The Sisters (10 page)

‘Nothing new then. Well at least two of my sisters are pleased to see me.’

‘To be honest, I’m surprised that Jess agreed to have dinner with you at all.’

‘Well the world is full of surprises little sister.’ Emma winced. She hated being called
little sister
. There was a lot more to her than that title. They walked into the front room where two empty pizza boxes sat on the coffee table and the twins were stretched out on the sofas.

‘Hi mom,’ the twins said in unison although neither of their heads lifted from their iPads.

‘Make sure that you two clean this up,’ Lucinda said as she hooked arms with Emma and led her out to the garden, which had easily become her favourite place in the house. She stopped at the fridge. ‘What do you want to drink? Wine, sparkling water, juice, smoothie or do you want tea?’

‘Tea?’ Emma said, screwing up her face. ‘No thank you. Do you have beer?’

Lucinda pulled out a bottle of Kronenberg and handed it to her sister. She decided that she’d have one too.

‘So how was dinner?’ Emma asked as she followed her sister into the garden.

‘How do you think it went? We ate, we drank, we argued. So all in all a success I think.’

‘What is it with you two?’ The question was a genuine one from Emma because considering her ability to automatically side with Jessica she was still none the wiser about what had actually taken place between the two of them.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t actually done anything to her.’ And for the first time that night, Lucinda actually spoke the truth.

‘Your garden furniture is better than the sofa in my flat,’ Emma said not so subtly changing the subject. ‘In fact I don’t even have a sofa or cushions or curtains for that matter,’ Emma said as she slipped off her sandals and sat down on the sparse cream cushions of the garden chairs. She wriggled her toes on the cool grass. ‘I have a balcony which is the size of your downstairs toilet. Absolutely ridiculous.’

‘But it’s yours and that’s the main thing,’ Lucinda replied as she took a sip of beer and actually felt relieved as the ice cold liquid slipped down her throat. It was just what she needed on this humid night.

‘I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to visit,’ said Emma.

‘That’s fine. You’ve been busy. I didn’t expect you to drop everything just for me.’

‘Even so, you’ve been back for over a week now and I should have seen you and the twins sooner. So, I’m sorry.’

Lucinda was slightly taken aback. She hadn’t been expecting this at all. After all if anyone should have been apologising it should have been her.

‘So, how are things with you after…’

Emma held her hand up to stop her sister from asking the question that she knew was always on everyone’s lips. Lucinda stopped. The last thing that Emma was looking for was sympathy.

‘I’m fine and I’m moving on. I’ve got a new flat and a job which I actually enjoy.’

‘Even though you’re running around like a blue arsed fly?’

‘I haven’t even had time to pull my knickers out of my arse. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came to see my big sister and find out why she’s come home. So go on then. Tell me. Why have you come home? Is it because of dad?’

‘Dad? No, I didn’t even know about dad until I got back, which I still think was slightly out of order. He could have told me earlier.’

‘Lou, it’s not something that you tell someone over the phone.’

‘Even so, it’s not nice knowing that you’re the last to know. I can’t believe that this is happening to him again. It doesn’t seem fair.’

‘You weren’t here the first time, Lou. You have no idea what it was like. Having to live with him whilst he was going through that, seeing him so ill, but you’re here now. So…’ Emma looked at her sister with a steely determination, ‘why are you back? Is it anything to do with Paul?’

‘Oh my God. Why does everyone think that it has something to do with Paul?’

‘Because he’s bankrupt and a couple of months later you’ve hotfooted it home.’

‘Emma, I did not hotfoot it home. It was always my plan to come home eventually.’ It scared her how easily the lies rolled off her tongue.

‘Really?’ Emma said, making no attempt to disguise the disbelief in her voice. ‘After all this time. Just like that?’

‘It wasn’t just like that,’ Lucinda lied again.

‘So what are you going to do? Mum mentioned that you were going to make music again.’ Lucinda wasn’t at all surprised that her mum had immediately called her little sister and told her of Lucinda’s plans.

‘That’s the plan. I can’t sit on my arse doing nothing.’

‘Hmmm, why change the habit of the past fifteen years,’ Emma said with a smirk.

‘You really should have respect for your elders, Em.’

