'Did she give you her card?'

I shook my head. I couldn't stop jigging my leg up and down. She was unnerving me. Her body language was strange. She was closed off, when she should have been crying on my shoulder. I worried that I had made things difficult for her, had pushed it too far. I would make it up to her, after the reunion. Then she would understand.

My phone rang. I answered.

'You putting in an appearance?' asked Matt. 'Or what?'

'I told you, I'm away this weekend.'

'You said you weren't going.'

'I know. But then I said I am going.'

He didn't say anything for a while. 'When did you say that?'

'Two nights ago.'

'At what point?'

I looked at Liz. 'Just after a rather pleasurable point.'

'What did I say?'

'I don't think you were up to saying anything.'

'You slipped that one by me, you minx. So I won't take it personally, but what happened to not wanting to be anywhere in the world but with me?'

'Sorry,' I told him. 'That still applies. It's other stuff that's come up. Family things. I'll tell you when I get back.'

'You know, I was thinking, it's great that your family live in France, because it means I don't have in-laws to deal with.'

I thrilled at this. 'In-laws?' I saw Liz looking at me, and I wondered, for one stupid moment, whether she was jealous of us.

We ended with Matt telling me, in a low voice, exactly what he would do to me on Monday, when I got back. I squirmed in my seat, and tried not to respond.

Liz was half smiling. 'Things going well, then?'

'I've never done anything like this. I think I love him, although I'm trying not to tell him so.'

'What were the family things you were talking about? We're not going to walk into some big drama, are we?'

I shook my head. 'No. Don't worry. My family doesn't do drama.'

A few minutes later, my mobile rang again.

'You're a terrible influence,' said Sandrine. 'Jesus. I felt like shit this morning. I still do. I'm going to dinner with Liz, and I wish I'd said no.'

I was glad to be able to speak French to her. I hoped Liz wouldn't understand a word of it.

'Oh, me too,' I said. 'Actually, I didn't feel too bad. I vomited most of it up when I got home. I felt fine this morning.'

'It's because you're young.'

'Who are you going to dinner with?'

'Liz, and Kathy.'

'Hey, Sandrine?' I said. I didn't care any more, because my work was done. I looked at Liz and spoke quickly. 'I don't think so. Liz is going to France for the weekend. She's not home. Try her.'

When I hung up, Liz was narrowing her eyes at me.

'Do you know someone called Sandrine?' she asked. 'Did you say "Liz"?'

I gabbled. 'Yeah, the woman who looks after my parents' house in France. I said I was coming with Liz. Because you weren't going to come, and now you are.'

I could tell that she wasn't convinced.

'Did you tell your parents' housekeeper that you threw up last night?'

I smiled, and nodded.

'Helen?' she asked, slowly. 'Do you ever go by the name of Isabelle?'

I shook my head. 'Why would I do that?' I said.

Liz stared out of the window.

Gatwick was jammed with people going on holiday, and with people coming back. It wasn't even the school holidays yet, but the crowds were out in force, nursing pink tans, or carrying briefcases. We melted in. We could have been anyone.

The bit we went into was utilitarian and dirty. I pushed Liz on to an escalator, following a sign that said 'Departures'. I was on the step below. She looked down at me.

'Why did you pack my bag?' she said, staring into my eyes. 'How on earth did you manage to turn up in a cab like that?'

This made my insides clench up. I had to brazen it out.

'I was looking out of my bedroom window,' I said carefully. 'I saw that Rosa was being horrible to you. Like I said, I was about to go to the airport anyway, so I thought the best thing I could do was to rescue you and take you with me. When she was hitting that car, I thought she might turn on you next, or the baby.'

I saw that she was sceptical. I gave her a push so she walked backwards off the top of the escalator. She looked as if she wanted to go back down, but I took her arm, walked her around the corner, and guided her on to the next one. She turned to face me again.

'Did Rosa ring the bell earlier? Why didn't you let her in?'

I had an answer prepared for this one. 'She buzzed and asked if you were there. I said you were at work, and she didn't say anything else. I thought she'd gone. Ten minutes later, I heard voices on the street and I realised she'd been waiting.'

'At which point you found my passport, packed my bag, slipped out of the front door, and went down the road and hailed a cab? Rather than coming to help?'

I forced a smile. 'I had no idea what was going on. I didn't want to intrude and, to be honest, I was a bit scared of the way she was looking and I thought we might both be better off with a getaway car. Anyway, you and Rosa were quite a way down the road then, and I didn't "hail" a cab — I'd already ordered it.'

'Yeah,' she said, slowly. Then she smiled. 'I'm sorry, Helen. Look at you. Look at what you're doing for me. I shouldn't be so ungrateful. I have a shocking habit of turning on the people who least deserve it. Thank you for coming to my rescue. Thank you for taking me away for the weekend. I'm lucky to have you. I do know that, really.'

I smiled back. 'That's fine. You've got a lot on your plate. Anyone would be a bit grumpy.' I covered my mouth with my hand. 'Not that I'm saying you are!'

She smiled back. 'A change of scene is an incredible prospect. I have to say, though, that I hate the thought of flying. Can't we go by train instead? I haven't flown for years. I shouldn't be doing it.'

'But you've got a ticket, and the plane's leaving. I won't annoy you, I promise. Let's buy some books before the flight, and you can just lie in the shade and read all weekend.'

She turned round and stepped off the escalator herself. As we followed the signs for the North Terminal, she walked close to me.

'I don't think I'm even
allowed
on a plane, though.'

'You are. When they ask how many weeks pregnant you are, you just have to say twenty-six.'

'But I'm thirty-five.'

'We know that. They don't. Look, pull your cardigan round your stomach and stand behind the check-in counter. They won't notice. I couldn't get you a doctor's note, I'm afraid.'

She looked at me, puzzled. 'Of course you couldn't. Why would you try?'

I didn't tell her that I'd been to the surgery and asked for one on her behalf. I thought she might think that was weird.

We came out on to a big concourse, and I searched quickly for the right sign. When I spotted it, I pulled her along by her sleeve. She didn't even try to pull back. She just followed.

Tom was behind us. He thought I hadn't seen him.

30 June

I was desperate to get away. My life had fallen apart around me. I didn't know if I was doing all these things and blocking them out. I couldn't think how else it could possibly all be happening. It seemed that every time I sorted out one mess, another one appeared from out of the blue.

I was pretty sure that Helen was the only person who was truly on my side. I envied her life. She thought it was hard, but while she was busy disdaining her parents, and waiting tables, and giggling about her first boyfriend, I was struggling with a future bleaker than anything she could imagine. She was responsible only for herself; I was constantly chilled by the knowledge that my messed-up world was the only place my baby would know. Being with Helen, with someone who had the world at her feet and didn't even know it, sometimes lightened my burden. She annoyed me, often, but I thought that this probably said more about me than it did about her.

The idea of leaving the country, even for a few days, was so welcome and perfect that I could not possibly resist it. I didn't even have to do anything. I was in a taxi, on the way to France, and the whole trip had fallen into my lap. I felt annoyed with myself about flying, because I'd thought I was strong and principled, and in fact I was caving in the moment things got difficult. On the other hand, I was fed up with being the one with principles when everyone else leapt on a three-pound flight to Estonia for the weekend just because they saw it on the Ryanair website, and then boasted about it at school the following week as if it was a clever and impetuous thing to have done. This was my only opportunity to escape for a few days. I decided to take it, however imperfect it was. I made a conscious effort and relinquished control. The moment I did so, I felt better.

I sat back in the cab, and looked at south London going past the window. If Helen's home really was a chateau with a pool and a vineyard, then I didn't care about anything else. I had held her hand in London, had looked after her and given her somewhere to live, and now she was doing something for me. She was young and naive, but that was how it should have been, because she was twenty.

And so I was thrilled to be escaping, relieved to be running away. I sat on the plane and looked out at the sea, and then at France, below me. I kept the newspaper open to hide my bump. No one had even asked about my pregnancy.

Helen was nervous. She didn't say much on the flight, which suited me. I was having Braxton Hicks contractions, my stomach hardening every five minutes or so. I knew they weren't real contractions. My body was trying to slow me down, yet again. I remembered the bleeding, and decided that, as soon as I saw the famous swimming pool, I would lie down with the books I'd bought at Gatwick, and do absolutely nothing. I was going to try to forget everything but my baby. I would empty my mind like at yoga.

I turned to Helen. 'Will Tom be there?' I asked.

She stared at me, looking puzzled. Then she seemed to shake herself.

'Um, yes,' she said. She frowned. 'Well, he ought to be there.' She looked around the inside of the plane, as if she might see him there.

When I stepped on to French soil, I was instantly overcome by exhaustion. I was so tired I could hardly see. My mind filled with the broken and damaged relationships I had at home. I thought about Steve, and Anna, and Dad and Sue. I thought about Julie and Roberto, and the other friends I hadn't seen for months. I had cut myself off from many of my friends, first because I was ashamed that Steve had left me for a man, and then because I had behaved so badly with Rosa. I hadn't wanted to tell anyone that my baby's father was a woman. But weird things happened every day. It wasn't a thing to be ashamed of. In fact, if I accepted it and told people when they asked, it would make them interested in me again.

'What did you say?' asked Helen, sharply.

I looked at her.

'I didn't say anything,' I told her, although I wasn't sure whether I had or not.

She smiled. 'OK,' she said. 'Sorry.' She took my hand, then let go of it. Helen was always doing that. 'Come on,' she said. 'Let's go and have a holiday.'

I shook myself and tried to send the negative thoughts away.

'Yes,' I agreed. 'Let's do that. I've never needed a holiday so much in my life.'

'I promise I won't annoy you,' she said anxiously.

I laughed. 'You annoying me is the least of my worries, Helen,' I said, and she squeezed my arm.

It took us no time to get through passport control and customs, particularly since neither of us had checked in a bag.

Helen went straight to a cashpoint.

'My card doesn't work,' she complained. 'That's not right. I'll try again.'

When it still didn't produce any cash, I took some out of my account, and we found a taxi. Helen negotiated the fare in advance, in fast French, and I stared out of the window, hands on my taut abdomen, as the unfamiliar city of Bordeaux gave way to countryside. The vegetation was brown and yellow. The roads were dusty. There were flies everywhere. We passed vineyards that were well-irrigated, their leaves green and shady, soaking up the sun. Each time, I wondered if it was Helen's home, but each time we carried on going. Helen chatted to the taxi driver for a while. I tried to tune in, sometimes, but quickly gave up. She sat in the middle seat, pressed up to me closely, even though there was a big space next to her, by the window. I supposed it was easier for her to talk to the driver this way.