‘I’ll have respect when you start telling the truth, Lou. Just because I’m the
little sister
, as you’ve so kindly reminded me, doesn’t mean that I’m living in a bubble and that I need to know my place.’

‘I never said that.’

‘You didn’t have to.’ Like the breeze that had suddenly swept across the garden so had the temperature quickly heightened between Lucinda and Emma.

‘You’re not in trouble are you?’ Emma asked as she swallowed the last of her beer and put the empty bottle on the table. Lucinda focused her attention on the blue bottle and watched the little beads of condensation trickle down. ‘I mean, everyone in America is always getting in trouble for not paying their taxes. You’re not running away from the IRS are you?’ Lucinda felt her body sink down with relief and the beginnings of laughter rise from her stomach.

‘No, no I’m not in trouble with the IRS,’ Lucinda said as she began to laugh.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Ems, honestly, I’m sure,’ Lucinda said as she wondered how much longer she’d have to hold on to her lies.

JESSICA STILL hadn’t made it home, even though she was the first one to walk out of the restaurant and only lived twenty minutes away. She’d thought about heading back to the office but tonight was the first time in months that she’d left before 10pm and that wasn’t right considering she had a teenage daughter at home. Instead she distracted herself with a quick trip into Little Waitrose on Highbury Corner buying things she didn’t really need before beginning the walk home. It was almost eleven o’clock when she arrived at her house. It’d been the first thing that she’d bought after the divorce. Neither she nor Christopher wanted to live in a house that held the memories of the beginning or ending of their relationship so they amicably sold the house in St John’s Wood and split the profit. Jessica had wanted to be closer to her family but not too close that her mother could drop in whenever she felt like it; so she chose Islington. She loved her house but instead of rising up to greet her the house sunk back and told her to prepare herself.

As she walked through the front door the first thing she saw was a picture of her second wedding day as they stood on the steps of Marylebone Town Hall. It’d never occurred to her that she would remarry. She was laughing in those pictures as the white confetti floated down in front of them and Andrew leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. That was a moment of happiness frozen in time. Now she walked past it as though it didn’t exist. She put the shopping bags on the kitchen counter and leaned against the island unsure what she should be doing. On the outside she was the epitome of calm but inside she was a jumbled up mess. She wasn’t able to compartmentalise and put her emotions in neat little boxes, the way that Emma and Lucinda did. Without turning on any lights she reached into the wine rack and pulled out a bottle of red.

She packed away the shopping and then went upstairs, showered and changed into a vest and shorts before returning downstairs where she drunk her wine in the quiet and coolness of the living room. Jessica only realised that she had dosed off when she heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase.

‘Andrew,’ Jessica called as she rubbed her eyes and walked out into the hallway. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Andrew standing in the middle of the staircase with a mulberry holdall in his right hand.

‘I didn’t think that you were home,’ Andrew said.

‘Why would you…?’ She stopped when she noticed two suitcases and his suit bag on the bottom of the staircase, waiting to be claimed by their owner.

‘What’s going on? Why are all these bags downstairs?’ She had no idea why she was even asking the question. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he wasn’t just going on a business trip.

He walked down the rest of the stairs and placed his bag on top of a suitcase before taking a breath. He was 10 years older than Jessica and from their early days of dating had been almost regimental in his approach to his appearance. She had never been able to read him. In the beginning that made him dark, mysterious and attractive and it made her immune to the other features of his personality, such as the arrogance and the vanity. He didn’t look like a man who was trying not to hurt his wife’s feelings, but he had an excellent poker face.

‘I’m leaving you.’

‘You’re doing what?’

‘I’m leaving you.’ He said it as though he was merely telling her that their online food shop was being delivered at three o’clock instead of two. Jessica felt her legs begin to shake. She had trained herself not to be shocked by anything but this was about her. Not some soap star that had been caught freebasing cocaine off her personal trainer’s chest.

Jessica stood there dumbfounded. She knew that their relationship had changed. She had lost count of the times Andrew had returned home late from work or simply not all. There had been more weekends away where he said he was playing golf than she cared to remember. The facts that he was always shopping and had just splashed out on a Porsche were no surprise to her. Andrew was larger than life. Whether it was shopping, drinking or gambling these were all parts of his personality, but how did he have the audacity to leave her?

‘You can’t leave me. We’ve just done a photo-shoot for Living magazine for Christ’s sake. You can’t leave me Andrew,’ Jessica said not knowing where the strength or the desperation in her voice had come from. Andrew just laughed; a bitter but pitiful laugh that immediately made her regret saying those words.

‘You’re so absorbed in yourself. This isn’t even about you.’

‘Self-absorbed. Me? I’m not fucking self absorbed,’ Jessica said as she uncontrollably shook with rage and tears formed in her eyes. This shouldn’t be happening. If anyone was to end this marriage it should have been her.

‘Who is she?’ She’d wanted to sound strong but the words came out choked and weak.

‘What makes you think that it’s another woman?’

‘Because I know you. You wouldn’t be leaving me if you didn’t think you were off to bigger and better things. Who is she?’ Jessica shouted.

‘It could be that you just bore me Jess.’ The coldness of the statement struck her more than when he’d told her that he was leaving her a few minutes earlier.

‘I bore you? No, no. That can’t be the reason. It has to be another woman.’

‘Think what you like. I’m not going to stand here and argue with you,’ Andrew said as he pulled his car keys out of his pocket and walked to the front door.

‘Where are you going?’ she said as she followed him to the front door.

‘That’s really no concern of yours. The next time you hear from me will be from my solicitor,’ Andrew said as he walked out, slamming the front door behind him.

She stared at the front door as though it would be able to give her answers. Jessica ran to the living room towards the large bay windows. As she peered through the shutters she could see Andrew loading up the boot of his Porsche. She resisted the urge to run outside and hurl abuse at him but she had no idea what she’d be fighting for. As the car drove away, Jessica slumped down to the ground and for the first time in years she had no idea what to do next. She could call Beatrice, Emma or Wendy but what would she say? How would she explain it? Another marriage over. It always came in threes. First her dad, then Lucinda and now Andrew. She felt that her life was running through her fingers. She should be able to manage a crisis like this but this was her life and the rules that she applied to clients didn’t apply to her.

IT COULD have just been living in London in the summer that was giving her an illusion of sun drenched false hope. They’d been back in London for three weeks and Lucinda had to admit that the rhythm of London life suited her; that ability Londoners had to just do their own thing and not be forced into any boxes. That kind of life suited Lucinda perfectly…until she opened up the next screen on her laptop. Her budget. The figures weren’t adding up. You’ve been such a fool the voice inside her head told her again. She ignored it and clicked onto the iTunes music store.

‘I must be out of my fucking mind,’ Lucinda said out loud as she scrolled through the iTunes top ten. Firstly, she didn’t have a clue who half of the female artists were, and secondly, when she listened to a sample of their music, the only thing she could conclude was that the music they were making was simply noise. To make matters worse, she wasn’t even sure what genre of music she fell into. What was she? Pop, R’n’B, Soul? She definitely wasn’t a new artist but she didn’t want to be relegated to the confines of adult contemporary classics. For starters, she wasn’t even sure what that was.

Lucinda didn’t like labels despite her penchant to purchase them. As far as she was concerned, the Brit and Ivor Novello awards, gathering dust in the garage, proved that Euterpe was a group who won awards for making good music.

She’d never thought that she’d have to reinvent herself, especially after the success of her first solo album. She had even been nominated for a Grammy but lost out to Erykah Badu in the best female R’n’B performance category. Lucinda had never wanted to be marketed as an R’n’B singer but the record company and her husband pushed her and she wasn’t surprised that her second album was critically and financially mullered. She’d been visibly uncomfortably in dresses that were too tight and weaves that were too long. There were parties with hip-hop stars and music executives that she didn’t want to go to and she was fighting against girls, who were just girls, but who had the steely determination of seasoned pros who were willing to be exploited. Lucinda recalled the night that she’d bumped into Ruby Nestor. When they first met Ruby had been a naïve 18-year-old, doe eyed and fully clothed. Two years later she had the familiar look of someone who was self-medicating themselves as she stood at another party wearing a halter-top that barely contained anatomically out of proportioned breasts and a skirt that showed there was absolutely nothing underneath.